Follow Your Heart

by Barbara Cartland

  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.

  ‘I know it cannot be too long,’ she pondered. ‘At the same time I shall have time to think about my fate.’

  The thought made her feel apprehensive because, when she did return home, Jason would undoubtedly be waiting for her.

  But she did not want to think about him at all at this particular moment.

  She allowed the gypsy woman to very gently smooth the dark liquid on to her hair and then she looked at herself in the small cracked mirror that was all Mireli kept in her caravan.

  She certainly looked so very different that not even her best friend would recognise her and, because she was so unselfconscious, she did not realise how the dark hair now accentuated the clear translucence of her skin.

  Her mother had always been told that she had skin like a pearl and when she thought about it Della was glad she had inherited it.

  “Now you look just like us,” trumpeted Mireli.

  Yet there was really very little resemblance between Della and the dark skinned Romanies, although she did indeed look most attractive in her new guise.

  They sat down and talked to each other.

  There was no chance of moving into any other caravan until late in the afternoon and Mireli told her that when they were travelling they usually only stopped for breakfast and then enjoyed a big meal at six o’clock.

  “Cook over camp fire,” she said. “Better than little bites without substance.”

  Della laughed.

  She liked the rather pedantic way Mireli talked. She realised it was because she was trying to copy Lendi, while she was taking her lessons in fortune–telling.

  “Very interesting,” Mireli told her when Della questioned her. “Tomorrow you come with me and listen to Lendi. Her very, very clever and she has learned from moon.”

  Della knew there could be no higher compliment and although her eyes twinkled she did not make any comment.

  Because the gypsies owned good horses they travelled further during the day than she would have expected. In fact she was not surprised to learn that they had already left Hampshire and were now moving into Wiltshire.

  She only noticed how far they had gone after she had looked at some of the signposts they passed and realised they did not belong to her own County.

  She understood only too well, however, that the gypsies did not like to be asked too many questions about themselves, their own language, their beliefs or their destination. It was, Della guessed, because of many centuries of persecution. Years of never knowing what would happen tomorrow made them as secretive as possible.

  She therefore did not ask Mireli or the other gypsy women where they were going.

  The woman who had dyed her hair came in several times to see if everything was all right.

  Before they finally reached the place where they intended to stay the night, Piramus came to visit Della.

  “Lady happy?” he asked, as if it worried him to think that she might not be.

  “I am very happy, Piramus,” enthused Della. “Mireli has been very kind to me and so has Ellen.”

  That was the name of the woman who had dyed her hair.

  Della had been slightly surprised to find she had such an ordinary name. Then she remembered what her uncle had told her, when they were talking about the gypsies, that those who had come to Britain had deliberately changed their foreign names for English ones.

  They had chosen the most ordinary local names possible. There were therefore now gypsies called Smith, Brown, Lee and Davis instead of their more exotic ancestral names.

  Some of their women had also adopted ordinary English Christian names and Della thought it was a pity as they did not sound as romantic as their own, although she could understand it was much easier for them to move about the countryside.

  *

  Finally they stopped for the night and Della was informed that their new camp was on an estate very similar to the Duke’s.

  There were well–kept woods that she longed to wander into and wide fields that had been cultivated, whilst others had been put down to grass.

  It was one of these fields that Piramus selected for their camp with a confidence which made Della sure they had been here before and had been made welcome.

  She had meant to look for the sign the gypsies always left outside any place they camped, which made it clear to other gypsies whether they were welcome or not.

  She discussed this system with Mireli who laughed and told her that the signs the gypsies left each other were very significant.

  A small cross meant, ‘here they give nothing!’ Two lines across with one slanting down meant, ‘beggars badly received.’

  “What about a circle?” enquired Della.

  “If it empty – generous people,” replied Mireli. “A dot in the middle – very generous people and kind to gypsies.”

  They both laughed.

  “I think it is a very sensible idea,” ventured Della.

  “Especially for those,” added Mireli, “who do not speak language very fluently.”

  As soon as the caravans had ground to a halt the men were unfastening the horses, while Della walked over to visit Lendi.

  When she entered the caravan the old gypsy held out both hands.

  “I told you were – with us. Welcome Lady and may you be happy and safe.”

