A terrible scene met the eyes of Professor Thompson when he hurried into the Duke’s bedroom at Sloebank Castle. By the light of candles dripping wax from silver sconces on the walls he could see bloodsoaked rags piled on the carpet at each side of the bed. A crowd of onlookers, male and female stood around in their nightclothes gaping in horror while servants went rushing in and out, elbowing everyone out of the way in their haste to bring more bandages, ewers and basins of hot water.
The injured man lay in the middle of a huge bed with a coronet finial on its dome-like roof and richly embroidered curtains looped up at each side. His face was as yellow as beeswax and strips of white material that rapidly took on a terrible reddish stain were bound roughly over his wounds.
Thompson, who had been summoned by a servant who knew that the famous Professor was staying at the Cross Keys, took one look at this hellish tableau and banished most of the onlookers. ‘Get out of here and let me get on with my work! Go away. I’ll send for you if I need any of you,’ he raged, driving them out before him. Then he climbed on to the vast bed and knelt beside the gasping man. The Duke’s eyes were open but he could make no sound.
Gently Thompson started to unwind the blood-drenched dressings and blanched when he saw the damage that Billy had inflicted. The Duke’s ribs were crushed, and deep lacerations covered the patient’s face, neck and chest. His arms and legs were broken in several places as if he’d been stamped on by a giant and judging by his breathing and the rasping sound in his chest, his lungs had been punctured.
When he climbed back on to the floor again, Wattie looked sombrely at a white-faced Edmund Lacey who had been allowed to stay with the patient. He told him, ‘There’s not much I can do except wait for the end. I’ll give him opium to ease the pain. Will he be wanting a minister of religion, do you think?’
Edmund shook his head. ‘He had his fortune told by an old gypsy on Monday night. She said he hadn’t long to go,’ he said in a quavering voice.
‘Coincidence,’ snapped Thompson. ‘Who’s the heir?’
The Duke’s friend told him, ‘It’s going to be a matter of dispute. He’s only got cousins, all pretty distant and all with a claim. That’s why he was planning to marry and settle the business.’
‘He left it a little too late,’ said Thompson, looking at the body on the bed.
The women of Gib Faa’s family were on the road outside Kirk Yetholm when Thomassin caught up with them. They were horrified by her nakedness and angrily questioned her, ignoring the fact that she was sobbing and hysterical. Then old Rachel stepped forward and ordered, ‘Let her be. Cover the girl. What’s happened to you, Thomassin? Tell old Rachel.’
The terrible story poured out while the women listened in horror. ‘Is the Duke dead?’ they asked at the end of it. ‘I don’t know. I didn’t wait to find out.’
‘Oh aye, he’ll be dead,’ said Rachel shaking her head. ‘I saw it in his hand. I knew it was coming and I told him he wouldn’t be able to avoid the curse.’
‘But this Duke has no son,’ said one of the other women. ‘Oh, but he has a son right enough. Poor Billy’s his son. That poor demented soul’s the Duke’s bairn. My grand-daughter Becklie was caught in the park by two young bucks one night and the one who got her with child was the Duke. It was before his brother died so he must have thought he was safe enough. Gib went to see him about it but he denied it. He said Becklie was a liar… My Becklie never lied about that.’ Rachel’s voice was chilling and the women were unable to conceal their shock as they listened to her.
‘But it’s Billy that’s attacked him. He’s been killed by his own son!’ cried out Thomassin. Rachel’s eyes were full of tears and she nodded as the girl groaned, ‘Oh, what a cruel fate for poor Billy, my poor Billy.’
