CHAPTER 1

September 1831

It was the day of the festival and the town square in the French City of Caen was crowded with the locals as well as visitors from England and other parts of France. Bells from the nearby Saint-Sauveur le Vieux church chimed, while musicians sang and performed juggling acts. Vendors shouted, bargained, and sold their goods in the square. Their carpets were spread before them, laden with an assortment of items, such as textiles from Lyon, handcrafted goods, and tools. Vendors with dogcarts sold food, including French cheese, sausages, and brioche. Enticing scents emanated from the barrels filled with spices from India, which mixed and fused together in wild profusion with the pungent smell of leather in one corner and freshly baked bread in the other. The hotels in the vicinity catered to the English visitor, offering the famous French apple cider calvados drink or English tea for the women. By late afternoon, the festival was deemed a success, as crowds upon crowds of people had joined the revelry.

If one wanted their fortune told, they would visit Mirela, the famous gypsy fortune-teller located at the outskirts of the square. It was said that she had traveled the world telling fortunes. Once at the tent, one would inevitably find a line of people waiting there to have their fortune told. Raoul, the dark-haired gypsy boy, stood in front of the entrance ready to usher the next person inside.

Behind the tent, sixteen-year old Lily, Mirela’s granddaughter sat on a stool reading a French novel and waiting for Mirela’s cue to usher the next customer out the back. Her brows furrowed as she tried to understand the meaning of some of the more difficult French words. Her thick honey-blonde braids brushed the pages as she leaned forward, laboring with the words. Although she was thankful that her grandmother had taught her to speak and read French and English, and even a little Greek, she realized she had a long way to go. Next to her lay the old black hairpiece that was used when making a public appearance. Her grandmother insisted she wear it so that she wouldn’t stand out from the other gypsies. It was getting ragged and today several chunks of hair were missing, thanks to their horse Tsingana who had taken bites out of it. Lily never liked wearing it if she didn’t have to, so she had removed it for now until it was needed.

The conversation about how many grandchildren the matron was expecting came to a close, alerting Lily. She carefully placed her wig on her head and stuck the book in her skirt pocket.

“Aurevoir,” Mirella announced loudly.

In one fluid movement Lily jumped up and opened the flap of the tent. “S’il vous plait, Madame, suivez moi,” she said melodiously to the stout matron, bowing, then taking her gloved hand, led the well-dressed woman away from the tent and around the stone building to the cobbled alley. She pointed to the left, towards the general direction of the crowds, then promptly returned to her reading, waiting for the next cue.

As it got darker, Lily lit a tallow candle that she had brought with her.

That evening, Lady Charleton entered Mirela’s tent. She was dressed in the latest fashion, with her blue walking dress and matching wide hat adorned with lofty feathers and loops of blue ribbons. Lady Charleton removed her snug-fitting gloves. “I’m so glad I found you here, Mirela! So much has happened since two years ago, in Paris, when you read my future.”

Mirela sat in front of a small table, with two lit candles and a crystal ball in the middle of it. She was a plump, middle-aged woman, with dark, heavy-lidded eyes. She was arrayed in flashy apparel and her head was covered with a purple turban with gold trim. Her large, round gold earrings glistened under the nearby candlelight. She smiled approvingly. “I have been expecting you.” She spoke in perfect English, her voice calm and dusky. “Please sit down.”

Gertrude sat gingerly on the small stool and leaned forward. “After you told me about Mr. Penbroke, I checked up on him.”

“Yes?” Mirela prompted.

“You were right! He gambled, and was in terrible debt, and I decided not to marry him. If I had, he would have run through my inheritance money in no time! I’m sure of it! So I married Sir Douglas Charleton after all.” She proudly showed her the gold band on her hand. “I’m Lady Charleton now.”

Mirela nodded. “Ah, your neighbor’s nephew. I remember. You chose well. You were wise to stay away from this Penbroke.”

“With help from you, of course! I’ll always be your debt.”

“I am glad for you. It is not I who makes your future. I just tell you what I see. It is you that made the decision and acted upon it.”

“But it was you who opened my eyes!” Gertrude insisted. “If there is ever a need for assistance in anything…”

Mirela’s eyes flashed open briefly. The vision she saw last night in her dream hit a nerve deep inside of her; the woman before her was going to take the person she cherished the most away from her. “Later… we can talk. Let us begin.” She stared a few minutes at the crystal ball on the table. “You are visiting France with your husband, Lady Charleton?”

“Yes, we have a house in Paris and come here often… for business. We will be leaving tomorrow afternoon for England with my husband’s packet ship.”

“Ah…on a business trip.”

Gertrude looked down, twisting her gloves restlessly. “When my husband left the navy, he entered the cotton textiles business. It’s not that he needs the money…he inherited quite a bit from his late father, who was an Admiral in the Royal Navy, as well as his father’s title of baronet…and I also brought money into the marriage.” She looked up. “He just likes to make more of it, that’s all. Although trade is not quite accepted by the ton.” She appeared guilty.

