Follow Your Heart

by Barbara Cartland

“When my time come, Lady, they manage. The powers I have – pass to another of family.”

  “I hear that is to be Mireli.”

  Lendi nodded her head.

  “That true. The power is there within her. One day she takes my place.”

  “That is such good news, but at the same time, Lendi, as you know we all love you. It will be very difficult for anyone to take your place in our hearts.”

  She knew by the smile the old woman gave her that she was pleased with the compliment.

  As she had been talking to her Della had been kneeling by her bedside and now she bent forward and kissed Lendi’s cheek.

  “I will come again tomorrow,” she promised, “and bring you flowers from our garden and strawberries which are just beginning to ripen.”

  “Very kind Lady – kindness is rewarded!”

  “If there is anything else you want you must tell me,” Della told her as she moved towards the door. “I expect by now the village will have learned you are here and they will be coming to ask for your help and guidance which you have always given them.”

  “Mireli do that – now.”

  Della climbed down the steps of the caravan.

  The gypsy horses had all been taken away and with their back legs tethered they were cropping the grass outside the ring of caravans.

  Most of the other members of the family were waiting for her.

  “My mother very pleased see Lady,” piped up Piramus.

  “She was telling me that Mireli is to take her place, but no one can do that. She is an institution and I have a feeling that the villagers will not believe anyone else as they have always believed her.”

  “Mireli has gift,” replied Piramus. “The stars teach her. Family never end.”

  Della knew that he was making it clear there was always continuity in the family and she was sure it would never be broken. As she thought about it she remembered hearing that Lendi had taken the place of her own mother, who had also been a famous fortune–teller in her time.

  As if he could read her thoughts, Piramus said,

  “Line never broken. For all Lee’s when life done – another fill empty place.”

  “You are so wise,” exclaimed Della. “But I hope that Lendi will not leave us for a long time yet.”

  Piramus made a gesture with his hands, which told her that he was saying, without words, that it was in the lap of the Gods.

  Della shook hands with two of the gypsies she had not spoken to before and then she walked to her horse with Piramus beside her.

  “You must tell me if there is anything you need, Piramus. My uncle will be only too pleased to provide you with eggs from our hens and any vegetables you want from the garden.”

  “Lady very generous. We kneel at feet.”

  Piramus helped Della onto the saddle and she thanked Abram for looking after her horse.

  “I will come back to see you tomorrow,” she called as she rode away.

  The gypsies waved until she re–entered the wood. She rode home thinking that her uncle would be interested in knowing the Lees were with them again and he would doubtless go and speak to them himself.

  When she reached the entrance to their drive she saw that the gate was open and wondered if anyone was calling on her uncle. She hoped it would not be with a problem that would take him back to London.

  Twice last month the Prime Minister had sent for him and he had felt obliged to journey back to Downing Street.

  ‘If Mr Disraeli is bothering him again,’ Della said to herself, ‘I shall be very angry. After all he is retired and Lord Derby, who has taken his place, should be able to manage.’

  She realised, however, it was really a great compliment. It was not only the Prime Minister who asked for her uncle’s advice, when problems arose there were those in other positions who also asked for his help.

  After making a turn in the drive Della could see there was an impressive carriage outside the front door. Even though it was still some distance from her she knew whom it belonged to.

  This knowledge took away her anxiety about her uncle.

  The visitor was not someone from London, but the Duke himself from Wood Hall.

  He had been away last week, and she now remembered he had been expected back either yesterday or the day before. In fact her uncle had awaited a message from the Hall to say that the Duke wanted to see him.

  It was not surprising that the Duke turned to his greatest friend for company. His wife was a semi invalid who seldom left the house, his son lived in France and his two daughters were married.

  Although there were parties from time to time at Wood Hall, Della was aware that the Duke was often lonely.

  He did not possess the brains of her uncle, but he was still an intelligent man. He liked talking seriously as well as being amusing.

  It was not surprising that more than anyone else he sought the company of his oldest friend.

  There were, of course, many relations and one or two of them were invariably staying at the Hall. Della had found most of them rather dull.

  She suspected the Duke felt the same and as she rode on up the drive she thought,

  ‘As he is here, I expect he will stay for luncheon so I must warn cook.’

  Mrs Beston had been with her uncle for a large number of years. She was always ready at a moment’s notice to provide His Grace with the food he particularly liked.

  He had a number of favourite dishes that, fortunately, did not take long to prepare.

  As she was getting on in years, Mrs Beston did not like to be hurried.

  ‘I must find out if he is staying for luncheon as quickly as possible,’ Della told herself.

  She hurried Samson forward and took him directly into the stables.

  “How did you get on, Miss Della?” Grayer asked as he took hold of Samson’s bridle.

  “He went like the wind and behaved like a Saint! We will have no trouble with him.”

  “Not while you’re a–ridin’ ’im, Miss. The stable boys were a–findin’ ’im a bit of an ’andful.”

  Della smiled.