It was daylight when Odilie woke in her nest of hay. What brought her to consciousness was the smell of roasting meat that wafted up to her soft bed of hay. She rolled over and leaned on her elbows so that she could see into the void of the barn. Jesse, fully dressed once more, was crouching over a spit on which something was being turned. She drew back, for with daylight her modesty had returned and at that moment she noticed that her clothes were lying in a neatly-folded pile beside her. A blush swept her as she thought, ‘He’s been up here beside me. He stood over me and saw me naked.’ The thought made her furious and she dressed quickly so that she could go storming down the ladder and accuse him of spying on her. When she reached the ground she said haughtily, ‘You should have called and told me that my clothes were ready. You should’ve given me the chance to hide before you brought them up. You spied on me! That was a shameful thing to do.’
He looked up from the rabbit he was roasting. ‘I didn’t spy but yes, I looked outright at you and I think you’re the loveliest thing I’ve ever stolen. I hope I don’t have to give you back. Does that annoy you?’
She looked at him, made uncertain by her feelings for him. In the morning light he was even more devastatingly handsome than he’d been in her dreams. She longed to rub her cheek against the dark stubble that marked his chin. In an instant her rage disappeared and he recognised her awkwardness as he said, ‘Sit down here. I caught a merrylegs this morning and we’ve good clear water to drink. The rain’s stopped and it’s time we left. Have you made up your mind what you want to do?’
She sat down as she was told and accepted a piece of rabbit. It was delicious and she ate more, washing it down with the water. She had never enjoyed a banquet better. While she ate he sat watching her with a smile on his face. Then he said, ‘Thomassin was right even though she tried to stab you for it. You’ve really cast the glamourie on me, Miss Rutherford.’ She looked at him, shifting in her seat as she did so and he held out a hand to stop her. ‘Don’t come any nearer. I don’t know what I’m doing when I’m close to you.’
‘Was that why you ran off with me?’ she asked, putting down the rabbit bone she’d been nibbling.
‘It must have been. I don’t know. I looked at you and thought that I had to take you with me.’
‘Well, you’ve made sure about one thing at least. The Duke won’t marry me now,’ she said in a laughing voice.
Jesse turned on her in surprise. ‘What do you mean?’
‘I said the Duke won’t want to marry me now… not after I’ve run off with a gypsy.’
His face was thunderstruck. ‘You’re not the girl that he was meant to be marrying, are you?’
‘You mean you didn’t know? You must be the only person in the district who didn’t.’
He stood looking at her with a strange expression. ‘Does it worry you that he won’t marry you?’ he asked.
She bit into her piece of rabbit. ‘No, but I’m worried about what my father’s going to say. He was so set on the marriage.’
‘He’ll find you another rich man,’ said Jesse sharply and, as if her remarks had returned him to reality, he stood up abruptly and poured water on to the embers of the fire from the wooden bucket that stood on the floor beside him. While the flames hissed and spluttered, Odilie stared at the blackened ashes with a deep feeling of disappointment for she realised that their extinguishing meant the idyll was over. The sexual excitement that crackled between them seemed to be as brusquely dampened as the flickering flames. The dark-haired young man stared down at her and coldly asked, ‘So what do you want to do? Are you for going back?’
‘What would happen to you if I did?’ she asked.
‘Nothing. They might come looking for me of course but they’ll not find me. I was going away from my people anyway. I’m tired of choring. I was thinking of joining up with Archer’s circus. I did a turn for them because their trick rider’s ill and they’ve offered to take me with them. We’re not far from Wooler and they’ll soon be there. If you ride Barbary back to Lauriston, I’ll walk over and meet them.’ He was burning up with a strange mixture of emotions which he could not really analyse now he had learned that this girl was the Duke’s fiancée.
‘You’d really give me your horse? But he’s so precious to you,’ Odilie breathed.
His reply was, ‘You’re precious to me, too, but I’m no competition for a Duke. Take the horse. One day I’ll let you know where to leave him so I can get him back again.’ Before she had time to react he added with a set face, ‘And when you go back, you must stay away from me for ever more, Miss Rutherford.’
She stood up and said softly, ‘Don’t be so angry. Please take my hand.’
