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.
“What?” Jack demanded from his place beside the door.
Her shoulders sagged in defeat. “I am in debt.”
“That is your reason for marrying Richard?”
“In two months, possibly less, I will be without a cent to my name. With the house and our way of life, we exceed our monies.”
The Phantoms do not pay much, not nearly enough for the way our mother spent money, but I knew that our father left her well provided for. Jack asked her about the money.
“Look around you, Jack. This mode of living is costly. Add to that the clothes we wear, the loss of certain assets, and the bad harvest last year. All has worked together to run us dry.”
Oh no. “My dowry?” I asked, unable to keep a note of despair from my voice.
“Safe. At least I shall see you properly wed.” Relief washed over me; then I felt ashamed. My mother was near to destitute, and I was thinking of myself.
“Why did you not tell us?” I asked softly.
“Mr. Hobbs paid me a call in January to inform me of the situation. I went to Savannah to attain what I could through the sale of the plantation.”
“You sold the plantation?” Jack demanded, but Mother shook her head.
“I could not do it. I did sell most of the furnishings which will get us through the next few months, and we still have the crops. Provided this is a good year, the money from the harvest will last a year but not more. The only course open to me is marriage.”
“Does Richard know that you are marrying him for his money?” Jack asked.
Mother winced at his words. I threw him a look of reproach, but he ignored me.
“What Jack means to ask is if you love Richard or is it a marriage of convenience?” I asked, my eyes daring him to say a word. He smiled at me, but it was his devilish smile. There was too much anger in his blue eyes.
“Of course it is, Bess. A man of diamonds he may be, but a heart of gold? We shall see,” Jack interposed sarcastically.
“Richard is a good man, and I will hear naught against him,” Mother said with a stern voice.
Jack bowed his head in mock surrender, but I knew he would not accede so easily. “So this party is to throw Bess to the wolves?”
“It is to help her find a suitable match. The time has come.” With that said, my mother swept me out of the librar
y.
When we reached my bedchamber, Mariah and Mrs. Beaumont were there along with a woman I recognized as my mother’s modiste. There were dresses everywhere—all across my bed, hanging from the front of my wardrobe, over the chair by the window, all in whites, pale blues, pinks, yellows, purple, and pale green.
Shoved behind my dressing screen, Mariah helped me to remove my travel gown. When I was down to my undergarments, I turned and pointed to my throat. Mariah inspected it then shook her head. The marks were hardly visible. I pointed to my hair. Mariah straitened the wig I wore then stepped back.
When I was sixteen, I cut off all my hair in a moment of extreme annoyance. When my mother saw what I had done she scooped up the long strands, handing them to Mrs. Beaumont, who had them made into a wig. My mother demanded that I wear that wig at all times when not on a mission. My hair had grown out, but I kept it cut short, falling to my shoulders. Mother was still adamant about my wearing the wig.
Gown after gown was tried on, and each time, before stepping out from behind the screen, I raised the skirt to see how accessible my weapons would be. I never went anywhere without my weapons strapped to my legs or wherever else I could place them. When my mother and I finally agreed upon white muslin over a slip of pale blue with tiny seed pearls, they left the room, leaving me leaning against the wall in exhaustion.
Mariah was frowning.
“What is amiss?” I asked.
She went to gather all the gowns that my mother had chosen for me. “Have you heard the rumors?”
I pushed against the wall and walked over to help her pick up the discarded gowns. “No.”
“From what Mrs. Beaumont says, people have been disappearing for the last month.” Mariah looked at me across the bed, her blue eyes wary. “From all the reports, a black carriage arrives without warning and four men dressed in black capture people, and then the carriage takes them away. As of yet, no one has been able to discover where they come from or why they take whom they do.”
Memory of Pierre being taken flashed in my mind. There were four men, and they were dressed in black. “How many have been taken?”
Mariah looked down at the gowns over her arm. “Seven.”
Seven bodies with the brand. Seven people were taken by carriage. Surely there was a connection. If the carriage were taking people for Levitas, then that could only mean one thing—Levitas was in or near Philadelphia.
Chapter 5
Jack
When Bess and Mother left me, I sat on the sofa burying my head in my hands. Peace was the last emotion that I was feeling. The homecoming that I expected had quickly turned into a nightmare with my mother’s confession and meeting the man whom she hoped would solve all her problems. I had not believed her story about Richard until she spoke of her debt. Then, it all fell into place. The way she went through funds, it was inevitable.
Richard appeared a pleasant enough man, but with our secret at stake, I could not afford to grant my approval without great consideration. I knew I would have to do some digging and see what I could discover about Richard Hamilton. Add that to my full plate, and I was feeling tired beyond my eighteen years.
A loud knock echoed through the room making me raise my head. Levi came in, silently closing the door behind him. Apprehension surged through me. Levi knew not to come to the house unless I signaled him. He advanced toward me with his dark hair all askew and his nose red from being out in the chilly air.
His smile nearly stretched its length, “I have found him. I have found the giant!”
I leapt to my feet; all my problems forgotten. “Where?”
“I rode to the apothecary shop, to see how it went during my absence, and while I was there, the giant entered. A seven foot tall man is impossible to mistake. I hid in the back room, but had the chance to observe him, and when he left the shop, I followed.” Levi’s impish grin and air of excitement were contagious.
“To where did he go?” I asked anxiously.
“I followed him to a house near the shipyard.”
“Was he there to conduct some business?”
