The Education of Portia (21 page)

Heloise sank into a chair beside the fire, and Caldwell dropped to one knee beside it,
gathering her hands in his. "Never, you must know that, my darling. Never will my love for you
change."

"Then what is it?" Mme. Montlucon looked to Portia for her answers as if sensing
Caldwell would not tell her.

Caldwell shook his head despairingly. Portia took the gesture as permission to speak in
spite of his reluctance to divulge their difficulties.

She took a deep breath, and gripped her
chatelaine
tightly. "My dear, as you
know, Harold Dent is Caldwell's father, and my stepfather. He... He has been extorting money
from us. He will tell the
ton
, he says, that we are living here together in defiance of
propriety, not half siblings as they think, no blood relationship between us, unless we pay him
whatever he demands."

"Oh, phoooo," Madame swept her hands apart, releasing Caldwell's, in a very Gallic
gesture. "Is that all? Everyone can see that you are brother and sister in spirit if not in blood. No
one will believe that there could be anything
présomptueux
--immodest--or...or
immoral between you."

"Yes they will!" Caldwell leapt to his feet. "They will believe it. The
beau
monde
will believe any scandal it can sniff out. There will be oohings and aahings in every
drawing room in Mayfair. The school will be ruined for Portia, and my career will be ruined for
us."

"Us?"

"How can we marry with such a cloud hanging over us? Why would you wish to marry
me with such a father as I have? Now that Portia has told you, she has destroyed all my hopes of
convincing you of the rightness of my affections."

"Has she?" Heloise rose as well.

Portia made herself small, withdrawing behind an easel. She could offer nothing to the
discussion but much as she felt an intruder in this encounter, she could not leave the room
without causing disruption. She could only hope to tender them her support.

"I care nothing for your father, and I do not believe his petty allegations will cause the
school or you any trouble whatsoever. You are foolish to be so fearful. And you must not give
him money we can well use after our marriage." She looked demure, and Portia could only
admire her handling of Caldwell.

He surprised them however. Heloise's accusation of fear seemed to have stung, despite
the joy that was dawning as he realized her intentions. "If you had accepted my hand anytime
these three years, we should not be in this mess," he snapped, then paused in seeming
astonishment at his own words.

"You cannot think to blame the venality of your own father on me," she retorted in
outrage. "Even were we wed, if he is so desperately
mauvais
, he would have found
some way to besmirch the name of this establishment. I tell you--you were both wrong in the
beginning to submit to his demands."

"And you are right--so very right," Portia said. "Please do not quarrel between
yourselves. Cal, you know your father would not be stopped by anything so trivial as marriage
lines. He would have found another way to steal our money, to poison our lives. I do not pretend
to understand him."

Caldwell paced the room, back and forth, window to door. "I'm sorry, I am sorry." He
paused briefly before Heloise, met her gaze earnestly and then sped on. "I scarcely know what to
think when my father--my own father--would destroy all that I hold dear. Your own future,
Heloise, will be besmirched by his lies. It is a poor thing, I know, but I offer you my hand again.
I will ensure that you always have a home, that Gavrielle wants for nothing. You may even
choose not to live with me, but I will see you come to no harm by Dent's actions."

The Frenchwoman's face softened. "You would do this?"

"I would do anything." He dropped to one knee before her again, and took her hands in
his once more.

"Then I accept your offer of marriage. And I will never live apart from you, and we will
prove to any of those who would believe such vile untruths that we, all of us, are innocent." They
fell into one another's embrace.

Portia had been stunned to silence by the tableau before her. It was the ultimate oddity
that this disastrous turn of events could lead to the very dearest wish to Caldwell's heart and her
own. Her step-brother and her best friend allied at last. She was torn with a desire to laugh and a
strong wish to give in to hysterics.