Slowly he accepted the hand she held out to him and they stood together looking at the smoking pile that had been their fire. Then he groaned as if in pain. ‘Oh, go away. I don’t want this.’ But she leaned towards him and rose on the points of her toes to kiss his lips. This time their embrace was both passionate and angry and Jesse was the one who broke away. ‘Stand back!’ he ordered her. ‘Keep away from me. What are you trying to do?’
‘I don’t know. I really don’t. Let’s ride down together to the road and meet the circus. Then I’ll decide what to do,’ she told him in a chastened voice.
In the breaking dawn, Jem Archer took Billy’s body into town and then returned to the caravan where he fell into an exhausted sleep. He was wakened an hour later by hammering on his caravan door. When he opened it, a group of men stood there and their leader, the big gypsy, asked, ‘Where’s Billy? We’ve come for him.’
‘He’s dead. He’s in the town death-house. I took him there early this morning on the back of my horse. They’re burying him tonight.’
Gib did not ask how Billy came to die. He had heard the story already. He shook his white head and said, ‘No, they’re not. We’ll take him. He’s one of ours and we’ll bury him our way. You knew he was the Duke’s son, didn’t you? And that he killed his own father.’
Jem was genuinely shocked. ‘No, I didn’t. That’s a terrible thing. So the Duke’s dead, too! When I went up to the Castle last night I heard he was bad but I didn’t know he’d died. When did it happen?’
Gib shrugged. ‘Early this morning. He’ll not be missed. He couldn’t cheat the curse. You must come with us now to get Billy’s body. You were his guardian because Rachel gave him to you and you have the say about what happens to him. They won’t give him to us without your permission.’
Billy’s corpse lay in the town mortuary, a chilly stonewalled room at the back of the Town Hall. Jem and the gypsies filed into the half-darkness and stood silently surveying the body which looked huge on a scrubbed deal table. The dirty bare feet sticking out under the edge of the covering blanket looked pathetic and innocently defenceless. Jem put one hand over his eyes to hide his tears and moaned softly, ‘Ah Billy, I’m sorry lad, but I had to do it. They’d have hanged you anyway especially now that the Duke’s dead…’
Gib standing behind him put a hand on his shoulder and said, ‘We don’t blame you. It was his fate, that’s all.’
The Provost of Lauriston, who was supervising the sad business, also patted Jem on the back and told him, ‘Don’t take on, it was inevitable. There’ll be no case about this – just get out of town as quick as you can and take him with you if you want so we can forget the whole thing.’
While the gypsies were loading Billy’s corpse into a little blue cart with the tailboard down. Professor Thompson came running over from the Cross Keys and grabbed Jem by the shoulder. ‘A hundred pounds for the body. My offer still holds good.’
With a grimace of distaste Jem shook him off and Gib stepped up to tell the Professor, ‘We’ve not done well by Billy but there’s no way we’d sell his corpse. He’ll be sent off in our way like his ancestors. Go away with your hundred pounds.’
Jem mounted his horse and watched the final scene in the life of his protégé with tears pouring down his cheeks. The last sight he got of Billy was an arm trailing from the back of the cart that carried him away. Then he stood alone, shoulders bent. With a shake of the head he returned to his caravan where, moving like an old man he backed his horse between the shafts. Slowly he gathered together his scattered, broken possessions and packed up the green van which was full of heartbreaking reminders of Alice – her shoes, her straw hat, her winter shawl, the dishes she ate from, the pillow she slept on. By now Jem was sure she was dead and his heart was aching. He felt as if his life was finished; all joy in living had been snatched away from him.
When he finally climbed up onto the box, and laid the pistol with which he had killed Billy on the floor by his feet. He was determined that when the pain became too bad to bear, he’d use it on himself.
At last his caravan lurched over the field towards the open gate and when he reached it he paused, not knowing in which direction to go. It didn’t matter any longer. Simon and Bella were on their way to Wooler with the freak show in their wake but he could not face any more questions or sympathy. Neither did he want to ride back to the bog where Alice had disappeared. The memory of its sinister pools would haunt him forever. ‘Oh Alice, Alice,’ he mourned aloud.
