Portia came to her feet. She backed away from Lizzy as if putting more distance between them would serve to weaken her words. “Are you saying there is no way to change what is to be?”
“Is there ever?” Lizzy asked, her smile as innocent as a child’s.
Portia would not accept that prediction. She couldn’t. Just the thought of it sent the pain of despair ripping through her—and then she realized, this was some of what Rose had felt.
Rose, who had stood on her tower, knowing her love was lost to her.
Just as Harry was lost to Portia. And her son growing within her would bear this curse as well.
She had to believe there was a way out of this madness. There must be. “What part do I play, Lizzy?”
“How should I know, mum?” was the reply.
Frustrated, Portia walked back to Camber Hall, her mind working furiously. She’d been destined to play a part in this. Hadn’t Lizzy said she was to be here? But how did one escape her fate?
She kept her eye out for Owl ... but she did not see her. The cat had disappeared.
Or perhaps she had never existed.
Portia managed to sneak into the house without her mother or Minnie being the wiser.
For the rest of the day, she stayed in her room. She read her Bible. She opened and shut one book after another in her meager library, searching for anything that could free Harry of this curse, and she found nothing. If she was supposed to be here for Harry, then what role did she play? Why was she not here to save him?
He called. He sat in the sitting room for hours waiting for her. She did not go down to meet him. Instead, she pushed herself into a corner of her room, sitting with her knees up and her head down, aching to run to him and knowing she couldn’t.
Minnie came several times to her room, begging her to see him. “He’s remorseful,” she said. “I’ve never seen a man of his stature struck so low.”
Portia would huddle deeper in her corner and refuse to go. No good could come of it.
And then Minnie informed her that he had left the house. “He is gone. You are free.” Her words were etched in bitterness.
Portia ran to a window overlooking the front drive then and watched him ride away. She pressed her hand against the glass as if she could pull him back.
But she must not.
Nor did she halt her quest to find some hope for both him and herself.
It wasn’t until midnight that she finally gave up. That’s when she found herself on her knees praying. “Dear God, please help Harry. Please keep him safe. Know that I love him.”
She studied her clasped hands a bit and then added, “I once wished for something more in my life without knowing for what I was asking. I now know what was missing was love, and I thank you for sending Harry if you are the one who brought him to me. Now protect him.Please.And please, give Rose peace. I understand now why she felt as if her world had come to an end. I shall not take my life, Lord, but please help me be brave enough to continue living without him.”
As is too often the case, the response was Divine silence.
Portia climbed into bed, exhausted, knowing she had done all she could.
Christmas dawned on what promised to be an excellent day. It was also Sunday and services were definitely in order.
“You don’t have to go, if you wish to stay home,” Lady Maclean offered.
“Do you wish me to stay home?” Portia asked. She was wearing the dress she’d worn to the Christmas Assembly. She’d combed her hair out and wore it curling and loose.
“I wish you to do what makes you comfortable,” her mother answered, taking a moment to straighten Portia’s spectacles on her nose.
“I won’t be comfortable until I go out in society the first time. I must be done with it. At least in church, Reverend Ogilvy can remind the others that gossip is a sin.”
“Is it?” her mother asked, and then reached for her hand. “You are very strong.”
“I’m only doing what must be done,” Portia said. “Besides, I plan on being a guest at your dinner.”
