Follow Your Heart (8 page)

It was almost as if the words she was writing were being dictated to her.

“Dearest Uncle Edward,

I have to go away for a short time to think about what is being asked of me and recover from it all being such an unexpected shock.

I know you of all people will understand.

Tell the Earl when he comes, that I had very foolishly forgotten I had promised to spend a few days with friends and as we are travelling along the coast in their yacht, it is impossible for you to get in touch with me.

If you tell him that you will contact him as soon as I return, there need not be any hard feelings between you and the Duke.

Forgive me, but this is something I have to do and it is too soon for me to be able to talk coherently with Jason.

My love, as always

Your very devoted niece

Della.”

She put the letter into an envelope and addressed it to her uncle.

Then she looked into the wardrobe room that adjoined hers for a laundry bag and found a large one in which Emily carried away the clothes to be washed.

Taking it to her wardrobe she filled it with the simplest of her dresses, adding her underclothes, light shoes and her hairbrush.

After picking up the letter she had written to her uncle she blew out the candles and opened her bedroom door.

As she expected, most of the lights in the passage had been extinguished, leaving just enough for her to be able to see her way.

Walking on tiptoe she placed the letter on the carpet outside his bedroom door and then proceeded down a side staircase, which led her to a door that opened into the garden. She undid the bolts and slipped through closing it behind her.

She hurried across the lawn and through the bushes into the stable yard.

The old groom who looked after her uncle's horses would be in his cottage and fast asleep at this time of night. The boy who helped him lived in the village.

It did not take Della long to put a saddle and bridle on Apollo.

She fixed the laundry bag on the back of the saddle and took Apollo to the mounting block and climbed onto him.

She left the stables by the back gate so that if anyone were awake in the house, they would not hear Apollo's hooves.

She rode without hurrying, because there was no need, towards Long Meadow.

The moon had risen by now and the stars had come out. It was easy to find her way and the light from the sky made the world seem enchanted.

As she rode on Della felt as if a special power, which had helped her before in her life, was guiding her.

She saw the gypsy caravans in the distance and there was a glint from the dying fire in the middle of the camp.

She was remembering vividly, as if Lendi was saying it aloud, that she must follow her heart.

It was just what she was now doing in her own way.

Her heart was telling her that it was utterly and completely impossible for her to marry Jason. She just knew when he held her hand in his that everything about him was bad and unpleasant.

There was, however, nothing she could do about it.

‘I am running away,' Della told herself, ‘and it is the only course I can take at this moment. I have no alternative but to follow my heart.'

Della approached closer to the gypsy caravans.

As she did so, she saw to her relief that there was a man standing by the dying fire and she was sure it must be Piramus.

Eventually it was easy to recognise him and he was looking at her in surprise. He must have been wondering who could be approaching the camp at this hour of the night.

As Della drew up beside him, she lightly slipped off Apollo's back.

“Good evening, Lady. 'Tis late for you – to be visiting us,” Piramus greeted her.

“I have come to you for help, my good friend, Piramus.”

She saw him glance at the large bag on Apollo's saddle.

“Please, Piramus,” she pleaded, “may I come with you wherever you are going? I will explain to Lendi why I have to run away, but there is nothing else I can possibly do.”

It suddenly struck her that Piramus might refuse to take her. He could be afraid of her uncle's anger if she disappeared or, perhaps, as all the gypsies possessed clairvoyant powers, he might divine that she would also be antagonising the Duke.

To her relief Piramus smiled at her.

“Anything I do for Lady,” he said, “is gift – from the stars.”

Della was so relieved that for a moment she could not say anything. She just stood looking at him to make certain she had not been mistaken in what he just said.

Piramus, however, was more practical.

He started to remove the bag from Apollo's saddle and put it down on the ground near the fire. Then he led Apollo behind the gypsy caravans to where the horses were kept.

Della did not move.

She knew he would be taking off Apollo's saddle and bridle, before tethering his back legs so that he could not run away.

She waited by the fire looking up at the sky, thinking that the stars were looking down on her and telling her she had done the right thing.

She was still afraid that the Duke would be angry and so would Jason when he called the following day and she was not there.

Yet she remembered her uncle's long years of diplomacy in far worse circumstances. His charm and tact would enable him to make light of her absence and promise that she would be returning in a few days.

For the moment Della could not think of anything that might happen in the future. All she was concerned with was getting away tonight.

She would go anywhere so that she would not be waiting for Jason when he arrived for her.

Piramus came back carrying Apollo's saddle and bridle. He put them inside one of the caravans, which Della thought must be his.

Then he came to where she was standing.

“Lady share caravan with Mireli?”

“I would love to,” responded Della, “and I only hope she does not mind having a companion to stay.”

“Lady – honoured guest.”

He spoke firmly and Della knew that none of his clan would dare comment on her arrival if he, as their Chief, accepted her.

Picking up Della's bag, Piramus strode towards the caravan next to Lendi's. Della realised that the gypsies always placed their most precious women, the old and the young, in the centre of the crescent of caravans with a man at each end.

They reached Mireli's caravan and Piramus went up the steps first carrying Della's bag.

It was not dark inside the caravan as the light from the stars and the rising moon was shining through the windows. The curtains were drawn back and light streamed through the door and this enabled Della to see that Mireli was asleep on one side of the caravan.

On the other side was an empty bed. Piramus touched it to make certain there were blankets on it and a pillow.

“Tomorrow – find sheets,” he muttered.

“Thank you, thank you so very much,” whispered Della. “I am very grateful and shall be quite all right as long as I can lie down.”

