Phantoms In Philadelphia (10 page)

“Would you, Miss Martin?” Dudley’s nasal voice
spoke. I looked at him where he was seated in the chair beside
mine.

“I do apologize, Mr. Stanton, but would you mind
repeating that?”

He was not affronted. “I was asking you for the
pleasure of the next dance.”

Oh
.
I remembered during our first dance
of the evening that I had never liked dancing with Dudley. He would
stare at me silently, or he would spout some horrible line of
poetry or praise. He had a habit of praising my
superior
height, as if I wanted to be
reminded that I stood above many of the men and women in the
room.

When my dearest friend entered, I excused myself to
Dudley and went across the room to greet her.

“Oh, how I have missed you. Promise that you shall
not leave again for some time to come,” Edith Harvey exclaimed.

We broke apart, though held hands as I looked down
into her deep brown eyes and laughingly promised that I would be in
Philadelphia for the present.

Edith was fifteen years of age and a slip of a girl.
She still had that little girl softness to her face. She was the
niece of our family friend General Harvey and had been my friend
for the past four years. Even though I was gone from Philadelphia
during the war, we stayed in touch through letters. When I moved
home three months ago, it was like we had never been separated. Now
that we were both making our debuts in society, we would be
spending most days together.

Edith and I stepped away from the door as the music
and dancing ended.

“You must tell me all about your
trip,” Edith said, and my mind started going through the story that
I had rehearsed about what I had done in Washington and whom I had
met. Lies; which made guilt nag at my mind. Another lie to add to
the ever growing list. For me, it was the worst part of being a
Phantom, never being allowed to tell the people closest to me the
truth. But then, what would I tell her?
Edith, dear, I can kill a man with my bare hands and have
done so on one occasion.

She would think I was mad and rightly so. Women of
high society did not know the art of self defense. We were trained
to be demure creatures, seen, but not heard, agreeable without
being too forward, encouraging without speaking. When we finally
snagged a husband, we were an accessory for his arm, but with no
opinion contradictory to his. It was a bleak prospect for one who
had lived as a man, traveling through the countryside without
restraint. I did not know if I could do it, not to mention my
fortune, the dowry that the men hunted me for and would go directly
from the solicitor’s hands into his, never truly being my own.

When I saw Jack start toward us
leading the young woman from the Inn along with him, I started to
smile, until I heard that hateful voice. “So, John is Miss Clark’s
next victim. She has had no fewer than ten since her arrival last
month. I had thought better of him, than to be entrapped by such
blatant beauty.” I wanted to claw the speaker’s eyes
out.

Edith and I both turned to face Mrs. Hannah Lamont,
a woman who was small in stature, mind, and morals. She was my age
but had been widowed a year. I had met her first in Baltimore last
year, where we had attended the same party. She was as disagreeable
then. My gaze ran over her, and I was both disgusted and not
surprised by her attire. Her copper-colored gown was cut too low,
leaving little to the imagination, while her thick, black hair was
pulled back with a few curls dangling across her bony, ivory
shoulders.

I forced a smile to my lips, though I wanted nothing
more than to throw the woman from the house. I looked over my
shoulder and saw Jack standing near, but it was the look on his
companion’s face that brought words to my lips. Turning back to
Hannah, I replied, “No indeed, for my brother knows true quality
when he sees it.”

Jack was speaking softly to Miss Clark as if to
allay her chagrin over the unfortunate comment, so I hooked arms
with Edith, and we walked out of the room.

As soon as we were in the foyer, Edith spoke, “The
nerve of that woman. She boils my blood.”

“Why, Edith Harvey, I do declare that you have a
violent nature. That sweet face masks a dark heart.”

My words pulled a laugh from Edith.
“I am not as interesting as that. Come. Let us taste some of those
delicious cakes that your mother’s cook makes so well.”

