The Lodestone

by Charlene Keel

  “What kind of employment?”

  “He’s sending me abroad to supervise his purchase of imports. Italy, France, perhaps even America. I sail from London in a week, so I’ll accompany you and Edwina back there. A wise choice on Drake’s part, I must admit. If there’s one thing I know how to do, it’s spend money on lovely, expensive goods.”

  “You know I’ll be happy to loan you any amount, especially to continue your education,” she said. “You have been a friend to me, Garnett. I would be one to you.”

  “Thank you, Cleome. I do know it. Mamma wanted me to ask you—would have sent me if I hadn’t thought of it myself. But since you were not at home, I had time to think it over, and Drake is right. It’s time I struck out for myself and made my own fortune. If you cannot love me as I love you, there’s nothing to keep me in England.”

  “Believe me when I say I am sorry it is not otherwise.”

  **

  When Cleome stepped once again into her own little room at the tavern house, she realized, to her astonishment, that everything looked the same as it had on the day she had returned to London, after Ramona’s funeral. She walked to the table and ran her hands over the cool glass of the pitcher and washbowl, and then she traced her fingers along the spines of her books and smoothed the patchwork quilt on her bed.

  “My room, for all the frills Mamma puts there, does not have such a peaceful, contented atmosphere,” Edwina observed. “I love it here, Cleo.”

  When they had changed from their traveling clothes, they went downstairs to join the others for supper. Cleome had made it clear to Garnett and Edwina that she would take her meals in the kitchen with Mary, Tibbits, Jacqueline, Della and the two Sams. Edwina wanted to be included in the company of delightful country folk, and Garnett made the same gesture.

  “You’d only make them uncomfortable,” Cleome said wisely. “Edwina, if you’d please sit with Garnett in the dining room, I’ll join my friends.” Edwina’s sudden, guarded look was both sweet and touching and Cleome added, “If you will not, you’ll sentence him to dine alone.”

  At that, Garnett took Edwina’s hand. “So, little one, you must put up with the ravings of a discontented old bachelor,” he said, smiling down into her eyes as he escorted her into the dining room.

  It was late when Cleome and Edwina made their way upstairs. Cleome was grateful that none of the servants had mentioned the master of the Eagle’s Head, or how things stood with him. She could not have borne it if they told her he was living openly, happily, with the mysterious Mignon. While Mary brushed Edwina’s hair and got her settled for the night, Jacqueline attended Cleome. When the maids retired, Edwina went to stand by her friend, who was gazing out the window at the stables.

  “It must be wonderful to be loved by a man like Garnett,” Edwina ventured. “Uncle Oliver thinks you should marry him, you know.”

  “I love Garnett as I would a brother,” Cleome responded carefully. “I could never think to marry him. Does that set your mind at rest, little one?”

  Edwina blushed. “Do you think I am very silly?” she asked.

  “Of course not. Garnett is a good man—or he will be, when he grows up.”

  “What of Mr. Stoneham? I cannot believe you really despise him, Cleome, no matter what you say.”

  “But I should. There’s no excuse for what he did.”

  “Uncle says we cannot dictate to our hearts what they should feel.” When Cleome didn’t respond, Edwina went on, “Perhaps it was an honest mistake. I don’t believe Mr. Stoneham is a bad man.”

  “He certainly is not an honest man,” Cleome replied, resolute. “I could never find happiness with a man I cannot trust.”

  “What if it’s all a misunderstanding?” Edwina was relentless. “I would listen to him, if I were you, should he ever again try to explain.”

  “I may never get the chance. Perhaps he has found happiness with Mignon. Now, into bed with you. Get some rest. Tomorrow we head for home.”

  When Edwina’s eyes closed, Cleome returned to the window where she kept up her vigil most of the night. The moon was high and she could see the stable yard clearly. She wondered, with a shiver, what on earth she was waiting, and hoping, for. She fell asleep at last, never hearing the muffled footsteps in the hall outside her door as some midnight travelers found their rooms. Early, just before dawn, a deep, familiar voice awakened her.

