01 - Captured Dreams Page 8

  “I cannot do that,” Portia said passionately.

  “Indeed, you can.”

  “You are asking me to give up the possibility of saving my own mother.”

  “I care only about my family,” Mary said sternly, “the family you have been part of for eight years.”

  “I appreciate everything you and William have done for me, but I cannot decide between you and my mother.” Her voice grew husky as Portia desperately fought back the tears.

  “You must decide. There is no middle ground between right and wrong. You must decide between the family that you have now and the imaginary one that exists only in your mind,” Mary stated matter-of-factly. “There is too much at stake for me to allow you to tread in such dangerous waters. The risks are too high.”

  “I shall be more careful,” Portia argued quietly. “You have every right to be angry with me for going to Pennington’s place of business. But that is separate from my mother. I promise never to see him again, if you wish. But Helena Middleton—”

  “Stop!” Mary shook her head adamantly. “I spoke to William about that last night. He is certain that Admiral Middleton would retaliate against one and all if his daughter were stolen away without his consent. He believes your entire scheme is total foolishness. He has even suggested that we send you to Nova Scotia to live with his parents for a year or so. He believes you will forget about all of this in time.”

  “Mary, please listen to me,” Portia pleaded. “You cannot send me away.”

  “That is not your choice. After witnessing what you did this morning, I must detand by my husband’s decision.”

  The two women stood facing each other for a long moment. They weren’t hearing each other. Neither understood. Then, Portia heard the bell of Old South ring out the hour. Before her, Long Wharf and the rest of the harbor bustled with activity. A merchant ship was just entering the port, passing the fort at Castle Island. A great unknown world lay beyond.

  The noise of the street, the people around them, even Mary’s face, all receded in her mind as Portia thought of the dark and frightening road that awaited her. Despite the loneliness, she had never endured much hardship in her life. She had never been in any true danger. From the time she had left Lady Primrose’s school in Wales, she had been a member of a household where she was cared for and appreciated for her efforts. Fear now crept into her heart.

  Portia wondered if she had the strength to walk away from all that was secure in her life. If she failed in any step, she would be ruined.

  A woman passed them. A child was holding onto her mother’s skirt, and the little girl glanced up into Portia’s face. That one look gave her the answer.

  Portia took a deep breath. “I intend to use the opportunity of going back to the Admiral’s mansion this noon to chance another meeting with Helena.”

  Mary’s face hardened, shielding obvious disappointment. “I forbid it.”

  Portia batted away a tear. “Would you like me to remove my belongings before that appointment or can it wait until I return?”

  “I would prefer that you leave my house before you go to the North End.” Without another word, Mary turned and walked away.

  ****

  With the door locked, the maps and ledger books were brought out from the secret compartment within the wall panel and spread out on Pierce’s desk. Sean was advised to give them the signal immediately if any other visitors arrived in the outer office. The two men pored over the information that Nathaniel had brought back from Providence. It was critical that the meeting today with Admiral Middleton not jeopardize their plans for the coming fortnight.

  The British revenue cutter Gaspee had been brought in three months earlier to enforce the revenue laws on Narragansett Bay, an area where virtually the entire colonial population was engaged in smuggling. The Gaspee’s presence was decidedly unwelcome to all, and her captain had done his best to provoke the navigators on the bay by the arrogant and high-handed manner in which he carried out his duties.

  Over the last two nights, Nathaniel had made the final arrangements in Rhode Island. Next week the notorious MacHeath would help lure the Gaspee aground in Narragansett Bay. A group of prominent Providence men were to take over from there. The mission was a critical one and had been in planning for some time.

  An hour had passed before Pierce, finally satisfied with all the details, folded the maps. “What do you plan to use as an alibi for last night?”

  “I was a guest at the Rhode Island Governor’s ball.”

  Pierce raised a questioning brow.

  “I celebrated the King’s Birthday with the same fervor that you did, no doubt…and I stayed longer than you did at the Admiral’s, I’ll wager.” Nathaniel corrected. “The important thing was that Governor Wanton and I had a nice chat about the benefits of fine whisky, a conversation that he will attest to, if the need arises. He was also aware that I was leaving for Boston last night, so my early departure was perfectly explainable.”

  Pierce placed the maps and the books in the compartments and closed the panel. “I expect the visit with Middleton today to address the same issues that he has discussed with others.”

  “I have an uneasy feeling about it.”

  “And why is that?”

  “I cannot say exactly. Something about the timing of it. We have a ship sitting in the outer harbor ready to take its place at the wharf. The infamous rascal MacHeath has been more active this past fortnight than all of last year.” Nathaniel picked up something from the rug and sat down in a chair, studying the small object closely. “Could simply be my imagination, but I am still somewhat concerned.”

  “The fact that he has invited both of us to attend is a good thing,” Pierce commented. “He is obviously focusing on businesses and not individuals. From what I was told, this is the same approach he used with other shipping men.”

  “Time will tell, my friend. In the meantime, we need to be careful.”

  Nathaniel’s fascination with the object piqued Pierce’s curiosity. He was annoyed, though, when he realized the item was a woman’s hat pin.

