“They all thought you were marvellous, Della.”
“I was so frightened of saying the wrong thing, my Lord, and when I got back to the camp I fell asleep the moment I climbed into bed.”
“Tonight you need not worry about anything,” the Marquis told her soothingly. “I thought after dinner you would like to see some of the rooms in my house and in particular the library.”
“I would enjoy that more than anything, my Lord.”
“No one could be as intelligent as you are without being an avid reader. I find it difficult to talk to any woman who never reads anything more serious than The Ladies Journal.”
Della chuckled.
“That is a very scathing remark. I am sure that all the girls I was talking to last night have read romantic novels and were imagining themselves as the heroine.”
“What about you?” enquired the Marquis, “is that how you think of yourself?”
“I am not going to answer that question, my Lord, but I would love to see your library. I am sure it will be equal to the wonders I have already seen in the rest of your house.”
It was then that dinner was announced.
They were served with a delicious meal and Della felt it was as good, if not better, than anything she had ever eaten.
It was difficult, however, to think about food.
She and the Marquis, as they talked, seemed to be roving over the world, discussing countries she fortunately knew well.
The Marquis had started the conversation by asking her about the origin of the gypsies. Did she think her particular clan came from India or Egypt?
“I have always believed myself,” responded Della, “that all gypsies originated from India, but they have spread out, as you might know, in many different directions.”
She saw that the Marquis was listening intently and she continued,
“Some came to Europe through the Balkans, others through Egypt and Africa, and I suspect, although a large number of people would argue the point, it is these who eventually ended up in Britain.”
The Marquis still appeared to be listening keenly to her.
At the same time he was looking at her as if he was digging deep into her personality.
His gaze made her feel shy and when the servants had left the room she asked,
“What are you looking for? What are you expecting from me?”
“So now you are reading my thoughts, Della.”
“I would like you to give me an answer to my question, my Lord.”
“I am not certain of the answer myself,” the Marquis hesitated. “You are an enigma. Different from the other women I have met and, even though I read your thoughts, I find it strangely difficult to understand you.”
“I am glad I can keep you guessing!”
They sat for some time in the dining room duelling, Della thought, with words, which she found a fascinating exercise.
She was becoming aware that the Marquis was one of the most intelligent men she had ever met. And that included her uncle.
At last when for a moment they ceased their verbal sparring and were silent he suggested,
“Let me show you my library and then I expect you will want to return to the camp.”
“I was very late last night so I had better not be too late tonight.”
They walked from the dining room down a long passage past the drawing room. At the very end the Marquis opened a door.
The library was enormous and it must be the largest room in the house.
It was filled with books of every shape and size and its shelves were so cleverly arranged that Della considered it the finest library she could ever imagine. In fact, she could not think of enough words to praise it.
“I thought my library would please you,” said the Marquis quietly.
“How can you be so lucky, my Lord,” Della asked him wide-eyed, “to have all this? Your horses, your lovely home and, of course, your magic woods?”
They smiled at each other as if there was no need to explain what the words meant.
Then the Marquis said in what she thought was an unexpectedly sharp voice,
“I think the carriage will be now waiting for you outside.”
They walked back to the hall and Della picked up the light shawl she had borrowed from Lendi. As she was pulling it around her shoulders, the Marquis walked out through the front door.
He spoke to the groom who was waiting for her in the carriage.
Then as Della joined him he told her,
“I am sending the horses round the top lake so that you can pick them up on the other side. I want you to see the fountain at night.”
“I would love to, my Lord.”
They walked through the garden towards what she had thought was an artificial lake. It was very like those attached to so many of the Chateaux in France.
When they reached the top of the lake the fountain was just in front of them and it was throwing tall jets of water up into the sky.
It was then that Della realised why the Marquis had brought her here. It was obviously because the fountain in the lake was lit in an original manner she had never seen before.
Gasping in wonder, she thought that he must have invented the wonderful lighting system. There were lights under the water falling down into the exquisitely carved bowl. Lights too lined the edge of the lake itself, making the whole scene seem so romantic and almost a part of fairyland.
“It is so lovely!” she exclaimed, clasping her hands together. “Perfectly lovely.”
“And so are you,” murmured the Marquis.
As he spoke he pulled her against him and his lips came down on hers.
For a moment she stiffened in astonishment.
And then her body seemed to melt into his.
She had never been kissed before. Now the stars above them and the sparkle in the water all seemed to congregate in her heart.
She felt as if she had stepped into a magical world; one that she never knew existed until that moment.
The Marquis kissed her and carried on kissing her.
