Follow Your Heart (12 page)

“So I hear,” replied Piramus. “I've seen 'em in the fields and those 'is Lordship rides, but I am not asked into stables.”

Della thought this could be embarrassing and asked quickly,

“Is Lendi awake? Can I see her?”

“She waiting for you, Lady.”

He took Apollo from her and she knew he would take off his saddle and bridle.

Della thanked him and hurried up the steps into Lendi's caravan.

“I hear you go out – early,” the old woman commented as she approached.

“I went riding because it is so exciting being in the woods. I met the Marquis and he took me to the stables to see his magnificent horses.”

“That what I think you – doing,” nodded Lendi.

Della sat down on the floor.

“It was very strange,” she mused, “but I thought I could read his thoughts. I have read other peoples, but never so clearly or so correctly.”

“Lordship – clever man.”

“I know. He was telling me how he is determined not to marry. It seems a pity, but equally I am sure he is much happier on his own.”

“He waits, find his star – like you.”

“That is just what I want, dear Lendi, but perhaps it is something I will never find.”

“You – find.”

Della thought she did not understand.

Jason was waiting for her!

In two or three days time she would have to return home for the gypsies could not keep her for ever and however much she might fight against Jason mentally, physically she would have to help her uncle or too soon both of them would face the anger and revenge of the Duke.

She did not say anything, but Lendi murmured softly,

“Trust your star! Follow – your heart!”

“How can I follow my heart?” demanded Della almost crossly. “If it does not know in which direction to go? There appears to be only one way out of this mess.”

Lendi smiled.

“You trust moon. If not believe then – things go wrong.”

Della knew that Lendi believed in every word she was saying. But however long she stayed away she would eventually have to return to face her fate.

Perhaps by the end of this very week!

Even that would seem too long to the Duke and once again Della was asking herself frantically what she should do. She sat in silence for some time before realising that Lendi had fallen asleep.

Della tiptoed out of the caravan and walked to her own.

Mireli was not there. She thought she would be with the other gypsy women preparing a light meal for everyone to eat in the middle of the day.

‘Tonight,' Della thought to herself, ‘I must ask the man who plays the violin to play dance music. Then perhaps Mireli will dance round the fire, because tomorrow night I shall not be here.'

She was not looking forward to the visit to Clare Hall as it would be difficult to avoid making mistakes and even more difficult to accomplish exactly what the Marquis wanted her to achieve.

She could understand him wanting to save his niece from a fortune–hunter, but wished it wasn't necessary for her to be a part of the plan.

She was labouring with such a tremendous problem of her own.

‘I am being selfish,' she mused. ‘But it is all too much when I am in such a terrible predicament. In fact it is really impossible for me to think of anything else.'

She ate the food the gypsy women had made for their luncheon, which was all very informal, as the men did not bother to sit down. They ate either standing up or while they were grooming the horses.

Afterwards the women made off to the village carrying their wicker baskets, clothes pegs and other items they wanted to sell.

Eventually Della found herself alone.

Instinctively, without really thinking why she did so, she mounted Apollo and trotted again through the wood to the pool.

She had just reached her destination when she realised that the Marquis was coming in the other direction.

She drew in Apollo and waited for him to join her.

“I thought I would find you here,” he called, “and I have a suggestion to make.”

“What is it, my Lord?” asked Della.

“My niece and the other guests who are staying with me have gone out for the afternoon and I thought it might amuse you to see round the house.”

“I would love to!” exclaimed Della.

“I thought what would really interest you,” continued the Marquis, “are my pictures of horses, which is a collection started by my father that I have added to quite considerably.”

“Stubbs, Herring, Fernley and Pollard?”

The Marquis chuckled.

“I thought you would know them, although how, as a gypsy you are so knowledgeable, I have no idea.”

“Perhaps it is because we have travelled so much,” came in Della quickly, “and we have accumulated in our minds more than most people.”

“And very much more than anyone I have met of your age,” remarked the Marquis.

She did not answer him and after they had ridden a little further in silence he said,

“You might look like a gypsy, but you do not speak like one.”

Della had already thought of an answer to this line of inquisition.

“I was fortunate enough to be looked after and taught by someone who, more or less, wanted to adopt me.”

She thought as she spoke it would be difficult for him to query this answer.

“That is a good explanation and of course it makes you outstanding among the gypsies, even those as clever as Lendi.”

“Lendi and all the gypsies, my Lord, prefer to talk in their own language. Therefore they do not take the trouble to speak the same English as you and I.”

“You are an exception to every rule, but I still find it very strange that you should know so much and speak so perfectly.”

“But you must be aware, my Lord, that the gypsies come from the East, especially from India and Egypt and believe in the Wheel of Rebirth, or if you prefer the English word – reincarnation. Knowledge is accumulated each time.”

“Have you any idea who you were in your last life?” he asked her.

“Whoever it was I could not have progressed as I should have, so I have been sent back as an ordinary gypsy.”

She spoke lightly as this was rather a difficult conversation and she did not want the Marquis to be in any way suspicious.

“Hardly an ordinary gypsy,” he commented, “but a very extraordinary one who I find most interesting.”

“If you are putting me under your microscope, my Lord,” asserted Della, “I shall ride away and not help you tomorrow evening. As it is I do not wish you to be curious about me or to read my thoughts.”

“Now you must be aware that you are asking the impossible of me,” answered the Marquis. “You have puzzled me ever since I first saw you sitting on the floor of Lendi's caravan.”

He paused for a moment.

“I find it both intriguing and amusing to find you so different in every way to what I might have expected.”

