Jack
When I heard Miss Clark’s voice in the foyer with Bess, I felt like a coward. My earnest desire was to go greet her, but Richard’s words came back like a raging rapid, and I knew that if I saw her, it would only make matters worse. I enjoyed her company, but as a gentleman, I could not pursue her when she belonged to another.
Then hearing Richard and Nicholas enter, my mind went to work. I went to my desk and unlocked it removing my pistol and a knife. My pistols were always loaded when kept at home. Leo saw to that.
Deciding to walk the two roads to Nicholas’s house instead of going for my horse, I made good time. When I reached his brick townhouse, I surveyed it from across the street. I did not know how many servants he employed, but it did not matter for I was determined to search that house.
The back of the house was built against the back of the house behind it giving it neither a yard nor a back entrance. I decided to try my luck at the front door. Excited energy spiraled along my spine as I walked up to it like I was master of the house and turned the knob. The door led into a small draft entryway as most well built houses had. There was another door that led into the foyer, so I eased it open enough to look into the house. It was empty, and all appeared quiet. The fact that the house was unlocked said that someone was there, but they may have been in the kitchen. The foyer was small and narrow with two doors on the left wall and a staircase built against the right. The first door was a blue parlor, but it was the second open door that drew me to it. It was Nicholas’s study. Across from the study behind the staircase was a small dining parlor, but it too was empty.
I went into Nicholas’s study and closed the door. There were two bookshelves and a desk on the far wall. That was all the furniture, and there were no windows, but there was a fire burning in the fireplace offering enough light to search the room. I started at the desk. There were blank sheets of paper and extra quills and ink stands, but what I found interesting were his expense accounts. Glancing over the figures revealed that the man spent money like my mother. I closed the drawers and went to the bookshelves, but they did not move or reveal a secret compartment. The man had horrible taste in literature and some of the books were fake. It hurt my literary mind being in the same room.
The fireplace was made of wood, not marble, and as I knocked along the small columns that flanked the front sides, I discovered they were hollow. I pressed each piece of the border that was running along the mantle until one piece sunk in. A piece of the wood separated from the rest. Excitement rose within me as I reached my hand into the secret compartment. It was empty. My excitement wilted. I searched the other side of the fireplace, but it did not contain a secret compartment. I rose, wondering if I should search Nicholas’s bedchamber.
He struck me as the sort of man who would hide his valuables beneath his bed. At the top of the stairs, there were two bedchambers, and I went into the one on the right. It was bare except for a small bed with a patchwork quilt, a wash basin, and a mirror. I found nothing, so I went across the small hall to the other bedchamber. It was done in shades of blue, from the bed hangings to the curtains and the rugs covering the wood floor. My reflection surrounded me from where a looking glass hung on each wall. There were also three smaller glasses on his dressing table that you could hold in your hand.
The man was a prancing popinjay. Chuckling, I began my search. I searched around and under the bed, sounded the four posts and even stood on the bed to feel along the canopy. Nothing was there. I jumped down from the bed and brushed it smooth then went to the dressing table. There was nothing around or under that could conceal the box. There was a wardrobe, but no closets or hidden compartments.
Looking around the room, I wondered about Nicholas. Richard had said he could afford to keep Bess in style, but from his house and spending habits that did not ring true.
Pushing the thought away, I moved to the fireplace. It was another wood creation, so I pushed the same part of the border as I had in his study. The same piece slid back. I sucked in a hopeful breath and placed my hand in the compartment. My hand struck something hard. It was a small sword that had been wrapped in a cloth, and it was jammed in there tight. Gritting my teeth, I pushed and pulled on the wrapped sheath. My arm was held at an angle, working the blade forward. I pushed back on the hilt, and it moved. After removing the sword, I left Nicholas’s bedchamber. I needed to get out of the house quickly.
In the foyer, as I reached for the knob to let myself out of the house, the outside door opened, and Nicholas’s voice floated through the interior door. A small dose of panic struck me. I dashed into the parlor, my gaze sweeping the room. Long damask curtains around the window presented me with a place to hide. I whipped behind one, pressing my back against the wall and making sure that the curtain concealed all of me.
“I tell you, Richard, you are in for a deal of trouble with those two,” Nicholas said. “Thinking of your living in the same house as that pup of a poet is enough to set me in whoops.”
My teeth clenched painfully as I stared at the dark blue fabric, focusing as if I could see Nicholas through the heavy material.
“I shall manage. If he gets in my way, I shall deal with him accordingly,” Richard replied, and my fist tightened on the hilt of the small sword.
“What of Helen?”
Hearing my mother’s name used so freely by Nicholas shot bolts of heat through me. He deserved to rot in a cell where rats skittered across the floor, and there was always a cold draft.