"What shall I do?" she asked at last. She answered her own question as her companions
continued to gaze at each other with deep satisfaction. "I can only tell the truth. Assure everyone
that there is no veracity to the rumours Dent will unleash. We are step-brother and sister and no
impropriety has ever been considered between us. "Tell the truth and shame the devil";
Shakespeare had the right of it. We are, after all, guilty only of striving to provide an excellent
education for young ladies with parents unappreciative of our efforts."

Her best friend and her brother rose and joined hands. She stood also, to honour them
and their decision. "Congratulations, my dears." After a long moment, she added, "Invite your
father to call upon us, Caldwell."

Harold Dent came to the Mansion House so soon as he was summoned. As instructed he
arrived at the tradesmen's entrance, where Caldwell met him. He was ushered to Portia's parlour
in haste, without encountering any of the pupils or employees of the school.

Portia was waiting there with Heloise, both of them tense and anxious. They made their
guest no greeting at all, but stared at him warily.

"You are taking almighty precautions, my dears, to keep your precious inmates from
contact with me." Dent looked much as he had on his previous visit, his square unlovely face
pugnacious, and his attitude truculent. "Except for this one." He stared in his turn at Heloise.
"Will you not introduce me to the charming lady?"

Heloise had been invited to join them if she wished and she had accepted with alacrity.
Caldwell stepped to her side now, and took her hand as if the contact could protect her from his
father's sneering assessment.

Portia spoke at last. "I think you do not need to know her name. Suffice it to say she is
my brother's intended and so has a right to be present. We want you to know, Mr. Dent, that we
will not supply you with any more funds. It is beyond our power to do so."

"So formal, dear child," Dent said chidingly. "You was used to call me Father."

"You forfeited the right to that dignity long ago," Portia was in the grip of a cold anger
and a courage that brooked no nonsense. "Even before you decided to extort money from
Caldwell and me."

"Extortion is a nasty word, my dear. Surely it is within the duty of the child to look after
the parent in times of trouble, as it is the reverse duty of the parent during the child's
minority."

Dent was infuriatingly tranquil. Portia gritted her teeth. She had forgot how the man's
language was more educated than his appearance, and how his flowing periods and endearments
could grate.

"You never spent a penny more on us than you absolutely had to. You have had more
money from us in these past months than you ever expended on us in our entire lives." Caldwell's
restraint on his temper was obviously slipping.

Portia was pleased to see Heloise tightening her grip on his arm. An ugly brawl between
father and son would damage the school as much as any other eventuality. To curtail the
interview she said again, "We will not pay you any more. Surely you have no need to blacken
our names; spread lies that you know, implicitly, to be untrue. I am hoping that was simply an
empty threat to ensure our compliance."

Dent's pale eyes quartered the room, ever shifting. "I don't make empty threats. You see,
I have no certainty that my information is untrue. I shall tell the
ton
that, sadly, my son
and my step-daughter were always unnaturally close. And I shall mention that I, in fact, cut the
connection because I could not suffer any longer the unsavoury suspicions that your behaviour
caused me. The world should know about my qualms, for there are innocent children involved
now, under your doubtful guidance."

"I cannot believe you would serve your only son so. He is on the brink of a great career.
He is a fine artist. You never liked me; heaven alone knows what my mother saw in you, God
rest her soul. But your own son!"

"One hundred pounds will keep me silent." The extravagant words were gone, as was
the false geniality. "By the end of the week or I take my story to London and be-damned to you
all. I've debts that won't wait."

Portia exchanged a speaking glance with her brother and Heloise. She knew that they
supported her fully and she took a deep, sustaining breath. Then she said, "Do your worst, Mr.
Dent. Your demands will ruin us, your lies may not. We will take the risk. You need not wait out
the week, you will not see that hundred pounds."

He ranted and raged then of thanklessness and old grievances, and finally whined about
ingratitude and injustice. Finally he left, threatening them anew. "You need not think the ton will
not listen. They love to tear down those they've built up; you've a popularity they'll delight in
destroying."

