Gypsy Heart

  GYPSY HEART

  Rosemary Smith

  © Rosemary Smith 2014

  Rosemary Smith has asserted her rights under the Copyright, Design and Patents Act, 1988, to be identified as the author of this work.

  First published in 2010 by Linford Romance as THE BUTTERFLY DANCE

  This edition published by Endeavour Press Ltd 2014

  TABLE OF CONTENTS

  Chapter 1

  Chapter 2

  Chapter 3

  Chapter 4

  Chapter 5

  Chapter 6

  Chapter 7

  Chapter 8

  Chapter 9

  Chapter 10

  Extract from Where Love Takes You by Rosemary Smith

  Chapter 1

  I stretched my arms above my head then pulled back the heavy yellow brocade curtains in my bedroom and looked at the pleasant May day scene before me. The sun was rising, casting a warm glow over the sea and lining the distant clouds on the horizon with a bright pink light that held the promise of a beautiful day. On the adjacent cliffs, with Monks Bay between us, I could see the imposing grey stone house of Treverrick, which in the early morning light appeared far softer and more tranquil than it would do in an hour or so, its many chimneys disappearing and at one with the sky. I knew that the white walls of our home, which I had shared with Aunt Phoebe and Uncle Zachariah since I was a baby, would also be bathed with a pink translucent light.

  ‘Katherine,’ my Aunt’s voice called me from below the stairs. ‘Please come down, we have something for you.’

  I moved away from the window and checked my appearance in a full length mirror which stood on the dark polished floorboards in one corner by the window of my room. In the half light of morning, my dark wavy hair appeared darker still as it fell loosely around my shoulders, ‘hair as black as a raven’s wing’, as Uncle Zac would often say in his quiet, gentle voice. My shining eyes were grey, set in an unblemished fair complexion apart from the small brown mole to the right of my nose. Stepping back, I ensured that my pale purple gown, with capped gathered sleeves and a skirt with an insert of lace falling to my feet, was tidy, for Aunt Phoebe was a stickler for perfection over dressing. She had insisted on us wearing purple in the morning as a sign of respect for Queen Victoria, who had died the previous January. I had often longed to run across the cliff in gay abandon, as many times I felt restricted by protocol. Little did I know that today, my life would be changed irrevocably and that I would soon be my own person.

  Descending the narrow polished wooden staircase, I held my skirts so as to avoid tripping over them. The grandfather clock in the narrow hallway showed the time as five minutes to seven, as light started to filter through the long window alongside the heavy oak front door. It was all so familiar to me and I made my way instinctively to the large kitchen, with its long, well-scrubbed wooden table, which is where I was sure my Aunt and Uncle would be. Before I reached the low wooden door, our maid, Aggie, stepped into the hall stopping me in my tracks.

  ‘They ain’t in there, Miss, for some reason they be in the parlour. I really don’t know quite what’s going on.’ She sniffed and walked on, her blond curls bobbing beneath her white mop cap. She turned back to say ‘Happy Birthday’ as an afterthought as she climbed the stairs. Retracing my steps, I walked towards the low door at the bottom of the stairway, my hand on the round brass knob. I hesitated as I heard Aunt Phoebe’s strong firm voice.

  ‘It is only right that she should have it and that is an end to it, Zachariah Johnson.’ At these words, all was quiet, so I entered the room. My Aunt and Uncle were standing at the table, which stood beneath the large window, the sun already casting a strip of light across the heavy oak dresser opposite, with the blue and white china standing as it had always done for as long as I can remember. Nothing had changed in twenty years, except that Aunt Phoebe had started to grey at the temples, her startling violet eyes fixed on me as I stood there, almost matching the purple gown she wore. Something was different today. I couldn’t explain it, but a heavy atmosphere of uncertainty hung in the air. My dear Uncle shuffled from one foot to the other, the morning light shining on his bald head and rounded figure, while my usually confident Aunt wrung her hands in front of her with a nervous gesture.

  ‘Many happy returns, Katherine,’ she said walking towards me and embracing me. ‘Well say something, Zachariah,’ she said impatiently to her husband.

