William several times a week since last he called on Miss Minnie. He always bathes and dresses well before he goes.”
Portia had to close her mouth that had dropped open. “Why, that ugly toad,” she said, the words spilling out of her. “How dare he treat my sister that way.”
“We’d all thought she’d sent him away,” Glennis said. “But when I saw her this afternoon, I realized it couldn’t be true.”
“Her affections were firm,” Portia said, stoutly defending her sister. She took her seat in front of her dish of stew. “Mother interfered and I believe she said some things to Mr. Tolliver that were not true—however, I am shocked that he has changed his heart so quickly.” Were all men the same? Were they all like her father? “When I hear of how shallow men are, I am thankful I am on the shelf.”
“They are not all that way,” Glennis said, drying her hands on the apron over her skirt. “My Jamie is a good man and a fine husband.”
“Well, you must have the only one,” Portia said, picking up her fork. She needed to eat so that she had her strength for traipsing around the woods. “This is not the first gentleman Minnie has placed her trust in and been disappointed. There was a young man in London who disappeared after Father died and he discovered the severity of our circumstances.” She didn’t shy from speaking this way in front of Glennis. She owed the maid back wages, which she was determined to pay, and so they had already shared a blunt, difficult conversation.
“The heart doesn’t know defeat,” Glennis said. “Hers will love again. And you may fall in love yourself, miss.”
Portia shook her head. “I’ve yet to meet a man who made me feel ‘love.’ Then again, I am not a giddy creature. I’ve met handsome men, but never one who has touched my heart. And I’m of an independent spirit,” she announced. “I don’t think I was meant to marry.”
“But aren’t you ever lonely?” Glennis asked.
“No,” Portia answered, a touch too quickly. Loneliness was not something she could let herself dwell upon. “I have responsibilities and a busy life. I haven’t time to be lonely.”
“But don’t you yearn for a man you can lean on?”
Portia thought of her father. “A man is the last person I would lean on.”
“What of children, Miss Portia? Don’t you want them?”
That question was too personal. Too frank. Portia rose from the stool. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t think on it often.”
“I think about it every day,” Glennis said, picking up Portia’s dish and tossing the contents into a bin. She scooped sand from another bin and scrubbed the dish with it. “Jamie and I want wee ones, but we haven’t been blessed yet.”
“Well, I’ve not felt that yearning,” Portia said.
“Sure you have,” Glennis answered. “Every woman has it.”
Portia shook her head, but didn’t speak. How could one explain to a person as blissfully happy as Glennis that not all lives were uncomplicated? That Minnie might search for love, but Portia didn’t believe in it. She couldn’t after watching her parents’ marriage. It had been a sham. Her father hadn’t given a care for any of them. Minnie didn’t truly remember a time when he’d been around, but Portia did. He’d been more of a visitor than a family member.
And Portia had spent too many years scrambling to make ends meet when he’d not send money to support them to have any respect for his memory. She was better off alone, although there were times she wished she wasn’t so alone.
Then again, one couldn’t be hurt when one was alone.
This was not something spoken of to the cook.
“Good night, Glennis,” Portia said instead, and picked up her candle.
“Sleep well, Miss Portia. I shall see you in the morning.”
“Yes, thank you,” Portia said, and escaped to her room.
The house was dark and quiet, and Portia was too nervous to sit and wait passively for the clock to
Portia had to close her mouth that had dropped open. “Why, that ugly toad,” she said, the words spilling out of her. “How dare he treat my sister that way.”
“We’d all thought she’d sent him away,” Glennis said. “But when I saw her this afternoon, I realized it couldn’t be true.”
“Her affections were firm,” Portia said, stoutly defending her sister. She took her seat in front of her dish of stew. “Mother interfered and I believe she said some things to Mr. Tolliver that were not true—however, I am shocked that he has changed his heart so quickly.” Were all men the same? Were they all like her father? “When I hear of how shallow men are, I am thankful I am on the shelf.”
“They are not all that way,” Glennis said, drying her hands on the apron over her skirt. “My Jamie is a good man and a fine husband.”
“Well, you must have the only one,” Portia said, picking up her fork. She needed to eat so that she had her strength for traipsing around the woods. “This is not the first gentleman Minnie has placed her trust in and been disappointed. There was a young man in London who disappeared after Father died and he discovered the severity of our circumstances.” She didn’t shy from speaking this way in front of Glennis. She owed the maid back wages, which she was determined to pay, and so they had already shared a blunt, difficult conversation.
“The heart doesn’t know defeat,” Glennis said. “Hers will love again. And you may fall in love yourself, miss.”
Portia shook her head. “I’ve yet to meet a man who made me feel ‘love.’ Then again, I am not a giddy creature. I’ve met handsome men, but never one who has touched my heart. And I’m of an independent spirit,” she announced. “I don’t think I was meant to marry.”
“But aren’t you ever lonely?” Glennis asked.
“No,” Portia answered, a touch too quickly. Loneliness was not something she could let herself dwell upon. “I have responsibilities and a busy life. I haven’t time to be lonely.”
“But don’t you yearn for a man you can lean on?”
Portia thought of her father. “A man is the last person I would lean on.”
“What of children, Miss Portia? Don’t you want them?”
That question was too personal. Too frank. Portia rose from the stool. “I don’t know,” she admitted. “I don’t think on it often.”
“I think about it every day,” Glennis said, picking up Portia’s dish and tossing the contents into a bin. She scooped sand from another bin and scrubbed the dish with it. “Jamie and I want wee ones, but we haven’t been blessed yet.”
“Well, I’ve not felt that yearning,” Portia said.
“Sure you have,” Glennis answered. “Every woman has it.”
Portia shook her head, but didn’t speak. How could one explain to a person as blissfully happy as Glennis that not all lives were uncomplicated? That Minnie might search for love, but Portia didn’t believe in it. She couldn’t after watching her parents’ marriage. It had been a sham. Her father hadn’t given a care for any of them. Minnie didn’t truly remember a time when he’d been around, but Portia did. He’d been more of a visitor than a family member.
And Portia had spent too many years scrambling to make ends meet when he’d not send money to support them to have any respect for his memory. She was better off alone, although there were times she wished she wasn’t so alone.
Then again, one couldn’t be hurt when one was alone.
This was not something spoken of to the cook.
“Good night, Glennis,” Portia said instead, and picked up her candle.
“Sleep well, Miss Portia. I shall see you in the morning.”
“Yes, thank you,” Portia said, and escaped to her room.
The house was dark and quiet, and Portia was too nervous to sit and wait passively for the clock to
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