  “He will settle down.”

  She then hurried over the cobble–stones and into the house by the kitchen door to find Mrs Beston.

  The kitchen boasted old–fashioned beams across the ceiling from which were hanging ducks and chickens, sides of bacon and onions.

  “Good Morning, Mrs Beston,” Della called as she entered. “I expect you know that His Grace is here and as it is a quarter–to–one, I am certain he will stay for luncheon.”

  “That’s just what I guessed too, Miss I says to Mr Storton as I’ve said a hundred times afore, why can’t I be given notice of when His Grace be a–coming so I has them dishes he likes ready for him?”

  Della had heard this grumble many times and she merely smiled.

  “However difficult it may be, Mrs Beston, I am sure you will not fail His Grace.”

  The cook did not answer but merely snorted and turned round to stir a sauce, which was simmering on top of the fire.

  Della left the kitchen and ran along the corridor leading into the hall. She saw Storton the butler standing there with a footman. The boy had only been taken on recently and was being taught his job.

  “I suppose His Grace is staying for luncheon,” Della enquired as she went towards the stairs.

  “We haven’t been told nothing yet, Miss Della,” replied Storton.

  Della hurried to her room knowing that her uncle would not like her to sit down to luncheon in her riding habit even though she might be riding again in the afternoon.

  She changed into a pretty cotton dress and quickly tidied her hair, whilst her maid buttoned up the back of her gown.

  “Hurry, Emily, or I will be late.”

  “We’ve two minutes, miss, and his Lordship’ll take that to walk from the study.”

  Della giggled.

  “Whatever happens Uncle Edward will enter the dining room on the stroke of one o’clock. He has a
lways said he owes his success to being punctual whilst other people are always late.”

  The maid did not answer and Della thought she did not really understand. It was after all an old family joke. Because Lord Lainden was invariably precisely on time he had often managed to gain an advantage over his political opponents.

  As Della ran down the stairs, the grandfather clock in the hall struck the hour.

  As it did so, her uncle was walking along the passage, which led to his study, accompanied by the Duke.

  Reaching the bottom of the stairs, Della ran towards them.

  “I am back, Uncle Edward,” she puffed, “and exactly on time.”

  She curtsied to the Duke, who bent and kissed her cheek.

  “How are you, my dear, or is that a silly question?” he asked. “You look very pretty and there is a flush in your cheeks which tells me you have been riding again.”

  “Yes, indeed I have - one of your horses which I highly recommend as being outstanding even amongst the rest of your stable.”

  “That is most interesting, my dear, and I must certainly try the newcomer for myself. What is his name?”

  “Most appropriately – Samson, and as I always imagine the great man to have been not only strong but intelligent and with an irresistible charm, that accolade also applies to your stallion!”

  The Duke chortled.

  “What a very excellent recommendation and one I hope you will soon be applying to a man.”

  As he finished speaking he moved towards the front door and to her surprise Della realised he was leaving.

  “Why, are you not staying for luncheon?” she asked.

  The Duke shook his head.

  “I have a number of people waiting for me at the Hall and fortunately luncheon is at one–thirty as my sister is arriving from London, so I will not be late.”

  He looked at Lord Lainden as he spoke and his eyes twinkled in case he might be accused of the crime of being late.

  Then as the Duke took his hat from the footman he turned to say,

  “Goodbye, Edward, and I shall be waiting eagerly to hear your answer to my question.”

  Lord Lainden did not reply. He walked to the door to watch the Duke hurry into the waiting carriage.

  The footman, wearing an impressive uniform, closed the carriage door before climbing up onto the box beside the coachman.

  As the horses moved off, the Duke bent forward to raise his hand and Lord Lainden waved back.

  The carriage proceeded swiftly down the drive.

  “I felt sure he would stay to luncheon,” sighed Della.

  “He has rather important friends staying with him,” commented her uncle, “and now we must not keep our luncheon waiting.”

  He walked quickly towards the dining room with Della following him.

  She wondered vaguely what the answer might be to the Duke’s important question, but her uncle spoke of other matters as soon as they sat down.

  She thought it must be something confidential that could not be discussed in front of the servants.

  The luncheon was excellent, but Della thought Mrs Beston would be disappointed that the Duke had not stayed.

  She had, however, a great deal to tell her uncle about her ride and informed him that the gypsies were now in residence in the field beside Long Wood where they camped year after year.

  “So they are back!” exclaimed Lord Lainden. “That is good and of course I must go and see them.”

  “They will be very disappointed if you do not.”

  Della then told him how Lendi was now bedridden and added that Mireli was learning to take her place.

  She knew her uncle was listening intently, but at the same time she could sense there was something on his mind.

  And it was worrying him.

  Della had always been able to pick up on the thoughts and feelings of others, ascribing her feyness to her mother’s Scottish ancestors and their folklore of those born with ‘second sight’. Even as a child she had been sensitive to what was happening around her, aware of secrets that never occurred to other children the same age.

