Phantoms In Philadelphia (6 page)

Mother was small in stature, but
one hardly noticed her size when she spoke or moved. She had all
the grace of a queen and the personality of a warrior. Jack had
once compared her movements to an autumn leaf in the wind; one
moment it is there, and the next it is carried off to
someplace
else.

As I bent to kiss her cheek, I caught her scent of
roses, and my childhood flashed in my mind. My mother loved roses,
and my father would bring her a bouquet every time he came home
from a mission.

Since my father was gone, I was the tallest in our
family. Being tall had its advantages when masquerading as a man,
but that was the only time. No man wanted a wife, or a dancing
companion for that matter, who would tower over him.

As she released us, Jack asked lightly, “Did you
know of our coming, or does this bustle spring from some other
celebration?”

“Shall we adjourn to the library?” Mother pointedly
ignored his question as she walked across the tiled floor to a
tall, ornately carved wood door.

Jack glanced at me with raised brows, and we
followed in our mother’s wake.

Standing in the room with its floor-to-ceiling
bookshelves and a large walnut desk brought back many memories of
my father, but I pushed them resolutely away. This was Jack’s room
now with new memories to be made.

“What is this party, Mother?” Jack asked as he
entered the library. I watched my mother as she walked across the
carpeted floor to the marble fireplace. She pretended to have an
interest in the fire.

“Why, Bess’s birthday celebration of course,” she
said as she turned to smile at us.

She was lying. When my mother lied; she always took
a moment to compose herself before speaking. “I have sent out
cards, and we will have a full house with only the best company
that this metropolis has to offer.”

I closed the door before advancing into the room and
sitting upon one of the two sofas. “We will have the truth now, if
you please.”

Mother huffed crossing her arms. “It is as I
say.”

My eyes narrowed in on her finger. She looked down
at it then lowered her arms to hide her hand in the folds of her
skirt, but it was too late. She wore a gold ring with a large
sapphire stone that was not a part of our family jewels.

“Mama, where did you get that ring? You promised to
economize and rein in your incessant spending habits.” My mother
had no thoughts for budgets of any kind. In the years that she had
lived in this house, she had redone the drawing room no less than
five times. Mother’s man of business had been to see us three times
in as many months because of her spending.

“It was a gift.” She looked between us and sat on
the sofa across from me. She breathed a deep sigh, and as she
smiled at us, the tiny lines around her mouth became more
pronounced. “I am betrothed.”

The clock in the foyer ticking by the seconds was
the only sound as we stared at her as if we were frozen.

Jack’s bark of laughter broke the silence. His
laughter was always swift and loud. Suddenly, I started to see the
hilarity of the situation. Our mother was the most devoted wife
imaginable. She would no sooner become engaged to another man than
she would dress up as King Lear and perform on the stage. I put my
hand over my mouth, but could not contain the laughter that spilled
forth. I hiccupped, and Jack pointed at me, laughing even harder.
Pulling my handkerchief from my sleeve, I dabbed at my streaming
eyes while Jack collapsed beside me on the sofa, his shoulders
still shaking in mirth.

“It is no joke!” our mother exclaimed with an
appalled frown.

Jack and I laughed louder.

Mother stood and clapped her hands to get our
attention. “I speak the truth.”

I blinked several times, trying to regain my
control. “You cannot possibly be betrothed,” I said, but the look
in her eyes made me doubt my own beliefs. I lowered my
handkerchief; an icy wind climbing inside me as the realization
slapped me in the face.

Jack leapt to his feet, placed his
hand to his side, and drew it out as if he were holding a sword.
“Who is the rogue who has seduced you, Mother? Hmm? I will run him
through again and again.” Jack lunged forward with his imaginary
sword poised before him, and I wanted to laugh at his absurdity,
but only a choking noise came from my throat.

“Jack! I have not been seduced. Think better of your
mother, I pray.”

Jack lowered his hand, all
amusement fading.
Now he
understands.

“You are in earnest? You have indeed accepted the
hand of some unknown man?” Jack asked.

