Bewitched (Bantam Series No. 16) by Barbara Cartland Read Free Book Online Page A

at her forehead.
    The wound where the wheel of the Phaeton had hit her was still red, and the skin around it was discoloured the purple and orange of a deep bruise.
    She was wearing the same attractive Gypsy dress that she had done when he first saw her, but he could see that the blouse was not the one which had been torn from her shoulder. On her arm he could see a bandage.
    “I need not tell you how sorry I am that I should have hurt you,” the Marquis said.
    “It was my fault,” the Gypsy answered. “I was looking at your house and I forgot everything else because it was so beautiful.”
    “I am glad you think so,” the Marquis replied. “As I expect someone has told you, it was built in the reign of Queen Elizabeth and there are very few Tudor houses in the whole country to equal it.”
    There was a note of pride in his voice because Ruckley had always meant so much to him.
    “I did not think English houses would be as fine as they are,” the Gypsy said.
    “You sound as if you have not been in England long.”
    “No, this is the first time.”
    “What is your name?”
    “Saviya.”
    “That is a very unusual name.”
    “It may seem so to you,” she replied, “but it is quite a common name amongst my tribe.”
    “And what is that?” the Marquis enquired.
    He thought for a moment she would not answer him. Then she said:
    “We are the Kalderash.”
    She saw that he was ignorant of what this meant and she added:
    “The metal-workers, the farriers, the healers, the musicians and the magicians!”
    “Magicians?” the Marquis exclaimed, then added: “Oh, you mean fortune-telling and that sort of thing. I believe the Gypsies are very good at that!”
    Saviya gave him a faint smile that had a hint of mockery in it before she said in a low voice:
    “I must thank you, My Lord, for having given orders that I was to be well treated in your house and restored to health. It has been a very interesting experience for me.”
    “I can believe that!” the Marquis said. “Perhaps you have never slept under a roof before?”
    Again she gave him that strange smile which made him feel as if he had said something rather ridiculous. But he told himself it was just a trick she had.
    “Where have you come from?” he asked, “I mean, from what country?”
    She hesitated and, before she could reply, the door opened and The Reverend came in.
    “Ah, there you are, My Lord!” he exclaimed. “I heard you had arrived. It is a pleasure to welcome you back so soon, and I see you have made the acquaintance of my new pupil.”
    The Marquis shook hands with The Reverend and asked in surprise:
    “Your new pupil?”
    “Saviya has the most intelligent brain and the most remarkable memory I have ever encountered,” The Reverend said enthusiastically.
    The Marquis looked astonished.
    “All in one small person?” he asked.
    “You may not believe it, My Lord, but she absorbs a new subject in a manner which I consider phenomenal,” The Reverend said, almost as if Saviya was not present.
    She was listening, but still, the Marquis noted, with that faint smile on her lips.
    “I had an idea,” the Marquis said slowly, “although of course I must have been mistaken, that Gypsies could not read or write.”
    “That is true,” Saviya agreed, “and they do not wish to do so. They memorise what they hear and there are story-tellers who translate our legends into poem or song. Besides, for a Gypsy who is always on the move, there is no room for books.”
    “And yet,” the Marquis said, “from what I have just heard, you can read!”
    “I am the exception! “And then, still with that faint mocking smile on her lips, she added:
    “But you see, I am a witch!”
    “A witch?” the Marquis echoed in astonishment.
    “But naturally!” she answered. “Otherwise I should not be able to qualify for the very flattering report the Reverend Gentleman has just given of me.”
    The Marquis was intrigued.
    “You will both have to tell me