Chapter 3
Jack
The journey to Philadelphia took us five days, since we halted in Baltimore for a short sojourn before traveling on to Philadelphia. We stopped a few miles outside Philadelphia at a farmhouse to exchange our horses for our family carriage. The house belonged to a faithful friend of the Phantoms and he would see to it that our horses were transported to the stable in town that housed them. We also said goodbye to Levi at the farm, since he was the only member of our team who did not work as a servant in our house. It would have been too complicated with his last name being Martin. Martin was a common name in Philadelphia so his having our surname did not garner attention because we made sure never to be seen together unless in our Phantom guise.
Our trunks that had been kept for us by the farmer were opened, and our raiment changed before climbing into the carriage. Before we set off, Leo reminded me that I was out of my favorite cognac.
After I had thanked him, he went to inform Jericho, who was to drive the carriage, where we were to go. There was a small Inn on the outskirts of Philadelphia that was known for their fine liquor. It was imperative that we stop for if my society friends called upon me they would expect to find only the best liquor in my house.
Once we were on our way, Bess opened the packet that she had received from Pierre. She pulled out a letter and handed me a small book.
There was a crest stamped on the front of the black leather book; that of a pyramid with a lightning bolt through the center and vines of ivy surrounding the pyramid. The same crest was on the first page. As I went through page by page, I ascertained that the book was all about Levitas.
“Listen to this,” Bess said, “Levitas is a secret society that was created to be a safe haven for gentlemen; a place they can go to discuss topics that some might consider treasonous.”
The treasonous part I could well believe. I went back to looking over the book, and when I was halfway through, I read something that interested me. It said that their meetings were always held at nine strikes of the clock. There were handshakes listed, each with a different meaning; then I came upon a drawing. It was a chalice with what appeared to be some kind of crest on the side. I showed it to Leo, Bess, and Mariah.
“It says in the letter that the artifacts are the sacred pieces of the Holy Order. They hold an unknown power, but only the sun can wield their power. It is why the artifacts are never kept in the same place. For safety.”
Besides the chalice, there was a sword, a dagger, a ring with a raised stone, a small book much like the one I was reading, and an odd shaped box with symbols all over it.
“Is this the black box?” I showed the drawing to Bess.
Bess nodded. “Pierre said that Levitas was after Ma belle, and Jeremiah said to retrieve the box and give it to Ma belle.”
As I turned the page, I sucked in a quick breath. Bess leaned over and looked at the page. She mumbled a curse.
There was a sketch on the page of the final artifact; a ring in the shape of a coiled snake.
“Could it be the same one you have?” I asked Bess, since she had taken such a ring from the hand of her attacker two years ago.
She slowly shook her head. “The eyes are different. See how these are raised like gemstones, mine are smooth gold.”
So those men who had attacked Bess and murdered Ben worked for Levitas did they. At least we now had a general idea of who was responsible. One thing was plain; Ma belle was the connecting component.
We reached the Inn, and I pulled my eyes away from the book. The building was a two story brick structure with a small, wooden sign hanging over the door, but I knew that the outside belied the ambience to be found within its walls. We had spent many evenings in that hostelry while on missions. Leo left the carriage to go purchase my cognac.
“Does the letter say anything else?” I asked as I closed the book.
Bess stared at the letter for a moment and then refolded it. “A name only. Nicholas Mansfield. He must be in some way connected to Levitas. He may be their leader.”
“So, we find this Nicholas Mansfield, and we find Levitas.”
“Or Ma belle,” Bess said. I gave her the book, and she slipped both back into the packet.
Bess and Mariah started chatting about dress fashions, so I stared out my carriage window in time to see Leo reaching the front door of the Inn. It suddenly swung open, and he nearly collided with a young woman as she was stepping out. She smiled, and something within me stirred, like a sudden wind. I leaned closer to the window to gain a better view.
She looked to be near my age. By the expensive cut to her clothing and the tilt to her chin, I would guess her to be a lady of breeding. What, then, was she doing at an Inn alone? She walked toward a black carriage across the yard, lifting her navy skirt and revealing a pair of small boot-clad feet. The door to the Inn flew open again, and my eyes shifted to it as a young man stormed out of the building, charging toward the young woman’s carriage. My head struck the glass of the window as I craned my neck to watch. He grabbed her arm as she was climbing into her carriage. I could hear his voice shouting even through our closed carriage door. Their argument was none of my business; she could have been his wife, but I could not pull my eyes away. The man pulled the young woman away from the carriage and threw her across the yard, pointing at the Inn. She stumbled and dropped in a heap against the dirt.
A deep anger that I had not felt in a long time overtook me, and I snapped. Grabbing my walking stick, I threw open the carriage door, leapt to the ground, and ran to where the man was towering over the young woman as she knelt on the dirt.