  “Mickey!” Drake called out. “Tell them to look lively down there. I want an early departure.” He sounded as if he stood just outside her door. Careful not to disturb Edwina, Cleome got out of bed and padded to the wooden barricade. “I’ll be down in a moment,” Drake continued as he walked away.

  A door shut somewhere down the hall, and then there was silence. Recalling Edwina’s advice, Cleome knew that she must see him. The ridiculous quarrel had gone on long enough. He’d said he had a reason for his deceit and now Cleome wanted to hear it, for in spite of his betrayal she loved him still. She would listen, and she would find a way to forgive him. Joy filling her soul for the first time in months, she started downstairs.

  When she was near the bottom of the stairs, a woman’s voice drifted up to her and as she came around the corner to the doorway of the private dining room, she stopped short. Sitting at the table with Drake was Mignon, and she was leaning toward him, her hand on his arm, commanding his attention as she spoke quietly, and it appeared, intimately. Cleome withdrew into the shadows, her heart suddenly frozen into an icy fist. She turned to go but her feet were like heavy stones, refusing to do her bidding. It was her misfortune to meet Garnett entering from the reception hall.

  “’Pon my word, you’re about early.” He brushed her forehead with his lips. “I went to rouse that lout of a stable boy. We must be off directly after breakfast.” He took her arm and led her into the dining room where Drake and his lady were rising from their morning meal.

  “Drake!” exclaimed the younger man. “Jolly to find you here.” He bowed to Drake’s companion. “Mignon . . . as lovely as ever.”

  “How is your father?” Drake asked as Mignon nodded shyly to Garnett.

  “Mother thinks he’ll make a full recovery here in the country where it’s quiet. Thank you for asking, sir. My business here is finished. I shall accompany Cleome and Edwina back to London and be ready to set sail at the appointed hour.”

  “I have complete faith in you,” Drake returned. Bowing slightly to Cleome he asked, “Milady, I trust you are well?”

  “Indeed,” was all she could manage.

  “Will you travel back with us, Drake?” Garnett asked. “Safety in numbers.”

  “Sorry. I’m going the other way. I have urgent business in Manchester,” he said, his eyes still on Cleome. “Please enjoy the hospitality of the Eagle’s Head for as long as you like, milady. It’s not to be open to the public much longer.”

  “So I’ve heard,” Cleome replied. “Mr. Stoneham, may I speak with you on business?”

  “What business could you possibly have with me?” he asked, apparently amused.

  “I have in mind to make an offer for the Eagle’s Head,” she explained, her heart hammering against her ribcage.

  “The inn is not for sale.”

  “I’m sure my solicitor can arrive at an acceptable figure—”

  “At any price,” he concluded coldly, unmindful of the others. “It pleases me, milady, to have something you want.”

  Mignon remained silent and strangely aloof during the brief exchange. Then Drake took her elbow and escorted her out of the room. He had made no attempt to introduce her.

  **

  Moira Landshire returned to London early to discover that Edwina had accompanied the scandalous Lady Houghton-Parker up north to wallow in filth among the lowest class of people. She soundly berated Oliver for permitting such an escapade, and forbade him the company of his niece—indefinitely. As punishment for her daughter’s sins, she confined Edwina to home and permitted only those visitors she deemed suitable. C
leome was certainly not one of them.

  Garnett was welcome, of course; so before he left for France, and at Cleome’s pleading, he visited Edwina and her mother. Employing the full strength of his charm, he tried to assuage the woman’s ire. She remained firm in her resolve to teach Edwina a lesson she would not soon forget. The child was so unhappy, Garnett reported back to Cleome, that she closed herself in the library, playing her piano all day, and for hours into the night. She would speak to no one, not even Moira. Most especially, not Moira.

  “I miss her,” Cleome said. “What shall I do without her—and you, Garnett? My two dearest friends.”

  “You’re not rid of me, you know. I’ll call on you every time I’m in port,” he tried to comfort her. “And Moira cannot keep her locked up forever, not if she’s to find her a husband.”

