The Lodestone (25 page)

Edwina teased Garnett without mercy because he was not able to get along without his valet. Garnett in turn asked her riddles, which she could always solve, and showed her some magic tricks, which mystified and delighted her. He regaled Cleome with stories of the people she was to meet and the places she would see. When they stopped to rest, he took out his sketchbook and captured their likenesses and the scenes around them on paper. Lord Easton, still proud and unyielding for the most part in his attitude towards Cleome, had traveled down to London the week before.

They arrived at dawn, when the city was just waking up. Peering eagerly out the window, Cleome was aware of Lady Easton’s disapproval as Garnett and Edwina encouraged her gawking by pointing out sights of interest. Tradesmen and factory workers filled the streets while vendors of delicious-smelling cakes and sausages hawked their early morning wares to young gentlemen just going home from the clubs. Never in her life had Cleome seen so many people in one place at the same time and never before had she heard such a noise, as the sounds of building and industry mixed with the chatter of workers. Oliver assured her that she would grow so accustomed to the hue and cry that she would soon cease to notice, but she had to wonder. Houses and shops crowded close to each other and it seemed there was little solace to be found from nature here. She would miss walking in the woods and the clean country air.

Oliver’s house was a comfortable old brownstone in the Mayfair section of the city, not too far from the Easton’s townhouse. Garnett and Elizabeth lingered only long enough for Cleome to disembark with Edwina and Jacqueline, and their luggage handed down. With a promise to call the next day after they were all refreshed, Garnett saw them safely inside, where Oliver was just sitting down to breakfast. After a joyful reunion with his niece, and ordering his coachman, John, to take care of the young ladies’ boxes, Oliver insisted that they join him for a hearty meal. Cleome would be quite cozy in his small abode, he promised; and his housekeeper, Hannah, would be glad of Jacqueline’s help.

The next two weeks flew past as Cleome’s new wardrobe was ordered under Elizabeth’s careful supervision, and she met with the architect who would see to it that Houghton Hall, which had been closed since her uncle’s death ten years before, was brought back to its former glory.

It was a magnificent old estate, comprising several lush acres and various outbuildings. The house was big and had at one time been splendidly appointed; but a decade of vacancy had opened the two-hundred-year-old structure to decay and weather damage, which would require repair. Cleome’s uncle had used only a few of its forty-odd rooms, which were all filled with linen-draped paintings and furniture. It was grand, austere even—or would be when the restoration was finished—yet in comparison to Oliver’s small, comfortable house, it seemed lifeless and cold.

Since there was more work to be done in Houghton Hall than at first supposed, Oliver helped Cleome secure a modest, three-story brownstone, with a total of twelve rooms, in St. James Street, near the one Drake had bought. She was outfitted in the latest fashions from Paris as well as the best to be had within the British Empire; and Lady Easton insisted that she have the most expensive and modish articles, from shoes to gloves, from chemises to cloaks.

Drake called on Cleome briefly, on his return from Italy, but he seemed more distracted than ever. Cleome prayed it was the business of opening the club that filled his thoughts and not some exotic foreign lover. Although they were neighbors, she didn’t see him often; and as much as she wanted to seek his advice on everything, he was, for the time being, leaving her to find her own way through this exciting new world. But three days after she and Jacqueline moved into the lovely little dwelling Oliver had found for them, Drake stopped in unannounced to tell her about a delay in the opening of Stoneham House.

Some important shipments from Venice had been lost in a storm, he explained, and must be replaced; and the carpenters working on an upstairs wing were badly behind. Cleome wrote often to Ramona and Mary, frequently sending her mother some delicious cake, cheese or confection to tempt her appetite; and she struggled desperately with Elizabeth Easton’s efforts to prepare her for entrance into London society.

Taking her cue from Drake, the clever Lady Easton had at last fashioned together a flawless introduction for Cleome. Oakham was so far removed from London and the late Lady Adelaide’s mismatch with an innkeeper was such old news, she decided, that it would not be of immediate interest. It would suffice to say only that the Lady Ramona was an invalid who’d been confined to bed since her husband died a hero’s death fighting Napoleon in service of the king. It sounded perfectly plausible and by the time any rumors of Cleome’s illegitimacy reached the city, her beauty, intelligence, charm and money—especially her money—would cancel out much of the accompanying stigma.