  When she grew older she found she knew things which grown–ups either kept hidden or were not aware of themselves.

  Sometimes she found herself predicting an occurrence before it happened.

  During her first stay at Wood Hall she had been aware of the ghost before anyone else told her about it.

  ‘I wonder what is worrying Uncle Edward,’ she pondered before luncheon was over.

  She knew her uncle so well. He never had to tell her when he was faced with a difficult political problem, as she was aware of it from the way he spoke or perhaps it came from his vibrations.

  She was glad it was the Duke who had been the visitor otherwise she would have been suspicious that he was being asked once again to go abroad. Perhaps it would be either to Paris, Berlin or Amsterdam to settle some international difficulty for which no one else could find a solution.

  But it was the Duke who had brought a note of discord to the house.

  Della therefore supposed it must be something to do with his family. At one time there had been a monumental crisis when the Duke’s nephew became infatuated with a most unsuitable woman. If it had just been an affaire–de–coeur no one would have worried particularly.

  The gossips would soon have found someone else to talk about, but the Duke, however, had learned that his nephew was contemplating marrying the woman in question.

  She was absolutely determined to make herself a Duchess and the Duke had, of course, turned to Lord Lainden in despair. It was not surprising to Della that her uncle with his usual brilliance and understanding of people had in some way managed to get rid of the woman and at least there had been no scandal.

  She wondered if one of the Duke’s family was in trouble again, or alternatively it might be just something wrong on the estate.

  Whatever it was she realised that it was worrying her uncle.

  She considered that it was rather tiresome of the Duke not to try to solve his own problems.

  It was so important for her Uncle Edward to rest.

  He was, in fact, writing his memoirs which Della found extremely interesting. He had known so many famous politicians and had travelled to so many fascinating countries. In addition he possessed a sardonic sense of humour that was all his own.

  She was certain that his book, when it was finished, would be a bestseller. The difficulty with her uncle, however, was that he always wanted everything done immediately, on time and at a moment’s notice!

  That was quite impossible where a book was concerned, as there was so much he had to look up and so much he had to remember.

  Della longed to help him and yet it was impossible for her to do more than encourage and praise him. She was also able to point out any passage she found difficult to understand.

  Luncheon was not a large meal. Lord Lainden was usually in a hurry at midday, but was prepared to relax in the evening.

  As the coffee was served Della asked,

  “What are you going to do this afternoon, Uncle Edward?”

  “I think after what you have told me, I will ride down and see the Lee family at the gypsy camp, but first I want to talk to you, so let us go into the study.”

  Now, Della thought, she would hear what had been worrying him.

  There was a serious note in his voice, which made her think it was a somewhat serious problem. She wished the Duke would not come to upset them and it was particularly annoying when her uncle had been in such a good mood for the last two or three days.

  He had just completed a whole chapter of his book and Della had expected him to continue writing this afternoon so that they could discuss what he had done over dinner.

  Yet he suddenly wanted to go riding and visit the Lees, almost before they had settled down. This was something he had never done before and she could not help thinking that whatever the Duke had said was really worrying him.

  As they walked d
own the corridor Lord Lainden put his hand on Della’s shoulder.

  “You know how much I love having you here with me, my dear,” he began. ‘In fact you have brought sunshine into the house which has made a great deal of difference to me and to everyone else.”

  Della looked at him in surprise.

  “That is a very sweet compliment to pay me, Uncle Edward, but I cannot help wondering why you have done so now.”

  They had reached the study door and her uncle took his hand from her shoulder.

  “That is just what I am going to tell you, my dear Della.”

  They walked into the room.

  As Della expected her uncle went to stand in front of the fireplace as he invariably did when he was discussing anything important. In the winter the fire was warming, but now the fireplace was merely filled with plants, which created a patch of colour whilst looking very attractive.

  Della sat down in one of the armchairs in front of her uncle.

  She thought, as she looked at him, that despite his age he was a very good–looking and attractive man. There was an air of authority and gravitas about him, which was only to be expected after his distinguished career.

  Although his hair was turning white, it still covered his head and he was by no means bald.

  Silhouetted against a magnificent picture of horses by Stubbs, he looked, she decided, exactly as an Englishman should and it would be difficult even at his age to find anyone to rival him.

  Although she had sat down, Lord Lainden had not spoken.

  “What is worrying you, Uncle Edward?” asked Della quietly. “I cannot think why His Grace must bring all his problems to you.”

  Lord Lainden smiled.

  “He expects me to solve them for him, my dear, as you are well aware. But this one actually concerns you.”

  Della looked astonished.

  “Concerns me! But why me – and about what?”

  There was a pause before Lord Lainden replied simply,

  “Jason has come home.”

  CHAPTER TWO

  Della stared at the uncle in sheer astonishment. “Jason has come home!” she exclaimed. “I do not believe it.”

  “It is true and I thought you would be surprised.”

  “I am astonished. But why after all these years?”