The Lodestone (9 page)

That is the answer
, she thought.
Of course
. Mr. Stoneham didn’t intend to live in the Eagle’s Head all year so he would need someone to see after things. And he did not seem to have the temperament of one accustomed to waiting on others, as an innkeeper must do. Her grandfather’s pride would prevent him from asking Mr. Stoneham to let them stay on, but Cleome was not encumbered with such an impractical attitude. She would go to Mr. Stoneham as soon as he’d had his breakfast and beg him to let them work the place for him. He wouldn’t cast them out. No one could be so cruel. In youthful optimism, she fell asleep at last.

**

Ramona, who had not been sleeping either, opened her eyes and sat up. There was something happening in the house this night and she had a feeling it concerned Jimmy Parker. A newfound strength surged through her limbs, and she struggled to remember what he’d said so long ago.

He had
said
he would come back, but he couldn’t simply walk through the door and demand to see his wife. Lady Adelaide would never stand for that.
But wait.
The bitter, despicable woman who had ruthlessly snatched from Ramona the only happiness she’d ever known,
was
dead
. She remembered now.

There was nothing to stand in their way when Jimmy came back. But he would have no way of knowing his mother-in-law was dead, so he’d have to find a way to alert Ramona of his return. Why, oh
why
, couldn’t she remember?

A nervous whinny from the stables, directly across the courtyard from her room, came in reply
. Yes—that was it.
He’d said he would wait until everyone had gone to bed and then he’d hide in the second stall on the left. When the house and help were still and quiet, he would signal to her.

A second nervous whicker from the horses drew her attention to the window. Someone had opened the drapes, but that was all right. She needed to look through that window, to watch for Jimmy. She thought she could reach it if she got out of bed and inched her way around, leaning against the wall. She must, for if Jimmy were down there waiting, and if he went away without her again, she could not bear it.

With grim resolution, Ramona pushed the coverlet away from her body. Holding on to the table next to the bed, she swung her wasted legs over the side until her feet touched the floor. She had no idea how long it took to reach the window—time had lost all meaning years ago—but she was able, at last, to press her head against the windowpane. And there it was—a light coming from under the stable door. Her heart leapt in wild anticipation. Yes, it was her own darlin’ Jimmy!

“Wait, my love,” she whispered, the sound of her own voice startling her. “Wait, dearest. I’m coming. Oh, Jimmy—please wait!”

She turned and surveyed the distance from the window to the door that led out into the hallway. How could she do it, with no one to help her?
But she must.
There was a low rumble of thunder, and a flash of lightning drew her attention once more to the window. The gentle spring rain continued to fall as another flash split the sky overhead.
No matter
, she thought. She would get to Jimmy this time, if it was the last thing she did in her useless life.

Chapter Five

“Miss, wake up!” Mary’s anxious voice came faintly to Cleome through mists of slumber. “Please! Miss Cleome, ’tis your ma. She’s gone. Oh, please wake up!”

It seemed only moments before that Cleome had crawled into bed. She didn’t even recall closing her eyes. Finally, as if over a great distance, Mary’s words filtered through her exhaustion.

“What?” she mumbled, trying to sit up. “What’s wrong? Is Mamma worse?”

“She’s gone, miss,” Mary’s usually quiet tone was now a cry of alarm. “She’s not in her room, nor anywhere in the house!”

Fully awake now, Cleome threw the covers back and rose swiftly. Mary held out her dressing gown and she thrust her arms into it. Without waiting for the maid to follow, she flew down the hall to her mother’s room. Streaks of gray dawn lit the sky but the rain continued to cascade relentlessly down the windowpanes.

“You see, Miss Cleome?” Mary said, coming into the sick room behind her. “Who could have taken her away?” A horse whinnied nervously, and there came a tremendous flash of lightning. For a moment, there was silence; and then one by one, the horses started up again, their neighing more frenzied. “They’ve been at it for a time, miss. That’s what woke me. I thought as long as I was awake, I’d look in at Miss Ramona. Where could she be?”

“She cannot have gone far.”

