Mariel

by Jo Ann Ferguson

  Ian slowed the carriage as the road became crowded with other vehicles, all traveling in the same direction. Mariel smiled as she realized where he meant to take them. When the little girl saw the brightly colored caravan of wagons scattered across a freshly harvested hay field, she gave a squeal of delight.

  “The circus!” Rosie cried.

  “Shall we stop here, Daisy?” Ian teased, winking broadly at Mariel. “I had planned to take you and Mariel for another charming visit to Reverend Tanner, like the one we had yesterday.”

  “My name is not Daisy! It’s Rosie!” She gripped the dash of the buggy as she stated, “And I don’t want to visit that old fool.”

  “Rosie,” admonished Mariel, “you should not call Reverend Tanner an old fool.”

  “You do!”

  With a laugh, Ian brought the carriage to a stop in the shade of the trees growing along the hedgerow. “She has you there, Mariel. I have heard you call him that on more than one occasion. Right, Iris?”

  “Rosie!” she retorted, but she giggled. This had become a private game between the two of them.

  He tweaked her nose and said, “I will try to remember that. Do you want to go now?”

  Rosie could not contain her excitement when Ian lifted her from the buggy. She bounced from one foot to the other as she waited for him to assist Mariel. Her head turned to follow each delight waiting to be discovered.

  Ian grinned as he put his hands on Mariel’s waist. It was nearly as narrow as the child’s. He did not want to release her when her feet touched the ground, but Rosie’s excited demands gave him no time to enjoy the woman. With a flourish, he offered Mariel his arm.

  After opening her wispy pink parasol, which matched the lace of her blouse, she placed her fingers on Ian’s wool coat sleeve. Secretly, she thought the three of them looked like the perfect family on an outing in the country. Such thoughts she would not voice, for she did not know how Ian would feel about such presumption.

  “Where first?” he was asking the little girl.

  Rosie glanced about at the wagons painted with stripes and flowers. Each one had a garish awning attached to it where the owners could present their wares. In the center of the camp was a huge tent where the circus would be held. The performance did not start for a few minutes, so they would have time to explore the alien delights of the wagons.

  Without hesitation, she urged, “The ponies. Please, Ian. Can I have my picture taken on a pony?”

  He laughed. For Rosie everything was new. Her sparkling enthusiasm spilled over onto the adults to allow them to enjoy anew the delights of childhood. “Of course. Come on. Do you think Mariel should have her photograph taken as well?”

  “Yes!”

  “Some other day,” said Mariel with a smile. “When they have full-sized horses. I am afraid I am too tall for the ponies. Run ahead and choose which pony you want, dear.”

  She kept her eyes on the child as they walked through the crowd. The circus was little more than a half dozen gaudily painted wagons, but many of the residents of Foxbridge were taking advantage of the rare entertainment on this warm afternoon.

  Rosie went up to the man with the camera, which was perched like a three-legged sea bird on its tripod. When he smiled at her, she was not daunted by the patch over one eye and the long ragged scar on his cheek. She pointed to the cream colored Shetland pony. Its saddle was inlaid with fake gems and stitched in an outrageous pattern. Long blankets nearly touched the ground on each side of its short legs.

  “Is that the one you want, young lady?”

  “Yes!” she breathed with candid excitement.

  “Do you have any money? The photos are—” He straightened as he saw the woman with her eyes on the child by his side. His single eye narrowed as the little girl raced to her. No one had to tell him who this was. He made it his practice to know such details as the names and descriptions of the gentry before he opened his circus to the public.

  He smiled as he put his fingers to his forehead. “Good afternoon. Have you come to have your photograph taken?”

  Mariel grinned at Rosie’s rapid list of reasons why she must have her picture taken on the light brown pony. “My daughter would like to be photographed on that one there.” Her happiness glowed on her face as she spoke of the little girl as her child.