“Go to bed Lady – sleep. We leave very early – no hurry for you.”

He was speaking to her in a low voice and he did not wait for Della to reply.

He walked out of the caravan closing the door behind him, but there was still plenty of light for Della to take off her dress and her stockings.

Then she thought it would be too difficult to find a nightgown in the bag she had brought with her and if she moved she might wake Mireli. The girl had not stirred since she and Piramus had come into the caravan.

Della did not wish at the moment to make any more explanations as to her presence, so wearing her petticoat and underclothes she slipped under the blankets.

She placed her head wearily down on the pillow.

She had done it
!

She had made the tremendous effort to run away and now she felt limp and exhausted.

The whole tension of arranging the dinner party and acting the role of hostess had been hard enough.

Worse still was meeting Jason and realising he was not only what she expected, but worse.

‘I cannot marry him,' she told herself again and again. ‘I know I cannot do it.”

But this was not the moment for making decisions. She had made, she thought, the most sensible one in giving herself time.

Time to think, time to decide and time to scheme.

It was, she pondered the stars, which Lendi had told her were protecting her – the stars which had made her realise that her only chance of salvation was to run away.

Tomorrow would have been too late as the gypsies would have moved on and she could not think of anyone else she could have appealed to in her plight.

‘I am safe here and very, very grateful for it.'

She must have fallen asleep; as the next thing she knew was that the wheels were moving under her.

The gypsies were on their way.

It must be, she reckoned, very early in the morning as it was still dark and as she peered through the windows she could see that the stars had left the sky but the sun had not yet risen.

Beside the rumble of the wheels of the caravan, she could hear the other caravans moving too, but there were no voices to be heard.

For the first time she became aware that the gypsies when moving away from a neighbourhood always made sure they were not observed.

They came in silently and left the same way.

They did not wish to be asked questions or for people to follow them.

They were independent travellers making sure that, if it was at all possible, they were almost invisible.

Della must have dozed off again for when she awoke she found Mireli sitting on the other bed looking at her in astonishment.

“I did not hear Lady arrive!”

Della smiled

“You were fast asleep and Piramus suggested that I might share your caravan with you.”

“You coming with us, Lady?”

“If you are kind enough to have me.”

“But of course, Lady, it is very exciting you want to be with us.”

“I am running away,” Della told her, “and you, Piramus and Lendi must hide me.”

Mireli thought this was the most exciting news she had ever heard.

Later when they had stopped by the roadside for breakfast, all the gypsies clustered round Della as if they could not believe she was real.

“Lady really coming with us?” one of them asked. “People think – very strange.”

“You must make me look just like one of you,” suggested Della. “Perhaps if I wore a handkerchief over my hair, no one would notice me.”

One of the older women laughed.

“Do better than that, Lady.”

When they had eaten a hasty breakfast of the eggs Della had sent them, they moved on again and it was then that the gypsy women joined Della in Mireli's caravan.

“If you hiding, Lady,” one said, “you must look like gypsy. I change hair.”

“How can you do that?” enquired Della rather nervously.

“Make it – black,” replied the woman.

“I do not want to dye my hair for ever. I will wear a handkerchief over it.”

“We gypsies have dye – wash out very easily.”

She left the caravan so Della waited. She had not thought when she ran for help to the gypsies that none of them would have fair golden hair.

Her eyes too could never be the dark colour of the Romanies. They were, actually, a very dark blue which at times seemed almost to change to purple.

Della had inherited her eyes from her mother and she had so often heard people admiring them saying they had never seen eyes that colour before.

“I think if the truth be told,” Della's mother had said, “they come from my ancestors. Our fair hair must come from some Nordic country that invaded Scotland in the past.”

Della knew that whoever the invaders were they violated the women, resulting in most Northerners boasting the fair hair and blue eyes of the Vikings.

When the gypsy woman returned she brought a dog with her, a brown and white spaniel and she made it lie down on the floor.

Then she painted one of the white spots on its fur with some dark liquid she had brought with her in a bowl.

Della watched her with increasing interest as she realised this was the dye the gypsy woman was going to put on her hair.

She felt it was very kind of her to take so much trouble, but she had no intention of remaining dark like the Romanies and she surmised that it could be months before her hair would gradually grow back to its natural golden hue.

The gypsy woman painted a white spot on the dog black. Then she waited for it to dry saying as she did so,

“This made from special herbs known only to Romanies. We use it when our hair is going white or does not shine.”

Della felt there was nothing she could say and the gypsy too was silent.

Next, she placed her hand on the dark patch of the dog's back when she thought it was dry and asked Mireli who was watching intently to bring her some water.

There was a bowl near her bed where Della had already supposed that she and Mireli would have to wash. Mireli obediently poured a little water into the bowl and the gypsy woman dipped a flannel into it.

Then she rubbed the dark patch on the dog's back and to Della's astonishment the black colour was removed immediately. It took only two or three rubs to leave the dog's coat as white as it had been.

The gypsy woman laughed at the expression on Della's face.

“Lady think gypsy magic. It very old, old recipe of Romanies.”

“That is wonderful!” exclaimed Della, “and I do think it is such a clever idea to make my hair black so no one could question that I am not one of you.”

She had been thinking about her uncle as she watched the women. When he heard the Romanies had departed he might easily think that she was hiding with them.

It would not occur to the Duke, but Lord Lainden was a very astute man and not easily deceived.

There was just a chance, Della considered, that he would decide to fetch her back and would send the grooms to find her. They would certainly not be looking for a dark–haired girl, so she should be safe until she was ready to return.