The Gypsy and the Widow Read Online Free

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