  “That is just what I am sure I will be,” sighed Della, going down on her knees beside the bed.

  She kissed Lendi and continued,

  “I was very frightened, so I ran away and then I was frightened in case you would be angry with me.”

  Lendi shook her hea
d.

  “Not angry, Lady. Very sensible and you – told to come.”

  “That is true. I thought it was either my mother or even the stars who told me I would be safe if I was with you.”

  Lendi smiled as if she was very pleased at Della’s words.

  Mireli came into the caravan.

  “I was wondering, Grandmamma,” she suggested, “if you like to give me lesson while they prepare supper.”

  “I will do so,” replied Lendi. “We must be ready in case you have to take my place.”

  Della knew she was saying that she might die and felt like protesting, but she thought it more tactful if she left the two gypsies together.

  Before she could move, Lendi understood her thoughts and urged her.

  “No, Lady stay and listen. Good for you listen.”

  “I would love to, Lendi, if Mireli does not mind.”

  “I like you be with us,” said Mireli simply.

  She sat down on the bed while Della reclined on the floor.

  Lendi produced the Tarot cards from under her pillow and handed them to Mireli telling her to explain what each one meant.

  Mireli did as she was told explaining what each Tarot card represented and making very few mistakes.

  She was speaking in English, but occasionally, when it was difficult to find the right words, she would lapse into Romani.

  Della was delighted to find she could understand a good deal of what she was saying. She thought while she was with the gypsies she should ask the others to talk to her in Romani to improve her knowledge of the language.

  Mireli had been successfully through all the Tarot cards and this time Lendi produced a crystal ball, again from under her pillow.

  It was a large crystal, looking deep yet clear.

  “Can you really see pictures in it?” Della asked Lendi.

  “Sometimes,” she replied, “but – important for – persons whose future you are reading to think. Easier – read thoughts rather than see them in ball.”

  Della thought it was a clever way of making sure the person whose fortune they were telling really did concentrate, as he or she would be looking for what they wanted and what they were hoping for.

  Lendi could then, quite easily, read their thoughts.

  She was still telling Mireli and Della fascinating secrets when they were told that supper was ready, so the two girls hurried down the steps to see flames rising high in the fire round a large steaming pot.

  Already some of the gypsy family were seated on the ground and they smiled at Della as she joined them.

  Most of them, Della realised, were amused by her hair and there was no doubt that Piramus and the other men regarded her with admiration.

  As everyone was hungry the gypsies did not talk while they were eating and the stew, which Della guessed was a mixture of rabbit and chicken, was delicious.

  There were potatoes cooked in their skins to go with the stew and fresh vegetables and fruit to finish their supper.

  Then one of the men started to play a violin. He played very softly so as not to disturb anyone nearby.

  There was no human habitation to be seen and Della was certain they were camping on private property.

  She did not like to ask outright where they were nor who had given them permission to camp on what was obviously a private field surrounded by woods on both sides.

  In fact, when she went to bed, she still had no idea where she was and it was therefore very unlikely that her uncle would be able to guess where the gypsies had gone.

  ‘Nothing is better for me at the moment than secrecy,’ she told herself firmly. ‘And if I can talk to Lendi tomorrow, perhaps she will be able to help me solve the problems which are still with me, however cleverly I am disguised.’

  It was a depressing thought and yet when she and Mireli blew out the candles in the caravan, she fell asleep almost immediately.

  *

  The next day was warm and the sun made the countryside even more beautiful than it had looked in the starlight.

  What Della craved to do more than anything else was to ride through the woods, but she was, however, not certain if the gypsies were entitled to enter the woods. She felt it might be embarrassing to ask Piramus if she could and be refused.

  Instead, when she had helped Mireli to tidy the caravan, she went to find Lendi. She had learnt by this time that the gypsy women took it in turns to look after her.

  They washed her, tidied her hair, made her bed and cleaned out her caravan. The children picked wild flowers for her.

  When Della saw Lendi, she thought, she was looking much better, although perhaps glamorous was the right word to describe her.

  Della could understand only too well how exciting it was when the gypsies arrived in the local village and Lendi, looking like the Gypsy Queen, would receive them and tell their fortunes.

  Now she was wrapped in a beautifully embroidered shawl with her dark hair well arranged and neat and she was wearing some exquisitely made gypsy jewellery that Della guessed had come from India.