“Maybe trade is not, but money is accepted by the ton, and trade brings money.”

Lady Charleton seemed pleased by the answer. “That’s what he thinks. Recently, he went to Lyon, where he met Jacques, a French businessman. He said that he could supply him with silk textiles from that region. I want to know if silk is right for us at this time.”

Mirela gazed at the gleaming ball. “I do not see anything wrong with his choice. But I do see machines, many of them.” She looked up. “The looms will help your cotton textiles business grow.”

Outside, Lily held the candle in the dark, trying to read her book but was not able to concentrate after two drops of candle wax landed on the page. Disgusted, she set the book aside, not wanting to damage the pages. Even more importantly, she had been listening in on the conversation inside the tent and it had become more interesting.

Gertrude thanked Mirela. Then a shadow passed over her face. “My husband’s uncle is ill. The doctor said he doesn’t have much time left.”

“This uncle, I see he is ill as you say, and yet…a change of climate could help his condition.”

Lily saw Mirela’s large shadow lean forward, her head close to the lady’s head. They were whispering.

“I want to know about my younger sister, Charlotte,” Gertrude said with lowered voice.

Lily moved closer towards the tent, trying to listen. Just then, the sound of a carriage clattering by caught her attention. She stood up, her attention diverted momentarily. It was unusual to hear carriages come by here. This was a narrow road and besides, carriages were quite expensive. Only the rich rode in them. The clattering sound stopped. Curiosity got the better of her. Carrying her candle, Lily swiftly crossed the back of the tent and went to the other side of the building to check up on the noise. She no longer was interested in the whispering going on inside the tent.

“Charlotte just turned twenty-one,” Gertrude was saying to Mirela, “and has confided in me that she’s in love with Edward. I am not surprised. He is quite handsome. Even I had a crush on him at one time, but that was so long ago.” She tittered nervously.

“Hmm, and you want to know if she is the right woman for him.” Mirela’s eyes narrowed as her hands hovered above the ball. She inhaled sharply at what she saw. “Yes…I sense a woman next to him.” This was not something she wanted to share with Lady Charleton.

“You do? What does she look like?”

“Attractive…and brightly clothed, like a butterfly.”

“That sounds like her. She loves to dress in the latest fashion.”

“She appears to be important in his life. They are holding hands.” Mirela also saw a shadow. She was silent. The shadow was coming over the couple. She squinted at the shape that stood next to them. Was it another woman? She could not tell. She sighed and leaned back, feeling drained. “That is all I can tell you.”

“Mirela, thank you so much! If only I could repay you for all the good you’ve done me!”

“Please, put your money back in your purse, for I do plan to take you up on your offer.”

Lily looked back at the tent to make sure she was not needed. The silhouettes of the two women were bent over the crystal ball. She peered down the dark alley. A horse snorted. Shifting her candle towards that direction, she observed a large shadow to her left. When Lily leaned forward, moving the sputtering tallow candle with her, the carriage and horses came into sight. Just then she smelled the smoke and looked down. She gasped at the sight of flames engulfing her braid and blouse. She wanted to shout for help but nothing came out except a croaking sound. What was wrong with her? Why couldn’t she move?

What came next happened so quickly that it would remain a blur in her memory. Someone pushed her to the ground, rolling her in some thick, scratchy fabric. The scent of sandalwood and spice replaced the smell of smoke. “N’enquietez pas, ma petite,” said a man’s voice, deep and soothing.

Lily struggled to be free when she heard the man’s voice. She did not want to be in his arms, whoever he was. The warm wool was lifted from her as she sat up. Trembling like a leaf, feeling the coldness of the evening press upon her, she arose slowly. It was dark, and the dark shape of a tall man materialized before her. He kept a respectful distance as she swiped at her face and clothes, afraid to look at him. She felt stronger by the minute. “Merci, monsieur,” she rasped gratefully. Her throat still felt raw from the smoke. “I don’t know what I would have done without your help.”

“Ah, so you speak English too.”

Lily was silent, unsure as to how to reply to this man’s gentle probing. If he found out she was a gypsy who spoke several languages, he would turn his heel quickly, checking his pockets to make sure she did not steal something.

“I was in that carriage when I saw your head glowing like a ball of fire in the night,” he said gently. “I used my coat to put the flames out. You should be more careful in the future.”

Lily was touched by his words. He spoke endearingly, like a father to a child. A gadgo speaking in such a manner was unusual.

“Good-bye!” Mirela announced from inside the tent.

Lily’s head swiveled towards the tent. Her grandmother’s call could not be ignored. “I must go now.” She ran shakily around the building, thankful for the candlelight inside the tent guiding her way to the back. She threw the wig on her head and pulled the flap open to reveal the small frame of Lady Charleton standing there, as if waiting for her.

