AllFreeNovel
Share Us
These folks were old-school aristocracy, and unlike many of their ilk who had lost no status but a lot of capital and assets across the centuries, they were old-school, big-time money.
New American big-time money didn’t rub against old aristocratic money very well. It never had. And I had quite a bit of experience knowing that our progressive age hadn’t changed that.
This all didn’t include Duncroft House itself.
A well-known jewel in England’s heritage crown. Perhaps not Buckingham, Windsor, Sandringham or Kensington caliber, but not far off.
It was supposed to be extraordinary.
And it had a notorious past.
“It’s going to be okay,” I told Lou.
“I don’t think so,” she mumbled to the window.
“Portia’s grown up a lot since Dad died,” I pointed out.
“Mm,” Lou hummed noncommittally. As she would.
Yes, Portia had matured.
This might have had something to do with the fact that Lou and I both managed her trust. Although Portia had (even I had to admit) an insulting monthly allowance of two thousand pounds neither Lou nor I could touch, the rest of her substantial inheritance was doled out at our discretion.
Though, that discretion had instruction from Dad, and if Portia didn’t stay gainfully employed, she didn’t get a penny above that two grand until she managed that feat. Further, if Portia remained in a job for less than twelve months, there were strict limits set on what money was forthcoming, again, until she’d accomplished what Dad demanded. Last, if Portia got into trouble with the police, with drugs or alcohol, or with unsavory characters or dubious projects, that money was frozen.
And if this behavior didn’t cease by the time Portia hit age thirty-five, Lou’s and my trusts were each augmented by half of Portia’s, and she received no more. Not even the two thousand.
However, if she managed to keep her shit together for five straight years, the entire trust would be at her disposal without oversight.
At first, Portia took this not as Dad intended, his way to prompt her to shape up, but instead as Dad’s beyond-the-grave assertion that he loved Lou more than her.
But recently, she’d been pulling herself together.
Portia getting it together was not due to efforts from Lou. Lou wanted Portia to like her, always had from the first time we met her (that included me, but I was less of a challenge). Now, Lou was the soft touch when Portia asked for money.
No. Portia was learning to toe the line due to me being o-v-e-r over her antics.
Dad had given her that two thousand so she wouldn’t starve because he knew I’d be a hard-ass.
And hard-ass I was.
So Portia finally seemed to be pulling it together.
And now there was Daniel Alcott.
“Have you met the Alcotts?” I asked Lou.
“I know Richard,” she said in a weirdly hesitant voice.
I glanced at her again. “Well?”
“Sorry?”
“Do you know him well?”
“Not really. Met in passing at a party or a dinner here or there.”
She said this, but it sounded like a question, like I could confirm she’d met Earl Alcott at a party or dinner here or there.
