The Education of Portia Read Free

could scarcely credit. She had been left with much to ponder and
again with that niggling feeling of familiarity. She had pushed it all aside in the bustle of
installing the young ladies.
    They had been matter of fact and cheerful about the departure of their father and their
governess, had made their farewells with a modicum of sentiment and no melancholy. From all
accounts, they had been in good spirits since also. Portia had received reports of them from
various of the mistresses and masters, and the matron, and she had already a good notion of their
characters and capabilities.
    Now they had been invited to take tea with her in the school's parlour, a small nicety that
she practiced with all her new students. When she thought they had settled in to their new
surroundings, she gave them opportunity to tell her if all was well with them.
    The weather had broken and autumn rain lashed the closed windows. The colza lamps
had been lit against the dreary day, and a substantial fire warmed the pleasant room. It held a
variety of chairs and sophas, well-filled bookshelves and useful tables. Some of Caldwell's
oils--his occasional still-life renderings--decorated the softly distempered walls. The parlour served a
variety of uses in the daily life of the school, particularly as a meeting place for the senior girls in
the evening after their supper. The young ladies were encouraged to read and study in the
parlour, work at their needlework, and turn over the newspapers that were brought each day from
London. Portia thought of it as the social heart of her school.
    The Misses Perrington stood before her in a neat stepped row on the India carpet after
their orderly entry. Lord Stadbroke must be justifiably proud of his offspring, for they were
pretty girls and well-behaved. They were gowned in simple kerseymere dresses as befitted the
cool day. Everything about their garments bespoke quality, but they wore no ornaments.
Someone had carefully conned the list she had bestowed on the viscount, and kept the young
ladies' apparel within its guidelines.
    Portia regarded them thoughtfully, and they returned her scrutiny without dissimulation.
Sabina, the eldest of the three, already showed a charming figure and her piquant face, with her
father's dark eyes, would only gain in beauty as it gained in maturity. Melicent, the middle child,
was inclined to moodiness; Portia had heard of hints of drama already. No doubt the avid
intelligence that peered at her from a triangular face would enhance an elfin charm in later years.
The smallest girl, Penelope, had displayed none of the homesickness that she might have
expected from any other eight-year-old. The child had taken to dormitory life with sturdy
independence--as her father had indicated she would--and had already begun to gather her own coterie about her.
    Examining the threesome, Portia experienced again that strong sensation of familiarity
their father had engendered. And suddenly the reason for it came to her. She had encountered the
viscount before--long before--during her single Season in the heart of the beau monde .
She had had that season eleven years previous; it had been just three unfortunate months in the
bosom of society. Being tall and thin--all awkward angles and corners--and shy, she had not
garnered any notice and certainly no popularity. She had been a hanger-on at the season of her
cousin who, being both vivacious and pretty, had taken. At every ball, every rout, and every call
she had had time to watch her cousin with yearning and observe all the other bright and beautiful
creatures enjoy themselves.
    Yes, she had seen both the viscount and his wife during that season. The encounter she
best remembered had been at a ball--which one she could not now have told--but at a great,
glittering affair that she had experienced from its margins. The Viscount Stadbroke--he'd been
the Honourable Ingram Perrington then--had been the darling of the ton and he had
looked the happiest,