The Lodestone (34 page)

**

There was no longer any need for an expeditious journey, as their visit was cut so short; and now even the sense of adventure had evaporated. In its stead, Cleome felt a great, still silence. She no longer hoped to find her rightful place, for she had none. She was some exotic freak of nature existing like a shade between two different worlds. She didn’t belong with the vacuous, insensitive aristocracy, and her inheritance forever prevented acceptance from her father’s people. Cleome had no doubt that if, after granda’s death, she and Ramona had turned up on Jim Parker’s doorstep with naught but what they could carry, he would have welcomed them. But now it was impossible.

She could not face the prospect of returning to Houghton Hall and the solitude that awaited her there. More than ever, she missed the simple country folk who served at the Eagle’s Head back in Oakham; and though her heart tried to deny it, she ached for just one sight of Drake, even from a distance.

Since the Eagle’s Head was about half way between Manchester and London, she decided, it was the perfect place to stop for a day or so. When she announced her plans to Mary and Jacqueline over breakfast in their suite of rooms in the elegant Manchester hotel, she was rewarded with their joy at the unexpected treat. As Edwina had assumed Cleome’s disregard for class, the four women sat around the table together.

“Tibbits will eat up me new frocks with envy,” Mary said. “Though I do not imagine ‘is nibs has let them go to rags at the inn.”

Cleome started as if the maid had referred to Drake by name. But since Stoneham House was a great success, she doubted he spent much time in the countryside. The last letter Mary had from Tibbits informed them that the master hardly ever got out to the country anymore. Things were changing rapidly. Della had married Young Sam and was in a family way, Fanny had gone to work at the pub in Oakham, and there was talk of closing the inn and re-doing it as the master’s private country estate. The letter had urged them to visit soon, if they were going to visit at all, before everything changed.

**

They arrived at the Eagle’s Head late the next afternoon. After greetings all around, Cleome and Edwina settled themselves in the parlor while Mary helped Tibbits in the kitchen “as in the old days,” and Jacqueline went upstairs to unpack for the young ladies. They had not been in the parlor ten minutes before Mary came in and with a quick curtsy announced, “Lord Easton is here to see you, milady.”

Garnett came in behind her and added, “And he says he refuses to go away until he’s scolded you both soundly for your outrageous misbehavior!”

“Garnett!” Cleome was delighted. “Whatever are you doing here?” She was quick to catch the sudden pink glow that lit Edwina’s face as the young man entered.

“I had some business at Easton Place,” Garnett said, a bit more subdued than usual. “I heard you’d gone to Manchester, so I sent a message over to Old Sam, to let me know if you stopped in here. I shall have Landshire’s head for letting two helpless women make such a journey alone.”

“Dear boy,” she admonished. “We are not alone and we are far from helpless.”

“I shudder to think what would happen with only Mary and Jacqueline to protect you from thieves on the road,” he teased. To Edwina, he said, “But then, little one, I rather imagine that the thieves would get the worst of it.”

“Indeed they would,” she declared cheerfully but Cleome noticed she was unable to raise her brown eyes to meet Garnett’s blue ones.

“Edwina, my sweet,” he teased, “I’d like to speak with Cleome a moment. Would you let Tibbits know there will be one more for supper?”

“Certainly,” Edwina acquiesced, thrilled to do his bidding. She stole one look at him as she went out to the kitchen. Cleome reached across the table and placed her hand on Garnett’s.

“You haven’t left school again, I hope,” she said. “You shouldn’t take it so for granted. I would give anything to go to university
.”

“As I would, at this point,” he said. “I had no choice. It seems my father can no longer pay my tuition.”

“Garnett! What happened?”

“One too many nights at Crockford’s, I’m afraid. He’s lost everything, Cleome, or very nearly. The house in London, his mine shares. He has Easton Place left, a few acres and just enough money to see himself and Mamma through another winter, providing they keep only Edwards and cook. Losing everything was a great shock to him. He’s had a spell or something and his health had deteriorated. Mamma is very worried about him.”

“Oh, my dear friend, I am so sorry.”

“I came out to see them settled before I depart on my own
great adventure.”

“Certainly not,” he retorted. “You had already left on
your
great adventure. Your butler would give no information, so I called on Mr. Landshire to ascertain your whereabouts.” He hung his head for a moment. “Ran into Drake there. When he heard about my father’s misfortune, he offered me employment. Not being in a position to decline, I accepted.”

“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.”

“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.”

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. Cleome 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.”