Levi rocked back on his heels. “Nay, I paid a street urchin to tell me who lived in the houses. He described the giant in detail. His name is Dimitri, and he frightens the children.”
My excitement matched that of Levi. “Good work. Tonight you, Leo, and I will pay a visit to the giant and see what we can discover.” Walking over to my desk near the window, I stopped, remembering something important. “Do not say a word of this to Bess.”
Levi contemplated that for a moment before shrugging. “She would only insist upon going and well, after what happened the last time, we must do what we can to protect her.”
I unlocked my desk and pulled out a pair of matching pistols.
“Meet us at the waterside tavern at two, and we will go from there.” Levi touched his forelock in salute and moved to the door. He looked into the foyer first, then disappeared from my sight.
Even though I felt like my father had done Bess a disservice naming her his successor, trapping her forever into a life of danger, I was glad that he had not laid such a burden at my feet.
Bess had done a remarkable job over the last two years. Losing not one agent was a great accomplishment; better than the other two leaders could say. Frederick had lost no less than three agents within the last year, and Samuel Mason, the leader of the Charleston Phantoms and George’s nephew, had lost one. Thinking about Sam brought thoughts of George and his capture.
George liked to say that even in a time of peace there are threats at work. Never had he uttered truer words.
***
It was past two in the morning when Leo, Levi, and I were standing in the shadows of some trees across the street from Dimitri’s house. There were no lights shining from any of the windows, but I knew better than to put my trust in a dark house. I was on edge about venturing into the house of the giant. I had seen what he did to those temple men, and I had no desire to join the ranks of those he had killed. I turned to Leo and Levi.
“You both guard the alley. If you see anyone trying to enter it, stop them. I will go into the house myself. I will fire one shot if I need you.” I looked back toward the alley, swallowed down a rising lump in my throat, and darted across the street.
The moon offered enough light to see my way, as I hopped over puddles of a foul-smelling sewage. The houses in this part of town were known as bandbox houses, and most were between two and three stories in size. I knew the layout of such a house. There was one room per floor with a narrow staircase that connected each floor. Dimitri’s house was two stories. The lock on the wooden door was rickety. I pulled out a small metal tool, and within seconds, I had the door unlocked. If there were bolts, then I would have to find another way into the house. I sucked in a breath as I turned the handle.
Please open. Please open, I kept repeating in my mind as my black-gloved hand turned the brass handle. There was a click, so I slowly pushed the door open. As it creaked on its hinges, I paused, listening for any sounds of movement.
The house was dark and silent, so I pushed the door open enough to slip through. I left it open, so I could fit through in case of a hasty exit and the extra light from the moon would help me see my way.
Four walls, all close together made the room boxy. There was one small, square window on the front wall and a wood table with two wooden chairs, but that was all the furniture in the room. I ran a hand along the wall as I bounced and wriggled a foot on each floor board, hoping for a loose board or a crack in the wall; anything that could contain a secret compartment. I made it all the way around each wall stepping on each board through the center of the room, but there were no loose boards, and the black stove was empty.
After as thorough a search as I could do in the dark, I removed my black boots at the bottom of the stairs, and carefully put my foot on the first stair. Testing my weight on the stair cautiously to avoid creaking, no sounds met my ears, so I stepped onto the second and th
en the third. I was halfway up the stairs, when a board creaked under my weight. My teeth instinctively clenched while my back tensed as I listened. No sounds came from above; I blew out a silent, relieved breath.
At the top of the stairs, something ran across my foot. My body tensed. My first reaction to kick at whatever had touched my foot, but I refrained. I imagined it was a mouse from the size, but still an unpleasant experience. A sound like a grizzly bear rumbled from the room, and I jerked, nearly tumbling down the stairs. Another sound like a shrill whistle followed. Not only was someone sleeping here, but they were not alone.
You have fought in a war; you can surely face a sleeping giant. Telling myself that did little to help the feelings of anxiety as I thought that the giant could probably take on a small troop alone.
There was a stench of unwashed bodies, rotting straw, and stale onions. My stomach tightened against the sickening smell. I made my mind focus on searching the room, trying to ignore everything else. Moonlight was shining in through a small window near the ceiling so I could see the large frame of Dimitri, his long limbs hanging over the sides of a bed. His grizzly, rumbling snore echoed through the room then came the shrill sound from another man who was sleeping on a cot. There was a second cot, but it was empty.
With my eyes accustomed to the darkness, I could make out a desk in the far corner. The only problem was that I would have to pass both sleeping men to get to it.
You have not come this far to turn coward.
My little mind talk had the desired effect. Squaring my shoulders, I stepped past the bed and cots. A cold draft swirled around my stocking clad feet making them feel numb. With each step, shards of pain burst in my feet, but I kept on to the desk in the corner. As I reached it, I felt along the sides and back, then knelt before it, feeling underneath for any latch or lever. There was nothing, but inside the desk, there was a single sheet of paper so after snatching it and stuffing it in my pocket, I turned toward the bed. Dimitri would keep it under his guard. My eyes scanned the room, but the only clothing was that which the two men were wearing. I stepped next to the bed and felt around the bed. The bed was made of four small posters that held a pallet in the center and straw was thrown down for padding. Dimitri was far too large for the bed, so his arms and legs hung off the sides. As he snored, his breath blew on me. There were the onions. I closed my eyes, pressing my lips tightly together. I shook my head, trying to focus on something else other than the sickness that threatened to come up.
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