“I love him.” Tears had formed in her eyes before
she turned away from us.

Pain mingled with guilt as it sailed across my
chest. “Mama, we did not mean to hurt you, but it has come as a
shock. Please tell us how this came about.” I held my hand out to
her.

She moved to sit beside me. I glanced over at Jack,
but he was scowling at her. In his eighteen years, he had perfected
that scowl; the dip of his black brows, the hard lines around his
mouth mixing with the stormy color of his eyes.

“How was your trip?” She dabbed the corners of her
eyes with her handkerchief.

“We ran into some disturbing weather, but we are as
you see, unharmed and happy to be home,” I explained. Not unharmed,
but we would not tell her that. The high collar of my gown covered
the bruises around my neck that were fading, but still visible.

“Now it is your turn,” Jack said.

She slowly explained that the name of her betrothed
was Richard Hamilton. She met him on the ship to Savannah, only to
find out that he owned the ship. He was a wealthy merchant from
Baltimore, who owned a large import export business. I continued to
hold her hand, but I felt utterly betrayed. Mother’s two year
period of mourning ended only six days ago, and she was already
contracted to a new man. It made me sick to my stomach to think
that she contracted such an alliance without our knowledge. Casting
a quick look at Jack, I could detect a hardness to his face. His
lips were compressed tightly, his jaw working while he was grinding
his teeth. I knew he felt the same.

“Richard has an appreciation for the finer aspects
in life. He called on me every day in Savannah, and when we sailed
back to Baltimore, he admitted that he could not live without
me."

Jack snorted, and we both looked up at him.

Mother bristled. "I was not looking for love, but it
found me, and I will not fight it." She was always defensive around
Jack. I thought it was because his mulishness reminded her of
Father.

“We must meet your Richard, mustn't we, Jack?” I
asked, trying to keep the two of them from arguing.

Jack turned to look at the fire refusing to
reply.

“Have you decided upon a date?” I asked softly.

She did not have a chance to reply, as Jack turned
toward us, his eyes burning with restrained anger. He shook his
head then smiled, but it was an unpleasant tilt to his lips. “Do
you expect us to believe this farce?"

Before Mother could speak, a knock fell upon the
front door. A deep voice came from the foyer that caused Mother to
rise.

Wringing her hands in agitation, she whispered, “It
is Richard. Please, Jack, please play your part, Richard knows
nothing about our work.” Without awaiting our reply, Mother pasted
a smile upon her lips and called entry.

Richard Hamilton bounced into the room on high heel
shoes that were no longer fashionable and bowed low before my
mother. He was a trim man with a head of black hair and straight
black mustache stretching along his upper lip. Holding him up
against my father’s regal bearing, I failed to see why my mother
liked him. He was dressed neatly in a cranberry colored coat and a
silver waistcoat, but he held his chin too high and the look he
cast my mother made me want to box his ears. I moved to stand
beside Jack.

Mother bestowed a dazzling smile upon him,
murmuring, “My dear Richard.”

I felt like I was going to lose my breakfast.

Richard took both of her hands in his and kissed the
palms of each. His familiarity awoke my ire.

She laughed, pulling her hands away as she tittered,
“We are not alone, my dear.”

Richard looked around until his dot-like eyes
narrowed in on us, his black, bushy eyebrows snapping together. I
felt Jack stiffen, so I laid an admonishing hand on his arm.

“Richard, I would like to present you to my
children, my son John and my daughter Elizabeth.”

Richard Hamilton executed a grand bow, and as he
rose, he met our eyes when he said, “It is a pleasure to make your
acquaintance. Your mother has spoken of you much.”

I must play my part.

I curtseyed as Jack bowed; then Jack was the first
to speak. “The pleasure is all ours, sir. To meet one who has
brought back a smile into my mother’s eyes is a treat indeed.”