  ‘I wish you Happy Birthday also, my dear,’ he commenced, pausing to cough. ‘We have something for you,’ he continued, indicating with his hand an object, not large, not small, which sat on the table covered with a white tray cloth.

  ‘Well look at it child, please,’ said Aunt Phoebe with some impatience as I stood there looking from one to the other. Slowly I walked to the table and lifted the tray cloth from the object beneath. I gasped with delight. It was a rectangular box, but no ordinary box. I ran my hand gently across the beautifully decorated lid on which lay glazed porcelain pink roses with little rosebuds escaping each side to the edge. Each corner of the box was gilded intricately like lace with tiny hearts of pink porcelain interspersed here and there and on each side of the rosewood box was a small miniature decorated with richly coloured flowers.

  ‘Lift the lid, child,’ my Aunt encouraged. Slowly, I did as I was bid and could see the interior was as rich as the lid, lined with pink silk velvet, on which lay a string of creamy pearls with a diamond clasp and other small items, including a gold needle case. I looked at my Aunt and Uncle.

  ‘Thank you so much. I have never seen anything so exquisite and the pearls!’ I was overcome with the richness of the whole gift. ‘They are quite lovely,’ I enthused, lifting them from the box with trembling hands, attempting to place them around my neck.

  ‘Let me help you,’ said Uncle Zac, at last moving from the spot he had been transfixed to since I had entered the room. The pearls in place around my throat, I hugged them both and gently closed the lid of the box. The room was suddenly quiet, Aunt Phoebe breaking the silence.

  ‘Tell her Zachariah, go on,’ she urged in her dominant forthright manner.

  ‘Tell me what?’ I asked, somewhat confused.

  ‘The pearls are a gift from us, but they’re...’ Here he faltered momentarily. ‘The keepsake box and its contents are your birth right.’

  ‘What do you mean?’ I questioned, now more perplexed than ever.

  ‘It is an object handed down in the family and we thought that your twentieth birthday would be a good time to present it to you,’ Aunt Phoebe explained.

  ‘I see,’ I said quietly, not really seeing at all, but at that moment, looking at the delightful object on the table, I was just thankful that it now belonged to me.

  ‘Now that is cleared up, let us partake of breakfast together,’ my Aunt said cheerfully, suddenly seeming more herself, in truth, everything seemed normal again, even Uncle Zac who took my arm as we made our way to the kitchen.

  ‘The gypsies are back again, Mistress,’ said Aggie, as she placed the toast rack in front of us. ‘In the field behind Treverrick, they are,’ she continued, folding her arms and standing over us awaiting my Aunt’s reply. Aggie was older than me by nine years. She had been with us here at Northcliffe House for ten years. While her manner was abrupt, she had a good heart and was loyal.

  ‘It is the right time of year, Aggie, now continue with your tasks my dear while we finish breakfast,’ Aunt Phoebe said to her firmly and as Aggie did as she was bid, my Aunt turned her attention to me while buttering her toast.

  ‘We have another pleasant surprise for you, Katherine,’ she said quietly with a sparkle in her eyes.

  ‘Another, what is it, Aunt, please tell me?’ I exclaimed.

  ‘We are to dine at Trever
rick this evening for it is Constance Trevartha’s birthday also and they are to have a small gathering in celebration. The invitation arrived last week while you were out walking. You can wear your new cream gown for the occasion.’ Aunt Phoebe didn’t stop for breath. ‘Daniel and Nicholas will be there my dear, now what do you say?’ she asked of me.

  ‘That is indeed a wonderful surprise, Aunt,’ I replied meekly, for while I had in the past, on several occasions, enjoyed afternoon tea at Treverrick, in their opulent drawing room, the thought of my Aunt’s matchmaking filled me with dread. I wished to find my own husband and should I remain a spinster, so be it.

  ‘Splendid,’ enthused my Aunt, ‘now I suggest you take a walk in the morning air and bring some colour to those pallid cheeks.’

  Back in my bedroom I placed the keepsake box on my dressing table, once more admiring the beauty and perfection of it. I unclasped the pearls from around my neck and lifted the lid of the box to replace them on the pink silk, as I thought about my uneventful life so far.

