Follow Your Heart Read online

  “I do not think anyone could,” answered Della cautiously.

  The gentlemen now entered the drawing room.

  After a short while the Duke announced,

  “As our host and I enjoy what can be called an early night, I am going to leave.”

  “There is really no hurry at all,” said Lord Lainden quickly.

  “On the contrary, Edward, Della tells me you have been working very hard on your book and I am quite certain you need your beauty sleep.”

  “There I must agree with you, but do have a nightcap before you go.”

  The Duke shook his head.

  “No, I am taking Jason away.”

  He lowered his voice so that only Lord Lainden could hear as he whispered,

  “I have told Della that he will call on her tomorrow afternoon.”

  Lord Lainden did not respond but merely nodded.

  The Duke began to shake hands with everyone in the party.

  As he and Jason walked towards the door, the two married couples said that they too would leave.

  Lord Lainden did nothing to encourage them to stay as he walked with them into the hall.

  Lady Southgate was left alone with Della in the drawing room.

  “It has been a delightful evening,” she was saying, “and you look so beautiful I feel you have been wasted on such a collection of old people.”

  “I am so glad you have enjoyed yourself,” replied Della, “and I know Uncle Edward loved hearing about your puppies.”

  “He has promised to come to see them and so, as I have told you, has the Earl.”

  Lady Southgate paused for a moment before she added,

  “I am rather sorry for him. I feel he has been hurt as only a man can be hurt when a woman fails him.”

  Della had not thought of Jason in such a sympathetic light.

  Now it struck her that it must have been a shock for him to find himself so unhappy, especially with a woman for whom he had sacrificed so much.

  She smiled at Lady Southgate.

  “You always do say such nice things and find something good in everyone.”

  “I try to, although it has not always been easy.”

  Lady Southgate walked towards the door.

  Della thought she was a kind and charming lady with a pleasant nature.

  When they reached the hall the guests were still waiting. The carriages of the two married couples had come from the stables first. They said goodnight again and hurried into them.

  “I cannot think what has happened to your carriage, Ralph,” said Lord Lainden to the Duke.

  “They might have had some trouble in leading one of my horses into the shafts,” commented the Duke. “We are trying out a new horse tonight which we have never driven before and he seemed a bit obstreperous.”

  “What he wants,” Jason piped up, “is to be firmly handled. I have always thought that Grayer is too lenient with your horses and this is just another example.”

  The sharp way he spoke made Della look at him in surprise. Then she remembered that he had always been a somewhat cruel rider.

  He used a whip unnecessarily and always punished a horse that did not come up to his expectations.

  ‘He would treat his wife in the same way,’ she mused.

  The Duke’s carriage appeared at last.

  Della had no wish to shake hands with Jason again, so she started to climb the stairs.

  As the Duke stepped out of the front door, Jason turned back and hurried towards Della and took her hand in both of his.

  “I will see you tomorrow,” he asserted, “at three o’clock, so do not forget it.”

  He spoke insistently as if it really mattered to him.

  The touch of his hands on hers gave Della the same feeling she had felt before – one of revulsion and almost horror.

  With the greatest difficulty she did not snatch her hand from Jason’s, but forced herself to promise,

  “No, I will not forget.”

  Jason stared at her as if he was seeing her for the first time.

  “It would be a mistake for you to do so,” he murmured.

  He turned as he spoke and hurried after his father.

  Della ran up the stairs and into her bedroom. Only as she reached it and closed the door behind her was she aware that she was trembling.

  If the Duke had threatened her, so had Jason. It was something she had certainly not expected.

  “How dare he!” she exclaimed aloud.

  She was suddenly very frightened.

  She was frightened of Jason and frightened of the pressure being piled on to her. Frightened that she might, before she knew what was happening, find herself married to a man she detested.

  It was then that she knew she must escape.

  There was obviously no question of Jason waiting as she had hoped, nor of her having a chance to find some way out of this marriage without offending the Duke.

  The trap was set and all she now had to do was to put her foot into it.

  ‘I cannot. I cannot do it,’ she moaned to herself. ‘It is – too much to ask.’

  She looked wildly round the room.

  She almost expected the walls to open and that she would find a hiding place in them.

  Then suddenly, almost as if she was being guided by a power greater than herself, she knew what she must do.

  It was really quite simple.

  She must be brave enough to follow what her instinct told her was the only solution.

  She was standing irresolutely in the middle of the bedroom when she heard her uncle come upstairs.

  He knocked on the door and opened it.

  “Goodnight, Della! That was an excellent party and everyone enjoyed themselves.”

  “Yes – I think they did,” Della managed to say.

  “And Jason is coming over tomorrow afternoon, I understand.”

  “So – he – said.”

  “That too is extremely good news. Goodnight my dear.”

  He closed the door and Della heard him walk down the passage to his own room.

  She started to undress in a frenzy; first she snatched off her jewellery and next the gown she was wearing. She threw it down on the chair as if it was of no consequence.

