Phantoms In Philadelphia (Phantom Knights Book 1)

by Amalie Vantana

Bess

  My mind was focused on the mission ahead as Jericho drove us to the Knowlton’s mansion.

  Jack and I were both armed as were Leo, Jericho, and Mariah. Levi was to meet us at the Knowlton’s house. We had captured the men meant to attack Mr. Monroe, but that did not mean that Richard would not try something else equally sinister.

  As we made our way into the house, Mariah and Leo accompanied us, Mariah in the guise of lady’s maid who would await my mother and I in a ladies’ retiring room, while Leo, having come in the guise to assist Jack, would roam the servants’ part of the house, watching for a sign of trouble. Jericho and Levi would guard the exterior of the house. I hoped the night would not prove dangerous, but we were prepared for whatever occurred.

  Mother, Jack, and I reached the wide, inner foyer, and after handing our cloaks to Mariah and Leo, we moved forward in a line of people to greet our hosts. The elegantly attired couple was standing beside a large, oak staircase that rose up to a landing and then split in two directions. The large chandelier overhead sparkled like only a recent polishing could make it, but the shine was nothing to the jewels that adorned Mrs. Knowlton’s slender neck. That grand lady greeted us warmly, and Jack returned her greeting with a sincere smile that transformed into a formal civility when he turned toward Mr. Knowlton. As Mr. Knowlton had little in common with us, he moved on to the next guest. Mrs. Knowlton, however, was not so simple to get past.

  “Ephraim is in the ballroom and most eager to claim you for the first two dances.” She added with a sly smile, “If you are not otherwise engaged.”

  Forcing myself to remain calm, I fixed a smile on my lips, but said nothing to commit myself. Jack whisked me away toward the double doors that led into a long ballroom.

  Mr. Knowlton had built the room for his wife during the war. Many people were outraged at the expense while our nation was at war, but they have retracted their indignation since the war ended, and Mrs. Knowlton has put the room to good use.

  As we stepped onto the polished floor, eyes from every direction moved toward us. I inhaled deeply. News had spread about our new fortunes. If only they knew that when my father started to climb the social ladder, carrying his family with him, he had little wealth and was far from a gentleman. I never learned where my father attained his wealth. All I knew was that we were wealthy overnight, or so it seemed to me. Asking my mother about it did no good for she refused to speak of it. Another secret.

  Jack smiled broadly; the cleft in his chin more pronounced. He was enjoying the attention.

  Edith Harvey was among the young ladies where Jack was leading me. When I joined them, they bombarded me with excited or envious questions about my mother’s new fortune.

  A lovely blonde smiled knowingly. “You will not long remain unmarried if Ephraim Knowlton has his way.”

  Following her gaze, I turned to see Ephraim making his way toward me. Jack had moved away to join Dudley, but he was closer to me than the door out of the ball room. I mumbled something and moved as quickly as I could toward Jack. When Jack noticed who was pursuing me, his lips thinned. I tucked my hand into the crook of his arm, and he patted it reassuringly, but Dudley was the one to come to my rescue.

  “Miss Martin, heaven must have fought a great battle with earth and lost, for heaven would never give up its greatest angel without a fight.”

  Jack chuckled, and I bit my lip to refrain from laughing. The potato sack came to mind. “You flatter me, Mr. Stanton.”

  “Nay, it is the truth, I assure you.” Dudley kissed the back of my hand and raised his hopeful gaze to me. “If you are not otherwise engaged, may I hope to claim the first two dances?”

  I had accepted a moment before Ephraim appeared at my side. Ephraim was not pleased to learn that I was going to dance with Dudley, but he requested the dance after, and I had no choice but to comply. The entrance of Mr. and Mrs. Knowlton signaled the dance to begin. As I moved along the dance with Dudley, he was more animated than usual. When he pointed out that Jack was dancing with Edith, I was relieved. I hoped that she could take his mind off someone else.

  After the first three dances had ended, I detached myself and went through the foyer to the little hall that led to the ladies’ room, but also to the back stairs. Lifting my pink skirt, I moved up the small staircase to the second floor and from there to the fourth door.

  Looking to my right then left, no one was upstairs, so I slowly turned the door handle. If anyone was in the room, I was ready to claim to be looking for the retiring room, but to my relief, the room was empty.