Mother coughed, warning Jack to step warily, but
said nothing as she led Richard to the sofa. I moved to sit in a
chair by the fire, and Jack stood behind my chair resting his arms
on the back. I watched Richard’s every move, for every movement had
a meaning. Speaking with the hands could mean agitation and
nervousness. Shifting in one’s chair could mean a desire to flee.
My eyes moved to Richard’s hands. His middle finger on his left
hand had a callused bump, from writing no doubt, which meant that
he was left-handed.

My father had said I have the gift of observation,
as he had. It was one of the reasons why I was made the leader. I
could see everything and find a way to make it work in my
favor.

“What has brought you to Philadelphia, sir?” Jack
asked with interest sparking his words.

Being left-handed, I watched to see which way his
eyes looked. For a left-handed person to look left while speaking,
they were remembering something, and to look right meant they were
creating something in their mind, often a lie.

“I am searching for a house. I have considered
expanding my business to Philadelphia for some time and now,” he
looked at my mother with appreciation in his dark eyes, “I have
reason.”

“What is your stand on slavery?” I asked, watching
as Richard’s eyes darted to his right then down, which could mean
that he was creating the reply that he believed I wanted to
hear.

He met my eyes as he said, “Why, I am opposed.” He
turned an amused gaze to my mother. “I see that your daughter has
your zeal for politics.”

“Elizabeth has a brilliant mind and is a great
advocate of freedom for all men, but she is not political.”

Richard turned his eyes upon Jack, asking, “And does
young John have a political zeal?”

“Decidedly not,” Jack said, disgust dripping from
his voice. “My tastes are much more refined.”

“Were you not a soldier?” Richard asked, and for a
moment I thought I saw a look of more than curiosity, but then he
glanced at me, smiling, and I was not sure. I would acknowledge
that he had all the appearances of a good man, but appearances
could be deceiving; look at us.

“I was,” Jack replied without emotion.

“Jack served in Baltimore, but he does not like to
speak of it,” Mother explained.

I felt Jack shift behind me. “War changes a man. It
is why I am considering entering the church.”

“The church?” There was a blank glaze to Richard’s
eyes, as if what Jack had said was spoken in a different
language.

“My mentor the Reverend Gideon Reid has been
tutoring me in all forms of literature and says that I would do
well there. Tell me, have you read Cowper? Gideon dotes upon
Cowper.”

“A clergyman would prefer the words of a spiritual
man,” said Richard, clearly uncomfortable. He turned to my mother,
but Jack spoke in a reverent tone.

“Fierce passions discompose the mind, as tempests
vex the sea, but calm, content and peace we find, when, Lord, we
turn to thee.”

An uncomfortable silence followed. I covered my
mouth with two fingers as I leaned against the arm of my chair,
trying to keep from laughing. Mother shot Jack a glance that said
she was not at all amused.

Richard stood awkwardly. “Well, my dearest heart, I
must away. I only stopped because I saw the carriage and knew the
prodigal children have returned.”

Richard winked at us, forcing me to I fight the urge
to laugh again. So he did at least know one Bible story. Though the
term prodigal did not exactly fit what we had been doing while
away. He turned toward my mother again and kissed her hand.

When both the library door and the front door had
been closed, Jack demanded to know if Mother was in earnest about
Richard.

She reached out a hand toward him. “Jack, I
understand your anger.”

He stepped away from her hand. "You do not! My
father has been dead but two years. Frankly, I question your
loyalty, ma’am."

“Do not treat me as if your father's death has not
affected me to the core. When your father died, I nearly died,” she
paused, taking a deep breath, “but I had to go on for you and Bess.
By marrying Richard, I am not dishonoring your father. He would
want me to love again.”

“My father was often hailed to be a generous man.
Your mistake is in expecting me to be as generous. I will uncover
the truth in all of this, and when I do, there will be hell to
pay." Jack walked away from her toward the door. I could feel his
anguish. He was being a wee bit harsh with her, questioning her
loyalty, for if there was one thing that our mother was, it was
loyal, but I understood.

“I am in debt.”

I started, my eyes focusing on her in astonishment.
She had apparently startled herself by her admission, for she was
pressing a hand against her mouth and her eyes were wide in
horror.