Chapter Three #3
He reached into his greatcoat and pulled out a small leather drawstring bag that he tossed toward the toadstool ring.
It landed heavily at her feet. Owl pounced on it immediately, believing it a toy.
The cat batted at the purse strings, and then, placing a paw upon it, lay down upon it, claiming it for her feline self.
“There are fifty silver pieces in that purse. I offer two hundred and fifty more if you will remove the curse,” he said. “If that price is not enough, name what you want and I will pay it. I am a wealthy man but my money means nothing to me if I must watch my brother die.”
Portia had meant to take advantage of an arrogant man. Instead, she found herself facing a contrite one. A wounded one. This man suffered. He was in pain.
The spell she had been practicing that afternoon rose to her lips, unbidden by conscious thought. “Power of All Beings Abound, Clear my path that I may walk, Clear my eye that I may see, Depart all that would stop me from being free.” Her voice didn’t even sound like her own.
“You will lift the curse?” he asked. Straight, masculine brows had come together. This man was nobody’s fool, and here she was playing him for one.
“I will think on it,” she whispered.
His jaw tightened. “I cannot accept that answer. I demand certainty. I’m paying for it.”
Here was the man who had almost run her over.
Portia shook her head. “I shall think upon it,” she repeated, matching the challenge in his voice with steel in her own.
He studied her a moment as if weighing his advantage, and then bowed his head. “As you wish. We shall meet tomorrow night?”
The Chattan was taking charge again, but Portia discovered her knees were shaking. Holding her own against him in this encounter was taking its toll.
“Tomorrow, midnight, and not before,” she answered. “Now go.” As if to second her command, Owl hissed at him.
He nodded, placed his hat on his head, and rose to his feet. Portia dared not to take a breath until he had walked away.
Owl did not move. The cat was listening, and Portia trusted her. She did not move as well.
A few minutes later, she heard a horse moving through the forest. The Chattan must have tethered it a good distance away so she would not be alerted to his presence. The horse’s movements faded into the distance, and Portia could release the breath she had been holding.
She knelt to the ground, her legs almost unable to support her.
Owl rubbed her back against Portia and purred her pleasure.
Portia reached for the purse. It was heavy in her hand.
She untied the drawstrings and poured the gleaming silver into her hand.
This was a small fortune. It was one year of support from her Uncle Ned.
They would be able to pay rent and back wages and hold on for another year of their tenuous existence. It would be a good Christmas.
Portia didn’t linger but picked up her black bag and hurried home. She was very lucky that he had not seen her face, or at least she prayed he hadn’t.
She took off the dress, stuffed it, holly leaves and all, in the bag with the hat, and hid the lot under her bed.
After a restless night when she had dreams of knights in armor kneeling before her and wild horses running her over, Portia cooled her impatient heels until late morning to announce to her mother and Minnie that she had heard from Uncle Ned.
Her letter and his money to them must have crossed paths in the post, she said, because here was what he had promised.
Minnie was still very quiet and sad and behaved as if money didn’t matter—but her mother was thrilled. “We need a new frock for Minnie if she is to attract notice at the Christmas Assembly.”
“I’m not going to the Assembly,” Minnie said.
“Oh yes, you are,” Lady Maclean announced. “No daughter of mine will go into hiding for a mere country physician. You were destined for better things, my girl.”
“We have plenty of dresses,” Portia argued. “We don’t need new.”
“It’s not you I’m buying for,” her mother said. “It’s for your sister. We need her to marry well, or do you want to spend a lifetime of begging Ned for money?”
“I’m not going to marry,” Minnie announced. “I’m going to be just like Portia. Alone and content.”
Portia had opened her mouth to speak, but found words deserted her. Was she content? Certainly she was alone.
And why did Minnie’s assertion make her feel hollow inside?
“Minnie,” their mother said, “you mustn’t waste time licking your wounds.
Mr. Tolliver ran too easily. It was a test, you see.
Any man worth his salt would have fought for you.
You want a man who is more stalwart. And you want to look your very finest when Mr. Oliver Tolliver sees you again, which will probably be at the Christmas Assembly. ”
The last argument won Minnie over.
Pride was a funny thing, and Portia could see that their mother had struck just the right chord to raise Minnie’s.
Minnie’s chin lifted. “You are right. If I don’t go, then he will know how much he has hurt me.”
“That’s my girl. Portia, hitch the pony cart. Minnie and I are going to Fort William.”
“Mother, please,” Portia said. “We don’t have money for this.”
“Nonsense,” Lady Maclean said, plucking the coin purse right out of Portia’s hand. “We don’t have money to not do this. Consider it a sensible investment in our futures.”
“I won’t let her spend it all,” Minnie promised Portia. Now that she had a purpose in mind, that of showing Mr. Tolliver how foolish he was to let her go, color had returned to Minnie’s cheeks. “We just need lace and ribbon. It won’t cost much. I assure you it won’t.”
“At least let me keep twenty pounds for the back rent and the next quarter,” Portia said. She’d also be able to see to Glennis’s back wages.
“If you insist,” Lady Maclean answered, and counted out the coins, but she kept the rest. She and Minnie put their heads together and started sharing ideas for updating dresses they already had.
Portia stood there, listening to them carry on . . . and realized they would soon spend what she had. And then she would need to find more. Always searching for more.
And she felt very guilty that she had deceived the Chattan only to have her family spend, spend, spend.
She was not surprised when they returned from Fort William with the information that buying lace and ribbon for old dresses had not been enough. A new dress had to be made for Minnie, and of course it had cost extra since the seamstress had such a short amount of time to create it.
And her sister had wanted it. In the space of hours Minnie had changed. She’d gone from the heartbroken sister to a woman who felt scorned. Certainly their mother had worked her magic.
Oh yes, and Lady Maclean had purchased a few “necessities” for herself.
That night, Portia didn’t go to the Great Oak.
She’d never intended to. After all, she was not a witch. She could not give the Chattan the spell he wished. And she could not return his money. It was almost gone.
And so she lay awake, Owl curled into a contented ball at the foot of the bed, while she stared at her ceiling, praying fervently that the Englishman would forgive her for playing him false.
The problem was, with the image of the man on his knees in front of her burned into her memory, she doubted if she would ever be able to forgive herself.