Caldwell saw him out then. Portia saw the flaring anger in his eyes, and the pitiless grip
he took on the older man's arm. Dent was hustled out of the room, across the entry and, from
expediency, out of the front door. She and Heloise sank into the nearest chairs and stared at each
other.

"We have burned our bridges,
cherie
," said Heloise.

"With a vengeance," Portia agreed, pressing a hand to her cheek.

Caldwell flung back into the room, banging the door and dusting off his hands
ostentatiously. "They won't believe him," he declared. "He is a nothing; they will not listen."

"We will live in that hope," Portia said. "For now, we must continue on as usual."

The next few days were uneventful. Portia found her spirits cautiously recovering, found
herself daring to hope that Harold Dent had been making empty threats. The future seemed less
uncertain, their money at least was safe.

After three days she began to relax but on the fourth Heloise put her head around
Portia's study door. She said, "Melicent Perrington should be in my Italian class at this very
moment, and she is not,
cherie
."

Portia groaned and withdrew her attention from the papers before her. "Oh, no, I cannot
bear another problem."

Heloise patted her shoulder sympathetically. Portia had not even been aware that her
friend had moved to her side.

"Perhaps it was all bluster," Heloise said. "Perhaps Mr. Dent is one of those villains who
can only talk of deeds, can only make idle threats."

Portia summoned a travesty of a smile, and said, "Perhaps. But having grown up in his
household, I think not. Now, what is this of Melicent?"

"Cal and I have been watching her. She is disappearing for part of every day. And this
time it is not the stables--ours or those neighbouring ones--that are attracting her. We have not
been able to determine where she goes."

A brief tap at the door heralded Caldwell Dent's arrival. He had evidently overheard the
final words of his betrothed. "I have found it out. She is watching The Three Compasses."

"The inn? Outside, in February? She will catch her death of cold. What is she watching
for?"

"Haven't discovered that," Caldwell was grim; he had lost the last of his boyishness in
the past weeks. "She's outside. I've brought her back with me."

"Very well." Portia reseated herself. "If you will both excuse me, and send in Melicent, I
will endeavour to discover what this is about."

Melicent Perrington was ushered into her presence in only a moment. Wrapped in her
scarlet cloak, she gave an appearance of warmth, but the crimson tip of her nose, and the small
rather blue hands she twisted together gave the lie to the illusion.

"You are chilled my dear. Come to the fire." Though weariness and anxiety had worn
Portia to a thread, she could not be unkind to any child, much less this middle daughter of
Ingram's.

The girl's teeth chattered as she took the small Windsor chair Portia offered. She held
out her frosted hands to the blaze and sighed with pleasure.

"What is this about, Melicent? Why in the name of heaven are you lurking about The
Three Compasses?"

The child was mutinously silent.

"If you will not tell me, I shall have to contact your father to discuss the matter. I cannot
have my pupils run abroad whenever the mood takes them. You have already done this more
than once, and I assured Lord Stadbroke it would not happen again. You have broke my
promise."

Tears welled up in the child's eyes that were so like her father's. "I wanted to help."

"Help who, my dear?"

"You! I saw that man who came here just after Christmas come again last week. And
then, I heard raised voices here, in your study. Everyone--Madame and Mr. Dent and you--is
careworn and tired. When I saw that man in the village again, I thought he must be causing
trouble. And I followed him to the inn. I thought if I watched him, I could determine what he was
doing to hurt you."

"Oh, Melicent." Portia was overcome by emotion and had to pause to steady her voice.
"How very kind... And how very dangerous and...wrong. Promise me you will not undertake
this task again. The man's presence need not trouble you, truly. This is work for adults, do you
understand me?"

"Yes, Miss. Miss Crossmichael, is Mr. Dent your brother?"

It was then that Portia realized she had to speak with her staff, and tell something to her
pupils, before Harold Dent unleashed his lies. She wondered why he was still in the
neighbourhood. Perhaps he had thought better of his threats. Perhaps he waited to see if they
would reconsider the matter and pay him again. There were so many dire possibilities.