All at once a very strange, wild and wonderful feeling arose within her breast. She had become a part of an enchanted aura that surrounded them.
The Marquis was part of it too.
She knew that what she was feeling, he was feeling as well and it was a wonder beyond words.
It was a beauty that could only be expressed by the light coming from the sky and it seemed to Della that the moonlight was moving within both of them.
It was blessing them with its divine rays, which came directly as a gift from God.
The Marquis kissed her forehead, her eyes, her cheeks and then again her lips. She surrendered herself completely to the strength of his arms.
The moonlight tied them together with invisible bonds from which they could never escape.
‘This is love,’ Della thought wildly.
The love she had known existed somewhere, if she could only find it.
The love which is sacred and which all people have sought but few are lucky enough to find.
‘I love you – I love you,’ she wanted to cry out to the Marquis.
Now his lips were on hers again and it was impossible to speak, only to feel an inexpressible wonder and glory.
Then suddenly he took his arms from her.
It happened so unexpectedly that she almost fell and she put out a hand to steady herself.
As she held on to the bridge she felt the Marquis was moving away from her.
She could not breathe and she could not see.
Then as she opened her eyes she saw that he had left her.
She was alone.
Looking at the fountain, at the lights gleaming like diamonds in the darkness, and into the cold water just beneath her.
It did not seem possible that he had actually gone.
After a moment she came back to reality.
She looked round and there was no sign of him.
There were only th
e lights below her and the darkness on either side.
Slowly, because Della felt that her feet would not carry her, she walked to where she knew the carriage would be waiting for her.
She went almost as if she was walking in a dream, a dream which had broken, leaving her by herself.
She stepped into the carriage.
The groom, who had jumped down from the driving seat when she appeared, closed the door behind her.
Then as he drove off, Della put her hands up to her face.
Could it be true, could it really have happened?
The Marquis had kissed her and taken her into a heaven of ecstasy and adoration only to leave her?
They drove on.
When they arrived at the camp she managed to step out and thank the groom for bringing her back.
“It’s been a pleasure, madam,” he said, touching his forelock.
She tried to smile at him.
Next she stumbled to the caravans where everything was still and silent.
She knew that Mireli was once again sleeping in Lendi’s caravan and she was grateful that hers was empty.
Only as she walked up the steps and sat down on the bed, did she ask herself what had really happened.
‘I love him – I love him,’ she whispered beneath her breath.
It was the truth.
She had loved him since the first time she had met him. Because she had never been in love before she had not realised what would happen when she met him again.
Her heart seemed to turn a dozen somersaults.
It was then as she sat there in the caravan that she knew it would be impossible for her to see him again.
Even to look at him would be to betray the love she felt for him and which could not be hidden.
She understood why he had left her and disappeared.
Because they were so close to each other with their minds and now with their bodies, she knew what he was thinking.
As he told her, he had resisted the constant pressures and requests of his family that he should marry.
He had waited, as she had waited, to fall in love and it had happened.
They had found each other, perhaps after a mission of many years of searching fruitlessly.
Then as Lendi would say, their stars had met and they were one.
Sadly, she knew that no matter how strong their feelings, she was a gypsy, or so he thought, and he was a nobleman and proud of it. He was also a nobleman with no wish to be married, as he had told her only too clearly.
It suddenly occurred to Della that he might offer her something else.
Something that would not only be humiliating, but would spoil what, for the moment, was the most perfect feeling she had ever known.
Whatever happened in the future, whatever she had to endure, no one could take that moment away from her.
The wonder she had known and felt when the Marquis had kissed her was hers forever.
He had carried her up into the sky.
She had been at one not only with the stars but also with the angels, who she had always believed in, and with the Gods she had always worshipped.
What was more, no one must besmirch it, or make it anything other than what it was, the perfection of pure love.
All these thoughts coursed though Della’s mind.
She knew almost as if a voice was commanding her what she must do.
‘I must go home,’ she told herself in a whisper.
There was some water in the china jug in the basin between the two beds. So Della took off her evening gown and kneeling on the ground bent her head over the basin.
She washed away the black dye the gypsy woman had put on her hair and as promised it came away quite easily.
As she caught a glimpse of herself in the mirror she could see her hair was shining in the light from the candle.
She rubbed her hair until it was nearly dry and then lay down on the bed, not bothering to undress any further.
She knew that she must leave the camp, if possible before anyone else was awake. There was no reason why the Marquis should come here, but she was taking no risks.
She would go back to her uncle.
Somehow, although she could not work it out now, she would try her best to avoid having to marry Jason, which would be even more frightening and more horrible now than it would have been at first.
