“Oh, Felicia, you should know you could never embarrass me. I just wish you had said something before,” she said in dismay.
“What would have been the use? Mr. Milton held the purse strings, and Jon wouldn’t have been able to send me to school and send you money, too. I knew Mr. Milton was trying to dispossess us by keeping money from us, but he couldn’t completely cut us off or the solicitor might have found out. I just couldn’t prove anything because I couldn’t find any papers, but I tried to copy parts of the ledgers he kept in his rooms thinking Jon might be able to do something. It’s just—it wasn’t enough.” She took a deep breath. “But now he’s gone, and Jay has returned, so all should be well. Maybe he’ll let me go to a finishing school.”
Tina watched her sister, feeling as if her heart would break. She had failed her. She should have spent more time with her. When Felicia’s father died, their mother seemed to withdraw from nearly everything. Perhaps it had been the shock of losing a second husband, or maybe she had been unable to cope with her grief and Mr. Milton too. Whatever the reason, she seemed to have no interest in running the household, so it had fallen to Tina, at seventeen, to manage. And Tina had been managing things ever since—at Felicia’s expense.
Tina rose from the table now and going to her sister’s side, hugged her fiercely. “I will talk to Jon and the marquis.”
For Felicia, it was enough. Hugging her sister back, she responded, “Thank you. Oh, Tina, thank you. I promise to be better from now on. I’ll even go up this afternoon and discuss a riding habit with Madame.” Then she skipped out of the room, her face alight.
Tina watched her go with a sigh, then headed to the kitchen to pick up the basket from Cook for Mrs. Wills.
As she walked to the Wills’ cottage, she replayed her conversation with Felicia. “Maybe I’ll make some friends my own age.” Felicia had said. It should have occurred to Tina that Felicia might be lonely. She had some friends among the tenants—and Tina knew she had been careful not to let Mr. Milton find out. But she wanted friends of her own age and from her own class.
Their mother had not been class conscious. In fact, she had been quite proud of her gypsy heritage—and she had passed that pride on to her daughters. But, Tina knew, sometimes that heritage came back to haunt them.
While her stepfather had been alive, the local families had no choice but to acknowledge them. They were the ranking family in the district. She, Jon, and Felicia had been invited to the birthday and holiday celebrations of many local families. And reciprocal invitations had been regularly accepted. Her mother had never thrown the knowledge in anyone’s face, but if it came up, she hadn’t prevaricated. And, of course, it occasionally did.
Lady Bowen, the wife of the local magistrate, had been particularly displeased to find the marquis considered Tina fit to be Aaron’s viscountess over either of her girls. And when Aaron died fighting a duel, she had been particularly nasty in spreading rumors throughout the district claiming Aaron preferred another woman over his own betrothed. A woman he had been willing to fight a duel over.
Then there had been the unique problems Jon had to endure. He’d come into his title so young that during his teens he was often a target for the local matrons with daughters. Fortunately for him, the marquis had been there. Lady Bowen might think Tina and Felicia were beyond the pale but Jon was an earl and wasn’t to be dismissed so easily. Tina often wondered if the old marquis hadn’t been there, if Lizzy Bowen wouldn’t now be the Countess of Wynton. She shuddered lightly at the thought as the Wills’ cottage came into view.
Mrs. Wills was awake and delighted to see her. It had been a difficult birth, but Tina could see she would be fine. After exclaiming over the baby and singing her praises, Tina and the new mother settled into a discussion of the small family’s immediate needs.
“I heard his lordship is back,” Mrs. Wills remarked. When Tina nodded, she continued, “I hope he’ll be stayin’ put for a while.”
“I think so,” Tina tried to reassure her. “But, he’s already gone to London because he can’t find any of the estate ledgers.”
“Ledgers?”
“Mmm, hmm. He said when Mr. Milton left, he didn’t leave the ledgers for him. So he doesn’t know what expenditures have been made on the property.”
