The Gypsy and the Widow Read online

  “Let us play Ring a Ring o’ Roses.” Joanna knew Nash loved this game and hoped it would cheer him up. “Do you know this game?” The children shook their heads so she explained and added, “But you must have a care for the objects on the tables.”

  Noah spoke loudly to the others, as though translating what she said. They all nodded, their faces unsmiling and joined hands as Joanna and Nash sang, “A ring, a ring o’ roses, a pocket full o’posies. Atishoo atishoo we all fall down.” They circled about and everyone fell laughing, even Joanna, and pretended to sneeze. The children wanted to play again and again and soon they were singing along loudly. The game became more raucous, the sneezing more violent, the falling down more dramatic.

  Joanna was enjoying herself so thoroughly that she ignored the knock on the door, and the sound of Mrs. Peters hurrying to answer it.

  She became aware of her visitor when, with a loud “atishoo,” she fell to the ground and found herself practically sitting on Sir Edward’s foot.

  She looked up first at his horrified face and then at Mrs. Peters, who stood near him looking at Joanna with narrowed eyes.

  “My God, Joanna, what are you doing?” Sir Edward exclaimed. Then he roared, “Quiet, all of you, and stand up this instant.” The children grew quiet. Eleanor took Noah’s hand.

  Sit Edward reached down to help Joanna to her feet.

  “What are Gypsies doing here?”

  “I invited them in to keep Nash company,” Joanna retorted. “He is too much alone with no childish friends.”

  “Friends? Mrs. Daniels, these…these heathens are most unsuitable companions for your son!”

  “Out,” he roared at the children. “Get out, you dirty, thieving brats.”

  Joanna put a restraining hand on his. “Sir Edward, I invited them inside as my guests. It is not for you to tell them to leave, nor is it for you to speak thus to my guests, whatever their age. I promised to return them to their parents when they were ready to leave, which I see now they are because of your unwarranted abusiveness.”

  “If you won’t tell them to leave, I’ll get them out.” He slapped his boot with his riding crop.

  “You most certainly will not! They are my guests.”

  “You’d best check their pockets before they go. Look, they knocked over that chair. They are no better than savages.”

  “They are children playing, but you have spoiled their game.”

  The children huddled in a corner, the bigger ones holding the smaller, regarding Joanna and Sir Edward with wide eyes.

  “You must excuse me, sir,” she said. “I shall return them to their parents now.

  “Come children,” she said, taking the smallest boy’s hand in one of hers as Eleanor slipped her little hand into the other. Nash, will you come with me?” He nodded as a single tear coursed down his cheek

  “I shall wait here for you,” Sir Edward said. “We must discuss this unfortunate incident.”

  ***

  With the two smallest children, Eleanor and a slightly older boy, holding her hands and Nash and the bigger children trailing behind her, Joanna approached the field where the Gypsies worked. The older children ran into the field while at the same time a woman came running toward her. The little boy let go of Joanna’s hand and the woman swept him up into her arms, glared at Joanna, and turned and walked quickly away, holding the boy tightly to her. Joanna saw another woman on her knees holding two children as though she had not expected to see them again while a man stood beside them, stroking their heads.

  “Dadro! Dadro!” She could hear Tem’s two elder children calling and she watched as they flung themselves at him, laughing and chattering. Eleanor stayed, holding Joanna’s hand with her small, sticky one and a thumb in her mouth. Nash took hold of his mother’s free hand and squeezed it hard as he watched Noah and Florica with their father.

  She glanced down at him and was pained to see the look of longing on his face as he watched Tem hugging and talking with his children.

  I must marry soon. I must find a father for Nash.

  Tem strode up to her and she smiled at him. He looked at her, unsmiling. Once again she could not read his expression.

  “Were people worried?” she asked. “Did I keep the children too long?”

  He sighed. “Yes, the parents were worried. We Gypsies have in the past had our children stolen from us. I do not mean to offend you, but it is difficult for us to trust an English person.”

  “But I…”She did not know what to say. “I am sorry if I caused any concern. I thought only of my son and did not properly consider my actions.”

  “Well,” he said and smiled, “I see your house is still standing in spite of all those children.”

  She laughed. “I enjoyed their presence as much as Nash did. I hope that some at least will come again.”

  “Perhaps Nash may play in the fields with our children.”

  “Yes,” Nash broke in. “Yes, Mother, may I go now and play in the field?”

  “Oh. No…” Someone had told her that Gypsies steal children. Surely it was not true, but… No, she could not take any risk with Nash.

  No, not today. I will read to you when we get home.”

  “But Sir Edward is there.”

  “Oh, yes, I had forgotten. I will read when he leaves.”

  “I hate him,” said the boy, “and I want to stay out here.”

  Tem looked at her. “You are feeling what the mothers here felt when their children were with you. But just as you do not, so we do not steal children. We have enough of our own to love and care for.” He shrugged slightly. “We all inhabit this earth together, and yet we fear any who are different from ourselves.”

  Joanna nodded, not knowing how to respond to this.

  He put out his hand for Eleanor, but the little girl shook her head and held more tightly onto Joanna’s, turning away and taking her thumb from her mouth to clutch at the skirt of Joanna’s dress.