  I had learned to dance and ride horses, amongst other gentile pastimes, at the Academy for Young Women in Truro where I spent three years from the age of sixteen. While it was beautiful living here on the coast of Cornwall, where would I meet the husband I envisaged?

  I could understand Aunt Phoebe’s desire to manoeuvre a match for me with a son of Treverrick, but today I would not think of such things. It was my birthday and I would go walking, a thing I loved to do for it gave me a sense of the freedom I craved. Gently I shut the lid of the keepsake box, vowing to discover its contents later.

  My bedroom was not a large room, but comfortable none the less, the feather mattress on my small bed with the pale yellow crocheted cover inviting me each evening to snuggle down for the night. I had never spent a restless night in that comfortable bed. Little did I know that was all to change. Going to the wardrobe I took out the purple cape which matched my gown, draping it around my shoulders and tying the ribbon at the neck. Quickly I looked into the mirror, twisting my hair into a knot at the nape of my neck and placing my purple and white bonnet on my head. I was ready to go, anxious to be out in the sunlight and breathing in the salty sea air.

  ***

  Stepping out of the door onto the path, lined each side by a lawn, I walked to the gate stopping to look out over the sea. The sun had risen higher and the water now appeared as a mass of sparkling diamonds. Walking to a field on the right I went to greet my brown mare Minnie, who hung her head over the gate, waiting for some show of affection as she did each day. I rewarded her with a sugar lump and then walked down the narrow path on the cliff, heading for Monks Cove. The tide was out at the moment, water lapping gently on the sand over the rocks, but in a couple of hours, the sandy cove would be swallowed up in a torrent of water and the waves would be pounding against the cliffs. Treading on the firm sand of the cove, I could see someone on the far side heading towards me. It was a man. I muttered an oath as I had wished to be alone, however I carried on walking, every now and then stooping to pick up pebbles and nonchalantly throwing them in the water. The stranger drew nearer and stopped about a foot in front of me. His hair was black as coal, curling around his neck and black glittering eyes surveyed me from a handsome tanned face. He wore a white blouson shirt open at the neck, which accentuated his dark skin. I didn’t know what to say, my colour deepening as I realised that I was gazing at him boldly.

  ‘Good morning, lovely lady, it is a glorious day.’ He spoke in a rich deep voice.

  ‘It is, indeed,’ I managed to utter.

  ‘And all the more glorious for me to have encountered you,’ he said honestly.

  ‘Why, thank you,’ I replied, quite cross with myself for stumbling over a few simple words.

  ‘May I be so bold as to ask you who you are?’ he questioned, holding my eyes with his own as he spoke.

  ‘You may be bold, Sir,’ I laughed, feeling more confident by the second. ‘My name is Katherine Johnson and I live at Northcliffe House,’ I offered, waving one gloved hand in the direction of my home, which now looked like a white miniature house in the distance.

  ‘Do you ride, Katherine Johnson?’ the stranger asked suddenly, taking me by surprise.

  ‘I do, indeed. I have a lovely gentle mare called Minnie,’ I told him.

  ‘Then you shall ride with me tomorrow to Lands’ End,’ he instructed. ‘I shall meet you by the Chapel field at ten o’clock tomorrow morning. Let us hope for a fine day.’

  Before I could answer, he had turned on his heel, retracing his steps leaving me wondering what had happened to me in such a short space of time. I didn’t want him to go and I felt lonely without him there. My desire was to run after him but decorum prevented it, then I realised I had not asked his name. For some reason he no longer seemed a stranger.

  ***

  All day thoughts of him filled my head and I knew that on the morrow, I would do as he had bid and ride with him for I longed to be in his company.

  ‘You are day dreaming today,’ Aunt Phoebe observed that afternoon, ‘but it is your birthday and you are no doubt looking forward to this evening.’ I hadn’t the heart to tell her that the last thing I wanted to do was dine at Treverrick that evening. All I wished to do was converse with the handsome stranger. Then the thought came to me that he may not keep our assignation, and hot tears pricked my eyes.

  Reluctantly, I prepared myself that evening with Aggie’s help, my new cream coloured gown with a strip of pink roses on one side, slipped over my head and fell smoothly in place, the bodice decorated also with small pink flowers. Aggie arranged my dark hair with tendrils falling each side of my face and then she secured two pink flowers to one side of my head.