Cleome rushed to the window. The rain slackened, and she saw a dim glow beneath the door of the stables. She opened the window and peered out, and that was when it came to them. It was a low, keening sound, and such an unearthly cry that they first thought it was an animal. Then, realization hit them both at once. Cleome whirled about, almost knocking Mary down as she ran past her. At the bottom of the stairway, she ran straight into Drake Stoneham’s arms.

“What has happened?” he demanded. “The horses are going mad!”

“Release me at once!” she cried, struggling to free herself. Her concern was so great that her strength took advantage of his surprise and she easily jerked away. She ran to the heavy oak door and pulling it open, she dashed out into the rain that had slacked to a mist. As she reached the stables, Old Sam stepped in front of her, blocking her way.

“Wouldn’t go in there, miss,” he said quietly.

“My mother!” she called out above the cutting wind. “Is Mamma in there?”

He nodded. “Aye, miss. She is that, but don’t fret yourself. I’ll fetch Young Sam to bring her out.” Catching sight of Drake’s broad form looming in the early morning fog behind the girl, he added, “Would ‘e see she don’t go in there, sir?”

His strange tone struck an icy dread in Cleome’s chest. With one frantic movement, she avoided the restraining arm Drake put out and raced past Old Sam.

Her mother knelt on the floor in the center of the stable in a puddle of water, her nightdress clinging wetly to her gaunt form. She had her arms crossed in front of her chest, and she was staring at a space above the stalls. At the same time, a low wailing escaped her parched lips. Cleome followed her mother’s horrified gaze. Above Molly’s stall, slowly swinging from a length of rope like a giant pendulum, was a man. He was dressed in her grandfather’s clothes, but the grotesque, discolored face that stared down at them bore only a slight resemblance to William Desmond. Waves of nausea engulfed Cleome and she groped blindly out for support. Drake stepped closer and held her firmly upright on her feet.

“Steady, now,” he said, giving her a slight shake. “Who is the woman?”

“My mother,” Cleome whispered. “Ramona Parker.” Then mercifully, she escaped into a cool, comfortable blackness.

**

Drake moved into action, quickly taking control of the situation. When Cleome sank heavily against him, he relinquished her immediately to Young Sam, who had entered the stable behind him. He scooped Ramona into his arms and carried the fragile woman out into the yard.

“Come with me!” he commanded Young Sam. “Bring the girl and wait for me in the kitchen. Get her out of there. Now, man!”

Mary followed Drake as he conveyed the frightened invalid back to the house. When he had deposited her safely in her bed and left her to Mary’s capable hands, he went back downstairs to the kitchen. Della had been laying the fire for breakfast, Young Sam told him, so the groom had sent her up to wake Mrs. Tibbits. Cleome was sitting in a chair by the fireplace, staring into the flames. An anguished look rent her smooth features, but there were no tears.

“Stay with her until cook comes down,” Drake ordered the groom.

“There’s no need,” Cleome said weakly. “I’ll not faint again.”

“You have shed no tears,” Drake observed. “That’s not a good sign. You’ve had a great shock. You must stay here with—what’s your name, man?”

“Samuel, sir. I am called Young Sam.”

“Keep her here while I attend her grandfather. Perhaps something can be done for him yet.” He ordered Old Sam to send someone for the doctor, and Mickey was dispatched on Drake’s own horse. Then Drake and the old groom eased the innkeeper down from the rafters of the stables. They saw at once that he was beyond help and covered his lifeless body with a woolen throw from one of the coaches.

By the time Drake made his way back to the kitchen, Cleome was sitting at the table with a cup of tea before her, and Mrs. Tibbits was bending over her with motherly concern, trying to get her to drink it. There was no need to explain to the servants what had transpired the evening before during the card game, for Desmond had left a letter, addressed to Old Sam, on the kitchen table.

The grief-stricken old man held the letter out to Drake. “I ain’t ne’er learned to read, sir,” he said, tears filling his eyes. In a firm, clear voice with no evident emotion, Drake read the letter aloud.

William thanked them all for long years of faithful service, most especially Old Sam—and also for his friendship. He stated simply that he’d foolishly lost all his worldly goods in a game of chance, to Mr. Drake Stoneham. The exception was the colt, Epitome, which was Cleome’s own to do with as she would. As he expected Mr. Stoneham to take immediate possession of the Eagle’s Head, he said, he would be clearing out. He adjured Old Sam to look after Cleome. Miss Ramona, he had scribbled on a piece of Cleome’s writing paper, would not be troubling anyone much longer. He had signed it,
Your Humble Servant and Grateful Friend, William Desmond
.

