The Lodestone

by Charlene Keel

  “But surely his father knew of his disability,” Garnett reasoned. “Why would he make such a condition?”

  Paolo’s lips pressed together in a tight, thin line before he spoke again, with obvious bitterness. “His father had a rather twisted sense of humor, I’m afraid. Since he couldn’t love his disfigured son, he decided to torment him. The will was his idea of a joke, or to punish his progeny for some imagined wrong. But the joke is on him, for his son has figured out a way around the codicil. And so he requires the services of a gentleman, educated and refined, who has a certain look about him. He will pay quite handsomely.”

  “Dear God,” Garnett whispered, hardly believing the words the count spoke so calmly, as if telling a bedtime story. “This acquaintance—do I know him? Who is it?”

  Paolo bowed. “Myself,” he said with almost comic dignity, but Garnett could tell he was sincere.

  “But Paolo, at school—and since—I mean, all the women,” Garnett protested, dumbfounded. “Your reputation as a rake of the first order. I’m sorry but I don’t understand.”

  “A charade. Carefully staged. I found it amusing. But now I must have an heir.”

  Garnett hated himself for asking, for he had no intention of entering into such an arrangement. “How much are you offering for this . . . surrogate?”

  “Eight thousand pounds. Four now, and four more when I know my bride has conceived.”

  “And she will agree to this?” Garnett was incredulous.

  “Without question. She knows how important it is that we have children. My estate is as important to her as it is to me.”

  “Is that why she married you?”

  Paolo smiled ruefully. “My friend, it is all I have to offer a woman. But she will be quite content with a baby to fill her time. Garnett, you are perfect. We have the same coloring and build, and you need the money. I count you as a friend and after all, you were no angel when we were studying together. You certainly had an eye for the ladies and a talent for bedding them.”

  “This is altogether different.”

  “Not so very much. I was there when you and the chancellor’s wife—”

  “Yes, well. That notwithstanding,” Garnett returned quickly. “Is she pretty, your bride?”

  “Very pretty. And she will tell you herself that she is willing to make this great sacrifice. But perhaps you should think it over for a day or two.”

  “No,” Garnett said slowly, scarcely believing he would actually do such a thing. “No. If the lady truly is willing, I am agreeable.” With the enormous sum Paolo was offering for but an hour or two of pleasure after the loneliness he’d encountered in his travels, Garnett would be able to establish his own business. He’d be a fool to turn down this opportunity. Never again would he have a chance to make so much money in so little time. “But you must swear that not one word of this will ever go beyond these walls,” he concluded.

  “My dear fellow! The bishop is aware of my father’s will. If he learned about my solution to this problem, he would have me excommunicated and disinherited. Now, get dressed and let us go down to breakfast. Then I want to show you my island. The contessa will join us for dinner. We must begin as soon as possible, don’t you think?”

  **

  Edwina could not guess what her husband had in mind for her but she knew the quiet, unassuming little doctor had something to do with it. She ate little, for she knew they were putting something in her food; and she hated the way it made her feel. She would go for days with nothing but water and a little bread. At first, this practice left her ravenous. Now, she was simply weak.

  Paolo did not lock her piano for two days after Dr. Rupert’s last visit and she did not leave the instrument in all that time. Since then, he only unlocked it for an hour or so, once or twice a week. It was locked even at that moment. She’d not played for four days, and it was killing her. Paolo had told her she would not have access to her music again until she ate a good meal. While he now repulsed her because of his bizarre ways, he also puzzled her. Remembering how he had held her, that first week they were at the villa, running his hands over her body until she was dizzy with the erotic sensation, she knew that he must want her. Yet he did not consummate their marriage. And his demands were increasingly bizarre. It was as if he wanted to take her, but because he couldn’t bring himself to do so, he was punishing her. More and more, she wondered if he might be insane.

  If only she could get word to Cleome—but there was no way to smuggle a message out. The servants would do nothing to risk Paolo’s rage. She must watch and wait for a chance to get away and she must be ready when it came; so she knew she must eat something soon, if only for the sake of regaining her strength. Just when it seemed she had figured out which dish or drink they were putting the laudanum in—if it was laudanum—they changed it. But soon, she knew, she would have to risk being drugged in order to avoid starvation. Her husband knew it too, and at tea time, he sent her a tempting tray full of imported Swiss chocolate bonbons. She thought these were safe enough, but halfway through the second one, she felt as if she were floating.

  She was no better off with Paolo than she’d been with her mother. He meant to break her, to make her submit to whatever game of debauchery he was playing; and her own mother had given him the weapon with which to do it. She couldn’t live without eating and she couldn’t live without her music. Better to go along with whatever he wanted, she thought, at least until she could make her escape. She ate two more chocolates and by the time Paolo came to see her, she was feeling loose and free, as if she hadn’t a care in the world.

  Chapter Seventeen

  “Ah, I thought the chocolates would tempt you,” Paolo said, on perusing Edwina’s tea tray. “I am delighted you have come to your senses at last.”

  “It seemed the most prudent thing to do.” Her speech was only a little thick.

  “Oh my, you are quite the charming girl,” he observed. “And wise as well.”