It may not have meant so much to the Marquis, but to Della it was the door to a new world she had never known.
A world where love was sublime.
It was totally different from anything else and the only real important thing in life.
The Marquis had given her a vision of indefinable love and exquisite beauty and she could not bear it to be spoiled or belittled.
As she had nowhere else to go she must return home.
Quicker than she expected, she noticed that the stars were fading. The moonlight had gone and there was, when she looked out of the caravan window, a faint gleam of light in the distance.
Dawn was approaching.
Now she could slip away and the quicker the better.
She bundled everything that belonged to her into the bag she had brought and put on her riding skirt.
She reckoned that it would be too hot to ride the long way she had to go wearing a coat so she packed that too along with the dress she had worn for dinner.
She tied a pink handkerchief over her head. If she encountered anyone, they would not see her fair hair.
Silently so that no one could hear her she crept down the steps.
She moved past the silent caravans to where the horses were hobbled, Apollo amongst them. It took her some time to untie the ropes tethering his legs.
The gypsy men’s fingers were far stronger than hers, but finally Apollo was free.
By this time the light on the horizon had turned to gold and the first rays of the sun were sweeping away the darkness of the night.
Talking to Apollo in a low voice Della attached her bag to his saddle.
“We are going home, Apollo. I am afraid of what might await us, but we cannot stay here. I love him – Oh, Apollo, I love him – and because I will never see him again, I only wish I could die!”
She finished fastening her bag and as she did so she heard a step behind her.
She thought it would be Piramus and she tried to think quickly about what she would say to him – what explanations she would make for leaving.
She turned round to face him.
It was the Marquis!
CHAPTER SEVEN
For a moment they stood staring at each other.
Then Della realised that the Marquis was still in the smoking jacket he had worn at dinner and therefore he not been to bed.
Almost without meaning to she blurted out,
“Why are – you – here? Why – have you – come?”
There was a pause before the Marquis replied very quietly,
“I have come to ask you a question.”
Della gave a cry and put her hands up to her ears.
“No! No!” she exclaimed. “It was so – wonderful, so – perfect – you cannot spoil it.”
She turned away as she spoke.
She could not bear to look at him any longer.
“So wonderful – so perfect,” the Marquis repeated. “That is just what I felt and that is why, my darling, I am asking you how soon will you marry me?”
Della became very still.
She could not believe what she had heard. It must be part of her imagination.
Then as if there was no need for him to wait for an answer, the Marquis picked her up in his arms and placed her onto Apollo’s back. As he did so Della saw that Juno was just behind him.
She could not speak.
She could not think.
She was only sure that she was in a dream.
The Marquis could not have said what she thought he had said.
As if he realised how she was feeling, he mounted Juno and bent down to take h
old of Apollo’s reins.
He led the horse and Della away from the caravans.
Only when they were out of the field did he drop Apollo’s rein and spur Juno forward.
There was no need for Della to do anything and as Apollo knew better than she what was happening he kept up with Juno. They rode in silence though the next field which led them towards Clare Court.
There was no way that Della could talk to the Marquis because the horses were moving so swiftly and yet if she had been able to speak to him, she would not have known what to say.
Could it really be true what he had just asked her?
How was it possible for him to marry a woman he believed to be a gypsy?
They reached the park and the horses moved a little slower between the trees. The stags that had been asleep hurried out of their way and next they were crossing the lake.
Della thought they were heading for the front door, but instead the Marquis rode under the arch leading to the stables.
He drew in Juno, and Apollo stopped beside him. There was no one about and everything was very quiet.
The Marquis dismounted and came to Della’s side.
She looked down at him wanting to ask a dozen questions, but the words would not come to her lips.
He lifted her to the ground and released her bag from Apollo’s saddle.
As he did so a young groom, rubbing his eyes, emerged from one of the stable doors. He looked in surprise at the horses and as he hurried towards them the Marquis took hold of Della’s hand.
She felt a quiver go through her because he was touching her.
He did not speak, but drew her onto a narrow path with large rhododendron bushes on either side that led to the garden.
He moved very quickly and Della had difficulty in keeping up with him even though he was still holding her hand.
They stopped at a door, which was unlocked, and he swiftly opened it and walked in, gently pulling her inside. There was a dimly lit passage with a staircase at the far end.
Still without speaking, the Marquis climbed up the stairs carrying Della’s bag and she followed him.
He stopped before a large oak door.
“We both need sleep,” he began slowly, “and later today we will be married.”
Della gave a cry.
“How – can – you?”
The Marquis held up his hand.
Follow Your Heart Page 11