Along the road to his right was the place he had taken her when she wanted to see her old home again. It had been pleasant and shady, a peaceful place. He’d take his farewell of her there. Jem headed the horse in the direction of Bettymill.
The lumbering waggons of Archer’s Circus Royale travelled slowly along the rutted road that snaked through hill passes to Wooler. As they rolled along, they were overtaken by faster vehicles and speeding horsemen who relayed items of news. In this way a good story travelled faster than a stagecoach along the roads to the south. It was from a dealer in flax, returning with a load from St James’ Fair, that Simon heard how the gypsy with the grey horse had stolen the Duke’s bride at Caverton Edge races. The news of the Duke’s death had still not got about.
Simon laughed. ‘I liked that lad! He’ll go far if he doesn’t get hanged first.’
He laughed even louder when they reached a humpbacked bridge and he recognised the couple who sat waiting on a grey horse by the side of the road. ‘Bella,’ he said to the wife at his side, ‘we’re in luck. I think the gypsy dare-devil might be going to join us after all, and he’s brought his equestrienne with him!’
Jesse was smiling too as he held up a hand to halt the waggon. ‘Can we ride along with you for a spell?’ he asked.
‘You’re welcome,’ was the reply. Simon had a glint of merriment in his eye and Bella too was beaming at the couple as if they were newlyweds. She moved along the bench seat to make a place for Odilie and called out, ‘Come up here and ride with us, lovie. Your horse can’t carry two all day.’
Odilie clambered aboard the cart and told them, ‘I’ll only ride a little way. I’ve got to decide what I’m going to do. I haven’t made up my mind yet…’
‘We heard about what happened,’ Bella interrupted her. ‘My word, but it’s created a great sensation round about.’
Odilie looked shocked. ‘Has it got so far already?’ she asked.
‘It’ll be in London by the day after tomorrow,’ laughed Simon. ‘It’s moving faster than the King’s messengers.’
They rolled on towards Wooler and when they were near the turnpike toll-cottage at Milfield, they saw another mounted man waiting by the side of the road. As they drew nearer to him, he rode into the middle of the carriageway and held up his hand. Odilie, on the box with Bella and Simon stood up with a gasp and cried, ‘It’s Joe Cannonball! It’s my father’s man.’
When the waggon stopped she leapt down from her seat and ran towards Joe. His face was working with emotion when he saw her, then he leaped from the saddle and asked, ‘Are you all right, Baby? Are you safe? I only stopped the circus to ask because I heard the gypsy was going to join it. I didn’t think he’d have got here so soon.’
‘I’m quite safe, Joe, but you look awful! Did Father send you after me?’
‘No. Poor Canny, he couldn’t send anybody any place. He collapsed when you took off. He’s ill in bed with that man Thompson drawing blood off him as if he’s plenty to spare. He’s in a bad way, Miss Odilie. If you don’t come back, I don’t think he’ll live.’
The girl’s colour drained away and she looked over at Jesse. ‘Did you hear that? My father’s ill. I must go back to Lauriston right away. Please lend me your horse.’
The young gypsy’s face was expressionless as he dismounted from Barbary. Without speaking he cupped his hand so that she could put her foot into it and be hoisted into the saddle. All Jesse then said was, ‘I expected you to go back. Barbary’s easy to ride if he knows you’re not afraid of him. Treat him well. He’s a prince among horses.’ He made no effort to try to change her mind. By the way he acted it was as if he was taking leave of a casual acquaintance, so little did he reveal of the turmoil raging within him.
She gathered up the reins and looked down at the man in the road. His words cut her to the quick and she could not hide her disappointment at his reaction. There was so much she still had to say to Jesse but his distant manner and the presence of Bella, Simon and Joe restrained her. All she managed was, ‘I’m sorry. I have to go. It’s got nothing to do with my marriage. My father’s ill and it’s all my fault.’