  She put on the simple dress she would have worn the next morning.

  She crossed the room and sat down at the French Secretaire that stood in one corner and took a piece of crested writing paper from its leather box. She opened the blotter, picked up a pen and wrote quickly without hesitating.

  It was almost as if the words she was writing were being dictated to her.

  “Dearest Uncle Edward,

  I have to go away for a short time to think about what is being asked of me and recover from it all being such an unexpected shock.

  I know you of all people will understand.

  Tell the Earl when he comes, that I had very foolishly forgotten I had promised to spend a few days with friends and as we are travelling along the coast in their yacht, it is impossible for you to get in touch with me.

  If you tell him that you will contact him as soon as I return, there need not be any hard feelings between you and the Duke.

  Forgive me, but this is something I have to do and it is too soon for me to be able to talk coherently with Jason.

  My love, as always

  Your very devoted niece

  Della.”

  She put the letter into an envelope and addressed it to her uncle.

  Then she looked into the wardrobe room that adjoined hers for a laundry bag and found a large one in which Emily carried away the clothes to be washed.

  Taking it to her wardrobe she filled it with the simplest of her dresses, adding her underclothes, light shoes and her hairbrush.

  After picking up the letter she had written to her uncle she blew out the candles and opened her bedroom door.

  As she expected, most of the lights in the passage had been extinguished, leaving just enough for her to be able to see
her way.

  Walking on tiptoe she placed the letter on the carpet outside his bedroom door and then proceeded down a side staircase, which led her to a door that opened into the garden. She undid the bolts and slipped through closing it behind her.

  She hurried across the lawn and through the bushes into the stable yard.

  The old groom who looked after her uncle’s horses would be in his cottage and fast asleep at this time of night. The boy who helped him lived in the village.

  It did not take Della long to put a saddle and bridle on Apollo.

  She fixed the laundry bag on the back of the saddle and took Apollo to the mounting block and climbed onto him.

  She left the stables by the back gate so that if anyone were awake in the house, they would not hear Apollo’s hooves.

  She rode without hurrying, because there was no need, towards Long Meadow.

  The moon had risen by now and the stars had come out. It was easy to find her way and the light from the sky made the world seem enchanted.

  As she rode on Della felt as if a special power, which had helped her before in her life, was guiding her.

  She saw the gypsy caravans in the distance and there was a glint from the dying fire in the middle of the camp.

  She was remembering vividly, as if Lendi was saying it aloud, that she must follow her heart.

  It was just what she was now doing in her own way.

  Her heart was telling her that it was utterly and completely impossible for her to marry Jason. She just knew when he held her hand in his that everything about him was bad and unpleasant.

  There was, however, nothing she could do about it.

  ‘I am running away,’ Della told herself, ‘and it is the only course I can take at this moment. I have no alternative but to follow my heart.’

  CHAPTER FOUR

  Della approached closer to the gypsy caravans.

  As she did so, she saw to her relief that there was a man standing by the dying fire and she was sure it must be Piramus.

  Eventually it was easy to recognise him and he was looking at her in surprise. He must have been wondering who could be approaching the camp at this hour of the night.

  As Della drew up beside him, she lightly slipped off Apollo’s back.

  “Good evening, Lady. ’Tis late for you – to be visiting us,” Piramus greeted her.

  “I have come to you for help, my good friend, Piramus.”

  She saw him glance at the large bag on Apollo’s saddle.

  “Please, Piramus,” she pleaded, “may I come with you wherever you are going? I will explain to Lendi why I have to run away, but there is nothing else I can possibly do.”

  It suddenly struck her that Piramus might refuse to take her. He could be afraid of her uncle’s anger if she disappeared or, perhaps, as all the gypsies possessed clairvoyant powers, he might divine that she would also be antagonising the Duke.

  To her relief Piramus smiled at her.

  “Anything I do for Lady,” he said, “is gift – from the stars.”

  Della was so relieved that for a moment she could not say anything. She just stood looking at him to make certain she had not been mistaken in what he just said.

  Piramus, however, was more practical.

  He started to remove the bag from Apollo’s saddle and put it down on the ground near the fire. Then he led Apollo behind the gypsy caravans to where the horses were kept.

  Della did not move.

  She knew he would be taking off Apollo’s saddle and bridle, before tethering his back legs so that he could not run away.

  She waited by the fire looking up at the sky, thinking that the stars were looking down on her and telling her she had done the right thing.

  She was still afraid that the Duke would be angry and so would Jason when he called the following day and she was not there.

  Yet she remembered her uncle’s long years of diplomacy in far worse circumstances. His charm and tact would enable him to make light of her absence and promise that she would be returning in a few days.

  For the moment Della could not think of anything that might happen in the future. All she was concerned with was getting away tonight.

  She would go anywhere so that she would not be waiting for Jason when he arrived for her.

  Piramus came back carrying Apollo’s saddle and bridle. He put them inside one of the caravans, which Della thought must be his.