It wasn’t exactly a lie but it was not completely the truth and it irked Cleome that she had to account for herself at all. She was not in London looking for a husband, she repeatedly tried to explain; and it wasn’t important to her to be formally introduced. But Oliver, Garnett and Drake all insisted that it was important to business and future investments. That she was also representing Ramona’s interests made it easier to bear, and once she overcame her initial shyness, it pleased Cleome no end to see irritation flashing momentarily across Drake’s face when she conquered yet another gentleman, as the lively Edwina said, with her wit and beauty. She found, under Oliver’s tutelage, that she had an instinct for business and it wasn’t long before she was able to hold her own ground in meetings, asking all the right questions of the men in her employ. Oliver told her proudly that soon she would be able to make decisions on her own for the various Houghton Enterprises, which included coal, copper and tin mines in the north, and factories in the city. This part of her new life, Cleome found so invigorating that she often kept Lady Easton waiting impatiently to take her to a fitting while she asked Oliver one more question.

In deference to Cleome’s wealth and new position, Lady Easton tried not to show her utter frustration, but the only thing upon which they reached a ready agreement was where to have Cleome’s coming-out ball. It was set for late January, and since Houghton Hall would not be ready in time, Drake had graciously offered Stoneham House. To Cleome’s surprise, Lady Easton thought it a splendid idea. It would be the first formal event hosted there after the opening. London society was already rife with gossip about the honorable (and comely) Miss Parker, who would someday be a baroness; and when word got out that she would be formally introduced to them, a great clamor for invitations ensued.

Though she did not consider herself a beauty as the others, especially Edwina, proclaimed, Cleome was too innately honest to lie to herself. In one of her new dresses, with her hair done up, standing before her dressing room mirror, she saw that her appearance could indeed give her a certain advantage, especially when immense wealth was part of the package. If learning to manage the Houghton estate meant she had to capitalize on her assets, then so be it. And if she had to be instructed in her new role, not only by Oliver but by the Eastons and their exclusive circle as well, she would have to go along with that, too. Whatever their purpose was, she had her own; for now that she could have anything she wanted, she had to face the fact that what she desired most was the one thing she could not buy.

She wanted Drake Stoneham; and her incredible good fortune had decreed that if she could not have him for a husband, perhaps she could take him for her lover. What others thought of her was supposed to be important, she knew; but she had no real place in the society of others—and never had. Besides figuring out a way to make Drake fall in love with her, Cleome’s only aspiration was to pursue some course of study. She meant to avail herself of the many opportunities London offered, and to expand her mind while she figured out how to run her businesses and seduce the owner of Stoneham House.

Although he was occupied with the final embellishments on the club, she was not surprised to see him occasionally at some of the soirees she attended with the Eastons. In those privileged settings, he could procure customers, but there was small likelihood of that at the informal literary dinners Oliver hosted. Drake carefully kept an appropriate distance from Cleome when encountering her at the Easton’s or a function hosted by any of their associates. At Oliver’s informal get-togethers, he was more likely to seek her out. But even then, he made no mention of exploring their obvious attraction to each other, as he’d promised, before Oliver had arrived with the news that turned her life in this new direction. Cleome was impatient to introduce the subject again and had it not been for the jolly distractions Edwina and Garnett offered her, she thought she’d go mad.

To Edwina’s delight, Garnett instituted the tradition of taking her and Cleome on carriage rides around London as often as the weather would allow. On a bright November morning when the temperature permitted the use of the open phaeton, the Intrepid Trio (as Edwina had christened them) set out for an early ride. Bundled in a heavy velvet cloak with a hood trimmed in rich ermine and a woolen throw across her lap, Cleome was enjoying the cold, invigorating air when she spied Drake’s carriage coming towards them in the opposite lane. The welcoming smile that lit her face faded abruptly when she saw the dark, pretty woman who was dressed as elegantly and expensively as she was herself, sitting next to him, her hand resting lightly on his arm.

Cleome tried to disappear into the folds of her hood but it was too late—Drake had seen her. He tipped his hat and nodded politely to her and her party while his companion stared at them curiously.

“Oh, my!” Edwina quipped. “Who was that with Mr. Stoneham, do you think?”

