Free Phantoms In Philadelphia by Amalie Vantana Page B

them.
    “He is destined for the church you see,” Thomas
explained, and I felt myself losing ground.
    She looked at me like she could not believe it, or
would not. “But you are a man of birth and family. Surely the
church is not necessary.”
    “I assure you, Miss Clark, that the church is always
necessary, but as for joining, it is yet undecided.”
    “Ah.” She said the one word as if she were
relieved.
    The men began to press closer, growing restless at
my taking up so much of her time, so I held out my hand, determined
to get her away from the group. “Might I have the privilege of this
dance?”
    She cast down her eyes. “I am
unsure how to reply. What if you stop in the middle of our dance
and I am cast upon the floor?” She lifted her eyes to mine,
amusement sparkling in their depths. I said nothing as Thomas came
to my rescue.
    “No fear there, John is an excellent dancer.” He
stopped abruptly, and I nearly laughed as he went on, “Oh, what I
mean to say is that he will surely trip you. You should instead
dance with me. I shall not cast you upon the floor.” Thomas held
out his hand to her as well, but it was mine that she reached
for.
    As I led her into the set, I assured her that I
would not tread upon her feet. She laughed. Her voice was like a
melodious song. She reminded me of a bird; a beautiful, rare bird
that if not handled with extreme care, would suddenly fly away,
never to return.
    “Is it true that you always carry a book of
sonnets?”
    I smiled, for without their knowing, my friends had
done much to aid me by talking to her of me. I laid a hand on my
chest where my pocket was within my coat. “It is true, for one
never knows when one may be called upon to render a verse.”
    Her smile turned mocking. “Love looks not with the
eyes, but with the mind?”
    So she knew poetry, did she? Before I could make a
reply she added, “Do you believe that for truth?”
    “Truth is a matter of perception, with each man
believing his perception is the only way,” I replied simply and
honestly before I reflected how my words would be taken. As we
separated in the dance, I watched her brows crease. I wanted to
kick myself for stepping out of my role of a poet and speaking my
true thoughts. There was something about the woman that made me
want to be honest, and that in itself was a danger.
    When we came back together in the dance, I was ready
to speak a verse to her about her beauty, but she spoke first.
    “Is that woman a relation of yours?”
    As my eyes moved in the direction Miss Clark was
looking, Bess was watching us intently. I smiled at Bess, and she
smirked in return. “Yes, that is my sister Elizabeth. I know that
she will want to meet you. I shall present you if you have no
objections.”
    “None,” Miss Clark replied before moving away
again.
    When the dance ended, I did not have the opportunity
to make an introduction, as Richard came upon us.
    “John, I was hoping to find you. Would you accompany
me to the library? A group of my friends are there and desire to
meet my future son.” He spoke the words as if all of Philadelphia
were privileged to the truth. As I glanced around, I realized that
they were. My mother had some explaining to do. I turned to Miss
Clark, excusing myself, but I had little qualms over leaving her as
she was pounced upon the moment I stepped away.
    My library was opened, as a place where men could
gather. When Richard and I entered the room it was full of older
men, most of whom I was acquainted, but Richard did not know
that.
    Richard began the introductions with a tall man who
had his back to me. When he turned, I clenched my hands at my sides
as my first impulse was to strike. Miss Clark’s attacker stared me
down with as much hostility in his eyes as I was feeling in my
body.
    “John, allow me to present Nicholas Mansfield.”
    For a moment, I stared up at the man in incredulity.
I had half expected the man who accosted Miss Clark to be some