  “I fear Edwina will accept someone she doesn’t love, if only to escape her mother.” Cleome watched Garnett’s face and was gratified to see a flicker of consternation there.

  “She might be better off, Cleome,” he said. “If it would make you happy, I’d marry her myself—since you won’t have me. But with my father’s sudden decline in wealth, I am no longer a candidate.”

  “Were you ever?”

  “My dear, anything in breeches and destined to inherit a great estate has been carefully considered by Mrs. L, myself included. And don’t you see, the sooner she accomplishes that end, the sooner Edwina will be her own mistress, and you’ll have your little friend back.”

  “I wish you could marry her,” Cleome declared. “If I gave you the money to replace all your father lost, perhaps Moira would find you acceptable. And Edwina quite adores you.”

  He laughed. “What would happen when the dear child caught me looking at you with longing? That would put a cruel end to her infatuation. Cleome, you should be ashamed. Trying to buy me. It would serve you right if I accepted!”

  “Well, if marriages must be arranged for money, at least one person should be happy in the arrangement.”

  Chapter Fifteen

  “Mamma, please!” Edwina entreated, her eyes red and swollen from hours of weeping. “I’ll die without it. Please do not lock it up again.” She had been a month without her piano, an entire month! To lock it again after only two days was the ultimate punishment and a brilliant weapon in this battle of wills her mother forced upon her.

  Moira Landshire pocketed the key and frowned at Edwina. “I curse the day your useless father brought it home to you,” she hissed with quiet venom. “It will remain locked until you have agreed to do your duty by a mother who has devoted her life to taking care of you.”

  “You have not!”

  “Control your wayward tongue, my girl, or you’ll only make it worse.” Moira’s voice was hard and cold, even though she was filled with apprehension. If the ungrateful girl refused to cooperate, she didn’t know what she would do—except to make her very, very sorry.

  “Uncle Oliver has cared for me while you’ve gone gadding about, spending my father’s money, looking for someone to take me off your hands!” Edwina was heedless of her warning. “I do not want to marry any man you would choose!” she railed.

  “Is this how you plan to get your precious piano back, my dear?” Moira asked with quiet cunning. She was glad it hurt her daughter so to be deprived the instrument. It put a powerful weapon at her disposal. “And for your information, we have endured the last of Oliver’s meddling. You will not see him again, either. Not until your wedding day.”

  “You’ve taken everything from me, everything and everyone I hold dear.” A sob tore through Edwina, as if her very soul were rent. “What would you have me do? I cannot fight you anymore, and I cannot live without my music.”

  “Ah . . . at last we understand each other.”

  “At least, I understand you, Mamma.” Edwina’s voice was hollow and resigned. “You’ve found someone who will have me, then?”

  “Indeed, I have.”

  “Who?”

  “I believe I’ll save the surprise. You’ll know soon enough. Now, go and make yourself presentable. Put a cool, damp cloth on your eyes to bring down the swelling. Edwina, you will thank me for this someday. You’ll have not only a wealthy husband, but also a title. Now, go. He’ll be here soon, to make it official. You are to come down immediately when you hear the bell.”

  Moments after Edwina went upstairs to do her mother’s bidding, there was a light tap at the door. To save money, Moira had dismissed her maid, so she had to answer the summons herself; but this time it did not seem so objectionable. She would not have to put up with that sort of inconvenience much longer. She was a clever woman and had found many ways to stretch the pittance Edwina’s father had left them, including designing and making most of their dresses and bonnets. As soon as Edwina was married, Moira would receive the first installment of a generous monthly allowance she and the bridegroom had agreed upon. She opened the door to find him standing there, smiling at her benevolently.

  “My dear Paolo,” she crooned. “Come in. The darling girl will be down soon.”

  “You have spoken with her on my behalf?” he asked anxiously as Moira took his cloak and hung it on a coat rack near the door. “You have smoothed the way for me?”

  Moira led him into the parlor. “Oh, my goodness, Paolo. There was no smoothing necessary. She’s quite taken with the idea, but I beg you remember her tender years and her lack of experience.”