“Don’t you know?” Garnett asked, happy to gossip. “He has imported her from Paris to work in his club. Her name is Mignon and he allows no other man to get near her, except his clerk, Mr. Collins, who’s harmless enough. And that, my dear girl, is all I can divulge to one of your innocent years.”

“Not so innocent as you might think, sir,” Edwina shot back. “I know all about the mysterious woman from Paris. Do you think that was she?”

“What do you mean, Eddy?” Cleome asked, using the pet name she had devised for her friend. “Have you heard something?”

“Not myself, directly,” Edwina replied. “But Mamma has it on good account that she was hired to be one of the ‘ladies upstairs’ and to supervise some of the other ‘ladies upstairs’ at Stoneham House.”

“Believing that takes no stretch of the imagination,” Garnett returned. “She certainly looks sophisticated enough to—hold on there, little one,” he warned, using his own pet name for the lovely sprite. “Do you know what the ‘ladies upstairs’ are employed to do?”

“Yes,” Edwina declared. “And I maintain that it’s more honorable than an arranged and loveless marriage which takes place for the mutual profit of two families.”

“She’s incorrigible,” Garnett said to Cleome. “Can you do nothing to restrain her?”

“No. I wouldn’t wish to limit so fine a mind,” Cleome responded easily. “But I suppose all gaming houses have such women in their employ, do they not?”

“Of course,” Garnett assured her.

“Well, while I certainly do not think it suitable employment, I must admit Edwina has a valid point.”

“Thank you, my dear Cleo,” said Edwina. “Mamma also heard that Mr. Stoneham found his mystery woman working in one of the lowest brothels in all of France, rescued her and made her his lover. Don’t you think that’s romantic?”

“No, I think it’s ridiculous,” Cleome responded, carefully controlling the rising emotion in her voice. “And I doubt that it’s true. We haven’t seen her with him at any parties.”

“But there’s something between them,” Garnett put in. “He seems very concerned for her welfare, and she looks at him with nothing less than adoration.”

“He is a kind man,” Cleome stated simply.

“Still, he is a man,” Garnett rejoined. “And just so you worldly women are properly informed, I must tell you that there are ladies a gentleman brings to a party and ladies he prefers to keep at home. Mignon is in the latter group.”

“Now who’s behaving incorrigibly?” Cleome asked. And although they all burst into laughter, Cleome’s heart was heavy and she was far from amused.

**

There was a new chancellor at Cambridge, and after Lord Easton met with him, Garnett was readmitted to university; and in mid November, he returned to school a more serious student. He had tried many times to establish himself as more than her friend, but Cleome remained steadfast in her determination not to allow him any romantic illusions. Still, at many of the gatherings—the teas, the dances, the dinner parties—they were invariably paired. She could see that everyone, especially Garnett, took it for granted that eventually he and Cleome would wed. She discouraged him at every turn but he remained devoted. Strangely enough, he was the only new friend she had, besides Edwina, of whose sincerity she could be absolutely certain; for he had declared his concern for her long before he had any idea she was an heiress.

Together, Oliver Landshire and Elizabeth Easton hired servants to help Cleome maintain her townhouse. Higgins, the butler, was a disconcerting snob who always put her ill at ease; but Oliver explained that his regal bearing would make it easy for him to control the large staff she would require at Houghton Hall. Until Cleome moved into the imposing structure she needed only Jacqueline to help in the townhouse, but Oliver insisted she also have a downstairs maid, a scullery maid and a cook. Lady Easton remarked that it wouldn’t do to have a house full of unprotected women—although what protection the tall but spindly Mr. Higgins would be, Cleome failed to understand. She remarked to Edwina’s delight that he hardly looked forceful enough to do battle with a codfish much less a criminal.

Everyone Cleome met seemed to accept Lady Easton’s story of her previous situation, but she had understandable misgivings about the entire endeavor. She had no wish to embarrass Garnett and his parents or Oliver, who was fast proving himself another dear friend upon whom she could count; and she constantly feared she would say the wrong thing or use the wrong fork or do something to embarrass them all. Edwina and her uncle acted, sometimes together and sometimes by turn, as escort or chaperone when Cleome went to the theatre or museums, or strolling through the lovely parks in Pall Mall.