Follow Your Heart Read online

  The Marquis did not say anything. He merely picked her up and placed her on the saddle.

  He was very strong and Della extremely light.

  As his hands held her waist she felt a little quiver. Not one of fear, more a secret thrill deep inside that she did not understand because she had never felt it before.

  The Marquis still said nothing. He walked to Juno and swung himself into the saddle.

  There was a path out of the wood only a little way from the pool. When they were in an open field, without saying anything, they spontaneously broke into a gallop that quickly became a race.

  Even as they did so Della, for some reason she could not understand, felt a desire to beat him.

  She realised that as Juno was a mare she was lighter and slightly smaller than Apollo.

  Then she realised that the Marquis rode exceedingly well, in fact better than any man she had ever seen. Straight backed and elegant, the horse seemed to move at his slightest touch.

  When they reached the end of the first field, he was just half a length ahead of her. Urging Apollo quickly forward, eyes shining and cheeks flushed by the exercise and early morning breeze, she pursued.

  As the horses came to a standstill near the gate she breathlessly exclaimed,

  “That was so exciting! I think Juno is a very beautiful horse!”

  “So is Apollo,” replied the Marquis. “And no Goddess, may I say, could ride him better or more gracefully.”

  “Thank you, my Lord. That is exactly the sort of compliment Apollo likes to hear.”

  “And his Mistress?”

  “She is very grateful to your Lordship as well.”

  Della lowered her eyes and spoke humbly as one of the gypsies would.

  The Marquis did not speak, yet she knew by the twinkle in his eyes that he was laughing at her.

  ‘I must be careful,’ she told herself. ‘He must not think I am anything other than one of Piramus’s gypsy band.’

  She had a sudden fear that if he suspected anything he might talk about her and in some unexpected way the Duke would guess where she had gone. He would then insist on her returning home so that she could meet Jason again.

  The idea seemed rather far–fetched, but equally she felt nervous and resolved to play her part with renewed vigour.

  They had ridden, when they were racing, a little out of their way and now they turned back to climb up towards the house.

  In front of the house there was a courtyard and then a green lawn stretching down to a lake. This was a natural lake, which was joined nearer the house by the artificial one with the fountain in its midst that Della had noticed before.

  Della looked around her, interested and intrigued by the house and its surroundings.

  “Clare Court has been in my family since the reign of Henry VIII,” the Marquis explained as if she had asked him a question. “The old house was burned down in the reign of George III and rebuilt by the Adam brothers.”

  “That is just what I thought, my Lord. They were such brilliant architects and their work is recognisable even at a distance.”

  Once again she caught herself being indiscreet. This was something a gypsy would never have said.

  The Marquis however made no comment. He only led the way to the back of the house where the stables were situated.

  One glance told Della that the stables were as up–to–date as those belonging to the Duke, and the Marquis’s horses, though not so many, easily rivalled those she had been riding at home.

  They walked from stall to stall with the Marquis explaining why he had bought each animal. He had been fortunate in finding several horses whose owners had simply not appreciated their value or recognised that they were unique.

  Della understood by the tone of his voice and the way he spoke how much his horses meant to him.

  It flashed through her mind that this was how a man should feel; that a man should value his assets and care and protect his things. Not like Jason, she thought, who had wasted his time and money with the type of women he had pursued in Paris and cared for no one but himself.

  As they reached the last stall with Della continuing to praise his horses, the Marquis turned to her.

  “Now you understand why my relatives think I am married to Juno who you have just become acquainted with. And I prefer my stallions to those gentlemen who expect me to play cards for high stakes at White’s!”

  Della laughed because it sounded so funny.

  “You are right, of course, you are right, my Lord, and I only hope you are clever enough to resist the temptations and traps they will set for you from time to time.”

  “Almost from day to day,” added the Marquis. “But so far I have managed to escape.”

  “And that is what you must continue to do, my Lord.”

  “Is that your opinion or a prediction?” the Marquis wanted to know with a broad smile suffusing his handsome face.

  “Both,” answered Della, “but I expect the real difficulty will come when your heir has four legs!”

  “That certainly will be something of a problem,” agreed the Marquis, “unless like the Emperor Caligula, I marry Juno!”

  Now they were both laughing, but at the same time Della hoped that he would not find it strange that a gypsy seemed educated enough about the Roman Empire to know who Caligula was.

  As they came out of the stable she said,

  “Thank you a hundred times, my Lord, for showing me your wonderful horses and thank you once again for allowing me to ride in your woods. I think I should now return to the camp.”

  “I will see you tomorrow evening,” said the Marquis, “and I have arranged a special place for you in the room next to the drawing room where you will look mysterious.”

  He smiled before he added,

  “It will be impossible for the young people not to listen attentively to everything you have to say.”

  “I know your niece is called Alice, my Lord, but what is the name of the man you call the fortune–hunter?”

  “His name is Cyril Andover.”

  “Is there anyone in the party you would like your niece to marry?” enquired Della.

