Free Phantoms In Philadelphia by Amalie Vantana

left for
our mission in Washington.
    As we reached the drawing room, I glanced over the
assembled guests crowded into the room. The furniture had been
removed and was replaced with small chairs that lined the walls and
a small ensemble of musicians with stringed instruments. The middle
of the floor was for dancing.
    My name was called, and I looked to my left to where
a group of my friends were hovering in the corner. I waved but did
not go to them. It was my duty as the head of the house to greet
all of the guests before I spent the rest of the evening with my
friends.
    The gold scrollwork on the ceiling glittered, and
the candles in the gold sconces on the yellow walls flickered.
Added to that, were the two crystal chandeliers that hung from the
ceiling, and you had a room fitted for any palace.
    When Bess appeared at my arm, it meant the start to
the dancing. Dud elbowed me out of his way, as he took her hand and
led her to the center of the floor. As they were joined by other
dancers, I leaned against the wall for a moment to watch. Poor Dud
had to tilt his head back to be able to see Bess’s eyes, but her
height never once bothered him. He was a man in love, and what
others considered flaws, he considered marks of beauty. The truly
sad fact was I would give my consent to their marriage if Bess felt
different. I could not say that about any other man in the
room.
    At the end of half an hour, I had greeted several
people, passed by some with a nod and a smile, and stopped beside a
few who hailed me. With my duty done, I was making my way to my
friends, when I heard my name being called. I turned to my right
and nearly cursed.
    Mrs. Campbell, a plump, nosy, outspoken woman, was
beckoning to me with her large, feather-edged fan. There was no way
to escape the inevitable, so I fixed a smile on my lips and moved
to greet her. I bowed, but she gave me no time to speak for she was
off like a horse at the races.
    “Why are you not dancing? If due to the selection,
then I do not blame you. Watery, the lot of them.” She swung at me
with her closed fan, and I stood still, taking the rap on my arm
without a word. I focused on her purple turban as she went on.
“Your sister of course is the reigning beauty, but you will hardly
dance the night with her.” She then changed subjects. “Are you sure
that you prefer the church to marriage? I know of a young woman who
would suit you well. My niece Elvira is biddable, perfect for any
young man.”
    To my complete annoyance, she waved at someone with
her fan. As I turned I collided with a young girl, freckled and
gap-toothed. The top of her head bumped into my chin, and unruly
hair tickled my nose. She grasped hold of my arms, but she was in
no danger of falling. I placed my hands on her arms setting her
back and getting my first good look at her.
    Saints preserve me. She could be no older than fourteen. That was one
of the downfalls of being a member of high society, playing
agreeable with people you would rather not play with at all. But, I
knew my duty, so I bowed.
    “Ask the girl to dance,” Mrs. Campbell urged, with a
sly smile.
    There was no way out, short of fire or my death, or
Mrs. Campbell’s. I bit my cheek to keep from grinning at that
pleasant thought as I extended my hand and asked for a dance. She
showed not the slightest reluctance, as she clamped onto my arm and
pulled me toward the other dancers.
    As the music struck up, Elvira
never once looked at my face, too occupied with looking at her feet
and counting her steps. Try as I would, she would not be engaged in
conversation. I was determined to keep away from Mrs. Campbell and
her niece for the remainder of the evening. As we passed by where
Bess was standing, she cast me a brilliant smile, one that told of
her amusement at my expense. I crossed my eyes, making Bess laugh
and tip her champagne glass, spilling some on one of the men vying
for her attention.
    As we went down the line of dancers, I received