“…tomorrow.” She smiled at him though her gaze showed turbulence.

  “I’m sorry.” He stumbled. “I missed what you said.”

  Her smile changed to one of an indulgent nanny. “I said I am awaiting the arrival of my father tomorrow morning. We are going to Williamsburg for the Committee.”

  Suddenly his mind gained clear focus. He took note of the soldiers in the corner. He took her elbow and led her toward the stairs. “You mean you are here alone?”

  “Of course not.”

  His tension eased a smidge.

  “Lucy is here.”

  Tension resumed its upward climb.

  “My father arrives in the morning. Honestly Simon, there is nothing to worry about. Why are you here?”

  “Let me see you to your room.”

  Exasperation wearied her countenance. “It’s hardly necessary. I can find my way myself. In fact, I was just on my way.”

  “Well that is convenient, because I am headed in the same direction.” He smiled at her.

  She grimaced.

  He waved her up the stairs. “After you, Miss Archer.”

  She huffed up the stairs.

  Simon couldn’t stifle his grin.

  “I’m grown woman, Simon Morgan.”

  Yes. He could see that in the sway of her hips as she took each step with precision. “Perhaps I will see you and your father in the morning. I hope you sleep well.” He knew better than to grin in her face, but he couldn’t help it. Hat in hand, he waited in the hallway until she closed her door. To her credit, she closed the door quietly. Hester would have slammed it, and where she was be hanged. Simon stepped into his own room.

  Stuffed into the room with a canopied bed was a small ladder-backed chair and a little writing table. Leaving the door ajar, Simon placed his book on the table, adjusted the chair to face the doorway, and lit the candle. After retrieving his ink and turning to a fresh page in his notebook, he proceeded to write down everything he could remember about how he came to be in possession of what could be the Horeb Stone.

  Simon looked up when Amity’s light went out under the crack at the bottom of her door. His own candle sputtered. He retrieved another candle from his pouch. For the first time in days, he was able to concentrate on work he’d placed before himself. Amity had haunted his thoughts since her brother’s wedding. Knowing she was safe in the next room dreaming, as long as he didn’t think about what those dreams might be, freed him to wonder about the artifact placed before him on the table.

  Held up to the candle the odd reflectiveness receded. Clear green water. The kind of water one could breathe under in a dream. Light reflected off the lines of the center carving. Obviously, an ancient language of lines and crossed lines, Hebrew? He ran his thumb over the center carving. More indented than carved and no wear appeared on the edges.

  Halfway into his second candle and his list of everything he could remember of the properties of the stone, a horse arrived in the yard. Simon placed his rifle on his lap and resumed writing. Whispers downstairs floated incomplete to his ear. Simon placed the quill in the ink pot. Boots scraped on the stairs. Simon positioned the rifle on the table toward the opening in the door.

  Reed Archer, Amity’s father, came into view.

  Simon moved the rifle to his lap.

  Reed pointed to the door behind him.

  Simon nodded.

  Reed nodded back.

  Simon closed his door and went to bed.

  3

  Simon stood up at his table to greet Amity and her father when they walked into the chamber for breakfast.

  “Reed, you’re down early this morning. I thought you wouldn’t be down for some hours yet,” Simon said.

  Amity stifled a roll of her eyes. She'd hoped he'd be gone by now.

  “Good to see you, Simon.” The men shook hands. “No, I’ve got to get to the committee in Williamsburg today.”

  “Please, have a seat.” Simon gestured to the table moving aside the gazette he’d been reading.

  After placing their request for coffee and the diet, Amity’s Papa sat back in his chair, thumbs crooked in the pockets of his waistcoat. “I have received a note from the Glassock’s. They have removed from Williamsburg for the duration. It seems Mrs. Glassock is from Norfolk, and the burning scared her witless. Not that she was abundant in wits to begin with, but she is a kind woman, and Hugh could have done much worse. At any rate, they are not here, and so we are absent a companion for Amity while I am here.”