  “Have no fear,” he said quietly. “I will be the soul of understanding.”

  “She has an artistic temperament that I’ve tried to quell at every turn. You must be firm with her—but also patient, of course.”

  “I shall,” he reassured her. “But even patience has its limits, Moira. You know I must have an heir. Only then will your income be doubled, as we agreed.”

  “You are so kind, Paolo. And you must not worry. There’s a way to get whatever you want from Edwina, and I shall give you the key.”

  “You speak in riddles, dear lady. Pray tell me.”

  Moira took a small key from her pocket. “Once she has agreed to become your wife, take this and unlock her piano. If she becomes difficult, then lock the devilish thing up again. She will do anything you ask, only to be allowed to play it.”

  “I see. You have done this often?”

  “Well, it’s not often necessary. But it is most effective. She says she cannot live without her music. Have you ever heard anything so absurd?” Picking up the silver bell that sat on the tea table, she went on, “Now, I’ll summon our girl and then I’ll fetch our tea.” She rang the little bell. “I am sure you will find her most agreeable.”

  **

  Edwina appeared in the doorway, sober and resigned. She was surprised to see that her husband-to-be was the tall, serpentine Count Paolo, but she tried not to show it. He stood and looked anxiously from her to Moira.

  “You rang for me?” Edwina asked.

  “Look who is here,” Moira answered pleasantly. “Come and say hello. You must entertain the count while I prepare our tea.”

  As soon as Moira left the room, Paolo took Edwina’s hand. She did not protest. “My dear Miss Landshire,” he said with a slight bow, his narrow face pale and serious, “I shall come directly to the point. I believe you know why I’m here?”

  “Mamma has explained that you wish to marry me. Though I cannot think why.”

  “Perhaps because you are young and sweet and lovely—and I need a wife. I want children, and I am quite taken with you.” He held the key to the pianoforte out to her. “I believe this is yours.”

  She looked at the key and then frankly up into his eyes. “No. It is Mamma’s.” She wanted to take it from him, but she knew better. “I am not permitted to touch it.”

  “Your mother gave it to me. I am giving it to you.”

  She could hardly believe it. “She knows you’re giving it to me?”

  “Well . . . in all truth, she suggested I keep it.” He bent closer to her. �
�But, as I do not play, I think it should be in your safekeeping. Your music is the purest I’ve ever heard, Miss Landshire. You must never be locked away from what you love so much. If you will agree to marry me and be a good and constant wife, you’ll have access to it always.” With purpose, he strode across the room and unlocked the piano. Then he went back to her, put the key in her hand and gently closed her fingers around it.

  “It is really mine to keep?”

  He laughed lightly, softening her previous perception of him. “Indeed it is,” he said. Then he was serious again. “Edwina, I trust that in time you will learn to love me. My parents are dead. I have no brothers and sisters, and I want a family. The life of a bachelor has lost all its appeal. If you will give me a chance, I know I can make you happy. Please do me the honor of becoming my wife.”

  Edwina opened her hand and stared at the key. “May I play now?”

  “Of course . . . only, will you first answer my question? Will you marry me?”

  “Yes!” she exclaimed, throwing her arms around him. “Yes!” She ran to the piano and sighed with relief when she was able to unlock it and lift the lid. Sitting down eagerly before the keyboard, she looked up at Paolo, making room for him beside her on the bench. “Would you like to sit next to me while I play?”

  “Thank you, my dear Edwina. I would be honored.”

  **

  Moira heard the notes and hurried in with the tea tray to find Edwina playing a happy Mozart piece and Count Paresi gazing at her with what any devoted mother would hope was undying love. The wedding could take place in as little as two weeks, Moira calculated. She had everything ready, including a magnificent gown and the entire wedding trousseau. The day after Edwina married Moira could hire a maid and a cook, and order herself a whole new wardrobe—one that she wouldn’t have to stitch with her own hands. And in less than a year, when Edwina produced a little count or countess, as indeed she must, Moira would be able to buy a new carriage.