“T’ain’t hard to see nothin’s been spent. Whenever my Bobby asked if’n there was money for repairs, Mr. Milton would say he was waitin’ on his lordship’s approval. An’ it never came.”
“I see,” Tina murmured. But she wasn’t sure she really did. If Mr. Milton hadn’t been keeping up the estate and helping the tenants, then what exactly had he been doing all this time?
“Well, now he’s back, I have been trying to take stock and see what needs doing.” Looking around the small cottage, Tina could see where some repairs could be made. Making a mental note to add the Wills’ cottage to her list, she turned back to the woman.
An hour later Tina left, satisfied Mrs. Wills was being well taken care of by her neighbors and husband.
As she walked back to the house, Tina allowed her mind to wander. Today was a warm day, the sun bright in a cloudless sky. Insects buzzed around her as she entered a small stand of trees absently swinging the now empty basket. Carefully picking her way around tree roots and flowering bushes, she soon found herself across the drive from the house. Stopping for a moment, she merely contemplated the house as if seeing it for the first time.
The afternoon sun struck the western facade of the house, warming the golden-hued brick. The formal gardens between the two wings, Tina knew, would be a glorious hive of activity with flies, bees, and butterflies flitting from flower to bush to tree, the melodious gurgle of the fountain in the background. Farther behind the house, the duck pond would be alive with activity as well. There had been seven new ducklings hatched in the spring and she had seen them parading around the pond behind a proud mother duck before tumbling back into the pond for a swim.
The house itself beckoned like a comfortable friend. Gazing at the house, Tina was conscious of a sense of being home—of security—she had not felt since her stepfather’s death. This was her home. She knew no other. And, she loved it. She might eventually move to Wynton Abbey with Jon, but she knew she would leave her heart here.
It wasn’t just the house and its warmth she would miss. It was the countryside as well. The rolling hills, the meandering streams, and the people. For her, this was a magical place. The old marquis had told her many stories about those hills and streams—of dragons slumbering peacefully under the hills, of fairies in the tall grasses around the streams, of sprites and pixies playing in the various stands of trees. Jon scoffed at the stories of sprites, pixies, and fairies, but he was always ready to slay the dragons, sometimes climbing the small hillocks and jabbing his toy sword into the top in triumph. She could still see the old marquis’ dark eyes, so like his youngest son’s, and hear his booming laugh as he warned Jon against waking the beasts.
She and Jon couldn’t have asked for a better guardian and stepfather. He had been as kind and loving as if he had been their own father. For Tina, he was the only father she had ever known and she still grieved his loss.
When her own father died on the way home from India, she hadn’t understood. Because her mother felt she, at age four, was too young to understand death, she’d told Tina nothing except her father was gone. It was Jon who had told her he was dead, and, therefore, gone forever. Confused and lost, she had been initially frightened of the marquis, but he had gently coaxed her from her shell, and she grew to love him.
Leaning back against a sturdy oak, Tina’s thoughts wandered to Jay. Could she marry him? She had no experience with men except with Aaron and Roderick Milton, but if Jay was more like his father and less like Aaron, perhaps she would feel comfortable with him. She knew she’d been attracted to him the day he came to the dower house to see Felicia. It might have been more difficult to hide, if other things hadn’t commanded their attention.
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It was surprising, she thought, that, having grown up with Aaron, she could not now recall his face, but, having met Jay once, she could see him clearly whenever she closed her eyes. She wondered if he remembered her.
If she married him, could she love him? Her mother had loved both her husbands and Tina found it curious. The true love she read about would have only paired up two people forever, yet her mother had found a deep and abiding love twice in one lifetime. She had no idea what he might think of love, but her short acquaintance with Jay gave her hope it might be possible. She hoped so. A marriage was forever. Life with Aaron would have been hell on earth.
Sighing, she pushed away from the tree and continued up to the house. As she entered, she was surprised to hear Beethoven floating down the hall from the music room. It had been a while since Felicia bothered with her music even though there had once been a time when she would have been found nowhere else. Their mother had been an accomplished pianist and taught all three of them to play. As she headed toward the music room, she wondered if Jon ever played anymore.
