We were each given a card and told to tuck it somewhere on our person. The object was simple. The first person to retrieve the card from their partner was declared the victor. Jericho and I had been teamed together, and while I toyed with my fan and batted my eyelashes, Jericho went straight for the win. He had been twelve to my thirteen, but he was the tallest of all the boys. His arms wrapped around my waist, and the next thing I knew he was kissing me. I was so stunned that I never noticed his retrieving my card until he released me and bowed. Since then, I knew never underestimate him, and that his kisses were a power all their own. We had grown to be a family, and my girlish fancy had changed into a deep respect.
His jaw was tight, and his lips were compressed. When he met my gaze, there was a strong will in his brown eyes. “There is something that I must ask,” Jericho said, and as he nervously shifted his weight foreboding moved inside me.
“I would ask your permission and your blessing on my marriage. To Mariah.”
Jack and I stared at him, each with our mouths agape. Surprise, astonishment, and fear all coursed within my body. Surprise and astonishment I understood, but the fear was unsettling. As the leader of the Phantoms in Philadelphia, it was my permission that had to be gained if someone wished to marry. That brought thoughts of Ben into my head. Ben had had to gain my father’s permission to marry me, not only as my father, but as my leader. That must have been where the fear stemmed from. Ben had died in our line of work.
“Am I,” I cleared my throat, “to understand that you love Mariah?” Jericho nodded, holding my gaze. “Does she return your regard?”
A smile crept slowly to Jericho’s lips, and he was again the little boy whom my father had brought home all those years ago; the wild boy with the free spirit who knew how to protect himself. I had always been secretly impressed and a little in awe of Jericho. He possessed an inner strength to rival my father’s. When Jericho donned the wolf mask, he became a wolf, but he never struck against someone until they made the first move. He was just.
“I can think of no other man who would be better for Mariah,” I said, and Jericho released a puff of air. “I will give my blessing, but you must wait to wed until after this mission with Levitas, and George is found.”
Jack and I stood, and Jericho threw his arms around Jack and hugged him, picking him completely off the ground.
“Put me down, you wolf,” Jack said with a laugh. Jericho dropped Jack to his feet and came toward me. I took a step back in funning, but he only took my hands and stared down into my eyes.
“I swear on all the stars in the sky you will never have cause to regret this decision.”
Somehow, I knew I never would. I had never thought about it until that moment, but there had been looks passed between them for months, and Jericho was always the one who helped Mariah into the carriage or onto her horse or to escort her when I sent her on an errand. Mariah would marry a great man, which she mightily deserved.
“When shall you ask her? Is it to be kept secret?”
Jericho looked sheepish as he ran a hand through his fair hair. “I would like to ask her immediately, but not here.”
“Most definitely not here. Take her on a picnic,” I said, and both Jericho and Jack stared at me. “I can be romantic when the occasion demands.”
Jericho laughed then planted a kiss on my cheek. I went out with him, and as he went to saddle their horses, I told Mrs. Beaumont what was afoot, and she scurried off to see to a basket lunch. I found Mariah in my chamber and told her she and Jericho were being sent on an errand, one that would require she not wear her maid uniform.
After Jack and I had seen them off, there was another pang in my heart. It was like a void, a cavern of emptiness, dark and daunting. We went back into the library, and Jack shut the door then leaned against it with a frown fixed on his lips. I leaned back against my chair and closed my eyes. Andrew came to mind, but he was immediately replaced with Ben’s image. I knew that what I was feeling was guilt and shame. Somehow over the years, I had become bitter, clinging to a memory. It was that memory which drove me on day after day, mission after mission. A need for justice that I could never possibly acquire.
“Bess, what is going on in your mind?”
Jumping at the sound of his voice so close, I raised my gaze to his. He was standing before my chair, staring at me with concern etched in his frown. For a moment, I considered lying, shrugging his question away, but I needed to speak with someone before I burst.
“Do you believe I am betraying Ben,” I swallowed the lump rising in my throat, “by allowing Andrew’s attention?”
Jack sat in the chair across from mine, leaning forward to rest his arms on his knees. I looked away from Jack’s intense stare.
“Did I ever tell you that Ben came to see me on the day he died?” Jack asked, and my gaze instantly flew to his. I could not speak, so I shook my head.
Jack clasped his hands, staring at them. “He arrived at the camp, insisting that he was my brother and had to see me. My commander knew Father, so he allowed me to meet with Ben in his tent.” Jack rose and moved to lean an arm against the fireplace mantle. “Ben was more than my closest friend. He was my brother.” Jack looked at me, and I saw the same turmoil in his eyes that I had felt for three years. “Not many people knew how much he truly loved you, Bess. He was good about hiding his feelings. We all are.” Jack ran a hand through his hair. “He extracted a promise from me, should anything happen to him I would do my utmost to see you away from a life of danger. I am ashamed to say that I have failed in my promise.” Jack knelt beside my chair and took my hand, pressing it tight. “I know that you carry guilt for what happened to Ben. It is why you work so hard for justice. Believe me when I say, no one understands that more than I, but he would not want you to blame yourself for what was never your fault. You know what his motto was.”