  Simon turned to address her. “You must be disappointed.”

  “Yes. Well, as I have only just heard it myself, I have not had sufficient time to work up any emotion at all. And I have Auntie Clementine.”

  “Yes, but she is hardly good company for a young girl.” Papa interjected.

  “I’m hardly a girl, Papa.”

  “Well, you are not a man.” He chuckled and sought to draw Simon into his joke.

  Simon smiled, but his gaze darted to Amity. Was he trying to gauge her reaction? That was new. In times past, she couldn’t get his attention without placing herself in mortal danger.

  “Amity has romantic notions about the mountains.”

  Amity took a deep breath, let it out, and then smiled at the two men. It was no use arguing that one. It never went past an announcement that she was soft-headed like all those of her sex. She hated to think what he would have been like if her formidable mother had not shattered his illusions of the frailty of the female mind and creativity.

  Too bad that Robertine Glassock couldn’t attend her on this trip. Robbie knew all the good places to go to hear about traveling to the mountains. She’d ascertained a route from here, but how to get there? There were so many things to think and plan and no Robbie to help her.

  “Do you wish to go west, Amity?” Simon looked intrigued as though he’d recently discovered she had a brain between her ears.

  “She’s heard enough discouraging tales of Indians and what they do to settlers up there.” Papa turned his pointed gaze to her. “It’s no place for a girl.”

  “Have you read of the missions up there?” Amity countered. “Women labor beside their husbands. It’s important work.”

  “Husband. That’s the key.” He pounded his finger on the table. “Once you marry you can travel the world. Right now, I have to protect you.”

  “Not everyone is meant to marry, Papa. There are single ladies at the mission. They live together in a separate house. You will have Simon thinking that women are good for nothing but decoration.”

  “I sincerely doubt that anyone married to your mother would think anything of the kind.”

  “Or my sister.” Simon grinned, and a mischievous twinkle lit his eyes. “I promise you; I think much more of women than that.”

  Amity was glad to hear it. Perhaps, some day he would make someone a good husband. A woman who could capture his attention, at least one that wouldn’t mind if he forgot about her now and then.

  “What brings you to Williamsburg, Morgan?”

  “A letter from John Parchment.” Earnestness replaced the twinkle. “The Virginian Society of the Promotion of Usefull Knowledge is hosting a demonstration of electricity at Charleton’s coffee shop.”

  “Surely they cannot plan to continue meeting in the middle of a war?”

  “I hear they are suspended, but Ritter is coming to demonstrate his electrical battery.”

  “Fascinating stuff, but hardly useful.”

  Simon’s countenance switched. It was a look unique to him. Almost wistful, but the cogs of his mind turned double-time when he got that look, so much that he forgot much that surrounded him. “It’s true.” Simon’s hands began to punctuate his speech, “But what if we could harness the light? Perhaps we could use it for surgeries and other things.”

  Amity’s heart tugged a memory from the long ago, moonless night of Simon’s parents’ carriage accident. His father, Jacob Morgan, died instantly. His injured wife survived the journey home only to die while a surgeon worked on her wounds. The doctor lamented throughout the entire procedure of the lack light.

  Papa fell silent.

  “Perhaps it will after all, my boy.”

  Amity smiled. Her Papa wasn’t all bluster. At least, not all of the time. The pause allowed them a chance to taste their breakfast.

  “Since you are here, would you mind if I asked you to help me keep an eye on Amity? Her friends are not here, and I would be grateful for an old family friend such as yourself to attend her when I cannot.”

  Amity choked on her coffee. “I don’t require a chaperone when I attend parties at home, why only last week Patience and I travelled to Pine’s Wold for a party.”

  “You aren’t at home.”

  “Papa.” She lowered her voice almost a whisper, “We wouldn’t wish to give people the wrong impression.”

  “What?” her father chuckled. “If your brother were here, I would ask him—since he is not and Simon is very like a brother to you, what could be the harm?”