  “Well,” he said, “it appears that you have won my daughter’s heart.”

  “And she mine, though I think it is the sweet I gave her that won her heart.”

  As he stepped closer to take the little girl—willing now—into his arms, Joanna realized that his physical proximity was enough to stir up feelings she had buried years ago. The feeling of longing, of yearning to be held by a man, of wishing to be loved and desired by a man, and—she felt the heat on her cheeks—of her own desire for a man.

  ***

  “My dear Mrs. Daniels, as a friend I must remind you that you must find more suitable companions for your son. God knows what bad habits Nash could pick up from spending time with such as you had here.”

  “I thank you for your concern, Sir Edward, but it is up to me to choose my son’s playmates.”

  “My dear, you are alone in the world, and it is the duty of a family friend such as myself to protect you from making unfortunate decisions about your son or yourself.”

  “I truly appreciate your concern and all the efforts you have made on my behalf in the past, but I think—”

  “You know that I have your best interests at heart always,” he said, smiling. “I have lived longer than you and been more in the world, so I believe I understand these things better than you who are still young and unworldly.”

  To her surprise he rose and came to where she sat and put a hand on her shoulder. “You must know something of my feelings toward you, my dear. And I flatter myself that they are returned. We must of course wait an appropriate amount of time after the sad death of your husband. But after that, depend on it; I shall apply for your hand.” He bowed, turned, and left the room.

  Joanna sat unmoving for some time. For years now she had thought of Sir Edward as a friend on whom she could depend. He had always been most kind and generous. But this she had not foreseen. He wanted to marry her.

  She rose and went to the window and watched him mount his fine horse and canter away.

  He was not a young man, it was true
, but as she was close to penniless, she would not have much choice of husbands and she could do far worse than Sir Edward. He was kindly disposed to her and to Nash. He had the means to care for them properly, and he had already done so much for her.

  Yes, he had been harsh in the matter of the children and had infuriated her. But he was merely trying to look out for her, trying to keep her and Nash from possible harm. He was not the only one who spoke ill of the Gypsies. But then… She thought of Tem’s words, that people feared others who were different from themselves. She shrugged as Tem had. Yes, it was so and it was a pity.

  Could it be that Sir Edward was in the right? Should she keep her son and herself from those who were different? If she did as he wished, she and Nash would never mingle with those Sir Edward considered his social inferiors. The thought was unpleasant, but if she accepted his offer, Nash would have a father.

  Unbidden, the image of Tem Lovell holding Nash in the air and turning about as the boy shrieked with joy came into her mind. She could not imagine Sir Edward playing with Nash that way. He would be a stern and rather cold father. That is what fathers were supposed to be, were they not? That is how her own father had been. And the Gypsies—well, they were different. A strange people who could fix the pots and pans and bring in the hay once a year. And, she’d been told, they sang and danced for money and told fortunes too.

  She shook her head to get thoughts of Tem Lovell out of her mind. She would think instead of how happy she and Nash would be to have a decent man in their life, and Sir Edward would be that man.

  ***

  The next morning Mrs. Peters helped Joanna dress. The woman had been ungracious when first asked to perform this task, but how could Joanna dress herself? All her dresses and underclothes fastened high on her back with many hooks and eyes. She thought for a moment of the blouses and skirts that the Gypsy women wore. They did not, as she recalled, fasten in the back. Those women would be free to dress and undress themselves.

  As for her hair, Mrs. Peters had flatly stated that she did not know how to do another woman’s hair and was not going to start now.

  “I am going into town today,” Mrs. Peters said in her grating voice as she finished buttoning up the delicate dress Joanna had chosen—white with pale yellow trim that she thought suited her well. “Sir Edward is sending the wagon so I can go with his cook. We need onions and potatoes. I think a small leg of lamb for roasting would not be amiss and perhaps some beef for a shepherd’s pie. I will be back to make the supper and to help you undress.”

  Joanna nodded. She missed the courtesy of her old servants and she hated the way Mrs. Smith always sounded aggrieved, but she knew that the unpleasant woman did the work of the cook, the house maids, and the even the lady’s maid. Many chores went undone and in truth much was done poorly, but she was one where before there had been four.

  Joanna bit her lips to make them redder and pinched her cheeks, then peered in the mirror. Her solemn amber eyes stared back, her rather pale face framed by her dark gold hair. She could not wear her hair as she had once been accustomed to, but she could tie it behind her neck with a ribbon and that would have to be decent enough. She would wear a bonnet—the yellow one.

  There is no need to dress with such care just to cross the meadow to the field. He will be busy—working like the others. Against her will, she remembered how he had smiled at her yesterday. How somehow he had reminded her that she was a woman with the desires of her sex.

  All she sought today were playmates for Nash, she told herself firmly. And besides, there was no harm in seeking the comfort of another person who had been widowed, but she knew that wasn’t true. She needed no comfort for the loss of her husband. What she wanted, wrong or right, was to have a few moments with him, Tem Lovell.