Edith led me into the dining
parlor, and we went to the sideboard where all manner of small
cakes and sweets were waiting to be selected. Leo entered with a
tray of champagne, so I took two from him. I was raising my glass
to my lips when Jack entered with his companion still upon his arm.
I took a moment to appraise her person. She was wearing an ivory
gown threaded with gold and gold slippers peeped from beneath the
hem. It was her eyes though that set her apart; making her leaps
and bounds above the rest of the young women. A truly rare color,
and one that I would not have minded possessing. The perfect tone
of her pale skin made me feel self conscious over the browned tone
of my own. What was one to expect after hours of riding in the
sun?

“I was hoping you would bring your lovely partner to
meet me,” I said as they neared.

“My dear sister, allow me to present Miss Clark.
Miss Clark, this is my sister Elizabeth and our dear friend Miss
Harvey.”

Miss Clark offered her hand, and I shook it. For
such a small woman, she had a firm grip. She turned to Edith and
hesitated a moment before offering her hand. I watched in some
curiosity as Edith barely touched it then her eyes lowered to the
floor. That was odd, even for sweet, quiet Edith.

“I thought I recognized you as the
young woman from the carriage when your brother came to my
rescue
.”

“Yes, and quite surprised was I, but then, John has
such a kind heart. He cannot abide to see others mistreated. He has
written many a verse on the subject. You should let him read them
to you sometime. They are rather good.” I cast Jack an innocent
smile.

“Thank you, sister,” Jack said, trying to end the
subject. He knew I loathed poetry.

“Perhaps, I shall, if he is ever so inclined,” Miss
Clark replied, looking up at Jack like he was some mystical
creature she found enchanting. I swallowed down a laugh along with
my champagne.

“I hear that you have only recently arrived in our
fair city,” I said, appearing conversational, but I was interested
because of my brother’s interest.

“Yes, and I find it prodigiously to my liking.” Miss
Clark bestowed a warm smile upon my brother.

That woman was good. She knew how to draw a man
in.

Jack cast me a look that said he needed to speak
with me.

“Edith and I were about to enjoy some of this
delicious food. Will you join us?”

Miss Clark looked at Jack then agreed. Jack seated
Miss Clark at the table with Edith, and he and I went to fill
plates. With our backs to the others, Jack placed two fingers
inside his jacket and with his forefinger he traced a N and then a
M on the top of his coat. He pulled his fingers from inside his
coat, spreading them wide, like in the shape of a note or letter
then he intentionally slipped his fingers back into his coat. He
tapped his chest over his heart. We had made many signs over the
years, ways to speak without words. All of our deputies were well
versed in the signs. If I understood his message, Nicholas
Mansfield was here and had a letter in his pocket we would do well
to acquire. The only setback was that I had never met Nicholas
Mansfield. I did not, however, allow that to bother me.

We were able to enjoy a half hour undisturbed before
a man stalked into the room and his eyes fastened on Miss Clark. He
looked familiar, and when he spoke, I remembered.

“Miss Clark, I have come to beg the favor of a
dance.”

I glanced at Jack, who was staring grim-faced at his
glass. He was turning the stem in his fingers, and I knew what he
was thinking. He raised his eyes to mine, and I barely shook my
head. The last thing we needed was for Jack to throw champagne on
the man.

“I do apologize, Mr. Mansfield, but this dance has
been claimed by Mr. Martin.”

So that is he.

Miss Clark rose, and the rest of us followed her
lead. She smiled at Jack, and even I could feel the heat from that
look she cast him. “You do remember Mr. Martin, do you not?” She
looked again at Nicholas, and I wanted to clap at so skilled a
snub.

“Indeed I do,” Nicholas replied, but Jack only
smiled as he took Miss Clark’s hand, leading her away from us.

Nicholas stared after them, presenting me my chance.
I walked toward him then stumbled, catching his arm. He jerked
toward me, his arms going about my waist. I pushed myself up
straight, bumping the top of my head against his chin. As his chin
jerked up, my hand slid into his coat, and two fingers grabbed the
top of the letter. It was a trick that my father taught us. He
would tie bells to our fingers then make us try to pick his pocket.
If the bells rang, we failed. We practiced that until we could
snatch anything, large or small, without his feeling a thing. I
slid the letter out, crumpling it in my hand and then burying my
hand in the folds of my dress.