  “Papa.”

  “If Simon were interested in you, he would have offered years ago. Nothing to worry about.”

  Amity was sure she would combust from the heat racing all over her body to collect in her face. What could cause Papa to say such a thing in public? He’d always been plainspoken, but—

  Simon, stiff as one of Mama’s carvings, moved only his eyes back and forth between them, finally settling on her father. “I would be delighted to escort Amity, sir.”

  That was worse. Surely her father could understand humiliation. How could the two of them ever have a normal conversation again?

  “Please forgive me Simon, but surely it won’t be necessary. My father is here, and I shall have Auntie Clementine.”

  “With the number of soldiers about it might be best if I send you home directly. I don’t know what your mother was about agreeing to your coming with me at such a time.”

  “No.” She grabbed control of her voice before she shouted. “I mean, we will be at Aunt Clementine’s, so I won’t be out and about too often. I shall be safe. And since Simon has agreed to act as my brother, we should fare well.”

  “I daresay I will be busy. I had a note from Patrick. There is much to be done. General Lee is on his way.”

  Peace eased in over her qualms, perhaps this would work in her favor. No doubt, her parents hoped she’d find a husband in Williamsburg. She smiled into her cup. The likelihood that she would find someone suitable would be significantly reduced with Simon hovering around. Simon Morgan, though scholarly, looked anything but. He was tall like her brother, slighter build, but equally strong. Amity had seen them spar, and Simon came out on top at least as often as Field did. It shouldn’t be too hard to think of Simon as her brother. The feelings she had for him had been a girlhood fantasy. She was immune to his charm now. He was her brother’s best friend. He had always been around, just like a brother. Only he wasn’t.

  4

  Simon rolled the stone in his hand as he steered his mount toward Williamsburg. He’d been so stunned by Reed’s request he didn’t dare move lest any movement would break the charm. Reed was obviously unaware of Amity’s declaration five years ago that they would not suit. Mortification painted Amity’s lovely cheeks like firelight. Well, one had to crack a nut to get to the meat inside. The shell she’d placed around herself had been breached by no less than her father. Outrageously done, but done, nonetheless.

  Could it be the influence of the stone? He’d seen Amity more in the past twenty-four hours than he had in the past year. If he ever saw McCabe again, Simon would be sure to thank him. Rotten luck his nephew had died—he might have been onto something, after all. As soon as he dropped his things at Anderson’s Tavern, he would head to the library at William and Mary to investigate further what was known of the stone.

  Once in Williamsburg, he dodged traffic on Duke of Gloucester Street through wood-fire scented wind. A cloud of warm air enveloped him upon entry to the tavern. In the large chamber to his right several tables of soldiers partook of the day’s tavern fare. In the far doorway, Mr. Anderson stood by his desk. Simon was spared crossing the room when Anderson hailed and threaded his way through the tables toward the entrance.

  “Welcome back, Mr. Morgan.” Anderson raised his voice to be heard over the din of shirtmen.

  Simon glanced over the innkeeper’s shoulder at boisterous outbursts.

  “Harmless talk. Don’t mind them. They’ve come for their dinner.”

  “What is for dinner today?”

  “Our diet for today is as posted: ham stew and bread. There’s apple syllabub if you’ve a care for it. Of course, for you, Mr. Morgan, we can accommodate a larger selection.”

  Simon’s stomach answered for him. “Stew sounds good. I will take it in the parlor.”

  Anderson nodded and shouted for a young boy to carry Simon’s case to his room.

  Simon followed. Once settled in his room he retrieved his copy of Common Sense and headed back downstairs to eat before he walked to John Parchment’s house. Instead, he found John reclining with a cup of coffee in Anderson’s exclusive parlor.

  “Morgan!” Parchment stood and offered his hand. “I heard Anderson shout, but I didn’t know it was the right Morgan.”

  “Parchment.” Simon took the offered hand, “I was coming to see you. What brings you out?”

