She had encouraged Luther’s advances, believing him to be a gentleman since he was a prince, and had gone on a picnic with him. He tried to force his attentions upon her and that is when my father appeared and knocked Luther out cold. He was furious with her, but it did not bother her one jot. For she discovered that he had been watching her closely, that he cared about her. She wrote that she fell foolishly in love with him at that moment, and would have followed him anywhere.
They lived on little once they arrived in England, and after they bought the farm. She wrote of her heartache over Father’s desperation to provide for her, until my father was able to find a line of work which suited him. He would not tell her what he was doing at first, but he would disappear for days, and she would not know if he was alive. Then he would reappear without warning, and act as if nothing had occurred, but his pockets would be full of coins. It was only after he returned home with an injury that she discovered that he was a spy for the crown.
After his identity was discovered by his enemy, he packed my mother, me, and Bess onto a boat for America. That is where her journal ended.
The only explanation for my father’s devotion to the princesses was his vow to protect his king, his queen, and the future heirs. He swore the oath when he was knighted, but also when he and my mother were fleeing for their lives. The queen had met them at the harbor and gave them money to help them. She asked him to swear that should she ever have need of him, he would assist her. He swore his allegiance, and my parents departed.
That vow meant more to him than anything else, including his own family. I understood that he felt responsible for the girls. I understood that the king had been his oldest friend, but what I would never understand is why he thought that robbing his own children of their father was the only way.
“What Father did was wrong, no matter how he tries to convince us otherwise,” Bess said to Mrs. Stanton, and to me.
“My dear, if you spend your life staring at the past and regretting the things that you cannot change, you will miss everything good that is ahead of you,” Mrs. Stanton said.
That silenced Bess, but not me. “Why give this to us now, when our father sits in a prison? If it is to make us hate Luther, there is no need. What he did to my wife and her sisters and their parents was enough to ensure my wrath. What other reason do you have?” There was great speculation in both my words and my gaze as I stared at Dudley’s mother. The dragon woman as I had thought of her not that long ago.
She pushed her cup away from her, her gaze never leaving me. “Why? To make you understand what you are going against. To open your eyes to what you will see and what you will face when you come up against Luther.” Mrs. Stanton rose and pushed in her chair. “The man is a lunatic, yes, but he has a great advantage over you.”
“We know that he has Edith,” Bess said, with a catch in her voice. Edith was one of Bess’s greatest friends.
“He does not have Mary Edith,” Mrs. Stanton said with assurance. “But he does have your mother, and he will break her before he allows you to harm him, so you had best be prepared for the greatest battle of your lives, because those you love will die. My question to the both of you is, what are you prepared to sacrifice to protect those you love most?”
CHAPTER 17
GUINEVERE
Being with my sisters again should have been a joyous time. That Edith was not taken captive by our uncle as we had believed was a great relief. As much as I tried, I could not banish the thoughts that we had nothing in common anymore. We had lived apart for so long that we were more strangers than sisters. At least I was the stranger. Rose and Edith, after Rose and the others had arrived at the cottage, got along as if they had never been parted. It struck me as I listened to their chatter that they had lived similar lives over the past eight years. It was true that Edith had never had to work, being the supposed niece of General Harvey, but Rose’s work had never been as difficult as mine had been. The Charleston Phantoms watched ships that sailed in and out of port, searching for illegal cargo. If they ever had to fight, it had been a rare occurrence, and Sam had not included the women on his team often. The only member of their team that they had lost had died in a fire when she forgot to blow out her candle before falling asleep. Listening to their chatter was threatening to drive me to madness.
When the Monroe guards, who had been watching the house, told Levi that they were called away to scout out Uncle Luther’s house, I snuck out and followed them. Anything was better than sitting around a small parlor in uncomfortable silence while my sisters reminisced about our home, and the prospect of seeing it again. Or watching Rose’s suitors fawn over her, making excuses to come into the house when they had strict orders from Arthur to guard the house … from the outside.
It was mid-morning when I followed Monroe’s guards through a natural, untouched forest. They did not know that I was following them, for I knew how to become a shadow when I did not want anyone knowing of my presence.
There were ten guards moving on foot through the low hung branches and overgrown bushes until they paused to speak. I moved along a wall of bushes, watching my feet to be sure not to step on any twigs, until I was close enough to hear what they were saying.
“…surround them. I counted five when I scouted out the woods surrounding the house. They are stationed at different positions in the woods. If Jack’s plan is to work, we need to take them out one at a time, but not until he is prepared to strike.”
So, Jack was going to strike, was he? It was a fortunate chance that I decided to follow Arthur, for I would not have heard these plans otherwise. When we were separated and I saw where they had taken me, I suspected that I was being kept in the ‘safe’ house. The place where they would keep those they did not want involved with the fight. After telling Jack about the babe to come, this move did not surprise me, but if he thought to leave me out, he would discover his mistake. This was more my fight than his. It was my uncle, my country, and my family who had been harmed the most.
The guards moved on, but the bushes that I was following did not lead in the same direction as they went. Instead, they lead me further into the forest. There were no holes to climb through, so I kept following the bushes until they ended, but then I was deeper into the forest, away from everyone else.
