The Education of Portia (6 page)

"Our houthkeeper calls it an equipage, but hers does not jingle nearly so nicely. I like
you, Mith Crothmichael," Penelope observed as they set out on the lane to return to Mansion
House. "So does Sabina, but Mel...Mel isn't sure. She weighs things extravagantly long, Papa
says. Sabina particularly likes Mr. Dent. She says he is something quite beyond the ordinary.
And Sabby is sure he likes her. She thinks he lingered with her during drawing this
morning.

"Mel said he probably found her drawing deplorable. And that she thinks every young
man is a model of all virtues, except John Mudd, at home. He's a good horseman, Mith
Crothmichael, but he goes red whenever you talk to him."

Portia disregarded this aside. "Do you girls often have an, er, council of war?"

"Quite often. We always did so at home when there were urgent decisions to be made.
We were supposed, this morning, to decide how we might see Papa on Saturday. We have been
here ages already, and he has not been next or nigh us. My thithters did not have a good plan,
and Mel thought that he doesn't love us anymore, so I decided to go and see him." Penelope
skipped ahead, then turned and walked backwards, talking all the while.

"Sabina said he does of course, and she thought we need not worry. She says he is just
disordered by Mama's passing and then Grandmama's. I thought I would prove to him that we are
of more importance than the Parl'ment or the
ton
. Mel said he has changed, but I think
he has not, not so very much. When he is with us he is as loving as ever and such fun. He's just
not with uth very often.

"Mel said perhaps he's enamoured of some young lady. She said we shall have a new
mama, and she'll beat us." Penelope's lower lip trembled.

Portia, struggling to make sense of the tide of information, closed her eyes briefly
wishing for wisdom to reassure the child. The flood of confidences suggested that the child was
not as self-assured as she appeared. And she could see that Melicent was suffering a crisis of
faith in her father also.

"I know Papa would never choose a step-mama that we could not like," Penelope
said.

Portia hurried to reinforce that shaky belief. "I am sure he would not. He loves you all,
and wants you all to be happy."

The simple reassurance seemed enough to bolster Penelope's spirits. Reaching the
school, they turned in at the gates just as the heavens decided to open and a deluge of rain
fell.

Hand in hand, they dashed up the path and burst into the entry, giggling. They handed
their sodden cloaks to the porter, and Portia sent a maid hurrying for the matron. The lamps had
been lit against the lowering afternoon, and Portia bustled the child over to the hall's glowing
fire.

"You must go with Matron and be dried and warmed, Penny. No more excursions, mind;
please tell me if you have a desire for an adventure. And, Penelope, I shall send a message to
your papa myself if he does not come by week's end."

"Will you, Mith? That is very kind. I told Mel and Sabina that you had kind eyes and a
nice smile, even if you weren't pretty."

Portia smothered a sigh at the home truth. "Do you like our school?" she asked.

"Yeth, Mith." The child shivered a little, but Matron was hurrying down the staircase, a
broad length of towel in her capable hands. She soon had Penelope enveloped in the dry cloth,
and was urging her up the stairs.

Portia headed to her study, but said over her shoulder, "Then do not leave us again
without advising us of your plans. If you will think on it, you will see we cannot have everyone
going here, there and everywhere at their sudden whim."

"I won't, Mith. Thank you, Mith." The child gave her a flashing smile, revealing those
two tardy front teeth, and mounted the stairs at the matron's side.

Portia closed her study door with inordinate emphasis born of relief and annoyance. She
crossed to the fire where her skirts steamed gently as she nursed her frustration with the viscount.
He was a neglectful reprobate and there was no excuse for his lack of attention to his children.
Well, she would keep her promise to the child, and she would demand his presence, for his
daughters' sake.

She thought of her surprised, abandoned class, and the mad dash through the pouring
rain with Penelope. Against her better judgement she started to laugh. The three Perrington girls
promised to be a lively addition to Mansion House School.