  “You look magnificent!” exclaimed Della when she entered the caravan.

  Lendi chuckled.

  “I am expecting a visitor,” she said. “I can feel him coming towards me.”

  Della was curious, but again she considered it was unwise to ask questions.

  Then Mireli piped up surprisingly,

  “I suppose you thinking of – Marquis. He very kind to us last year.”

  Della’s eyes widened and she wondered who this Marquis could be and if she had ever heard of him.

  Then Piramus’s clear voice came from outside the caravan. He was standing at the bottom of the steps.

  “His Lordship’s on way, Lendi,” he called. “I see horse coming through wood.”

  Della found it impossible not to enquire curiously,

  “What is the name of the Marquis you are now expecting? I suppose we must be camped on his estate.”

  “Marquis of Chorlton,” replied Lendi. “He always kind to gypsies – we come – every year.”

  Della was trying to think where she had heard the name.

  Somehow it was familiar, but she could not remember her uncle talking about a Marquis of Chorlton.

  They had talked at one time or another about all the landowners in Dorset, Berkshire, Surrey, and Sussex, all Counties on one side or the other of Hampshire.

  Della knew her uncle had quite a number of friends in Dorset and the same applied to Berkshire, but she could not remember him talking about anyone he was friendly with in Wiltshire.

  She was still puzzling over the name when Piramus called from the steps,

  “My Lord here.”

  “As he is coming to see you,” Della asked Lendi, “would you like me to leave?”

  “No, you stay where you are,” Lendi responded immediately. “But Mireli to go away, I not want him to meet her.”

  Della thought this sounded odd, but as Lendi was the most important elder of the gypsy tribe, it would have been very foolish to argue with her.

  She therefore remained seated as she was on the floor beside the bed.

  There were voices below and a moment later a man came up the steps into the caravan.

  He was tall and had to bend his head to enter.

  He was also broad–shouldered, but his figure was slim as if he was an athlete.

  Then as Della could see him clearly, she realised he was very much younger than she had expected.

  She had thought that because he was a Marquis and owned a large estate, he would be a much older man, perhaps the same age as her uncle.

  The gentleman inside the caravan was obviously only in his twenties.

  At the same time he was extremely good-looking. He moved lightly towards the bed and took Lendi’s hand in his.

  “I am very distressed,” he began in a deep voice, “to hear you are ill. I have been looking forward to seeing you and I need your help.”

  “I always ready to help Your
Lordship and we are glad to be back – with you.”

  “And I am more glad than I can say to see you,” replied the Marquis. “I have been counting the days and been afraid you might have forgotten me in your travels.”

  “We could never,” answered Lendi. “Now tell, my Lord, what is wrong?”

  The Marquis sat down at the end of the bed and as he did so he glanced, for the first time, at Della.

  She felt he was questioning her presence in the caravan and she would have risen, but Lendi put out her hand.

  It was a gesture that told Della without words that she was to stay where she was.

  The Marquis paused and then as if he thought Della was of no particular consequence, he murmured,

  “I have a problem, Lendi, which only you can solve.”

  “Tell me, my Lord.”

  “I have a niece, the daughter of my elder brother who, I expect you remember, died four years ago.”

  “I do remember. That first year we visited – your Lordship.”

  “That is right,” agreed the Marquis. “Alice was only a child then, but you may remember her coming to see you on at least three occasions.”

  “I remember – very pretty girl. I told her fortune.”

  “I hoped you would remember,” smiled the Marquis, “because it is something I want you to do again.”

  “For important reason?”

  “I was sure you would know before I told you, but yes, a very important reason. It is a difficult problem and one which I think only you can solve.”

  “Tell me.”

  “Soon after she was born Alice was left a very large fortune by her Godfather. He had no children of his own and was devoted to my brother. Therefore when he died unexpectedly from an accident, he left all his money to Alice.”

  Della was listening intrigued by the story.

  “Because my brother felt it a great mistake,” the Marquis continued, “for anyone to know how rich she was, he kept it as secret as possible. But after his death which was followed a year later by his wife’s, it was impossible to keep people from knowing about Alice’s fortune.”

  Lendi’s eyes were on the Marquis.