“No revenge, no regrets,” I whispered, blinking away the moisture building in my eyes.
“I believe it is time for us both to put the regrets of the past to rest. Ben loved you, and he would want—no, demand—that you accept the happiness that is being offered to you.” Jack gave a small laugh. “And you know how adamant he could be when something riled him.”
Ben, Jack, and Ben’s brother Henry used to tell me daily that I was high-handed in my demands, but on the rare occasion when any of them was angry, there was no way but theirs, and God save the fool who tried to argue.
“Ben wanted your freedom and happiness more than anything else in the world. So lay Ben to rest, and marry Andrew, if that is what you want. Live out the rest of your life free and happy, knowing that Ben’s blessing is upon you because it is, for now and for always.”
Inhaling a long breath, I knew that everything Jack said was the truth. I knew it deep in my soul. It was time for me to lay the past, the guilt, and the regrets to rest. It was time for me not just to exist, but to live.
***
Andrew had only stayed away two days before he sent a note asking Jack and I to meet him at the State House for the tour of the museum. Edith was at our house, so she accompanied us.
Andrew was waiting outside the large brick structure, and when he saw us, he smiled. The cut over his lip was all but healing, and the bruise around his eye had lightened to green and purple, but at least he could open it. He offered his arm to me and led us into the building and up the wide staircase to the second floor. There we were met by Mr. Charles Peale and his son.
Mr. Peale, a man in his seventies who leaned heavily on his ebony cane, greeted us kindly before guiding us into the first room, answering any questions we had.
We entered upon a room filled with large preserved beasts, some I had never seen nor heard of. A bison, elk, anteater, grizzly bear, llama, and many monkeys were among the group. Jack’s eyes were alight with intrigue. He was not only a great reader, but he enjoyed learning. Edith, dear girl, shrank back from the beasts with their black, lifeless eyes that looked straight at you.
Portraits of famous people, from scientists to heroes of the revolution, were staring down at us from their frames on the walls. There were insects, fossils, coins, and an organ loft that played music as people viewed the curiosities. When we left the long room, and I caught sight of the marine room, I jerked back, causing Andrew to chuckle.
“John,” I called over my shoulder, but not taking my eyes from the fright before me, “remind me never to set foot in the ocean.” What Mr. Peale called a hammer head shark, though I thought it more a creature from the depths of hell, was ahead of us.
Edith would not even step foot in the room, so I released Andrew’s arm and went to stand beside her, telling the others that Edith and I would like to view the long room again and that they should take their time. Edith nearly pulled me away, while Jack apologized to Mr. Peale for our lack of scientific enjoyment.
When they joined us, and Andrew said we were to view the great beast, I again took his arm. The American Incognitum, as it was called by most, was the skeletal remains of a mastodon that Mr. Peale had excavated years before. It was said to be so large that a banquet could be served beneath its ribcage, and there were rumors that such a thing had happened when Mr. Peale first opened his museum.
As we walked to the other building, Andrew and I had a chance to speak as Jack and Edith fell behind with Mr. Peale and his son.
“I was pleased to see that Miss Harvey and not Miss Clark was with your brother. Might I drop a friendly word in your ear?” He did not wait for me to agree before saying, “That connection should be severed before it has a chance to take root.” I did not know what to say, so I said nothing.
He continued seriously. “Whom you know is important and whom you marry is even more so. Having connections such as those, without family, are never good for one’s aspirations, especially those seeking political power.”
I did not misunderstand what he was saying, but I pretended to. “John has no political aspirations.”
“No, but I do and when you and I marry having a brother who is married to a woman of no family would be a hindrance to our aspirations.” Unable to breathe, I stopped and turned to look up at him in astonishment. It was not that he took for granted that I would marry him; it was that he had made an unofficial declaration. A part of me wanted to dance or shout or sing for joy. What I wanted more than anything was imminent. But, my excitement was tempered with the knowledge that I did not entirely agree with his words about Guinevere. Jack was a man and could choose whomever he wanted for his life’s partner, as I would choose mine. I would not hold it against Andrew, for what he said did make a certain amount of sense. I could hear my mother’s voice in my head instructing me to encourage Andrew, for men will never come to the point without the necessary encouragement.
“I cannot speak for what will happen with my brother and Miss Clark, but I do hope that it will not hinder our future.”
He did not miss my meaning. He took my gloved hand and kissed the back. “Nothing in the world could do that, and if you have no objection, I would like to seek an interview with your brother soon.”
“I have no objection,” I replied earnestly though breathlessly.
“Come along, you two, the great American Incognitum awaits,” Jack called to us as they passed us.
Andrew leaned closer to me. “Others are always watching. We must be above reproof.”