  ‘Just the pearls now, Aggie, thank you,’ I said, lifting the lid of the keepsake box, longing at that moment to look through the contents, but knowing I would have to wait until the morrow.

  ‘Miss Katherine!’ Aggie exclaimed as she clasped the pearls around my neck, ‘what a beautiful box, would that I had one like it.’

  ‘Yes, I am extremely fortunate, it is beautiful, isn’t it?’ I agreed, closing the lid once more. ‘Now I must meet my Aunt and Uncle downstairs, for I am sure they are impatient to leave,’

  We walked to Treverrick, as no carriage would traverse the field we had to cross. It was a warm evening and as we walked I glanced down at the cove, thinking briefly of my meeting with the stranger that morning. Treverrick looked larger and more formidable, each step we took towards it. As we walked up the short drive, I stopped to look at the front of the rambling grey building which commanded a view of the sea, its leaded windows glinting like a row of glowing candles in the light of the evening sun. Involuntarily, I shuddered thinking how I’d loathe to live here, I much preferred our cosy white house on the adjacent cliff, which from here, looked like a dolls house awaiting our return. We stepped into the vast stone flagged hall which appeared cold and uninviting, with suits of armour standing against the walls, seeming grey and harsh in the half light. The huge fireplace was cold and still and I shuddered again. The only thing with any appeal was the wide curving staircase with a polished banister and red carpet, almost beckoning me to the upper floor. Our capes removed and carried away by an elderly man-servant, we were shown into the drawing room by a young maid wearing a black dress and starched white cap and apron.

  ‘Mr and Mrs Johnson!’ a loud enthusiastic voice exclaimed. ‘And young Katherine, although not so young now, indeed, a beautiful young woman and it is your Birthday as well as mine. How charming you look. Now let me introduce you to my sister Patience.’

  The two virtues stood together, Constance Trevartha, once a Treverrick, overshadowing her shy retiring sister, who I believed was a Miss and had only lately returned to Treverrick. Constance wore a loud emerald green dress full of lace, ribbons and flowers of various colours, just as overpowering as the woman herself. Patience, on the other hand, wore a pale grey dress trimmed delicately at the neck and wrists with cream
lace. She nodded her dark head in acknowledgement of us. The sisters were both surprisingly young, although I guessed Patience to be the younger of the two.

  ‘Now Katherine, come and say hello to my two sons, Daniel and Nicholas, as you’ve not seen them much of late,’ Constance said, leading me towards the two brothers who were standing to one side of the opulent marble fireplace. Everything about the room was full of splendour, from the rich maroon curtains at the windows to the sparkling crystal chandelier, which hung from the white decorated ceiling.

  ‘Welcome to Treverrick,’ said Daniel, who after the vibrancy of my stranger was insipidly handsome with a soft, silky brown moustache and a goatee beard, which matched his thin mousy hair. Nicholas however, had matured nicely and was more arresting. He had his mother’s dark hair and was clean-shaven. He also possessed the smile of an angel. I smiled back at him, thinking that maybe I would enjoy this evening after all, when there was a commotion behind me. The door burst open and a rich voice I recognised said good humouredly, ‘Forgive me for being late.’

  I turned to face the late comer our eyes met across the room. It was none other than my stranger on the beach.

  Chapter 2

  ‘Who was that young man?’ I asked Aunt Phoebe at breakfast next morning.

  ‘Which young man?’ my aunt replied, her toast hovering at her mouth but never quite reaching it.

  ‘The stranger,’ I queried insistently, knowing full well my aunt knew who I was talking about.

  ‘That is Kane,’ my aunt said, her toast being laid back on her plate. ‘He is a gypsy and I would ask that you have nothing to do with him.’

  ‘If I am not to have anything to do with him, why was he at Treverrick last night?’ I protested, ‘For the family seemed to welcome him with open arms.’

  ‘They welcomed him because he saved their son Daniel, a couple of years ago, from a watery grave,’ my aunt explained, ‘and now, each time the gypsies come and camp behind the big house, Kane is invited to take dinner with the family, but that does not mean that you can associate with him and that is my final word,’ she finished emphatically.