The Lodestone by Charlene Keel Page B

of the past. Some of the ramblings her mind took her on were mercifully pleasant, and she would sing hoarsely or talk of the few people who had figured kindly in her wasted life. But at other times, she moaned as if in the greatest agony. When the fever broke, and she slept peacefully, Cleome relinquished evening nursing duties to Della and Mary and allowed herself, at last, to get some rest.
    Garnett Easton came to the inn often and after the first uncomfortable afternoon in the parlor with him, Cleome directed Jacqueline and Fanny that should he call in future, he was to be shown into the dining room, served, and presented a bill. Perhaps Garnett meant well, but the warnings her Grandmamma had given her so long ago regarding men and their intentions toward her made her wary.
    Within ten days after her grandfather’s death, Cleome had the Eagle’s Head in top shape and reopened it for business in spite of Drake Stoneham’s orders. She was determined to show him that although she was young and had an invalid mother to care for, she could be an asset. She was counting linens out to Fanny and Jacqueline the morning he returned. Hearing the clatter of hooves on the cobblestone courtyard in front of the inn, she thought it was another traveler seeking lodging, and she bade Fanny go down and greet the guest.
    “Make up number three, please,” she said to Jacqueline as Fanny clambered quickly down the stairs. “Now every room is full,” she said triumphantly. “The new master’s money box will be heavy. I believe it will work, Jacqueline.”
    “ Oui , Mademoiselle Cleome. I am sure he could not find such a clever one as you are to see to his house.”
    Fanny made considerably more noise coming back up the stairs than she had going down. Excited, she clutched her white cap to her head to keep it from flying off in her haste. “’Tis not a guest,” she hissed. “’Tis ’im—the master—and you should see the likes of ’im. Three days growth of beard on his face and dusty as a beggar!”
    Cleome snapped into action. “Quickly!” she said, taking the linens out of Jacqueline’s outstretched arms and replacing them in the cupboard. “Get Della to lay the fire in his room and tell Mickey to ready his bath. You, Fanny—tell cook to get his breakfast going. He’ll be tired and hungry, I expect, and in no mood for nonsense. Come along now. Look lively.”
    **
    If Drake had heard her words, he would have instantly agreed. Signing the Magna Carta could not have required as much time and formality, he’d thought glumly when the business of purchasing the new ship had dragged on endlessly. The only boon was that in his hotel in Newcastle, among the letters awaiting him, was one from his secretary, Mr. Collins, announcing his own imminent arrival. He urged Drake to wait for him there, as he had news of his sister that he hesitated to put in writing.
    The day Collins was expected, Drake was more restless than usual. He left word where his clerk could find him and went to visit the place where his mother had died. Something perverse in his nature made him want to see it, and he’d been strangely comforted that, as brothels went, it was one of the better ones. At least, its landlord went to great lengths to keep it disguised as a boarding house. When the matron asked him suggestively if he wanted something, he’d asked for a tankard of ale to be brought to him in the drawing room. Collins came in just as the ale did, and the matron hurried to get another glass.
    “What is your news, Mr. Collins?” Drake demanded as the clerk removed his cape. “Have you located my sister?”
    “Located and recovered, sir. Well . . . perhaps recovered isn’t exactly the right word,” the kind-hearted man had said sadly.
    “What the devil to you mean?”
    “I’m afraid you must prepare yourself for a shock, Mr. Stoneham. She has suffered terribly. She has been most cruelly treated.”
    “Tell me everything,” Drake ordered,