Jesse clapped Barbary on the shoulder and said, ‘All right. Goodbye, old man.’ Then he added, ‘I’ll send for him one day. Take good care of him, Miss Rutherford.’
She blushed scarlet and with a touch of her heel urged the horse forward. Soon all that could be seen of her and Joe was the flying mud sent up by their horses’ hooves. Then Jesse shrugged heavily and shook his head before he climbed into the waggon beside the Archers. ‘Do you still have a place for a trick rider without a horse?’ he asked laconically.
The lane down to Bettymill looked even more like a secret pathway to heaven than before because the rain had brought out a fresh crop of brilliantly coloured wild flowers. The tree branches, lacy with leaves, arched down low and made a damp green tunnel for Jem to walk through when he jumped down from the caravan. Leaving it at the head of the lane he set off, walking very slowly between the thickly clustering trees. He felt that he was stepping into Alice’s youth. There was no sound except for the crackle of dried twigs and last year’s beech mast beneath his boots. The sun dappled the path and there was a sweet smell of flowers and damp moss. This must be what heaven’s like, thought Jem with a strange sense of peace.
Half way up the lane he realised he’d left the pistol on the box so he had to run back for it. It was hanging loosely from his hand as he turned and retraced his steps deeper and deeper into the all-embracing greenery. When he reached the mill, half-hidden in its mossy clearing, he gave a sigh of satisfaction. The broken stone walls looked warm in the sun, the dusty windows seemed to smile upon him.
A sense of timelessness enveloped him. He walked into the middle of the patch of green opposite the mill door and looked around. A faint trickle of falling water came to his ears like distant music from the stone-walled lade, and a little breeze was making the fronds of a clump of ferns growing out of the wall above the broken millwheel wave gently to and fro like beckoning hands, leading him onwards to the waterside.
Holding the pistol carefully, he sat down on the mill-lade bank and stared into the stream that swirled beneath his feet. A fat brown trout was slowly circling in a deep pool floored with multi-coloured pebbles. Big yellow buttercups drooped their heads into the water and wild mint scented the air. Jem raised his eyes to the scraps of sky showing between the treetops and thought of Alice. She’d grown up here, she said. How often she must have played here as a girl, how often she must have sat where he sat now, her head full of dreams. He spoke his thoughts aloud, ‘Oh Alice, I can’t live without you.’
A gentle hand stroked his shoulder and a voice whispered, ‘You’re not going to use that gun on yourself are you, Jem? I love you. I’m glad you knew where to look for me.’
Without turning he laid the pistol down on the grass and raised his left hand to his right shoulder, grasping her hand in his. ‘Is that you, Alice?’ he asked as if he was blind.
‘Turn round and see,’ came her voice. When he turned they reached out for each other like young lovers clinging together with fervour. It took a long time until all their tears were shed and they had assured each other of their love. Then, holding hands, they walked together back to the caravan while she told him what had happened to her.
‘I knew I couldn’t risk being taken by Elliot’s men so when the horse went lame I set it free on the moors. I had no idea it was going to get itself bogged down. Then I found my way back here. It was the only thing I could think to do because I was lost and I knew the other roads into England would be watched. I wondered how to get a message to you so I sat here and thought and thought. I tried to send a message to your mind. I thought if I concentrated hard I’d make you understand – and perhaps it worked. If you hadn’t come I don’t know what I’d have done… but you did come, didn’t you?’
‘I nearly didn’t,’ he admitted. ‘When your horse was found in the bog everyone thought you were dead. I thought so as well. I came here today because you loved this place, that was all.’
She clung to his arm and said, ‘I’ll never leave you, Jem. Never, never. You must believe that now.’
He nodded his head with crystal tears standing in his eyes. He could not trust himself to speak. A long while later he told her, ‘We’ve got to get away from here. Nobody’s looking for you any more because they’re all too taken up with the Duke getting murdered. If anyone tries to bother you, I’ll shoot them.’
