The Gypsy and the Widow (3 page)

***

The next morning Mrs. Peters helped Joanna dress. The woman had been ungracious when first asked to perform this task, but how could Joanna dress herself? All her dresses and underclothes fastened high on her back with many hooks and eyes. She thought for a moment of the blouses and skirts that the Gypsy women wore. They did not, as she recalled, fasten in the back. Those women would be free to dress and undress themselves.

As for her hair, Mrs. Peters had flatly stated that she did not know how to do another woman’s hair and was not going to start now.

“I am going into town today,” Mrs. Peters said in her grating voice as she finished buttoning up the delicate dress Joanna had chosen—white with pale yellow trim that she thought suited her well. “Sir Edward is sending the wagon so I can go with his cook. We need onions and potatoes. I think a small leg of lamb for roasting would not be amiss and perhaps some beef for a shepherd’s pie. I will be back to make the supper and to help you undress.”

Joanna nodded. She missed the courtesy of her old servants and she hated the way Mrs. Smith always sounded aggrieved, but she knew that the unpleasant woman did the work of the cook, the house maids, and the even the lady’s maid. Many chores went undone and in truth much was done poorly, but she was one where before there had been four.

Joanna bit her lips to make them redder and pinched her cheeks, then peered in the mirror. Her solemn amber eyes stared back, her rather pale face framed by her dark gold hair. She could not wear her hair as she had once been accustomed to, but she could tie it behind her neck with a ribbon and that would have to be decent enough. She would wear a bonnet—the yellow one.

There is no need to dress with such care just to cross the meadow to the field.
He will be busy—working like the others
. Against her will, she remembered how he had smiled at her yesterday. How somehow he had reminded her that she was a woman with the desires of her sex.

All she sought today were playmates for Nash, she told herself firmly. And besides, there was no harm in seeking the comfort of another person who had been widowed, but she knew that wasn’t true. She needed no comfort for the loss of her husband. What she wanted, wrong or right, was to have a few moments with him, Tem Lovell.

She shook her head.
I must not think of Tem Lovell. I shall marry Sir Edward who has always been so considerate
of myself. He neither drinks nor gambles and I will have no worries.
For a moment she remembered her anger when he had shouted at the Gypsy children and called them foul names.
He was but thinking of my well-being; it was perhaps neither appropriate to allow them inside, nor to play that way with them.
She smiled. In truth she had like playing with them. She had liked their infectious laughter. She had liked the way they included Nash in their games. She had like the way they tried to speak English to her, even the smallest among them, little Eleanor.

And I liked the way Tem swung the children in the air and laughed with them.
But no, she must not think like this.
I must not think of Tem. And I must not think of him as Tem; he is Mr. Lovell to me.

She would stay out there while Nash played. That way she would know he was safe.
And, perhaps Tem will speak with me—

“No! I will not think like that, I must not,” she said aloud.

***

As he swung his scythe, cutting the last of the hay, Tem thought about Joanna, about the way she had smiled at the children, and the way she had looked up at him when he had taken her baskets from her. He wondered if there was some way he might catch a glimpse of her today. Thinking of her like this, wanting her the way he did was
didlo
—madness.

“Look, here comes the
rawni
with her child,” cried his sister, pointing. “And there goes little Eleanor running to meet her.”

Tem stuck his pitchfork in the ground and, shading his eyes with his hands, watched Joanna approaching.

“Is that
Gadji
not afraid that we will hurt her, that our men will dishonor her? Doesn’t she know that thieving Gypsies might steal her child?” Lala continued sarcastically.

“Or that Tem might steal her for his new wife?” said her husband.

Everyone laughed, but Tem frowned at his brother-in-law.

“If she were not a
Gadji
, she would suit you well,” Lala said. “She has already stolen little Eleanor’s heart and I think a piece of yours.”

Tem’s uncle chimed in. “She is pretty enough, and everyone knows the
Gadji
have no morals. Tem, you are lonely. She is your chance for some amusement.”

Tem scowled more deeply and waved them away. Everyone laughed at his discomfort.

“Leave him be,” said the
rom baro.
He is a good and virtuous
Romanichal
. He can easily resist the charms of an immoral
Gadji.
”

“Well, if he resists, perhaps she will accept me,” said a young man thumping his chest. I would be happy to show a
rawni
what it is to be loved by a
Romanichal
.”

There followed a torrent of friendly abuse for the young man. No one paid any attention to Tem, who said, “I believe she is a good and decent woman.” He watched as the children, all talking at once, surrounded Joanna who, squatting, hugged Eleanor while she talked with the others.

She pets the children and they respond, but a
rawni
would be no suitable mother for my children—she would care nothing for our ways. Why am I thinking of such a thing? I must be
didlo
. No rich
rawni
would marry a poor
Romanichal
like me. I must find someone among my own people, someone who would love my children and who, perhaps in time, I could come to love.

***

For a moment, as she approached them, Joanna thought the Gypsies were laughing at her, but then Eleanor, wearing the same yellow dress she had the day before, came running to her and flew into her arms. Soon after, all the children were around her, some chattering in the language of the Gypsies, some speaking careful English.

“
A ring, a ring o’ roses,” Noah said and the others all took up the cry.

“Please, lady, sing it for us again,” begged Florica. The children joined hands, including her in the circle, Eleanor on one side and Noah on the other. The circle began to spin as they sang, “A ring, a ring o’ roses, a pocket full o’posies, atishoo atishoo we all fall down.” With the last words, all the children began sneezing violently and throwing themselves on the ground.