"Melicent Perrington missed the nuncheon again today," Mme. Montlucon advised
Portia as she bustled into Portia's study. "That is twice this week, and you know how the girls
prize that little meal. She is spending every spare moment in the stables. Matron advises that she
has had a word with the child about the state of her boots and gleaned nothing but impertinence.
Gavrielle says that Melicent adores
les chevaux
. It is the one thing about which they are
not sympathetic."

Portia paused in her preparations for her afternoon history class with the older girls. She
was not overly surprised by the report. Melicent Perrington, though she seemed to enjoy the
work she was set and positively relished all competitive opportunities, was not happy. "Thank
heaven Melicent has Gavrielle for a friend. She is a moody child not, I think, pining for home but
not content. We must watch her carefully. I cannot like her wandering at will, and I think Lord
Stadbroke, though he no doubt reveres horse flesh, would not like her to spend too much time in
our stables."

"Melicent told Gavrielle that she and her papa were used to ride out every day, and that
she misses it more than anything." Heloise laid the pile of papers she carried on Portia's desk and
began to sort them tidily.

Portia stared from her window. There was a group of girls walking the gravel path of the
boxwood labyrinth, their pale muslin skirts fluttering. She was pleased to see that they were all
wearing spencers against the autumnal edge on the north breeze. There was an established rule
that the labyrinth was to be walked in silence; she opened the door a little the better to hear any
illicit conversation. There was none. She had developed the labyrinth seven years earlier after
reading of the history of the meditative tool and hearing Heloise's description of the labyrinth in
the paving of Chartres Cathedral. Originally intended to offer a place of contemplation to
miscreants, the Mansion House labyrinth now afforded everyone in the school a place of
reflection.

Turning from the window, she returned her attention to Heloise. "Well, we cannot
resolve all the problems of the Perringtons. But the girls saw the viscount this past Saturday, did
they not?"

"You know they did, for all that you hid in your study here so that you would not have
to speak with him," Madame said.

Portia received her friend's droll look with some embarrassment. It was true, she had
found business to keep her in her study while the viscount was received in the parlour. "I was
busy," she protested without conviction.

"So I told Lord Stadbroke. I do not know if he believed me. He admired the labyrinth.
He had seen the one in Chartres, and spoke of Pliny's references to them,"

"
Bona Dea
! He didn't."

"He did. And why you have to use that heathen exclamation, calling on the good
goddess of Rome, when you could use a good Christian avowal like
Mon Dieu
, I shall
never understand. I blame the Reverend Sainsthorpe for setting you that course of Latin you
requested."

"Never mind that." Portia was unusually impatient. "Did Stadbroke say anything
else?"

"Pleasantries, nothing more; an idle comment on your absence. You know that he drove
his children to the city in his phaeton, took them to visit the Tower, bought them ices at Gunters,
and returned them radiant with happiness in time for evensong?"

"I know." Portia had made it her business to discover the girls' state of mind following
their father's visit, and she had heard their rapturous praise of their parent. "They were very
excited, were they not?" She did not wait for her friend's response, but continued tartly, "Perhaps
if he will call a little more frequently, Melicent will spend less time in the stable." She seated
herself again behind her desk, and toyed with the chains of the keys on her
chatelaine
.
"How does Penelope in her French exercises?"

"
Tres bon
. She is a very bright little girl."

"She has settled well since her adventure," Portia was thinking out loud. "And Sabina
seems to have adjusted..."

"To the school, yes. But I cannot call an infatuation with Mr. Dent proof of adolescent
balance." Madame was sardonic.

"Well, they all seem to have to fall in love with Caldwell, don't they? But he is so good,
never varies in his avuncular kindness. They seem eventually to realize that he is no more than
everyone's brother." Portia knew that her step-brother could be absolutely trusted to depress any
untoward fancies of the older girls. "You know he has eyes only for you. Even though you
constantly rebuff him. He will never think you too old for him, you know. Six years is not
enough to discourage him."

"And you will not be discouraged from being his champion, will you?" Heloise
countered.