  “A house full of women in a fuss since mid-morning. A friend of my wife’s is visiting from Fredericksburg.”

  Envy tinged Simon’s good will for his old friend. He had his sister, but a large family full of laughter met his ideal of the future, and for the first time in a very long time, it seemed it might be possible.

  “You don’t know because you don’t have any children yet. Four daughters,” he laid his hand over his heart, eyes heavenward. “They are my blessings.” He dropped his gaze toward Simon. “And the bane of my existence.” He took a deep swig of his draught. “This friend of my wife’s has come to attend the Society meeting.”

  “Will they allow a woman in Charlton’s?”

  “I had to call in a favor or two. Old Walden hasn’t given me an answer yet, but I don’t think he’ll be a problem because he will not be in attendance himself.”

  “Must be some friend.”

  John nodded. “Sarah and Winifred grew up next to each other in Fredericksburg. Winifred is interested in the healing powers of electricity.”

  A young lad of fourteen or so stepped quietly into the room with a large tray and placed a full bowl of stew, a small, crusty loaf of bread, a plate of syllabub, and a steaming dish of coffee. “There ye are, sir.”

  “Thank you.”

  Simon asked a silent blessing for his food and waited for the boy to retreat before he spoke again. “John, I want to meet with someone from the NTSS.”

  Parchment looked to the door of the parlor. Simon followed his look.

  “Why do you wish to speak to the ‘Never Tells’? What makes you think I can help you?”

  Simon startled at his response. John never sought praise, only commiseration for his four daughters. “If anyone knows it’s you. You’re still connected to the college and you live here. Who else would I ask?”

  “If such a clandestine group existed—and I’m not saying it does…”

  Simon swallowed a piece of bread dipped in the spicy stew. “The devil, John. I’m not interested in secret society nonsense.”

  “They are serious things, Simon. The people in them take them very seriously, indeed.”

  Simon raised his eyebrows. “I have a matter to discuss with someone of more knowledge than myself of certain objects. How am I to find out anything if they hide themselves from public view?”

  Parchment closed the door and resumed his seat. “What type of object?”

  “It’s a stone.” Simon pulled the amulet from his pocket and placed it on the table.

  Parchment squinted at it while rubbing his hands on his thighs. “The Horeb Stone?”

  “I’m not sure, but it might be.” Simon tingled with excitement. In the twenty-four hours since he’d taken possession of the stone, he’d no one to share the possibilities with.

  “Have you seen any unusual events in connection with the stone?”

  Simon held back his suspicions. They were only what he’d surmised, and twenty-four hours was hardly enough time to analyze anything. “Nothing solid.”

  “Have you seen it glow?”

  “I have not observed it myself, but I have kept it in my pocket since I acquired it yesterday.”

  “One legend says that if you ask it a question it will glow for an affirmative answer.”

  Simon reeled. Was that why it had been warm in his pocket? Had it been sensing his questions and affirming his suspicions?

  Parchment sat back and laced his fingers over his middle. “You need to keep it quiet. People don’t cotton to the occult.”

  “It’s hardly devil worship.”

  “What else would you call it? Enchanted stones. Magic. Fires?”

  “When you put it that way, I see your point. That is why I need to speak to an expert.”

  “My only suggestion is that you do not miss the Society’s meeting on Friday evening at Charlton’s.”

  Simon returned to a congealed, tepid stew when Parchment left him for home. He’d never considered that his friend might be a member of the group he sought. He certainly knew more about the stone than he let on.

  5

  Gusts of wind rocked the carriage on its springs, but no matter. The sun was shining, and Amity was on her way to Williamsburg at last. Dancing, shopping, parties, and whatever else Aunt Clementine planned for her visit. During the night ideas formed for a little pamphlet, she thought to produce of her visit. Her father was right. War was upon them; surely, people would like to know the happenings of the capital during a war. Unfortunately, she had little time to write when she visited her aunt. This time she would simply have to make time to keep careful notes.