  Then he came to where she was standing.

  “Lady share caravan with Mireli?”

  “I would love to,” responded Della, “and I only hope she does not mind having a companion to stay.”

  “Lady – honoured guest.”

  He spoke firmly and Della knew that none of his clan would dare comment on her arrival if he, as their Chief, accepted her.

  Picking up Della’s bag, Piramus strode towards the caravan next to Lendi’s. Della realised that the gypsies always placed their most precious women, the old and the young, in the centre of the crescent of caravans with a man at each end.

  They reached Mireli’s caravan and Piramus went up the steps first carrying Della’s bag.

  It was not dark inside the caravan as the light from the stars and the rising moon was shining through the windows. The curtains were drawn back and light streamed through the door and this enabled Della to see that Mireli was asleep on one side of the caravan.

  On the other side was an empty bed. Piramus touched it to make certain there were blankets on it and a pillow.

  “Tomorrow – find sheets,” he muttered.

  “Thank you, thank you so very much,” whispered Della. “I am very grateful and shall be quite all right as long as I can lie down.”

  “Go to bed Lady – sleep. We leave very early – no hurry for you.”

  He was speaking to her in a low voice and he did not wait for Della to reply.

  He walked out of the caravan closing the door behind him, but there was still plenty of light for Della to take off her dress and her stockings.

  Then she thought it would be too difficult to find a nightgown in the bag she had brought with her and if she moved she might wake Mireli. The girl had not stirred since she and Piramus had come into the caravan.

  Della did not wish at the moment to make any more explanations as to her presence, so wearing her petticoat and underclothes she slipped under the blankets.

  She placed her head wearily down on the pillow.

  She had done it!

  She had made the tremendous effort to run away and now she felt limp and exhausted.

  The whole tension of arranging the dinner party and acting the role of hostess had been hard enough.

  Worse still was meeting Jason and realising he was not only what she expected, but worse.

  ‘I cannot marry him,’ she told herself again and again. ‘I know I cannot do it.”

  But this was not the moment for making decisions. She had made, she thought, the most sensible one in giving herself time.

  Time to think, time to decide and time to scheme.

  It was, she pondered the stars, which Lendi had told her were protecting her – the stars which had made her realise that her only chance of salvation was to run away.

  Tomorrow would have been too late as the gypsies would have moved on and she could not think of anyone else she could have appealed to in her plight.

  ‘I am safe here and very, very grateful for it.’

  She must have fallen asleep; as the next thing she knew was that the wheels were moving under her.

  The gypsies were on their way.

  It must be, she reckoned, very early in the morning as it was still dark and as she peered through the windows she could see that the stars had left the sky but the sun had not yet risen.

  Beside the rumble of the wheels of the caravan, she could hear the other caravans moving too, but there were no voices to be heard.

  For the first time she became aware that the gypsies when moving away from a neighbourhood alw
ays made sure they were not observed.

  They came in silently and left the same way.

  They did not wish to be asked questions or for people to follow them.

  They were independent travellers making sure that, if it was at all possible, they were almost invisible.

  Della must have dozed off again for when she awoke she found Mireli sitting on the other bed looking at her in astonishment.

  “I did not hear Lady arrive!”

  Della smiled

  “You were fast asleep and Piramus suggested that I might share your caravan with you.”

  “You coming with us, Lady?”

  “If you are kind enough to have me.”

  “But of course, Lady, it is very exciting you want to be with us.”

  “I am running away,” Della told her, “and you, Piramus and Lendi must hide me.”

  Mireli thought this was the most exciting news she had ever heard.

  Later when they had stopped by the roadside for breakfast, all the gypsies clustered round Della as if they could not believe she was real.

  “Lady really coming with us?” one of them asked. “People think – very strange.”

  “You must make me look just like one of you,” suggested Della. “Perhaps if I wore a handkerchief over my hair, no one would notice me.”

  One of the older women laughed.

  “Do better than that, Lady.”

  When they had eaten a hasty breakfast of the eggs Della had sent them, they moved on again and it was then that the gypsy women joined Della in Mireli’s caravan.

  “If you hiding, Lady,” one said, “you must look like gypsy. I change hair.”

  “How can you do that?” enquired Della rather nervously.

  “Make it – black,” replied the woman.

  “I do not want to dye my hair for ever. I will wear a handkerchief over it.”

  “We gypsies have dye – wash out very easily.”

  She left the caravan so Della waited. She had not thought when she ran for help to the gypsies that none of them would have fair golden hair.

  Her eyes too could never be the dark colour of the Romanies. They were, actually, a very dark blue which at times seemed almost to change to purple.

  Della had inherited her eyes from her mother and she had so often heard people admiring them saying they had never seen eyes that colour before.

  “I think if the truth be told,” Della’s mother had said, “they come from my ancestors. Our fair hair must come from some Nordic country that invaded Scotland in the past.”