Joanna wanted to remain standing, as she sensed the eyes of the Gypsies on her, but when Noah threw himself down as he sneezed, he knocked against her, upsetting her balance, and she tumbled to the ground. She lay there on her back, surprised. The children went silent.

She opened her eyes and saw the sky and a ring of anxious little faces looking down at her. Her ankle hurt a lot.

“I am sorry, I am sorry,” Noah kept repeating, his eyes wide and fearful. Nash looked as if he were about to cry.

The children moved aside, and Tem Lovell’s worried face appeared.

“I fell,” she said foolishly. “But it was not Noah’s doing. It’s no one’s fault but my own.”

Eleanor gave her a wet kiss on her forehead. “Lady fall,” she said.

“Yes, I fell.”

Tem helped her to sit. “Are you all right?”

He was so close. She could smell him—the smell of a hard-working man and of the outdoors. She breathed deeply. She could feel his work-hardened palm on her arm as he supported her, his arm against her back, his hand on her elbow.

She looked up at him and felt a spark leap between them as she met his black eyes. She felt her heart constrict; her blood slowed and thickened in her veins.

“My name is Joanna,” she said and immediately felt ridiculous. But she wanted him to know; she wanted to hear him say it.

“Joanna,” he said softly. He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Daniels, can you stand?”

“I don’t know.” His arm still about her, she came to her feet and groaned. “I think I hurt my ankle.” She winced.

There were other people around them now all with concerned, or even frightened, faces. One of the women spoke harshly to the children.

“No, no it’s no one’s fault.” Scowling, the woman took a step backward, away from her. Tem spoke to them. She assumed he was translating what she had said.

“Tell them it is my own doing, not to blame the children.”

Tem spoke again and the woman nodded. One pointed at her ankle and said in the same lightly accented English as Tem’s, “Can you walk on it?”

“It hurts too much to put all my weight on it.”

“I would bind it for you,” said the woman, “but I have no cloth here.”

“If someone could but help me to my house, I have cloth for a bandage.” She could not but wish that Tem alone would help her.

“Are you all right, Mother?” Nash asked in an anxious voice.

“Yes. I just hurt my ankle a little.” Out of the corner of her eye she saw Noah pat Nash on the back. Little Eleanor took one of his hands and another pretty woman took his other, stooped, and murmured soothingly to him.

Joanna couldn’t help but notice how pretty the Gypsy women were.
Which one was going to be Tem’s next wife?
she wondered, feeling a stab of pain at the thought.

Nash looked up at Tem. “Will you take care of my mother?” he asked.

“Yes, lad, I will. You don’t need to worry about that. If your mother says you may, perhaps you would like to stay and play with the others.”

“May I stay?” Nash asked her.

“I will bring him back when he wishes,” said one of the pretty women.

“Yes, darling, you may stay.”

The
rom baro
said, “If you don’t need our assistance, Mrs. Daniels, we will get back to work.”

“I only need an arm to lean on,” she lied. In truth she needed more support than that, but she wanted to be alone with Tem.

Limping along with his arm around her, she felt the fire of desire roar into being, its flames licking at her belly. She thought perhaps his arm tightened about her. Did he share her feelings? Did the fire flare in him as well?

About halfway to her house, Joanna said, “We must stop.”

“The pain is bad?”

She nodded and sank to the ground. The pain in her ankle and the heat of her desire seemed to commingle. She wanted her ankle to stop hurting, but she also wanted Tem to make love to her. It had been years since the act of love had been anything but a most unpleasant duty, mercifully very seldom required, but now she wanted this man, wanted to caress him and she wanted him to do the same to her. She wanted to kiss—

“Your ankle?”

“It is of no matter if I am not standing,” she lied again.

“Have you serving women at home who could tend it for you?”

“I have only Mrs. Peters, who has gone to market for the day.”

“I am well acquainted with caring for injuries and sprains,” he said. “Would it be improper if I suggested that I might bind it for you?”

“No, please, if you could I would be most grateful. But I have nothing with which to bandage it.”

“Perhaps we could use one of you stockings if you would be willing to do so.”

She nodded. He turned his back and she undid the tie about her knee and carefully pulled down her stocking as far as she could without the pain becoming unbearable.

“Perhaps you can remove it for me—it is too painful where I can reach. She tucked her skirt about herself, leaving only her injured ankle and foot exposed. Tem knelt and carefully took the stocking off her foot.

“We can use the tie to keep it in place,” he said.

He rolled the stocking and then carefully lifted her foot and, keeping the ankle well supported on his knee, he proceeded to bandage it tightly. Finally he secured the pink tie about the wrapping.

“Very pretty,” he said and smiled up at her.

“Indeed,” she said. “Thank you. I believe I can stand now.”

He nodded and helped her to her feet.

She tried not to wince with each step as they proceeded, but it was only a little way before she could not keep a groan from escaping her lips, and she sank to the ground again.

“If you would permit me,” he said, “you might be more comfortable if I carried you the rest of the way.”

She nodded and said, “Yes, please,” in a small voice.

He lifted her as though she weighed no more than a small child and she twined her arms about his neck. He looked down at her and he moved as though to kiss her—oh God, how she wanted him to do so. But he pulled back, shaking his head slightly and the moment passed. He carried her to the door of her house, which he opened with one hand and brought her inside.