Glancing up to try to gain my bearings, the thickness of the trees blocked out the sun, causing only shadows to lurk in the forest. Closing my eyes, I listened to my surroundings. There was a rustling of leaves about two yards behind me, low to the ground which would be a kind of woodland creature. The leaves shook as a breeze blew through the trees, but no loud crunching or whispered voices could be heard.
Having decided to find my way toward the house, I was about to take a step when I heard twigs snapping and branches shaking, and then a cursed exclamation.
My heart skittered in beats, for the snapping was not five yards in front of where I was standing. Once the person shoved through the brambles and bushes, they would see me for I was standing in the only clearing. Twisting around in a semi-circle, I scanned the trees until my eyes lit on the perfect one.
Stepping as lightly as I could, I backed toward the tree, keeping my eyes trained on the direction of the noisy man. Grabbing a low hung branch, I pulled myself up. His grunts were growing closer. Grabbing up a fistful of my skirt, I tucked the hem between my teeth, and continued climbing. My hand reached for the next branch, but it was too high. Glancing down, my legs and boots were still within view if the man happened to look up. By his mumblings I knew that he was near to breaking through and entering the clearing. I had to act fast.
Breathing in a breath through my nose, I pushed off the branch under my boots and leapt toward the one above me. My hands wrapped around it, and my boots dangled in the air. Swinging them around, they struck the trunk of the tree, slipping as I tried to gain leverage. With my body tilted in a sideways angle, I closed my eyes and focused on walking my boots up the trunk until they were high enough
for me to get a leg over the branch. I heard the man stumble into the clearing, for his loud exclamation assured me that he had made it. Swinging my arm around one side of the branch, I eased my belly flat against the thick branch. Leaning my face over the side of the branch, I watched the man look about him. He was definitely one of my uncle’s men. He wore the unimpressive plain brown clothing that my uncle thought made his puppets less noticeable. Why brown I still did not know. Unkempt was the first word that came to mind as I took in the man’s appearance. He could have belonged in the forest, for his matted hair, and grizzled beard belonged in the wild.
Sliding my gloved hand down the bark, I reached for my sheathed dagger strapped to my leg, when a different man stepped into the clearing, from the direction that I had come.
There was something different about this man that told me that the two were not friends. He was wearing black, and then I caught the hint of color over his face when he tilted his head to look at the guard.
Raven!
The red and black mask that had the raven taking flight over one eye I would know anywhere. Bess had chased me enough for me to know it at once.
Looking around, no one else came into view. What was Bess doing out here alone?
The man’s attention was riveted upon her, and then with a growl he charged. Bess laughed deeply as she sidestepped his attack, twirling around and giving his backside a kick that sent him stumbling toward the bushes. I thought he would fall on his face, but two strong arms caught him and kept him from hitting the ground. The guard looked up, and Sam smiled, before slamming his fist against the man’s face. Sam brought his knee up and struck the guard’s stomach. Sam struck him two more blows, and then released him to fall onto the ground.
Bess pulled a cord of rope from her belt and began to unwind it as she approached the man on the ground. She set to tying his feet together while Sam did the same to his arms.
Smiling at their teamwork, I decided to join them. Climbing down the tree, I dropped onto the ground, startling Sam and Bess. They each drew weapons, pointing the barrels of their pistols toward me.
Bess was the first to lower hers. “Dash it all, Guinevere. Do you wish to die? We could have killed you.”
Sam placed his pistol in his holster.
“I know that you never fire until after you see who your opponent is,” I told Bess.
“Does Jack know that you are here?” Sam asked me.
“Does Jack know that Bess is here?” I retorted.
The corner of Sam’s lips lifted in an infinitesimal smile.
“Now that you are here, we can split up,” Bess said, pulling the almost smile from Sam’s lips.
“I am not leaving you alone,” Sam said, but Bess hooked arms with me.
“I am not alone. If you doubt my ability, surely you do not doubt Guinevere’s.”
Sam stared at his wife, as if trying to find a way to deny her, but he could not. Sam and I had worked together in the past, so he knew of my skills. He also knew that I would not allow anything to happen to Bess. When George Crawford, Sam’s uncle, had been captured by Richard and Levitas, I had been the one to write to him and tell him what was afoot. I did not expect him to show up in Philadelphia, demanding that his uncle be released at once. He did not want any family of his being used for bartering. If only he knew what was facing him now.
“It will be as you wish,” Sam said to his wife. “Take Guinevere and locate the two guards in the south wood. I will take out the ones in the north and we will meet at the road in one hour. No longer or I will come for you.” Sam leaned down and kissed his wife, not caring that I was watching, or that she was dressed as a man. Then again, as Jack had told me, the first time he had ever kissed her was when she was dressed in her Phantom clothing.
Following Bess, she moved through the trees, taking a less congested path than the guard had taken. How she knew where it was I did not ask. I followed her as best as I could, with my dress being pulled by branches and torn by sharp needles.
When Bess walked out of the forest and there was a road before us, I glanced about me, unsure of where we were.