Alice had not heard about the Duke’s death and that story had to be told. She held Jem in her arms while he cried tears of remorse for Billy. By the time this recital was finished, it was evening again and they decided to drive the caravan deeper up Bettymill Lane and camp the night by the river. After all the emotion that had engulfed them, they felt cleansed and very peaceful. When the moon rose, Jem sat by the old mill holding Alice’s hand and said, ‘I feel as if I’ve come through Hell into Heaven.’
She nodded. ‘I feel that way, too, but we’d best make tracks out of Scotland as quick as we can. I don’t trust Elliot. I’m sorry to leave here and I’m sorry to leave Grace but she’s going to be very happy and she’ll be rich as well. I’ve done all I can for her. I’ve settled my old scores.’
Jem stroked her hair and whispered, ‘I’ll be glad to go. I don’t know about you, Alice, but I’ve had enough of St James’ Fair to last me a lifetime.’
The town was clamorous with gossip when Odilie rode across the Rennie Bridge with Joe Cannonball and the sight of her started a new wave of excitement. Little boys ran from shop to shop calling out, ‘She’s back! Rutherford’s lassie’s back, and she’s riding the gypsy’s big grey horse!’
Before she reached the gates of Havanah Court, people were peeping out of their front doors to gaze down the street in the hope of catching a sight of her. All the heads nodded at once and tongues wagged, for there hadn’t been such goings-on in the town since the Provost stood in the square eleven years ago and, amid the ringing of bells, announced the death of Nelson and the victory at Trafalgar.
Stevens the head groom was idling in the stableyard when Odilie rode in under the stone arch. He ran forward with his hands held out to greet her. ‘My word but I’m glad to see you, Miss Odilie! Your father’s in an awful state. That’s a fine horse you’ve got there – isn’t that the one that took the big race?’
She threw him the reins and said, ‘Look after it well, Stevens. It belongs to a friend.’ Then lifting her skirt she ran towards the house.
Inside, everything was unusually still and silent as if time had stopped. Odilie paused in the hall with her heart pounding in terror for it seemed like a house of mourning. Even the dust-motes in the sunlight slanting through the window looked suspended, motionless and waiting. Her father was not dead, surely? Oh no, he couldn’t be dead! She took the stairs in a most unladylike way, oblivious of the scandalised faces of the servants watching her from the door to the kitchens. In the upper hall, she kept on running, heading for her father’s room and burst in without knocking. Aunt Martha was sitting by the bed and she turned around, her mouth making an ‘O’ of disapproval, but this changed to a gasp of delight when she saw that the intruder was Odilie.
‘Odilie, dear lassie,’ gasped the old woman and surprised even herself by bursting into tears. It was the first time that stoical Martha Rutherford had wept since the year her mother died when she was twelve years old.
Odilie ran towards her with her arms extended, calling out, ‘How’s my father? How is he? Joe rode to Wooler to tell me he’d been taken ill.’
‘And no wonder he’s ill,’ scolded Martha, recovering herself quickly. ‘Seeing you jump into the arms of a gypsy and ride off like that was enough to give him an apoplexy.’
‘An apoplexy! Is that what he’s had? Is that what Thompson says?’ asked Odilie.
A voice came from the bed and the women turned towards the patient whom they thought to be asleep. ‘He says that I’ll live – and I certainly will now that you’ve come back,’ said Canny Rutherford weakly.
Odilie ran towards him. ‘Oh, Papa, I’m sorry I rode off like that without thinking. It wasn’t the gypsy’s fault – I willed him into it, I think.’
‘I guessed as much. I know you, Odilie. Wild geese eggs…’ Cannie’s voice was feeble but his eye was brighter.
‘I’ve come back. I’ll do whatever you want. I’ll even marry the Duke if he’ll still have me and not say a word of protest. The gypsy was honourable. He never touched me, I promise you that…’ said Odilie fervently.