  “Daughter?” the photographer asked involuntarily. He had heard nothing of Lady Mariel Wythe having a child. As far as he knew, she was a spinster. Recovering quickly, he added, “Would you like to be in the picture also?”

  “No, this picture is for Rosie.”

  He nodded and led the little girl by the hand to where the pony waited with infinite patience. Lifting her onto it, he adjusted her frock and hair. He warned her not to move, then returned to his camera. Peering from beneath the dark cloth, he adjusted the lens to the correct focus.

  Ian watched the process with interest. He put his hand on Mariel’s arm and drew her back closer to him. She smiled at him swiftly before looking at Rosie again. As soon as the picture was taken, she lifted the child from the horse. She took the slip of paper from the photographer and nodded when he told her to come back after the show to purchase the picture.

  She thanked him and placed the identifying slip in her bag. As they walked away to visit the next wagon, she did not notice that his eyes followed her until they were lost among the throng of revelers.

  Rosie ran from one wagon to the next, pointing excitedly to everything offered for sale. She convinced Ian to buy her a candied apple, which immediately turned her face to sticky scarlet. Music called to them, and they paused to watch a dancing bear.

  They cheered loudly with the rest of the crowd as the trainer put the animal through his routine. Mariel’s cheer subsided as she felt an unease she could not name. Nothing was wrong, but something had changed. She had the sensation of being observed clandestinely.

  Slowly, she turned. She was right. Someone was watching her. Although she wanted to ignore the man, she could not. Even without the paisley scarf over his head and the golden hoops in his ears, she would have known he was a member of this traveling band. Bulging muscles were revealed below the sleeves of his tattered shirt.

  His slightly tilted eyes hid in his wide face, but she could feel his gaze on her. When she saw him take a step toward them, she looked back at the antics of the trained bear.

  “Mariel?”

  She should have guessed Ian would sense her disquiet through her fingertips on his sleeve. “There is a man staring at me. No, don’t look.”

  “Don’t worry,” he said with a smile. “The constable is here with his brood. None of these Gypsies wish to cause any trouble for us. They would rather take our gold for their entertainments.” His arm slipped around her shoulders as he added, “I am sure he simply enjoys looking at such a lovely lady.”

  “I wish he would look at someone else.”

  “There is no one prettier.” When she did not respond to his compliment, he called to Rosie. “Let’s go into the tent and get our seats on the benches for the show. It will be starting soon.”

  Mariel waited impatiently as Ian purchased their tickets. Herding Rosie before her, she walked with him into the tent. The summer sun had heated the interior, and the air was thick with the scent of mildewed canvas and animal droppings mixed with the sawdust of the ring. When they found seats in the front row, they considered themselves lucky.

  While Ian talked with their neighbors, Mariel stared at the center of the ring. She did not understand why the stranger had stripped her of her joy in the day. Ian was right. The man had done nothing but look at her, and that could not be construed as any sort of a crime. Forcing herself to forget him, she tried to respond to the anticipation around her.

  The show began with a blare of off-key music. Horses raced into the ring under the watchful eye of their trainer. The master of the circus shouted out the name of the performer and the tricks the woman in the sparse costume would attempt, and Mariel felt Ian’s
fingers slip over hers. His nearness comforted her and allowed her to become enraptured by the acts of skill and finesse.

  Clowns displayed their antics between each act. When one grasped Rosie’s hands and invited her to join their comical dance, she hesitated only as long as it took Mariel to urge her to accept. Mariel laughed until she felt weak, with tears in her eyes as Rosie wholeheartedly played with the men disguised behind their stage makeup. When she returned, breathless from laughter, she continued to giggle at the games they played.

  More performances followed, some beautiful and graceful, others terrifying with the fearsome daring of the circus members. Mariel’s hands grew sore from applauding and from Rosie clenching them as she watched the show in open-mouthed awe.

  Too soon, it was over. The ring lost its magic as it again became only a wooden circle filled with well trampled sawdust. They waited for the others to leave, unwilling to let the enchantment end. As they stood, a man approached. He bowed and handed Rosie a flower.