"Not when I know how well suited you are." This was an old discussion, ground well
travelled in many conversations between the two of them.

"Did you know that Mr. Dent thinks little Penelope the most talented of all the girls in
her drawing?" Heloise stacked her papers once more, and prepared to depart. "And are you aware
she worships you?"

"Me?" Portia was truly astonished, silenced by the thought.

"Why are you always so surprised when I tell you of such devotion? The girls love you,
all of them. Why must you think that because you are no more than ordinary in appearance you
have no appeal at all?" Heloise shook her frivolously-capped head as she crossed to the door.
"You have good sense, Portia, you display it all the time on a wide variety of matters. You need
to use it to consider your own circumstances."

"Yes, yes, very well." Portia disliked her friend's reprimands. It was true that she
attached too much importance to the physical, she knew it. But it had always been her experience
that the pretty girls were also the fortunate girls in life. She shook her head. "But we are speaking
of the Perrington girls. I am pleased to hear of Penelope's talent. Her father cannot but be
impressed, if we can nurture it. And we must watch Melicent carefully. Perhaps we need to
organize a regular riding session for her; I wonder if we should offer a program of equestrian
exercise?"

"Very costly," Heloise commented on her way to the door.

"Hmmm."

A rap on the door panels startled both ladies. After a moment, Caldwell Dent entered.
He greeted them both with a smile, then said, "I've another commission, a referral from Lady
Jersey!"

Portia observed his quick, hopeful glance at Heloise. If he was disappointed by her
sedate but sincere congratulations, he did not show it.

Her own good wishes were more spontaneous. Portia was so pleased she crossed the
room to hug her brother.

He accepted her embrace with a modest grin. He suggested to Heloise, "You could do
the same, Madame...strictly in a laudatory spirit of course."

His teasing brought quick colour to Heloise's face. "You may only dream of it," she said
tartly, remaining where she was.

He turned back to Portia. "About that other matter... I have made a pledge to meet my
father on Saturday next after the noon. I shall let you know what comes of it."

"Your father?" Madame seized on the information. "But you have not seen him these
many years, have you?"

Portia knew Caldwell would much rather not discuss his disreputable parent with the
woman he longed to impress. "An absent father can be better than a bad one," she said. "We have
neither of us missed his presence. Cal intends a brief visit, nothing more."

"So unfortunate, to have a parent
malveillant
. I am grateful I have no
experience of such. Even with the variety of parents of our students offer, there are none of
actual wickedness."

"Stadbroke is the most infuriating, annoying, arrogant and thoughtless man it has ever
been my misfortune to entertain as parent," Portia stated.

Her companions stared at her, for a moment bereft of speech.

Then, "How can you say that?" Heloise said. "You have met the gentleman but
twice!"

"Indeed, Port, that's a bit harsh, isn't it? He was saying on Saturday--I saw him as he was
taking his leave--how much he admired the school. Indeed, he asked me to particularly tell you
that he felt the house looked very fine from the labyrinth, especially the situation of your study
and the parlour."

Portia felt the colour drain from her face. The viscount had seen her. He had seen her
peep from her study window as he walked in the gardens with his daughters. The girls said they
had showed him every detail of their favourite places. She had thought he could not have spotted
her. She had assured herself he had not. Now he knew that she had not been busy, but that she
had been avoiding him. She refused to think about the possible repercussions of her cowardly
actions. Casting about for some way of extracting herself from the coils of her comment, she
said, "Well, that is my early impression of him. I may be wrong."

"I think you will find you are." Caldwell dismissed consideration of the Perringtons. "I
foresee nothing but harm from the meeting with my father. His reappearance now, his
importunities, can do nothing but damage my career. I am not inclined to indulge him. I have no
stomach for it."

"I am
de trop
, my dears. If you will excuse me, I will be off to my class."
Heloise whisked to the door before Portia or Caldwell could ask her to stay.

Caldwell leapt to hold it open for her, and closed it quietly after her departure.