Felicia was lost in the music as Tina entered the room. Her eyes closed as her fingers tripped over the keys, an expression of pure contentment on her face. As the music flowed, Tina allowed herself to be carried away as well. Sinking onto a small settee, she leaned back, closed her eyes, and allowed the notes of the “Moonlight Sonata” to wash over her.
Felicia was a gifted player. After their mother’s death, she had continued to teach herself, learning piece after piece until she had exhausted their store. Since then, with no money to buy any more pieces, she played very little, but when she did, Tina found herself in awe of her sister’s ability. She knew she was a good player, but her attempts seemed to pale in comparison.
The music stopped and, opening her eyes, she found Felicia watching her, smiling. “It’s been much too long since I last played,” she said. “I just felt drawn here today for some reason.”
Tina smiled at her. “We will have to make sure your young ladies’ academy has plenty of music. I should write to the marquis this afternoon.”
“Maybe we should find out which school Lady Bowen sent her daughters to,” Felicia offered helpfully, “then make sure I don’t end up at that one,” she added with a grin.
“Felicia!” Tina admonished. “You should not say such things,” she told her, vainly trying to smother her amusement.
“I know,” she returned, unrepentant. “But there’s no one here to hear, and we both know what I mean.”
Tina did know. Before Lizzy had gone off to some young ladies’ academy, she had been bearable, even nice sometimes. When she returned, she’d become vain, smug, condescending, and had developed a mean streak which was often turned on Tina. Her sister, Evelyn, had been even worse—if possible. She and Felicia considered themselves fortunate when those two had gone off to London for a Season and not returned, both having made acceptable matches.
Keyes appeared, bearing a silver salver with a note upon it. Presenting it to Tina, he informed her it had been brought to the kitchen by an urchin who insisted it was urgent and should be answered the next day.
Tina took the note and thanked Keyes, who then left the room.
Felicia left the pianoforte, unmistakably curious. Tina glanced at the note, then handed it to her as she sat down. Felicia looked down. There was nothing on the small piece of paper but a roughly drawn symbol—a circle with a star inside, its points extending slightly beyond the outside of the circle—but both knew what it meant.
“Nona’s back,” Felicia breathed. “I wonder how she knew.”
Tina wondered as well, but she knew the fruitlessness of speculation, so she merely said, “It doesn’t matter how she knew. What matters now is that we see her. Which we will do tomorrow.”
Felicia looked at Tina, a mischievous glint in her eyes, “My habit won’t be ready by then.”
Tina just shook her head. “But mine is, so you can wear my old one—it will fit you.”
Felicia snorted, but agreed. It meant leaving Midnight home since he refused to allow a sidesaddle on his back, but there were other horses in the stables—one of the few places Mr. Milton hadn’t stinted on.
*
Tina and Felicia sat at the crest of the hill, looking down at the copse of trees nestled in the small valley. From this distance, they could barely make out the plume of smoke rising from the middle of the trees and disappearing into the cloudless summer sky. Picking their way down the side of the hill, they soon found themselves in the shade of the trees and, moments later, in the clearing in the middle.
A man and a woman sat on a log in front of a small fire in the center of the clearing. The woman noticed them first.
“Tia?” she queried, rising to meet them as they dismounted. “Good, you have come. Nona has been restless.”
The woman was small with lush, rounded curves clearly displayed by her loose-fitting blouse and bright, multi-colored skirt. Small, trim ankles flashed as she walked, revealing a slim gold anklet. Her arms were bare, but gold coins dangled from both ears, tinkling as she moved.
“Mira!” Tina rushed into the woman’s arms. “How good it is to see you again. You are looking well.” Mira had been close in age to Tina’s mother, but Mira’s life as a gypsy was etched on her face in the lines around her eyes and mouth. Laugh lines, she called them, although there was sorrow there as well. Tina had last seen her shortly after her mother’s death. She didn’t seem to have aged much since then.