  “Whatever perversion you and the good doctor have devised for me, I am ready. And then my piano—”

  “What I have in mind for you this evening you will not find the least bit disagreeable,” he assured her. “We’re entertaining an old friend from home.” He paused, she thought, to enjoy the spark of hope his news gave her. “He is a now my business partner, as I intend to back a venture of his. But he’ll agree only if you also think it a sound investment. So you must let him know you support my decision to finance his enterprise. Can you do that?”

  “Who is coming, Paolo?” she asked more pitifully than she meant to. “Someone from my home—from England?” She needed specific details for she was quickly learning his facility with words. He used them to defraud the soul, much as a magician used sleight of hand to fool the eye. “What is his enterprise?”

  “Patience, contessa.” She could see that he relished the brittle edge of her desperation. “Does it matter, my dear? All you must do is be pleasant and agreeable. Tell him you support my decision in our arrangement. And perhaps, after dinner, you might play a few melodies for us.”

  “What am I to wear?” she asked with a growing dread.

  “Why, whatever you please. You have excellent taste in fashion. He is an old friend of a friend of yours, so I imagine he will want some time alone with you to speak about mutual acquaintances.”

  “An old friend? Won’t you tell me who it is?”

  He smiled. “I should like to surprise you, I think. And you must be cordial. I want you to make him feel welcome.”

  “I shall certainly try,” she replied, determined to control her emotions. Someone from home, someone with whom she had mutual acquaintances. If it was someone she could trust, she would confide in him and beg him to help her get back to England.

  **

  “Dear God!” Garnett exclaimed, almost like a prayer. “Edwina!”

  She looked beautiful in a simple summer gown of midnight blue, her black hair piled high upon her head. Her cheeks were touched lightly
with pink, which Garnett saw was subtle but artificial; and it made him wonder if perhaps she wasn’t happy with her count. She looked older than her eighteen years—all grown up and exotically lovely in the glow of candlelight—and she was smiling warmly up at him. It quite took his breath away, especially when he thought of Paolo’s unusual proposal. In spite of the sadness that shadowed her face, or perhaps because of it, Edwina had turned into a ravishing young woman; and he wondered how her husband, his disability notwithstanding, could even consider allowing another man to touch her.

  “Garnett,” she said softly, her voice carefully controlled and not at all like the ebullient Edwina he’d come to know. “How wonderful to see you again.” She glanced at Paolo, who was smiling, amusement flickering in his eyes.

  “Well, I must say!” Garnett was having trouble taking it in. “I must say! I am that surprised to see you. Paolo didn’t tell me it was you he married. When . . . how on earth did it come about?”

  “Not long after you left London,” Edwina replied. “Paolo quite swept me off my feet.” Garnett detected a touch of irony in her tone, but she was keeping a firm grip on her emotions. Paolo suggested they go in to dinner.

  Servants brought in a feast and laid it before them—everything all at once instead of individual courses—and then they slipped away discreetly. Edwina nibbled at the food Paolo piled on her plate, tentatively at first, and then she attacked it with gusto. It was as if she had not eaten anything in days. For the first time, Garnett noticed how thin she had become.

  “I’m surprised to see you as well, Garnett,” she told him between bites. “Whatever are you doing in Italy?”

  Garnett explained to Edwina how, when his father lost almost everything, Drake offered him a job. After her murmured solicitude, they talked about Garnett’s travels and life on the island. Although it was rumored that Italy would soon erupt in revolution, Paolo made it clear he didn’t care to discuss anything distressing. He wanted nothing to spoil their happy reunion.

  “I have explained to my dear wife the arrangement we worked out earlier,” he said at length. “We are both delighted it is you with whom we are doing business.”

  “Edwina, is this true?” Garnett still couldn’t believe she would condone such a thing, and her answer surprised him.

  “Yes. Paolo has my full agreement and support.”

  Gently, Paolo touched her cheek. “So lovely, is she not?” he said.

  “Indeed.” Garnett knew he had to try and see Edwina in a different light if he was to go through with the bargain he’d made with her husband. He knew she and Cleome had been involved in Mrs. Godwin’s politics and were both enthusiastic about her philosophy but he’d never thought the lovely little sprite capable of what she and Paolo were proposing. It was difficult to picture Edwina as a proponent of free love, but she was beautiful. It would not be an unpleasant chore at all. But only, he told himself, if she really was willing.

  **

  The two men sipped brandy as Edwina played her piano, relishing every note as if it would be the last. At the end of an hour, as she ended a Beethoven sonata, Paolo rose.

  “Thank you, my dear,” he said. “And now, let us say good night.”

  “Very well,” she responded, not quite believing she would so easily escape her husband’s mischief. She placed her hand on Garnett’s arm. “I am so glad to see you,” she told him. “I hope we can talk again before you go back to England.”

  “You will, my dear. Garnett has agreed to stay with us for a few days,” Paolo told her as he escorted her to the door. Then he leaned closer and added, “You have made me very proud, contessa. You’ll find a lovely new gown in the lilac bedroom. Go now, put it on and wait there. Tonight we shall conceive our child.”