  She shook her head. I must not think of Tem Lovell. I shall marry Sir Edward who has always been so considerate of myself. He neither drinks nor gambles and I will have no worries. For a moment she remembered her anger when he had shouted at the Gypsy children and called them foul names. He was but thinking of my well-being; it was perhaps neither appropriate to allow them inside, nor to play that way with them. She smiled. In truth she had like playing with them. She had liked their infectious laughter. She had liked the way they included Nash in their games. She had like the way they tried to speak English to her, even the smallest among them, little Eleanor.

  And I liked the way Tem swung the children in the air and laughed with them. But no, she must not think like this. I must not think of Tem. And I must not think of him as Tem; he is Mr. Lovell to me.

  She would stay out there while Nash played. That way she would know he was safe. And, perhaps Tem will speak with me—

  “No! I will not think like that, I must not,” she said aloud.

  ***

  As he swung his scythe, cutting the last of the hay, Tem thought about Joanna, about the way she had smiled at the children, and the way she had looked up at him when he had taken her baskets from her. He wondered if there was some way he might catch a glimpse of her today. Thinking of her like this, wanting her the way he did was didlo—madness.

  “Look, here comes the rawni with her child,” cried his sister, pointing. “And there goes little Eleanor running to meet her.”

  Tem stuck his pitchfork in the ground and, shading his eyes with his hands, watched Joanna approaching.

  “Is that Gadji not afraid that we will hurt her, that our men will dishonor her? Doesn’t she know that thieving Gypsies might steal her child?” Lala continued sarcastically.

  “Or that Tem might steal her for his new wife?” said her husband.

  Everyone laughed, but Tem frowned at his brother-in-law.

  “If she were not a Gadji, she would suit you well,” Lala said. “She has already stolen little Eleanor’s heart and I think a piece of yours.”

  Tem’s uncle chimed in. “She is pretty enough, and everyone knows the Gadji have no morals. Tem, you are lonely. She is your chance for some amusement.”

  Tem scowled more deeply and waved them away. Everyone laughed at his discomfort.

  “Leave him be,” said the rom baro. He is a good and virtuous Romanichal. He can easily resist the charms of an immoral Gadji.”

  “Well, if he resists, perhaps she will accept me,” said a young man thumping his chest. I would be happy to show a rawni what it is to be loved by a Romanichal.”

  There followed a torrent of friendly abuse for the young man. No one paid any attention to Tem, who said, “I believe she is a good and decent woman.” He watched as the children, all talking at once, surrounded Joanna who, squatting, hugged Eleanor while she talked with the others.

  She pets the children and they respond, but a rawni would be no suitable mother for my children—she would care nothing for our ways. Why am I thinking of such a thing? I must be didlo. No rich rawni would marry a poor Romanichal like me. I must find someone among my own people, someone who would love my children and who, perhaps in time, I could come to love.

  ***

  For a moment, as she approached them, Joanna thought the Gypsies were laughing at her, but then Eleanor, wearing the same yellow dress she had the day before, came running to her and flew into her arms. Soon after, all the children were around her, some chattering in the language of the Gypsies, some speaking careful English.

  “A ring, a ring o’ roses,” Noah said and the others all took up the cry.

  “Please, lady, sing it for us again,” begged Florica. The children joined hands, including her in the circle, Eleanor on one side and Noah on the other. The circle began to spin as they sang, “A ring, a ring o’ roses, a pocket full o’posies, atishoo atishoo we all fall down.” With the last words, all the children began sneezing violently and throwing themselves on the ground.

  Joanna wanted to remain standing, as she sensed the eyes of the Gypsies on her, but when Noah threw himself down as he sneezed, he knocked against her, upsetting her balance, and she tumbled to the ground. She lay t
here on her back, surprised. The children went silent.

  She opened her eyes and saw the sky and a ring of anxious little faces looking down at her. Her ankle hurt a lot.

  “I am sorry, I am sorry,” Noah kept repeating, his eyes wide and fearful. Nash looked as if he were about to cry.

  The children moved aside, and Tem Lovell’s worried face appeared.

  “I fell,” she said foolishly. “But it was not Noah’s doing. It’s no one’s fault but my own.”

  Eleanor gave her a wet kiss on her forehead. “Lady fall,” she said.

  “Yes, I fell.”

  Tem helped her to sit. “Are you all right?”

  He was so close. She could smell him—the smell of a hard-working man and of the outdoors. She breathed deeply. She could feel his work-hardened palm on her arm as he supported her, his arm against her back, his hand on her elbow.

  She looked up at him and felt a spark leap between them as she met his black eyes. She felt her heart constrict; her blood slowed and thickened in her veins.

  “My name is Joanna,” she said and immediately felt ridiculous. But she wanted him to know; she wanted to hear him say it.

  “Joanna,” he said softly. He cleared his throat. “Mrs. Daniels, can you stand?”

  “I don’t know.” His arm still about her, she came to her feet and groaned. “I think I hurt my ankle.” She winced.

  There were other people around them now all with concerned, or even frightened, faces. One of the women spoke harshly to the children.

  “No, no it’s no one’s fault.” Scowling, the woman took a step backward, away from her. Tem spoke to them. She assumed he was translating what she had said.

  “Tell them it is my own doing, not to blame the children.”