  The little girl took it and looked from the pale pink blossom to him in bafflement. He grinned a lopsided smile as he winked at her companions. “For your assistance today, young lady. Don’t you recognize me?”

  Only when he did a backward flip with an ease that seemed impossible did she clap her hands and crow with delight. Without his stage makeup, she could not see him as the clown who had invited her to participate. His everyday looks would not be noticed in any crowd. His mousy brown hair and clear brown eyes did not hint at the joy within him.

  “Thank you for making the day special for her,” said Mariel sincerely. “She has never been to the circus before.”

  He smiled. When he spoke, she noticed the heavy accent of his speech. Most of the people connected with this circus must be from one of the far eastern parts of Europe. “I thought so. I cannot remember the first time I saw a circus, for I was born to this one. Yet, when I see the delight in the eyes of these children, I, too, can enjoy the performance as if for the first time.” He patted Rosie’s head. “Thank you, little one, for making this day special for me, also.” With a hearty farewell, he raced across the ring to disappear through the performer’s entrance.

  “Look, Mariel,” urged Rosie. “Isn’t it beautiful?”

  “It’s lovely. We shall put it in a vase, and you may keep it in your room.”

  “Forever?”

  “Forever, if you wish.” Mariel looked up at Ian and wondered if anything could be more wonderful than this moment when love surrounded them.

  He took her hand as she took Rosie’s. “I think we should go see the rest of the wagons. What do you think, Lilac?”

  “Rosie!” She skipped as they left the tent.

  The hours passed too quickly as they visited with friends they met among the wagons and watched the entertainment. Music created a constant undertone for all conversation. The smoke of outdoor fires was filled with the tantalizing scents of exotic foods. The circus members had thought of many ways of making a profit from the local people.

  When they passed the fortune-teller’s wagon, Rosie asked if they could go in. Ian told them to go ahead. He would go to get a cool drink. He laughed as he explained, “It would not do for my parishioners to see their minister seeking advice of the future from such a source.”

  Taking Rosie by the hand, Mariel went to the open door. Inside this wagon, set slightly away from the others, a solitary woman sat. She smiled and waved for them to come in and close the door.

  A quiet settled on the cool interior as the bustle of the fair was closed out of the room. The walls had been painted midnight blue. Wispy cloth draped the corners of the ceiling to soften the angles of the room. A single chair faced the woman.

  Her face was painted as garishly as the wagons. Black kohl lined her eyes, drawing them out like an Egyptian’s. Brilliant red slashed across her lips and made her face seem even more pale. A black veil edged with gold coins covered her dark hair. Her gown was shot with threads of the same color. Wide sleeves dropped back to reveal her slender arms.

  “Sit. Let me open the door of the future for you. I can pull back the curtains of time and let you peek at what will be.” She smiled as Rosie stepped forward shyly. “Come, child. Offer me your palm, and I will tell you what will be.”

  Rosie climbed onto the chair and leaned across the wide table. She giggled as the fortune-teller traced the lines of her palm with her long fingernail. “That tickles!” she said.

  The woman smiled indulgently. She enjoyed telling fortunes for children, who did not react with disbelief to her knowledge. After prophesying a long life and a fine family, she watched as the child scampered down from the velvet covered chair.

  “And now you, Lady Mariel?”

  Mariel started, but did not demand to know how this woman could know her. Any woman who dared to speak so assuredly of the future must be a good judge of human nature and very observant. Almost anyone could have overheard her conversations with the others reveling in the circus. When she came here with Rosie, the fortune-teller would have been told immediately.

  “No, thank you. I have no interest in having my palm read.” She dropped a coin on the table and turned to take Rosie’s hand.

  “My lady, let me read the tarot cards for you.”

  “Tarot cards?”

  The fortune-teller bobbed her head so hard that the coins sewn to her veil flapped against her forehead. She drew a pack of the oversized cards from beneath the table. “Come. Sit. For few do I do this. Most are satisfied with learning the truth written in their skin. Let me read them for you.”