“Perhaps what you expected is what I would find somewhat rude and uncomplimentary. I would suggest, my Lord, we change the conversation.”

“But of course. I have no wish to embarrass you, Della, but may I say I find you very mysterious and as difficult to explain away as the nymphs in the pool or the ghost that has been seen in the house by my ancestors for the last three hundred years.”

“Then that explains everything,” smiled Della with satisfaction. “I am a ghost come back from the past not to haunt you, but to help you. In fact you should be very grateful!”

Next morning Della was not really upset, only a little disappointed.

A message came from Clare Court that there was to be no riding in the woods today. She had not thought of it before, but she realised the Marquis was being sensible as it would be a mistake for her or any other gypsy to be seen before the dinner party.

As he had said, even if his niece was not suspicious, the fortune–hunter might be.

It was a lovely day and Della longed to have a good gallop on Apollo, but it was forbidden. She had, however, plenty to do in having a last lesson with Lendi.

She held the crystal ball in her hand and they went over and over all the things she might sense a man or a woman was thinking.

“No hurry,” said Lendi. “Wait – stars give you – answer.”

“I only hope you are right and they are listening to my prayers that they will not forget me.”

“That – not happen,” Lendi told her firmly.

The groom who had brought the message about the woods had also informed Piramus that a carriage would come for the fortune–teller at eight o'clock.

At first Della thought this was a rather strange development.

She had expected the dinner party to start at that hour, but when she reasoned it out, she realised that the Marquis was giving her time.

First to settle herself in the room he had prepared for her while the party was in the dining room and secondly that she would not be observed entering the house.

It would be a mistake for her to be seen until she was ready to receive those who wished to know their future.

She was not surprised when Lendi wanted her to dress in plenty of time. So she washed in her own caravan and then wearing only her dressing gown, she slipped back again into Lendi's.

On Lendi's instructions, Mireli and Ellen made up her face accentuating her eyes and making them appear larger than they were already.

They darkened her eyelashes and applied lashings of powder, rouge and lip–salve. These were embellishments Della had never used on her face in her entire life and the cosmetics felt strangely mask like.

When she looked in the mirror she thought it would be hard for even her uncle to recognise her now.

She did not look in the least like a young girl of only eighteen, but was transformed into a mature gypsy woman.

It was when they had reached this stage that she saw the clothes she was to wear for the first time. They were, she learned, Lendi's
very
best.

The gown was of a very fine gold silk that shone with every movement she made. Over it was a gauze veil that fell from her head to her feet. This was held in place by a gold band in the centre of which was embroidered a strange emblem.

It had belonged, she was told, to a famous Indian fortune–teller.

Della had already seen some of Lendi's Indian jewellery and now everything she owned was at her disposal.

There was a necklace fashioned with small stones into an exquisite pattern. There were ear–rings, bracelets and rings to match, and each piece, Della thought, was lovelier than the last.

When she was wearing them all she felt like an Indian Princess.

She gathered from Lendi that they had been handed down for many generations. Her great–great–grandmother had brought them to Europe when she came from India.

By the time Della was finally dressed, she felt as excited as a
debutante
attending her first ball.

This was such an adventure and the mere fact that she looked so different in every way made it unbelievably thrilling.

She looked at herself in the large mirror Lendi kept in her caravan. It would be impossible, Della considered, for anyone she knew to recognise her.

The carriage arrived. It was a closed one drawn by two horses and all the gypsies came to see her off.

“Good luck. The stars guide you,” urged Piramus comfortingly, as he helped her into the carriage.

There was a cheer as the horses started off and Della knew that the gypsies would wave until the carriage was out of sight.

She was longing to see the inside of the Marquis's house, but still she could not help feeling nervous. It would be ghastly if she made a mistake and let the Marquis down.

As they trotted up the drive she said a little prayer.

Not to the moon or the stars, but to her own God and the Saints her mother always prayed to.

The front of the house was lit up by the flames from huge torches on each side of the door and there was a red carpet down the steps.

As Della walked quickly up the steps she saw two footmen waiting in the hall to receive her.

She reckoned that if the Marquis did not wish anyone to see her arrive she should have gone to a back door. There was, however, no one to notice her as she was taken across the hall and down a wide passage.

She walked slowly because she wanted to look at the pictures hanging on the walls, the many antique chests and all the Marquis's beautiful furniture.

The footman ahead of her opened a door and she entered what she recognised to be the drawing room where three magnificent crystal chandeliers were blazing with hundreds of candles.

The room was filled with carved and gilded pieces of furniture, that she instantly knew had been designed by the Adam brothers.

Everywhere there was a profusion of flowers and it was undoubtedly one of the most beautiful rooms she had ever seen.

The footman walked straight through the drawing room and opened a door at the far end and Della knew before she reached it that this was the anteroom the Marquis had mentioned to her.

When she entered it was very different from anything she could have anticipated.

The Marquis had erected what looked almost like a tent. It was made of thin dark blue gauze that was sprinkled all over with golden stars.

Beneath the tent there was a throne–like chair where Della guessed she was expected to sit.

In front of the chair was a small table covered with what was obviously an Indian cloth, embroidered, not only with silk, but also with gems that sparkled in the candlelight.

“Be there anything you require, madam?” asked the footman.

“I am sure I have everything I need, thank you,” replied Della.

Looking around Della thought how clever the Marquis had been.

It would be impossible for any young girl, or even a man for that matter, not to be intrigued. They could all consult the fortune–teller who was treated as if she was an Oriental Princess.