  A branch of candles on a writing desk were letting off enough light to see. Silently closing the door behind me, I scanned Mr. Knowlton’s bedchamber, which included a four poster bed with red silk hangings, the writing desk, a tall wardrobe, and a dressing table. Bottles and boxes were scattered over the dressing table, as if Mr. Knowlton’s manservant did not have time to clean up after his master was attired for the ball. What it meant for me, was that I must hurry in my search for the man would return to clean up the mess.

  Somewhere in the room was the fourth artifact, a book of incantations. Leo had told me to search the left wall. How he knew such a thing, I did not ask. Leo was a man of many mysteries and his knowledge knew no bounds.

  Tapestries hung in sections, but midway along the wall was a decorative wood border of lions between scrollwork. I started in the corner, running my fingers along that scrollwork, pushing and pulling each lion. When I was about to reach the other corner, one moved. My lips curved up as my fingers pressed the lion into the wall. A grinding noise sounded before a part of the wall moved. Grabbing the branch of candles from the desk, the light illuminated the secret room. Closet would be a better description. Covering the three walls was a mural of angels arranged on clouds. The only furniture was a table that held a golden goblet, a golden candlestick, and a small carved bowl. My breath fluttered out in anxious excitement. A small leather book was between the bowl and candlestick. My finger ran over a golden stamp in the center of the book. I hated that emblem of the pyramid with a lightning bolt through the center and vines of ivy forming half circles around the pyramid. Underneath were Greek letters forming four words.

  My Greek was rough, but I knew what it meant. Through lightning we strike.

  Taking the book, I let myself out of the secret room. Turning a scroll on the border slid the wall back into place. Once the candles were returned to the desk, and a final look was taken of the room, I walked to the door. My hand was but inches from the handle when it turned. My heart leapt, then I followed, jumping toward the wall as the door pushed open.

  Let it go. Let it go. My mind begged the hand that was opening the door not to push it all the way. My breath held until the door was released, then it silently leaked out. My hands were shaking. If I were to be caught in Mr. Knowlton’s bedchamber, it would be beyond scandalous; it would be deadly. Mr. Knowlton would not hesitate to give me over to Richard. The knowledge of that sent fear jolting through me.

  Mr. Knowlton walked over to his writing desk. The door blocked him, but his shadow on the carpet told me where he was standing.

  A drawer pulled open, and Mr. Knowlton spoke, “Why tonight of all nights? This night is too important, and my presence is required downstairs.”

  Whoever he was speaking to was on the other side of the door and said nothing.

  “My ring of power,” Mr. Knowlton said as a drawer slammed shut. He turned, but not toward the door. He moved to the branch of candles. He stared for a moment.

  I’m discovered. It’s over. I started inching my skirt up so I could reach the dagger strapped to my leg.

  Mr. Knowlton shook his head. Walking to the door, he demanded of his companion, “Who is the cur that has voiced his doubts of me?”

  The door slammed shut before I could hear the reply. My shoulders sagged forward. Beads of perspiration were racing down my neck and under my dress. That was too close. While waiting a few minutes for my heart to settle, I
tucked the book against my leg where my garter was holding my dagger. Once I felt that it was secured, I slowly opened the door to a crack. No one was in the hall, so I hurried from the room and walked down the hall toward the main landing. My mind was going over the guests present and who Mr. Knowlton could have been speaking to when I rounded the corner. Voices from the landing forced me to retreat back into the hall. The landing split in two leading to two separate halls, the family quarters and the guests’. It would not do to be seen coming from the family hall. I could not see the people, but immediately recognized Jack’s voice.

  “I have missed you,” he said, soulfully.

  “Indeed? How much?” My heart sank. It was Guinevere.

  “So much that I could not help but pick up this small trinket for you.”

  Trinket? Why was Jack giving the wicked girl anything? I peeped around the corner as Jack raised a ring for Guinevere’s inspection. I was unsure if it was she or I who inhaled sharply. Pressing myself against the wall again, my eyes closed as pain assaulted every part of me, beginning in my heart.

  “It will never compare to your beauty, but I hope that when you look upon it, you will always remember me.” Jack sounded so sincere, so in love, that tears sprang to my eyes, and I had to dab at the corners of my eyes with my gloved fingers.

  He had not told me. He and Guinevere were obviously more to each other than he had let on, even though he knew who and what she was.