  The Marquis pondered for a moment.

  “There is one very nice young gentleman, the Viscount Huntingdon. I think with a little encouragement he would ask her to marry him. He is not only the heir to an Earldom, but is exceedingly rich so there is no question of him pursuing her for her money.”

  “That is most helpful information, my Lord, and I promise you I will do my best to prevent her from making a disastrous marriage. Once she has realised what her husband is really like she would be utterly miserable.”

  She spoke intensely with a note of agony in her voice.

  Then she became aware that the Marquis was looking at her curiously.

  “I must go back to the camp,” she said quickly.

  She walked away from him towards Apollo, who was being held by one of the stable boys.

  She thought she would reach him before the Marquis could do so, but he was quicker than she expected.

  Without saying anything, he lifted her up onto the saddle and Della picked up the reins.

  “Thank you once again, my Lord, for a fascinating and exciting morning. I have enjoyed every moment of it.”

  “So have I,” answered the Marquis. “Goodbye Della, I am quite certain now you will not fail me tomorrow evening.”

  Della gave him a rather shy smile and rode off.

  Without looking round she felt that he was watching her closely.

  She had the strangest feeling that once again she was running away. Yet why it should be from the Marquis she had no idea.

  It was just some sixth sense deep within that told her she was on dangerous ground.

  She sensed his eyes boring into her back.

  Only when she was out of the garden and moving towards the woods did she feel she had really left him behind.

  ‘He is very astute and I can understand why he has no wi
sh to be married,’ she told herself.

  Once again she was remembering Jason and that any woman who married him could not fail to be utterly and completely miserable.

  She was frightened with a fear that was as painful as if her heart was pierced with a dagger.

  Only when she reached the woods did she feel as if the sun was shining again.

  *

  As she rode into the camp she noticed that Piramus was waiting for her.

  “I have had a wonderful morning,” she told him. “I have seen all his Lordship’s horses and they are magnificent.”

  “So I hear,” replied Piramus. “I’ve seen ’em in the fields and those ’is Lordship rides, but I am not asked into stables.”

  Della thought this could be embarrassing and asked quickly,

  “Is Lendi awake? Can I see her?”

  “She waiting for you, Lady.”

  He took Apollo from her and she knew he would take off his saddle and bridle.

  Della thanked him and hurried up the steps into Lendi’s caravan.

  “I hear you go out – early,” the old woman commented as she approached.

  “I went riding because it is so exciting being in the woods. I met the Marquis and he took me to the stables to see his magnificent horses.”

  “That what I think you – doing,” nodded Lendi.

  Della sat down on the floor.

  “It was very strange,” she mused, “but I thought I could read his thoughts. I have read other peoples, but never so clearly or so correctly.”

  “Lordship – clever man.”

  “I know. He was telling me how he is determined not to marry. It seems a pity, but equally I am sure he is much happier on his own.”

  “He waits, find his star – like you.”

  “That is just what I want, dear Lendi, but perhaps it is something I will never find.”

  “You – find.”

  Della thought she did not understand.

  Jason was waiting for her!

  In two or three days time she would have to return home for the gypsies could not keep her for ever and however much she might fight against Jason mentally, physically she would have to help her uncle or too soon both of them would face the anger and revenge of the Duke.

  She did not say anything, but Lendi murmured softly,

  “Trust your star! Follow – your heart!”

  “How can I follow my heart?” demanded Della almost crossly. “If it does not know in which direction to go? There appears to be only one way out of this mess.”

  Lendi smiled.

  “You trust moon. If not believe then – things go wrong.”

  Della knew that Lendi believed in every word she was saying. But however long she stayed away she would eventually have to return to face her fate.

  Perhaps by the end of this very week!

  Even that would seem too long to the Duke and once again Della was asking herself frantically what she should do. She sat in silence for some time before realising that Lendi had fallen asleep.

  Della tiptoed out of the caravan and walked to her own.

  Mireli was not there. She thought she would be with the other gypsy women preparing a light meal for everyone to eat in the middle of the day.

  ‘Tonight,’ Della thought to herself, ‘I must ask the man who plays the violin to play dance music. Then perhaps Mireli will dance round the fire, because tomorrow night I shall not be here.’

  She was not looking forward to the visit to Clare Hall as it would be difficult to avoid making mistakes and even more difficult to accomplish exactly what the Marquis wanted her to achieve.

  She could understand him wanting to save his niece from a fortune–hunter, but wished it wasn’t necessary for her to be a part of the plan.

  She was labouring with such a tremendous problem of her own.

  ‘I am being selfish,’ she mused. ‘But it is all too much when I am in such a terrible predicament. In fact it is really impossible for me to think of anything else.’

  She ate the food the gypsy women had made for their luncheon, which was all very informal, as the men did not bother to sit down. They ate either standing up or while they were grooming the horses.

  Afterwards the women made off to the village carrying their wicker baskets, clothes pegs and other items they wanted to sell.