  “This definitely gives me more reason to look forward to the ride to Copp’s Hill.” Nathaniel glanced at his pocket watch. “Do you think Miss Edwards would mind if I called for her slightly earlier than the appointed time?”

  “As a matter of fact, I think she would mind.” Pierce took the pin out of the other man’s hand, poking himself in the process.

  Muir was unsuccessful in hiding his smirk.

  “But you do not have to bother calling for her,” Pierce said shortly. “I will take care of that.”

  “Really, Pierce. I insist.”

  “You do not want to get involved there. You do not want to know her. You definitely do not want to know how much trouble she is capable of getting into. And you absolutely do not want to know why she is really going back there today…considering the fact that she was chased out by a rather threatening horde of servants last night. I will take care of it.”

  Nathaniel leaned back in the chair and smiled. “I am fascinated.”

  “For your own piece of mind, try to curb your fascination.” Pierce picked up his jacket where he had discarded it on the back of a chair and headed for the door. “I will meet you at in the North End. Be on time.”

  CHAPTER 7

  Portia had no time to look and consider her options. Besides, she had none. She took the only place she knew of, a room on the third floor of the red brick apothecary shop at the foot of School Street. Dr. Crease the Younger, as he was called—though he was nearly seventy—had mentioned the room that he was looking to let out when Portia had stopped to get medicine for Mary during her illness. Luckily, the room was still available, and Dr. Crease and his wife were both delighted to take her in as a tenant.

  By the time Portia arrived back at the house on the lane off Sudbury Street, she had prepared herself to deal with chaos, anger, tears, and outpourings of emotion. When faced with the silence she found there
, however, Portia was not entirely sure how to deal with it. With the exception of Josiah, no one else was at home. The old man seemed genuinely upset.

  “Mrs. Higgins had a meeting with the Charity Ladies, and the children were directed to go and—”

  “You needn’t explain, Josiah. I understand.” Portia looked up the steep, narrow stairs. “I shan’t be long.”

  Her feet were heavy as she started her ascent. For the first time, the idea of never seeing the smiling faces of Walter and Ann, of not belonging to this household, of being totally alone, started gnawing at the edge of her courage. She began to see the wisdom in Mary’s words. She was turning her back on real people she loved for what was quite possibly an illusion.

  Still though, she climbed the steps. In her room, she put a small trunk on the bed and went about packing what was hers. It was not much. Three dresses, a cloak, a handful of undergarments, some books, her writing tablets, and the small assortment of mementos she’d collected during her years with the children. Portia looked at the needlepoint heart that little Ann had made for her, at the shell Walter had picked up by the dock before they left England. Where she was going was unclear, and how she was going to live was a mystery. Until she found what she was searching for, these few precious keepsakes would have to be enough to keep her spirit alive.

  At the last minute, she also packed what she had left of the things she had borrowed from her friend, Bella. She would need to mend and return them soon.

  Portia managed to haul the trunk down the stairs herself. Josiah looked embarrassed when he caught up with her by the door as she prepared to leave.

  “I never thought ye would be so quick, miss, or I’d have come to bring this down for ye.”

  “Better my back than yours.”

  The old man glanced sadly down at the little she was taking. “Will ye allow me to help ye, miss? I’ve a wee bit of savings that’s of no use to me at my age. I’d be happy to—”

  “I’ll be fine, Josiah. Thank you,” she said gently. “I have managed to put a little away over the years, and you know I’m not afraid of working. I do not expect to be without a position for too long.” She gave him the address where she had taken the room. “A gentleman by the name of Mr. Muir is supposed to come for me at noon. I shall try to carry my trunk to the apothecary and be back before then, but if he comes by before I return, please do not mention anything about my change of employment and residence.”

  “I should never do that, miss,” Josiah assured her. The old servant looked out into Sudbury Street. “I took the liberty of sending for the livery boy to bring a cart around for ye…and here’s the lad now. Let me help ye load the trunk on the back.”

  Moments later, as the cart jerked into motion, Portia swung around on the rickety seat and looked back at the parsonage in time to see the old man slowly closing the door.

  ****

  Pierce sat in the warm midday sun, waiting for the two mud-covered boys to herd their half-dozen cows out of the lane where the parsonage was located. His groom Jack tried to hurry them along, but the brassy young fellows just whistled him off and continued toward the Common.

  By the time they entered the lane, Portia was helping an ancient serving man put a small trunk in a cart as a livery boy stood by. He halted the chaise immediately. She had not bothered to do anything with her hair. The dark locks were gleaming in the sun, ringlets dancing in the light breeze. For a few moments he found himself staring. Despite his objection that morning, he admired how delicate and pretty she looked in the simple attire. He was surprised out of his reverie, however, when she climbed into the cart beside the boy.

  Pierce had done the very thing that he had told Nathaniel not to do. He’d arrived early. But he told himself he had a legitimate reason for doing so. He already knew Portia, and sensing that she was heading into some stormy weather with the parson’s wife, Pierce had decided he should make a better impression on the parson and his family.