“And you? You are looking well, too. You have grown even more beautiful since then.” Mira’s kindly brown eyes rested on Tina affectionately, then turned to Felicia. “And you, Caro….oh, my!” Mira’s eyes widened at the sight of Felicia. Turning back to Tina, she said, “Nona will think she has seen a ghost.”
Tina smiled. “She does look like Mama, doesn’t she?”
“You do not know how much since you did not see your mother at the same age, but they are nearly identical.”
Obviously pleased at the compliment, Felicia asked, “Really? I truly look that much like Mama?”
“Yes, you do.” The man had come to stand beside Mira, speaking for the first time. He was only slightly taller than Tina, but compact and well-proportioned. His white, loose-fitting shirt was tucked into dark breeches, which were tucked into black boots. Around his waist, a bright red scarf was the only splash of color. Dark-haired and dark-eyed, he had the weathered, slightly swarthy skin that identified him as a gypsy.
“It is good to see you as well, Carlo,” Tina said. For the first time she looked around the small camp. There were only two wagons, or vardos, as the gypsies called them. “Where are the others?”
“They are staying further north. Nona did not want them to come. She has said her goodbyes and only wished to see you.” Mira’s voice lowered almost to a whisper. “She has been in frail health for some time and wanted to see you before, but last week she finally said it was time.”
“Time?” Felicia asked. “Time for what?”
“Time to see you, little one,” Mira replied with a smile, but Tina noticed the sadness in her eyes.
“May we see her now?” Tina asked.
“I will see if she is awake,” Mira replied, turning toward the vardo Tina recognized as belonging to their great-grandmother.
Tina watched her go, unsure whether to follow. A hand touched her shoulder and she turned to find Carlo beside her. “Go,” he said. “I will keep Caro out of mischief.” Tina looked up into his eyes. They were somber, a trace of regret in their depths.
Tina knew he was thinking of her mother again. Once Carlo thought he should have married her mother, but Nona had forbidden it, declaring her mother was not destined to become part of their way of life.
“Go,” he said again. “She has been waiting to see you.”
Tina turned and followed Mira into Nona’s vardo, while Carlo went back to the fire where Felicia had made herself comfortable on the log.
Chapter Five
The interior of the vardo was dim, the aroma of herbs and wildflowers hung in the air. Tina hesitated for a moment, allowing her vision to adjust, while taking in the familiar surroundings.
On her left was a bench covered with brightly colored cushions. High above it, two shelves ran completely around the interior, crowded with gaily-colored jars filled with potions and herbs. Nona had tried to teach her what each one was used for, but she had not been interested. Jon had, and spent hours with Nona, learning what she had tried to teach Tina.
A small chest sat at the front end of the interior, its intricately-carved surface depicting a variety of animals and birds. Above it, the small panel through which the driver could speak to whomever was inside while they traveled, allowed light and air into the small space. To the right was the small bunk Nona occupied. Mira sat on a small stool in the middle of the floor, leaning over Nona and stroking her hand. She looked up as Tina entered.
“She is awake,” Mira said in a low voice. “She says she has been waiting for you.” Rising from the low stool, she motioned for Tina to take the seat as she moved toward the door. “I would tell you not to overtire her, but I do not think you will have any control over that. But, call me should she need anything.”
Tina nodded and took the stool as Mira slipped out into the sunlight. Turning back to the still figure on the bed, tears sprang to her eyes at the sight. Despite her age, three years ago Nona had still been a vibrant and commanding force among her small band. Time, however, seemed to have caught up with her, reducing her to little more than a very old woman. Her hair was completely white now and very thin, the lines in her face etched deeply. Her dark eyes, sunk deep into their sockets, regarded her clearly. Picking up the hand lying on the coverlet, Tina held it gently between both of hers.
The Gypsy Legacy: Marquis Page 7