  “As you wish,” she said, resigned, as she left the room. She did not look at Garnett, who had heard the count’s declaration to her, and her acquiescence.

  **

  The dress Paolo had selected for her was as transparent as the black one she had worn the night the doctor examined her. This one was sky blue and although studded with pearls in strategic places, it left little to the imagination. Her thoughtful esposo had also left a small plate of the chocolates, probably laced with laudanum or opium, in the large, elegant bedroom they’d shared during her first few days and nights at the villa.

  Well, she thought, if it will please my husband to make love to me at last, I will wear the silly dress and pray that he will get me with child immediately. By becoming the soul of cooperation, she might take him off guard and find a way to speak privately with Garnett. If Garnett knew the details of her bizarre marriage, he would surely help her get home. Cleome would gladly give her sanctuary, as would Uncle Oliver; and if she did have a baby, at least the child would be safe from the father’s odd behavior. Edwina didn’t mind a baby so much, and if she could conceive this first time, perhaps her husband would leave her in peace. He had married her only to get an heir and time was running out. It should be no surprise that he was ready at last to take the appropriate action, to “see to it” as he had said.

  She ate one of the bon bons, grateful for the oblivion it offered. She no longer hoped to find pleasure in the consummation of her marriage. She simply wanted to get it over with. When a soft knock came at the door, she was quite relaxed and lying back, she hoped invitingly, on the chaise lounge where the doctor had examined her.

  “Come in,” she called. She was stunned when the door opened and Garnett stepped into the room. “Where’s Paolo?” she mumbled drowsily. “Why have you come?”

  He stared at her, speechless; and she realized he might be embarrassed by her husband’s choice of fashion. Struggling up from the chaise, she took a fringed shawl from the foot of the bed and pulled it around herself.

  At last, Garnett replied. “Paolo said you would be expecting me.”

  “You?” Edwina responded vaguely. It took a moment for her to comprehend. “Oh . . . I see. I see what he has in mind. Am I the business arrangement of which he spoke? Has he persuaded you, then, to fulfill the duty he finds so detestable?”

  “I’m sorry, my dear,” Garnett spoke quietly but she could see he was angry. “I thought you knew and were in agreement.”

  “It doesn’t matter,” she said, her words slow and precise. “My husband has ways of achieving his ends. He must have an heir or he will lose everything. Don’t worry. I’m sure he’ll pay you handsomely to get me with child.”

  “He told me you wanted this as much as he does.”

  The bitter irony of it disarmed her and she replied honestly. “Dear Garnett. I’ve wanted you since the day we met. But Paolo wouldn’t know that. Only Cleome knows . . .” her voice trailed off sadly, but she forced herself to go on. “How odd that I had to marry someone else to have you!”

  Suddenly, she started laughing, a wild, disturbing laugh. As she sank back to the low couch, the shawl slipped from her shoulders to the floor. “Come now,” she said. “Do tell me how much I am worth, on the hoof. My noble husband is obviously as repulsed by me as I am by him. I’d be fascinated to know what sort of fee you’re getting to impregnate his brood mare.”

  Laughter bubbled up from her throat again and she thought she sounded quite mad. After a moment, Garnett went to the chaise and gathered her in his arms.

  “Hush, dear. Be still. You have it all wrong. Well, at least part of it. Here now, be quiet, little one. I’ll tell you everything. You know, my father lost heavily at the gaming tables and we’re in a desperate situation. Still, I’m a beast to agree to such an arrangement. I had no idea it was you he’d married. And he doesn’t find you repulsive.”

  “Then why does he not get me with child himself?”

  “Well, Edwina. . . you see . . . he has a physical disability that makes it impossible for him to . . . well, you know. I’m surprised he hasn’t explained at least that much to you. He would want to make love to you if he could, believe me. How could he not?”

  She looked up, sur
prised. “Do you?”

  “Well, in any other circumstances—”

  “Just answer,” she said, looking guilelessly up at him, and getting lost in his eyes. “Do you find me desirable, Garnett?”

  “Indeed, I do. You have grown into quite an amazing woman.”

  Hovering on the edges of a dream, she began to cry, silent sobs punctuated by sparkling tears that flooded her cheeks. Garnett hugged her close. “I hate what I’ve become!” she declared. “He has turned me into a terrified child—a victim he can torment at will.”

  “Edwina, you must tell me everything.”

  She hung her head. “I cannot,” she replied. “It is too shameful.”

  “Your marriage to him was so sudden. How on earth did he convince you?”

  “He convinced my mother, and I was naïve enough to think I could use him to escape her. She has had the last word after all, it seems.”

  “Has he . . . I beg your pardon, Edwina. Has he . . . hurt you?”

  “But you said he is not capable. Do you mean, has he struck me?” Garnett nodded. “Paolo has more brutal and effective ways of getting what he wants. Sometimes he locks up my piano, as Mamma herself advised him to do. And I believe he’s putting laudanum or something like it in my food.”

  “You have grown so thin.”

  “He keeps changing what he puts it into. This time, it was the bon bons. But I was so hungry, and I must keep up my strength for I am determined to leave him.”

  “Of course. You must. Is that all?”