  As he watched the cart turn down Sudbury Street, Pierce reminded himself that he was doing this for himself, too. Against his better judgment, he found he had resigned himself to the fact that his and Portia’s paths were going to cross. He could live with that. The woman interested and annoyed him at the same time. But he was also damned curious to know what the she-devil really wanted at the Admiral’s mansion.

  With a flick of the reins he set off, following at a distance. There had to be a hundred reasons why she would be leaving the Higgins residence with a trunk in tow, but none he wanted to guess at. He only hoped his foolishness this morning was not the cause of it.

  The red brick building on the corner of School Street where the cart stopped was one that Pierce had passed by dozens of times. He brought his own vehicle to a halt several shops up from the apothecary. There was a considerable amount of foot traffic here, as well as riders and street venders, and Portia didn’t notice him. He watched her thank the driver and drag the trunk herself to a side door of the building. She paid no attention to anyone else on the street, and opened the door without so much as knocking.

  His groom was already standing by the heads of the pair of horses, and Pierce went after her. She and the trunk had disappeared through the door, however, by the time he had reached it.

  He stood there for few minutes, waiting, uncertain of his next move. He was considering knocking and inquiring about her when the door opened again and Portia reappeared without the trunk.

  She was clearly shocked to see him, and hurriedly averted her red-rimmed eyes, and wiped tears from her cheeks. She’d been crying.

  “What is wrong?”/blockquote>

  She ignored the question. “What are you doing here, Mr. Pennington?”

  “I might ask the same thing of you.”

  “I…” She cleared her throat. “I live here.”

  He looked up at the building. “But this is not the address you gave to Nathaniel. And this is not the house where my groom delivered you last night.”

  “People move. Situations change.” She continued to avoid his eyes and searched the street instead. “My apologies for sounding rude, sir, but I need to get back to the parsonage in the next fifteen minutes. As you mentioned yourself, that is the address I erroneously gave your friend.” She gave him a polite nod and started up the street.

  Pierce fell in step with her. “Was it erroneously or did your living arrangements change since you left my office this morning?”

  “I do not think that concerns you.”

  “I had the impression that Mrs. Higgins was unhappy about finding you in my office. Was that what precipitated the move?”

  “I must be going. Now if you’ll excuse me…”

  Pierce motioned for Jack to bring the chaise. “My carriage is here. I will take you where you wish to go.”

  She hesitated for a second, but Pierce took her by the arm and led her toward the vehicle.

  “You have a rather overbearing way of giving commands,” she said critically, “rather than making offers out of any sense of courtesy.”

  “I have never felt inclined toward courtesy when dealing with those who refrain from speaking the truth.”

  “Are you saying that I’ve told you untruths?”

  “’Tis not so much what you say, miss, so much as what you do not say.”

  Portia’s manner toward the groom was extremely polite, but the glare was back as soon as she was seated in the chaise and turned her attention once again to Pierce.

  “Since you have formed such a poor opinion of me,” she said shortly. “I cannot understand your insistence on giving me a ride. I also do not understand why you are following me, as that is the only explanation that I can think of for you to be waiting by that door when I came out.”

  “Perhaps I was there to purchase drugs of some kind.” Pierce flicked the reins and the carriage started down the street.

  “Is that so? I do not believe there could possibly exist any medicine that will help cure your ailment.”

&
nbsp; “My ailment?” He smiled. “Which is?”

  She glanced in panic over her shoulder. “You are going the wrong way. You needed to go left at that last intersection to get to Sudbury Street.”

  “I shall get you to your desired destination,” he assured her.

  “How about my appointment with your friend?”

  “He has been warned,” he said casually. “I am here to replace him. Now, about my ailment, Miss Edwards?”

  She continued to look about her with uncertainty. “I am no physician, sir.”

  “Still, I would value your opinion.”

  “I do not believe you can handle hearing it.”

  “I am much stronger than you give me credit.” He was glad to see the spark back in her eyes. The breeze pushed the curls in every direction, and she looked wild and very tempting. “This might be the only chance you ever get to slander me in person.”

  “Very well.” Portia slid away from him as far as possible and studied him earnestly for awhile. “The problem with you, sir, is your lack of trust.”

  “That is true, but that quality only surfaces in my dealings with strangers. Frankly, I consider that caution to be a sign of good sense.”

  “You are also a tyrant.”

  “Another positive quality. There is no government so efficient as that of a benevolent despot.”

  “I suppose you have some excuse for your consistently foul temperament.”

  “As Jack here I’m certain will verify, my temperament is only occasionally foul, as you put it.” Pierce reached over and pushed a lock of hair from her eyes. Just as he recalled, it was soft as silk, and it took great discipline not to allow his fingers to linger. “And in your case, however, I have certainly been provoked.”

  She gave him a narrow stare. “And then, of course, your lack of decisiveness.”

  “And why do you say that?”

  “One moment, you say you wish never to see me again. But when we meet again, you act like a long lost friend. You frown, glower, call me troublesome one moment, and in the very same morning you are at my door and cannot be any more accommodating.” Portia leaned toward him and placed a hand on his sleeve. “So which is it, Mr. Pennington? Have you come to some decision about me?”