“You there, I say halt!” I shouted as I ran forward, placing myself between the woman and the man.
He had to be at least six feet tall, a good six inches above me, because I found myself looking up into his thin, long face, which closely resembled the face of a horse. Patches of yellow hair stuck out at all angles from under his hat, and small, protuberant, blue eyes stared down at me. His mouth was hanging open like a fish for a moment before he again found his tongue.
“What is the meaning of this?” he demanded.
“That is what I would like to know. I shall not allow you to mistreat this lady,” I said and turned, holding my hand down to her.
My eyes locked on hers, and the angry man, the dusty yard, the gawking eyes of the stable boys all faded away. My breath felt labored; I could not move, her eyes were holding me transfixed. My heart started to beat as if it were playing along to a highland reel.
Her eyes that were between a blue and a purple reminded me of my mother’s favorite flower, the hyacinth, and I suddenly understood her liking for it. The young woman’s oval face, the color of purest ivory and untouched by blemish, was framed by a bonnet that covered her hair, but a few strands fell across her smooth brow. The corners of my lips creased into a smile. Two years past, I would have called her hair red, but a mission in which Bess had donned a red wig, she taught me that the color was auburn, not red.
Her small eyebrows lifted, causing me to snap out of my stupefaction.
“Allow me to assist you to stand.” As my fingers wrapped around her gloved hand, our hands fit as if they were two pieces of the same puzzle, finally finding their match. I shoved such ridiculous thoughts away and helped her to stand.
The man again demanded my attention. With a growl, he grabbed the young woman’s wrist, jerking her hand from mine.
The dog! I struck his arm hard enough to bruise it with the ball of my walking stick. He leapt back rubbing the offended place.
When he took a step forward and grabbed the front of my coat, I lost my will to remain calm. I threw my fist against his jaw with enough force to make him stumble back.
With a hand against his jaw, he shouted, “Do you know who I am?”
“No. Nor do I wish to know a man who mistreats women. You, sir, are a pestilence, and I shall not stand by as you force your plagued attentions upon this lady.”
The
man sputtered in rage. “Those are fighting words, boy,” he said, as if he were so many years older than I. “You had better be able to stand behind them.”
“When and where you please,” I replied, my gaze never wavering.
The man looked like he wanted to murder me. We held each other’s gaze for a few warring moments; then his eyes fluttered to something beyond me. He slammed his mouth shut, took a step back, and turned his eyes upon the woman, snarling.
“We shall see what your guardian has to say about this.” He cast me a look of pure hatred before stomping to where his horse was tied. He rode wildly out of the yard leaving a cloud of dirt behind.
There. I tossed my stick lightly in the air, caught it and turned to look at the young woman beside me. I was not a tall man by any means, but the beauty smiling at me was even shorter than I.
She held out her hand. “Thank you, sir, for your gallant rescue.” Her voice was sweet, musical.
“It was a pleasure, madam,” I said as I bowed, raising the back of her gloved hand to my lips.
The feeling that I had met her before was strong. She reminded me of a girl that I met once three years ago, but I knew that she could not be the same girl. I shoved the painful memory away as the door to the Inn opened and a stout woman bustled out, exclaiming in a high pitch.
“My dear! I saw the entire episode from the window, but that fool of an innkeeper would do nothing but say that the young gentleman could handle himself.”
The stout woman looked me over like she was appraising a horse at the auction house. I watched her, my mouth in a full smile. She gave me a nod before walking toward the black carriage. I exchanged an amused glance with the young beauty beside me.
“I do believe you have found favor with Martha,” the young lady said softly, and I wanted to say that it was she and not her companion whom I wished to please, but I kept my mouth shut—for once.
Her companion cleared her throat loudly from inside the carriage, so I offered my arm to the young woman. I helped her into her carriage, and once she was seated, she leaned her head out of the open door. Her eyes again held me mesmerized.
“I shall remember you, sir, and what you have done for me this day. That I promise you.”
My smile was wide as I closed the door and stepped back. As the carriage moved away, I stared after it for a moment, then my eyes slid shut in exasperation. I had forgotten to ask her name.
I stared where her carriage had been sitting, and my smile slowly returned. I would have to find her. I was a spy, after all. Turning toward my carriage, I halted. Bess and Mariah were leaning half out of the carriage; Leo was standing beside the door, and Jericho was smiling at me from the box, a pistol resting in his hand. That must have been what made the vile man leave without trying to fight me.
When we were again on our way, Bess nudged me with her shoulder. “How your poetical friends would stare if they saw what we witnessed.”
A groan escaped me. My cover when at home was that of a devout poet who engaged in nothing but literary pursuits and was destined for the church. So far it had served me well, but Bess was correct; if my fellow poets had seen my actions in going to the beauty’s rescue, they would most definitely stare.
Chapter 4