“This is the south road, a wagon path really, but one that Luther’s guards patrol. There is a man on horseback who rides up and down this road. We need to remove him.”
“What do you propose?” I asked as I glanced up and down the dirt path.
Bess let out a soft whistle and twigs snapped behind us. I turned, and then smiled when a dark horse emerged, walking straight to Bess and nuzzling against her.
“This is Levi’s horse, a mount almost as well-behaved as my Pegasus.” She rubbed her hand over the horse’s mane.
“There is another guard about a hundred yards from here that I need to remove. You can take care of this one on your own.” With that said, Bess handed me the reins to the horse and then smiled and ran off into the forest.
“What am I supposed to do with you?” I asked the horse. His only response was to snort.
The distant clop of hooves made me act quickly. Leading the horse onto the road, I told it to stay, and was rather surprised when it did as I said. Running back into the forest, I hid behind a tree as I watched the guard ride closer. When he saw the horse, he halted his own. Holding my breath, I waited. He dismounted. I released my breath and smiled.
The guard looked around for the owner as he patted Levi’s horse. Levi’s horse tried to take a nip out of his hand. The guard jumped back, his expression grim.
Excited energy coated my stomach. This would be easier than I thought. Imbecile.
Survival lesson number one: never get off your horse unless it is shot from beneath you. I moved toward the horse, and the man stared as if I were an ethereal being stepping out of a storybook.
He was my height, frail in appearance, and older.
“Thank heavens you have found my horse. He tossed me a ways back and I was afraid that I would never find him.” When I reached him I patted the horse in a show of friendliness. And then threw my fist toward the guard’s face.
Somehow he anticipated my move. He swerved just before my fist could strike his cheek. He threw himself against me and tackled me to the ground. My breath left me in a rush but I was not scared. I was annoyed. His hands tried to grasp mine, pulling one above my head. With my left hand, I threw it toward his chin. His fist struck my shoulder.
Pain shot through my arm but I kept moving. Jamming my thumb into his eye, he howled, and I used his pain to my advantage, rolling him off of me. Getting to my feet, he grasped my ankle. Twisting around, I kicked, the toe of my boot connecting with his chin. He punched me in the leg, but the hit barely registered in my mind as I threw my hands against his face and pushed off, using his head to propel me away from him. He growled, pulling out a knife. The sunlight bounced off his silver blade.
What an impressive weapon—for an imbecile.
As he charged, I jerked out of the way, pulling my dagger from my strap on my leg. He ran past me then skid to a stop and twisted around. I balanced the weight of the dagger in my right hand. The leather wrapped around the handle grooved against my gloved hand. He looked at my dagger and smiled.
My weapon was larger than his knife but from the look on his face I would say he knew how to use that knife in many different ways. I was not going to wait around to find out just how many. As he stalked toward me, the movements of a wild animal testing his ground before he pounced, I hit a release on the handle and the sides of the blade sprang apart to create three sharp fingers. The man across from me slowly straightened from his hunched over, stalking position.
Thank you, Abraham. This particular weapon had been one that I had found in his workshop before we left Charleston. It had a star burned into the hilt, one that matched a dagger that I once owned. One that Abe had forged for me.
The guard threw his knife with deadly intent and perfect precision. Gasping, my hand shot up almost by instinct alone. I used my dagger to knock the knife away before it could hit me in the face. The
man across from me turned to run for his horse.
Coward.
The chase was my favorite part. I ran after him but before I could reach him a knife flew past my shoulder and lodged in his back. As he stumbled and fell I whipped around.
A wind was blowing the leaves in the surrounding trees but I saw no one. A voice in my head screamed at me to run but I would not. I was not a coward.
With a deep breath, a bit of recklessness, and a heart pounding, I walked toward the forest. I strained my ears but all I could hear was my own breath. I reached the first tree, and an arm flew out and wrapped around mine then a strong hand grabbed my hand and forced it down. A man stepped around the tree.
“Guinevere!”
Blowing out a deep breath, I stared at Jack, unable to form any words as relief washed over me.
“What the devil are you doing here?” he hissed at me.
His words snapped my thoughts into order. “I could ask you the same.”
Jack looked toward the road then muttered something and released my arm. He ran around me and I turned to watch him.
The wounded man was trying to run. Jack tackled him to the ground then whistled. Brutus, Jack’s horse from his Phantom days, emerged from the trees and trotted over to Jack. I went to help. Grabbing a rope that hung from Jack’s saddle I gave it to Jack who was kneeling on the man’s back. Jack pulled out his knife and the man moaned. Jack kept his weight against the man’s back as I grabbed the man’s arms and twisted them behind him, making him cry out. I had been doing this job so long that my compassion for helpless villains had tapered. Jack tied his arms together then went for his feet. He tried kicking Jack so I sat on his back, holding him down as Jack pulled off his boots.
Jack tied his bare feet together then cut some of the rope and I climbed off the guard’s back. Jack tied his elbows together, grinning. He would not escape Jack’s knots. After pulling his feet toward his arms and tying the two together, we stepped back and surveyed our team work.
phantom knights 04 - deceit in delaware Page 17