“So clumsy, I do apologize.”

His arms were still around my waist, so I pushed
back, and he released me. There was a look that I did not like on
his face as he smiled down at me. It was like he thought I did it
on purpose. I had, but from the look in his eyes, snatching the
letter was not what he thought I was after.

“You must be Miss Martin,” he said, and I curtseyed.
“I hope you do not find me too forward, since we have not been
properly introduced, but would you do me the great honor of dancing
with me?”

“Why, yes, thank you, Mr...” I looked up at him
expectantly.

“Mansfield. Nicholas Mansfield.”

“Allow me but a moment to fetch my fan.” I turned
away from him in the guise of searching for my fan but tucked the
crumpled letter into the bosom of my dress. Thankfully it was not
too low cut; my mother thinking the lower cut fashions
scandalous.

“It is here,” Edith said. She had picked it up from
the table.

Nicholas offered his arm to me and politely offered
his other arm to Edith. The man had some manners at least.

He escorted Edith to a chair, then he and I joined
the dance.

The dance passed as all others––with little
conversation and utterly forgettable. After our dance, I sat
between Edith and Miss Clark in one corner of the room.

“Your brother is very charming,” Miss Clark informed
me.

I looked into the woman’s eyes and was not sure
whether to be amused or alarmed. Jack had made as much of an
impression upon her as she clearly had upon him.

“Yes, John is a dear.”

Miss Clark looked at Edith and her
lips quirked up. I followed her gaze. Edith was looking anywhere
but at Miss Clark. That Edith was not acting her cheerful self
surprised me and made me wonder whether there had been some
disagreement between the two. Miss Clark appeared to be a pleasant
enough young woman, and she had clearly won Jack’s good
opinion.

“Do you ride, Miss Clark?”

“Yes, whenever I get the chance.”

“Then perhaps you would care to join Edith and me
one afternoon.” I looked at Edith and noticed her face had paled an
entire shade.

“Why that would be delightful,” Miss Clark said,
adding, “and perhaps your brother would accompany us.”

“Mr. Martin does not care for riding,” Edith
informed her sternly.

I sat between them, my gaze going from one to the
other while they stared at each other. Miss Clark smiled rather
roguishly.

“Perhaps he would change his mind, if the temptation
were enough.”

The look Edith cast Miss Clark was full of so much
scorn that I quickly changed the subject.

“I have heard that you reside with a chaperone.”

“Why, yes,” she said before looking toward the
foyer. “There she is dear woman.”

I followed her gaze and had to keep my mouth from
dropping open. It was the robust woman with the unnaturally yellow
hair from the Inn. She could be perfectly respectable, but she wore
a bright orange gown that she was well-nigh bursting from, and a
yellow turban was perched atop her yellow hair. She looked like a
Thanksgiving decoration. The woman beckoned Miss Clark with the
wave of a large hand.

“Pray, excuse me.” Miss Clark joined her chaperone
at the door.

Edith and I were soon surrounded by a group of young
men all on the hunt for a rich bride. Edith’s fortune was larger
than my own, but she was so shy around gentlemen, that it took some
encouragement for her to choose a partner among all the offers.
Thomas arrived, and she gave her hand to him. He was the least
threatening to her, as it was well known that Thomas was not in the
market for a bride.

As there were more men than young ladies, I had
seven gentlemen vying for my attention. I listened to their
witticisms with an air of interest until I heard someone grunt.

Behind the wall of men, someone’s
head was bobbing up and down. When it appeared again, I realized it
was Dudley, and he was
jumping
. The men were holding their
shoulders against one another to keep Dudley out of the circle. It
was a game with them, but I did not see the humor and was about to
say something cutting, when Dudley dropped to his knees and climbed
through a gap between one of the men’s legs. My mouth hung open,
but I could not help it.

Creaking and grunting came with Dudley’s ample form
that almost did not fit between Henry Clay’s legs. Henry’s arms
flapped, and he grabbed onto Ephraim’s arm. Ephraim jerked his arm
away and bumped into another man who went sprawling to his side,
right onto Mrs. Campbell’s lap.