  “I do remember that you wanted to keep our betrothal between us, but I thought that you could wear this on your right hand until the time comes that you allow me to inform the world that you belong to me.”

  Sweet Saints! Betrothed! I inhaled a shallow breath and peeped around the corner again. They were paying no heed to their surroundings as Guinevere pulled a ring from her right hand and moved it to her left. It was a dark gold, almost bronze, color and the face looked like an ornately carved star with six points. Raised above the star was a circular shape with a peridot and diamond studs.

  “I have never before seen such a ring,” Jack said.

  She smiled. “It is a family heirloom.” She held out her right hand, and Jack slid his ring onto her finger. It was such an intimate moment that I felt almost regretful for witnessing. Almost.

  “Will you dance with me?" Jack asked.

  “It will give rise to some talk.”

  Laying a hand over his heart, he said, “I listen, not to the tongues of men, but to my heart which speaks in the truest form.”

  She smiled, tucking her hand into the crook of his arm. “Yes, John, let us dance.”

  They disappeared down the stairs, and I suddenly felt cold. My own brother, my closest ally, my most trusted confidant, was keeping the greatest secret from me. A part of me wanted to believe that he was doing it as a stratagem, a deep game that would in the end bring her to the justice that she deserved, but it was not so. I heard him. He was a man in love, which meant that he was a danger to the Phantoms and to our mission. He would never be able to surrender her.

  Leaving the hall, I went down the stairs in a fog of pain and confusion. Jack and Guinevere were dancing together in the ballroom. Seeing them, smiling with love unmistakably in their eyes, made my heart cramp and my head ache. Dudley was coming toward me, but I could not speak with him, or with anyone. I needed space—and time.

  Moving along the side of the ballroom, I reached one of the doors that led outside. Pushing the large drapery aside, I slipped through the door, unnoticed and undisturbed.

  The night air was cool, much cooler than ever I remembered in the middle of July. Sitting upon one of the stone benches built into the terrace, I sucked in the cool air until my lungs burned.

  Not two minutes passed, before I sensed that I was not alone. Looking toward the door, there was a man there, watching me. When he stepped forward, my back stiffened.

  “This is a fortunate chance,” he said.

  “What do you want, Mr. Knowlton?”

  Ephraim was an annoyance, but he presented no threat.

  “Why, Elizabeth, I do declare that you are not happy to see me, when you were the one who asked me to meet you here.”

  “I did no such thing!” The man was surely daft.

  “Not with words, dearest, but with your eyes.”

  He was daft. I had not seen him since our dance an hour past.

  As calmly as I could, I informed him, “You are mistaken in whatever you thought you saw. I would no more send you messages than I would hold a viper against my face.”

  He laughed boisterously, giving me the distinct impression that he was drunk. A lanky, daft drunk. He dropped to his knees before me and took my hands. For a drunkard, he had an alarmingly strong grip. “My dearest heart, you must marry me. I will not allow you to deny me.”

  “I am not your dearest anything.” I tried to pull my hands away, but he gripped them tighter, causing me to wince. “You are hurting my hands.”

  “Unhand my sister, you fiend!” Jack was standing at the door with his hands clenched at his sides. Ephraim grunted, but released me. He and I stood at the same time, and I brushed past him, moving to stand beside Jack.

  “This does not concern you, Martin,” Ephraim said as he swayed.

  “You are in the wrong. What concerns my sister concerns me.” Jack took a step forward, his intent clear, but I grabbed his arm. “Let me recite the poet...” Jack said instead.

  Ephraim held up a hand. “Please, none of your poetry, John.” He looked toward the window. “I see Mr. Monroe has arrived. I must greet him.” Ephraim moved toward the door, and we stepped aside.

  After Ephraim was gone, Jack led me back into the ballroom, briefly pressing my hand before moving away. James Monroe was across the room speaking with Mrs. Knowlton. When I reached them, I listened while he spoke, remaining at his side, watching everything, while Jack was keeping Guinevere occupied.

  Guinevere’s eyes were watching Mr. Monroe rather intently until Thomas swept her away from Jack and into the line of dancers. Jack stood against the wall and watched Guinevere’s every move. After Thomas, she passed on to Dudley. Halfway through the dance, Richard nodded toward Guinevere. It was only a brief inclination of his head, but it perturbed me. My eyes sprang to Guinevere, but she was laughing at something Dudley said and did not look like she noticed. Hope that she had not filled my head, but my heart told me that, of course she saw Richard’s sign, for she was, after all, the white phantom. They must have set up a second plan, should the assassins not accomplish their task. Richard whisked Mr. Monroe off to the dining parlor, and I followed.