  Eventually Della found herself alone.

  Instinctively, without really thinking why she did so, she mounted Apollo and trotted again through the wood to the pool.

  She had just reached her destination when she realised that the Marquis was coming in the other direction.

  She drew in Apollo and waited for him to join her.

  “I thought I would find you here,” he called, “and I have a suggestion to make.”

  “What is it, my Lord?” asked Della.

  “My niece and the other guests who are staying with me have gone out for the afternoon and I thought it might amuse you to see round the house.”

  “I would love to!” exclaimed Della.

  “I thought what would really interest you,” continued the Marquis, “are my pictures of horses, which is a collection started by my father that I have added to quite considerably.”

  “Stubbs, Herring, Fernley and Pollard?”

  The Marquis chuckled.

  “I thought you would know them, although how, as a gypsy you are so knowledgeable, I have no idea.”

  “Perhaps it is because we have travelled so much,” came in Della quickly, “and we have accumulated in our minds more than most people.”

  “And very much more than anyone I have met of your age,” remarked the Marquis.

  She did not answer him and after they had ridden a little further in silence he said,

  “You might look like a gypsy, but you do not speak like one.”

  Della had already thought of an answer to this line of inquisition.

  “I was fortunate enough to be looked after and taught by someone who, more or less, wanted to adopt me.”

  She thought as she spoke it would be difficult for him to query this answer.

  “That is a good explanation and of course it makes you outstanding among the gypsies, even those as clever as Lendi.”

  “Lendi and all the gypsies, my Lord, prefer to talk in their own language. Therefore they do not take the trouble to speak the same English as you and I.”

  “You are an exception to every rule, but I still find it very strange that you should know so much and speak so perfectly.”

  “But you must be aware, my Lord, that the gypsies come from the East, especially from India and Egypt and believe in the Wheel of Rebirth, or if you prefer the English word – reincarnation. Knowledge is accumulated each time.”

  “Have you any idea who you were in your last life?” he asked her.

  “Whoever it was I could not have progressed as I should have, so I have been sent back as an ordinary gypsy.”

  She spoke lightly as this was rather a difficult conversation and she did not want the Marquis to be in any way suspicious.

  “Hardly an ordinary gypsy,” he commented, “but a very extraordinary one who I find most interesting.”

  “If you are putting me under your microscope, my Lord,” asserted Della, “I shall ride away and not help you tomorrow evening. As it is I do not wish you to be curious about me or to read my thoughts.”

  “Now you must be aware that you are asking the impossible of me,” answered the Marquis. “You have puzzled me ever since I first saw you sitting on the floor of Lendi’s caravan.”

  He paused for a moment.

  “I find it both intriguing and amusing to find you so different in every way to what I might have expected.”

  “Perhaps what you expected is what I would find somewhat rude and uncomplimentary. I would suggest, my Lord, we change the conversation.”

  “But of course. I have no wish to embarrass you, Della, but may I say I find you very mysterious and as difficult to explain away as
the nymphs in the pool or the ghost that has been seen in the house by my ancestors for the last three hundred years.”

  “Then that explains everything,” smiled Della with satisfaction. “I am a ghost come back from the past not to haunt you, but to help you. In fact you should be very grateful!”

  CHAPTER SIX

  Next morning Della was not really upset, only a little disappointed.

  A message came from Clare Court that there was to be no riding in the woods today. She had not thought of it before, but she realised the Marquis was being sensible as it would be a mistake for her or any other gypsy to be seen before the dinner party.

  As he had said, even if his niece was not suspicious, the fortune–hunter might be.

  It was a lovely day and Della longed to have a good gallop on Apollo, but it was forbidden. She had, however, plenty to do in having a last lesson with Lendi.

  She held the crystal ball in her hand and they went over and over all the things she might sense a man or a woman was thinking.

  “No hurry,” said Lendi. “Wait – stars give you – answer.”

  “I only hope you are right and they are listening to my prayers that they will not forget me.”

  “That – not happen,” Lendi told her firmly.

  The groom who had brought the message about the woods had also informed Piramus that a carriage would come for the fortune–teller at eight o’clock.

  At first Della thought this was a rather strange development.

  She had expected the dinner party to start at that hour, but when she reasoned it out, she realised that the Marquis was giving her time.

  First to settle herself in the room he had prepared for her while the party was in the dining room and secondly that she would not be observed entering the house.

  It would be a mistake for her to be seen until she was ready to receive those who wished to know their future.

  She was not surprised when Lendi wanted her to dress in plenty of time. So she washed in her own caravan and then wearing only her dressing gown, she slipped back again into Lendi’s.

  On Lendi’s instructions, Mireli and Ellen made up her face accentuating her eyes and making them appear larger than they were already.

  They darkened her eyelashes and applied lashings of powder, rouge and lip–salve. These were embellishments Della had never used on her face in her entire life and the cosmetics felt strangely mask like.