Lily curtsied, her head low. “Please follow me, my Lady,” she whispered. She grabbed Lady Charleton’s gloved arm and pulled her towards the direction of the street.

“That’s quite all right. I can find my way,” Gertrude said, pulling her arm away.

Lily watched the lady glide forward. She wondered if the man would still be there. Maybe he was the lady’s coachman. As if reading her mind, the man’s tall shape materialized.

“Hello, Gertrude. Douglas asked me to come for you,” he told Lady Charleton.

“What a surprise!” Lady Charleton sounded surprised to see him. She clung to him as they walked away.

Lily stared at their retreating shadows. She did not even know the name of her rescuer.

* * *

Gertrude sank into the seat of the carriage. “I was expecting Douglas to collect me. You can imagine my surprise when you showed up instead. I thought I was seeing a ghost!”

Edward smiled. “I met him at the hotel, and he asked that I come get you. He was busy with…a transaction. He sends his apologies.”

“It is so good to see you again! We were waiting all day for your arrival from Italy. What happened?”

“My apologies. I was delayed there, something to do with a large shipment I was sending to England.”

“So how were your travels? It’s been almost three years since you left England.”

“Extraordinary, and always something new to see or do. As a matter of fact, I visited several courts in Europe and met some people of distinction.”

“You must tell us all about it! I admit, you took so long in coming back, we thought you might have met some beautiful exotic woman and decided to live on some secluded island with her for the rest of your life.”

Edward laughed. “That’s what Douglas said. No. I am still a free man.”

“Well that’s good. There are some people besides us who are glad that you’ll be returning to England. Your old friends all ask about you, and Charlotte’s very keen on seeing you too.”

Edward was silent. He had grown up knowing the wealthy Stantons, who were their neighbors. He recalled their youngest daughter, Charlotte, being small and feisty, and always getting into trouble, so that he was always rescuing her from some mishap. “It has been a long time. Hasn’t it?” Edward changed the subject. “We will be leaving tomorrow on the packet?”

“Yes, in the afternoon.”

“That suits me.” Edward wanted to see his father as soon as possible.

They arrived at the hotel and Edward helped Gertrude down from the carriage. She held a handkerchief to her nose. He knew that she was too well mannered to mention anything about the smoky scent coming from his suit. The handkerchief was enough of a signal.

Edward bowed, excusing himself. “I need to attend to a few things. Have a good evening.”

The lobby was empty as he headed for his room, intent of ridding himself of the smoke-infested suit that a little gypsy girl had unintentionally spoilt.

* * *

Later that evening, after the last customer left, Lily entered the tent, feeling tired and hungry. Mirela was busy counting her coins at the table, while perfumed scent from the previous customer clung heavily in the air. Lily removed the wig and dreamily combed her fingers through her hair, thinking about the tall stranger who saved her from the fire.

Mirela finished her counting. “We did very well today.” She looked at Lily and blinked. “What happened to your hair, and your blouse?”

Lily was about to tell her about her rescuer, but her grandmother interrupted her. “That’s all right. We don’t have much time. Sit here, close to me. There is something important I must say to you.” Mirela pulled the other stool close to her.

Lily obeyed her grandmother, especially whenever she used that tone. She sat submissively by her side. Her grandmother’s fleshy hand was clammy as it took hers.

“I saw a dream last night…a prophetic vision…where a young woman I knew came and took you away. I woke up feeling terrified and did not know what it meant until this evening when Lady Charleton appeared. I know she came tonight because of you.”

“Me?” Lily squeaked, surprised by the news.

Mirela nodded slowly, her dark, brooding eyes bored into Lily’s eyes. “It is your destiny to leave with her.”

Lily was used to hearing about her grandmother’s visions, but this was the first time it had anything to do with her. How could this woman be linked to her destiny? “Why do I have to leave?” she cried, feeling palpitations in her stomach.

“Sshh,” Mirela said soothingly, although she herself appeared to be perturbed. She stared at Lily’s dirty palm, then shook her head and sighed. “There is no other path. The time has come for you to leave us, Lily, and the reason…you ask? It is here, a lie that must be revealed. A lie that I’ve lived with for a decade, that’s been knocking on my heart heavily, seeking to be free,” Mirela said, pounding her chest dramatically. “I can no longer ignore it. I must tell you the truth.” She sighed heavily. “Although you call me grandmother, I am not your real grandmother.”

Lily was stunned from the admission. This was not at all what she had expected.

Mirela gazed sadly at her. “You always wondered why you stood out from the other gypsies, your tall height, your fair hair…your eyes…and I told you lies. They were all lies. Your parents were not gypsies. Your mother was not my daughter. You are a gadgo.”

* * *