It took another hour for Dr. Harris to arrive. He stopped first at the stables and shook his head sadly over William’s body. “There’s naught I can do here,” he said quietly. “How is Miss Ramona?”

“She was the first one what found ’im,” Mary told the old country physician between sobs. After he examined Ramona, he told Mary to bring up some warm milk without delay, so that he could administer a sleeping powder.

“Watch her closely,” he warned Mary. “She took a soaking, crawling through the rain like that. And then the shock of seeing her father there. I shouldn’t be surprised if she develops a fever. She needs rest and warm broth.” He paused for a moment and then asked kindly, “Has she been herself much lately?”

“No sir, not much,” the maid replied. “But no worse. Just comes and goes as usual, in her mind.” Mary waited patiently until Dr. Harris had made Ramona drink the sedative, then she took his place at the bedside and busied herself with straightening out the covers. “I’ll not leave her, sir. Mayhap Miss Cleome needs attending.”

In spite of Cleome’s protests, the good doctor insisted on giving her the same medication as her mother.

“No,” Cleome argued. “Jacqueline . . . she must be told.” She neither spoke to Drake nor looked in his direction.

“I’ll see to it,” Mrs. Tibbits said. “I’ve had experience in such matters, more’s the pity. Do as doctor bids, Miss Cleome. You can’t go and make yourself sick, for your ma needs you, lass. You are all she has now. You must be strong for her sake.”

The cook’s wise words soothed her conscience and gratefully, Cleome swallowed the doctor’s bitter draught. Like a small, bewildered child, she curled herself up in the big easy chair near the kitchen fire and waited for sleep to take her. For the first time since seeing her grandfather swinging above Ramona’s head, she looked at Drake, and his eyes faltered for a moment under her accusing stare. But then his jaw clenched stubbornly and he stared coldly back into her eyes as she gave way to peaceful oblivion.

**

A knock came at Drake’s door just as he finished packing his saddlebags. “Come in,” he called, and Fanny entered, a knowing smile lighting her plain features.

“Ye sent for me, sir?” she said, thrusting her meager bosom out as far as it would go. “I ’ad a feeling we weren’t finished wi’ each other.” She strutted to the bed, untied her apron and started to unbutton her blouse.

“Stop that,” he ordered. “I only wanted—”

She left off the buttons and reached for the hem of her skirt. “’Tis all right, sir. If ’e hasn’t much time, I can just hike up me petticoats and we’ll have us a go—”

Drake strode to her and grasped her hands, making her shake her skirts free. “I don’t want that.” He moved her away from the bed. “Pull yourself together, woman; and get it through your head that I do not require any such intimate service from you.”

“Leastwise, Miss Ramona said he was the father. Name was Jimmy Parker, but Miss Adelaide—she were Ramona’s mother—she run ’im off afore Cleome was born. Didn’t think he was good enough, so there weren’t no weddin’. ’Tis a pity, for Cleome’s life was ruint afore it started. She can never hope to marry.”

“Why is that?”

“No one ‘round these parts would suffer the shame of takin’ a bastard to wife, especially one what’s got a ma ain’t right in the ’ead—not even one as pretty as Cleome. Not even with ’er expectin’ to inherit the Eagle’s Head one day. And now o’ course, she don’t even have that.”

“Thank you. That will be all.”

“That’s
all
’e wants, sir?” Fanny sidled to Drake and rubbed her flat chest against his arm. “When I can give ’e comfort to last through a long journey?”

He went to the door and opened it. “Get out,” was all he said. As she ambled slowly out, she cast a seductive look over her shoulder. It was all he could do to keep from laughing as he slammed the door behind her.

So, it was true.
Cleome Parker
. Jimmy was her father, and her mother—Ramona—was in no fit condition to hear of Jimmy’s death in the war, or to receive the document Drake had protected all these years. There was little chance she’d even realize what the marriage certificate meant, so by virtue of the mother’s incompetence, he must give it to the daughter. Especially now that he had taken her home from her.