  In the dining parlor, Richard and Monroe were speaking with Mr. Knowlton when Guinevere entered on Dudley’s arm. Mrs. Knowlton appeared at my side, chatting about her son, and I pulled my eyes away from Dudley and Guinevere. It was only a moment, but when I looked back, disbelief then panic shook me.

  Guinevere was standing in such a way that the men could not see what she was doing, but I could. The round part on her gold ring was lifted up, and she was tilting her left hand over a champagne glass and her right, index finger tapped on the ring three times. She snapped the ring closed, picked up a different glass, and stepped over to Dudley.

  A poison ring. She was trying to poison James Monroe.

  What do I do? My mind raced for a plan that would not make a scene or give me away. Jack came in and moved toward Dudley and Guinevere. Her back was to me, but Jack’s eyes met mine. I took my finger and drew a straight line across my lips. It was another one of the codes that we had worked out. It meant danger. I took my fingers and made a P against my side as I said something to Mrs. Knowlton. My gaze moved to Jack, then the champagne glasses. I rested three fingers against my cheek as Mrs. Knowlton was speaking to me.

  Jack walked straight to the champagne. He picked up two glasses, one of them the poisoned one. He moved to Guinevere’s side. Guinevere turned to him and smiled, but when she looked at the two glasses in his hands and then to the other glasses, her fac
e paled. She knew what he held. I knew which glass he held out to her and all my doubts about his intentions flew away.

  Guinevere showed him the glass that she had in her hand. She watched his every move as he replaced one of the glasses, then raised his glass to his lips and took a sip.

  Richard turned toward the sideboard where the champagne glasses were at the same moment Guinevere grabbed Jack’s hand and pulled him from the room through the door that led into a small hall.

  Richard watched them go, and that distraction gave me a chance to approach. I picked up two glasses and switched them. What I was about to do was a risk, but necessary.

  “Good evening, Richard.”

  “Good evening, Elizabeth.” I hated my name when he said it. “Are you having an agreeable time?”

  “Oh, yes! But it is dreadfully warm.” I fanned myself slowly, and he caught on quickly. He picked up a glass, handing it to me. Relief washed over me as I accepted the glass and took a sip.

  Mr. Monroe came to stand beside me, and Richard handed a glass to Monroe then picked up one for himself and offered a toast. I held my breath, and it was as if time slowed as I watched Richard raise the glass to his lips and drink deeply.

  One moment he was standing there listening to Mr. Monroe and smiling, and the next he was falling backward.

  Shrieks came from the ladies in the crowded dining parlor, and Mr. Knowlton cursed as he rushed forward. Mr. Monroe had my arm and pulled me back out of the way of the men who came to crowd round. Jack came through the door, his eyes wide and his brows raised.

  “No, he breathes,” Mr. Knowlton was saying as his fingers were feeling around Richard’s neck.

  I did not have time to feel disappointed. When Richard had fallen, the glass had dropped from his hand but not shattered.

  Within a moment, my mother was in the room and had pushed her way through the crowd to kneel beside Richard. I was able to play the concerned daughter. Where I knelt beside her my dress covered the spilt glass.

  “Richard! Richard, my dearest. Can you hear me?” Mother was frantic as she gazed down at Richard. She turned to me. “We must get him home. Where is John? Have him call for the carriage at once.”

  My foot pushed the glass until it was against my lowered hand. Holding it in the folds of my skirt, I went out of the room to the front door.

  Levi was the person to ask about what was in the glass. It took me a few minutes to find him, as he and Jericho were patrolling the grounds, but he appeared around the corner of the house. After instructing Jericho to bring around our carriage and have Richard’s brought to the door as well, I gave Levi the glass. Giving him a brief summary of what had transpired; he promised to have a report for me by the morning. My thanks were earnest, for that was one less thing for me to do. We parted ways, and I turned toward the house, but halted. There were two people standing in the front parlor window, watching me. I only looked at them a moment before walking to the front door, but I felt sick.

  Nicholas and Guinevere saw me. I wanted to hope that they had not seen me give the glass to Levi, but something deep within told me that hope was futile.

  Chapter 28