“My wife shall do exactly as I bid. Do not forget that I am master in my home.”
“I do not see her children acquiescing as easily,” Nicholas retorted then laughed.
“And I do not foresee any issues, for I shall not have them in my house.” For a painful moment, all was silent, and Richard continued suavely. “John will surely wish for a house of his own,” that’s the truth, “and Elizabeth shall be married.”
“Unlikely. I tried, truly I did, but the woman is as cold as stone. She would not have me.”
“She will have no say in the matter. It is that pup, as you call him, who has the final say, and I can wield him to my bidding.”
That arrogant fatwit! I started counting. My father had always said, ‘When in anger, count.’ I was suddenly missing my father. He and I had not agreed that often, but he was a King compared to that vile snake.
“We have spoken of her fortune, and you know the arrangement. You pursue her, shower her with words that a young girl wants to hear, and when you ask for her hand, John and I will grant it.”
“She’s not that young, my friend. After spending some time with her I believe, we need to alter that agreement.”
“You do?” Richard’s voice sounded menacing, like he was glaring at Nicholas.
“If I am to tie myself in matrimony to a girl, not of my choosing, then I should have the larger portion of her dowry, not you.”
I could scarce believe my ears. The counting in my head grew louder, more determined, for I was one comment away from pulling out the small sword and making a mess of them in the middle of Nicholas’s parlor.
“My dear Nicholas, you must try to overcome this fruitless passion you possess for Hannah Lamont. She will never have you.”
We were in the right. Hannah is the white phantom.
“If only she would be a little understanding,” Nicholas whined.
“My dear fellow, your suit is anything but acceptable to her. Let us focus instead upon a sure suit.”
“I do admit that the money would be agreeable, and Elizabeth is not wholly without charm.”
I will destroy him. Slowly.
Nicholas spoke again, this time in a melancholy voice. “No, it would not do. You know as well as I that I cannot keep a wife here. She would only be in the way.”
“There are solutions, Nicholas. Marry Elizabeth, become the possessor of her fortune, and then send her to England to live with your mother.”
“That could answer, and mummy does need someone to cook
and clean for the actors at the theatre.” Nicholas gave an audible sigh. “She is no Hannah, but if one cannot have the prize pony, one must settle for the next best filly.”
“Good,” Richard said, and I could hear the smile in his voice. I wanted to make it so he would never smile again.
“Now, go and fetch Sværd af lyn. I have a desire to see it.”
The sound of shoes walking across the foyer floor told me that Nicholas had left the room. Reaching my hand beside me, I tried to feel for the latch to the window. If Richard moved anywhere near the settee, he would see me perfectly. I needed to get out of there before they discovered me.
“No!” Nicholas screamed from above stairs.
Time to go. I heard feet on the foyer floor and Richard’s voice calling to Nicholas as he went up the stairs. Unlatching the window, I leapt through and ran down the street. I turned the corner and ran in the opposite direction of my house in the chance of pursuit.
Half of an hour later when I finally reached home, I went in through the servants’ entrance. Mrs. Beaumont was in the kitchen and not at all surprised to see me below stairs. She assured me the house was empty of guests, so I went in search of my sister.
Finding her in the drawing room, I entered asking, “Was it a kind of revenge that you did not keep them away more than half an hour?”
Her head shot up from over her embroidery hoop, and her mouth twitched at the corner.
“No. I tried to keep them here as long as propriety and my stomach would allow, but they insisted upon departing. I take it that they went to Nicholas’s house?”
“You need not smile so,” I said harshly and shut the door behind me. As I unwrapped the small sword, Bess came to stand beside me. “This is Sværd af lyn.” The blade was sharp and perfectly polished. The handle was of black leather with a silver knob at the top. There was a phoenix engraved on one side of the knob and an L on the other side.
“What does it mean, Jack?”
“I do not know, but it is far safer in our hands than those of Nicholas Mansfield,” I replied as I ran a finger over the phoenix.
“I will have you know that the vile dog tried to stroke my waist.”
“What the devil was he doing anywhere near your waist?” My voice rose louder than I intended.
Bess shushed me then explained. “When Richard pulled mama from the room on some pretext, Nicholas sat beside me before I could dissuade him, and then his hand was about me.”
“Did you stick him with your embroidery needle?” I asked, hoping.
“No, but Mrs. Beaumont came in and railed at him. She started speaking of Saint Peter, the pearly gates, the fire pits of Hell and men who took advantage of unsuspecting maidens. That was why he and Richard insisted upon taking their leave.”
Throwing my head back, I laughed. Mrs. Beaumont was worth her weight in gold.
Chapter 12
Phantoms In Philadelphia (Phantom Knights Book 1) Page 16