  Mariel hesitated. Her uncle had told her about having his fortune told with tarot cards while on the continent. Although he admitted little of it had come true, he had spoken of the incident fondly. Fascinating was his exact word.

  “All right,” she said with sudden enthusiasm. “Rosie, Ian is waiting outside. Tell him I will be with you in a minute.”

  “May I have an ice?”

  “A small one! You have had too many sweets already.”

  The little girl raced out of the narrow wagon and down the ladder steps. Her chatter faded as the door closed. Clutching the handle of her parasol, Mariel leaned forward to hear the words intoned by the seer.

  “I will shuffle the cards. Think of your life. When you think the cards are right for you, tell me.”

  Unable to wait for long, Mariel said almost immediately, “Now.”

  In an obscure pattern, the woman laid the cards on the table. She started by placing a single card on the table. Putting one over it, she stated, “This card covers you.” She continued, “This one crosses you. This one is over you. This beneath. This behind you. This ahead of you.”

  Mariel’s eyes followed her lovely hands as she dealt the cards. When the fortune-teller put the rest of the pack on the table, she looked at the woman expectantly. Uncle Wilford was right. It was fun to imagine a door could be opened to reveal the future. She scanned the cards, wondering if any would speak of what waited for her and Ian.

  The silence grew long in the wagon. Suddenly the woman scooped up the cards and began to shuffle them again. In a tight voice, she mumbled, “I made an error.”

  “An error?”

  “Let us try again, my lady. Tell me when the cards are right for you.”

  Although Mariel felt a twinge of uneasiness, she simply watched the slender hands competently reorganize the large cards. With less enthusiasm, she stated, “I think, now.”

  The fortune-teller smiled. “Forgive me, my lady. Sometimes the cards make no sense. I thought you would be wanting to get an accurate reading. Shall we?” She repeated the patter in the identical, singsong voice she had used the first time.

  Different cards sat in the center of the table, but none of the odd pictures made any sense to Mariel. The obscure symbols belonged to another time and place. When they were arranged, she waited for the woman to speak.

  With a cry, the veiled woman swept the cards from the table. Mariel
ducked instinctively as several flew toward her. “What is wrong?”

  “Go, my lady! I will not read for you today!” Her voice rose in undisguised terror. When Mariel stared at her in astonishment, she repeated more shrilly, “Go! Go away!”

  Before Mariel could rise, the thick curtain behind the fortune-teller was shoved aside. A huge man stepped around it. She gasped as she recognized him as the one staring at her while she watched the performing bear. Fear froze her voice in her throat. Stumbling to her feet, she groped for the door.

  A huge hand on her arm halted her. In a voice as broad as his size, the man spoke to the fortune-teller in a language Mariel did not comprehend. When the seer answered, waving her hands in open distress, he looked at the woman standing next to him.

  “Lady Mariel Wythe?” he asked.

  “Yes, that’s my name.”

  “Nadia will not read the cards for you today.”

  She tried to pull her arm out of his painful grip, but he refused to release her. “I understand,” she said when she saw he wanted a response.

  “Do you?”

  The threat inherent in his words sent icy fear burning through her middle. She had no idea what he meant or why the fortune-teller refused to read the cards after being so anxious to tell her future. None of this made sense. All she wanted was to be done with these crazy Gypsies and return to the Cloister.

  “You are a pretty woman,” he continued when she did not answer. “Do you have intelligence to match your beauty?”

  “Raoul!”

  He glared at the woman removing her veil. Spitting a command at her, he smiled as she lowered her eyes in a submissive attitude. Mariel looked from one face to the other and could not guess what was being said between them.

  A knock on the wagon door broke the frozen tableau. Muted by the thick wood, she could hear Ian’s voice, calling to ask if she was still within. She looked at the twisted mouth of the man holding her. He bent toward her, and she cowered away.