Martha was standing facing the bed with both hands up to her mouth as she listened. Then she spoke solemnly. ‘You needn’t worry about marrying the Duke, my love. That sinner is dead. The wild man from the Fair tore his heart out.’
‘At least he tried to, but he found he hadn’t got one. I’m sorry I got you into that situation through my stupidity, lass,’ said Canny.
Martha went on, ‘Dead as mutton is our Duke, and they say there’s going to be a court case about who’s to inherit the title.
‘In any case, there’s not going to be a wedding,’ sighed Canny and closed his eyes again.
Odilie looked at her aunt in bewilderment. ‘The Duke is dead? Oh dear, my legs feel wobbly. Does that mean that the betrothal arrangement’s null and void – Father doesn’t lose my dowry?’
Martha nodded. ‘That Elliot’s been here already, all sly and confidential, saying Canny can have the whole lot back – all except what’s gone into the pocket of that young architect from Edinburgh.’
‘That’s not too bad. At least I liked him. Thank goodness Father won’t be ruined. Elliot told me he would be utterly destroyed if I backed out and I was so worried about that.’
‘It’s Elliot himself that looks like being ruined. Folk are saying Grace’ll take most of his property now she’s married. But let’s hear what’s happened to you – where’s the young gypsy for a start?’ said her aunt.
‘He’s in Wooler with the circus. But I’ve come back, Aunt Martha, isn’t that enough for you?’
‘I suppose so. Sit down by your father and talk to him for a while. You half-killed him, you ungrateful girl!’ Odilie sat down looking abashed for Aunt Martha had rarely been so hard on her before.
She was quietly holding her sleeping father’s hand when a maid entered and announced that a Mr and Mrs Scott were in the hall asking to see Miss Odilie.
‘Go down and tell Grace what’s happened,’ whispered Martha. ‘She probably doesn’t even know about your gypsy elopement.’
‘Oh Aunt Martha, don’t talk about it like that,’ the girl protested but Martha was not interested in the romantic aspect of the affair.
‘Go on down, miss,’ she scolded and Odilie ran downstairs to the salon where she found Grace and her young husband who looked ill at ease among Canny’s grand furniture. Adam brought the air of the moors into the elegant drawing room and made everything there seem artificial and unsettled.
Grace, however, was beautiful. The old fear and tension had gone from her face and she looked relaxed and tranquil which meant that her real beauty was magnificently revealed. It was as if a curtain had been dropped from before her and she smiled on Odilie like a Madonna when the girls embraced, hugging each other tight. Grace told her friend, ‘I’ve just come from my father’s house. It was wonderful to be able to tell him what to do for once! I really laid down the law, stipulating which farms I wanted and what I’d allow him to keep. He didn’t utter a word of protest, did he Adam?’ She laughed and then her eyes searched her friend’s face. ‘But he said you’ve had quite an adventure – running away with a gypsy. Oh Odilie, you’re so daring!’
‘It wasn’t me that was daring. It was him,’ said Odilie who felt a sharp pang of pain when she remembered the dark young man who had swept her off her feet. It all seemed to have happened long ago to someone else.
Now that she was back in Havanah Court such things seemed only to be the stuff of storybooks.
‘But why did you come back?’ asked Grace suddenly. What a strange question from Grace who’s always been so amenable, thought Odilie looking at her friend. But there was something new in Grace’s eye. She had been wakened up by the silent young man who was watching them so intently from the other side of the room.
‘I came back because of my father. I heard he’d been taken ill… I felt as if it was my fault.’
‘But he’s all right, isn’t he? He’s going to recover. And the Duke’s dead – nobody minds that, at least nobody that I’ve heard about. So what are you going to do now, Odilie?’
‘I don’t know. I can’t seem to be able to think clearly.’ The answer was a whisper.
‘Then I think you must be in love,’ said Grace gently. ‘Don’t lose it, Odilie. Whatever you do, don’t lose it.’