Chapter 20
Jack
24 June 1816
In my bedchamber, Leo spoke as he helped me into my coat. “Jericho said that the ground was covered in ice again this morning. A quarter inch in the country is what is being said.”
The farmers were all in a tremor as there had not been a day to go by without frost or ice covering the ground. Snow was falling in the northern states. We had not seen snow in Philadelphia, but the cold temperatures, ice and frost every week were little better. Crops were on the brink of ruination, and some shopkeepers were claiming shortages due to passes being covered in snow. Snow in June. If the weather persisted, we could be facing a panic. If there were no crops, there was no food, and if there was no food, people would starve.
My mother had been selling valuables for months to keep ahead of the creditors, but last week she had sold the last of the good silver. Bess had been distraught, but there was no other way to keep us afloat. With George missing, the small stipend that we made as Phantoms had been cut off. We had nothing to contribute. All we had left were the family heirlooms that Mother would not part with, a small farm in North Carolina, and the plantation in Savannah. The state of our finances made my appointment with Guinevere timely. Once I married, my fortune would be released from the trust, but money was the least of reasons why I wanted to marry Guinevere.
Instead of taking the carriage the five roads that separated my house from Guinevere’s, I walked. I spent the time considering what I would say. How did one propose marriage? Should I kneel? Should I speak some verse to her beauty, or do I simply tell her what is in my heart? Thinking the words was one thing, but saying them aloud was something else entirely.
When I reached Guinevere’s house, I had no more notion of what I would say than I did when I decided that I would propose. I tapped on the door and waited. With each second that ticked by, my heart felt like it might explode. The rapidity of the beatings was making me even more nervous. Inhaling and exhaling deep breaths did nothing to calm me. My palms were sweaty in my gloves, and every moment that passed tied my stomach into another knot. When two minutes passed without an answer, I knocked harder. The door swung open with my hand poised to knock again. Martha greeted me with a wide grin, remembering to take my hat, gloves, and walking stick. She laid them on a small table and motioned toward the parlor door.
“I have a soufflé near destruction,” she muttered, before she bustled off toward the back of the house. She was ever a curiosity.
After straightening my white cravat before the looking glass on the wall, I moved to the open parlor door. Guinevere was seated upon the sofa reading a book, dressed in a light blue gown that made her eyes look more blue than purple. I walked to her and bowed.
“You are punctual as ever, John. Do be seated.” We had given up trying to maintain a formal air at the picnic. She was Guinevere, and I was John, though, at times, she slipped and called me Jack. It was those moments that I craved.
“Guinevere, I have something that I would ask you.”
She set her book aside and clasped her hands. She appeared serenely confident, all but the way she was biting on her bottom lip. Gazing down at her, I saw my future, and there was no hint of fear.
All I had known since childhood was duty—to the Phantoms, to my father, to protect my country in both war and work, and now duty to provide for my mother and sister. I was tired of doing the work of others, and I never wanted Guinevere to become a duty, that I had to marry her because I was stealing her guardian from her, or to unlock my fortune.
When I was contemplating proposing, I had taken a moment to consider giving her up. My heart had immediately constricted in grief at the thought of anyone else touching her, kissing her; God forbid the rest. It had all become clear. I knew what I wanted for my life, and looking into her eyes, I was sure that I would never regret my decision. I opened my mouth to pour out my soul to her, but was cut off by a deep voice behind me.
“What is the meaning of this?” Richard demanded as he stalked into the room. I had not heard the front door open, but there he stood in all his indignant pomposity.
“Richard, I must beg you to give us a few minutes. John has
not finished what he was saying,” Guinevere said with determination coating her words.
“John is it? John? This is the outside of what is acceptable.” Richard’s eyes were wild as he looked from her to me.
“Indeed it is not,” Guinevere retorted as she nearly leapt in her attempt to rise. She was staring at Richard, her stance that of a warrior. “I believe that even I am allowed to receive an offer of marriage.”
“Marriage,” Richard sputtered, his face turning a purple-red shade. “Not as long as you are my ward.”
“Sir, Miss Clark holds no blame here. If you must be angry with someone, make it I.”
Richard cast me a scathing look. “I assure you, I have plenty to say to you, but I will not soil my ward’s ears. You and I are taking our leave.” Richard crossed his arms, determined not to leave me alone with Guinevere.
As I looked at Richard, I had to fight down my mounting rage. He dared to look at me as if I were the wicked one. Turning to Guinevere, there was contrition in her eyes. It raised my ire toward Richard. None of this was Guinevere’s fault.
Ignoring Richard’s hard stare, I moved to Guinevere and bowed over her outstretched hand. I raised it to my lips and mouthed, forgive me.
She nodded as she withdrew her hand. She walked with me to the door and waited as I picked up my possessions from the table. Richard stepped between us and ushered me out like I was some petulant child.
“How did you arrive? By carriage?” Richard demanded.
“I walked, sir.”
Richard grunted then motioned to his carriage that was coming toward us. When it stopped, he ordered me to get in.
Phantoms In Philadelphia Page 18
