Read Online Call of the Heart by Barbara Cartland - Free Book Online Page A
Authors: Barbara Cartland
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was ... so angry,” Lalitha said.
“He is not angry now,” she was assured. “He just wishes for Your Ladyship to get well.”
There was something comforting in knowing that he was no longer angry.
Lalitha shut her eyes and fell asleep.
When she opened them again there was food waiting for her.
She was still not hungry but to please the elderly woman she tried to eat a few mouthfuls and succeeded.
Then she slept again, drifting away into a dream-land where her mother was waiting for her and no fear existed.
It was the following morning before she really felt that the clouds had moved away from her head and she could think more clearly.
The room was even more beautiful than it had appeared at first glance.
The white and gold walls, the pink hangings which matched the carpet, the huge, gold-framed mirrors; the pictures and flowers, all were part of an ideal room she had sometimes imagined owning but which never before had she actually seen.
Now she learnt that the elderly woman who attended to her had been Lord Rothwyn’s Nurse.
“A sweet little boy he was, and ‘Nattie’ was one of the first words he ever said. It’s stuck to me ever since!”
She brought Lalitha some breakfast and set it down beside her on the big bed.
Lalitha stared at it, yet for a moment she did not see the fine Worcester china, the gleaming silver, and exquisitely embroidered cloth.
Instead she saw the food she had eaten having cooked it herself on the dirty, unscrubbed kitchen-table at the house on Hill Street.
What would her Step-mother be thinking of her now that she was not there?
What explanations had been given when she had not returned?
What would they say to her when she saw them again? Because she was frightened by such questions she forced them to the back of her mind and tried to listen to what Nattie was saying to her.
“You’ve got to fatten yourself up, M’Lady! Already you have put on a little weight!”
Lalitha stared at her, her eyes wide.
“How could I . . . have . . .” she began, and then asked in a tense voice: “How long have I . . . been here?”
“Nearly three weeks.”
Lalitha started in such amazement that the china on the tray rattled.
“It cannot be true! Three weeks! But why? How can it have ... happened?”
“You have been ill,” Nattie replied. “It’s what the Physician described as ‘exhaustion of the brain,’ but we didn’t pay much attention to him, although His Lordship insisted on consulting him.”
She paused, and as if she realised that Lalitha was waiting for her to explain she went on:
“It’s the Herb-Woman who has been treating you, M’Lady. You won’t recognise your back when you see it in the mirror.”
“The Herb-Woman?” Lalitha repeated, thinking to herself that she must be stupid as she still could not understand what had happened.
“Famous she is in these parts,” Nattie went on, “and people come down from London for her to cure their complaints with her herbs. She won’t allow anyone to use Doctors’ medicines. A lot of rubbish, she calls them!”
“Is it herbs that you have been giving me to drink?” Lalitha asked. “Even though I was unconscious I somehow knew they were delicious!”
“Herbs and fruits from her garden,” Nattie said, “and honey from her bees. She would not use anyone else’s. Says they have special healing powers.”
Lalitha was silent for a moment and then she said: “You say I am ... fatter?”
“A little,” Nattie answered, “and it’s an improvement.”
She went to the dressing-table and picked up a small mirror with a gold frame surmounted by dancing angels.
She carried it across the room and held it in front of Lalitha so that she could see herself.
It was a very different reflection from the one she had last seen in her bed-room on Hill Street.
At that time the skin of her face had seemed taut over the prominent bones. Her eyes, red and inflamed, had been half closed, and her hair had fallen in
“He is not angry now,” she was assured. “He just wishes for Your Ladyship to get well.”
There was something comforting in knowing that he was no longer angry.
Lalitha shut her eyes and fell asleep.
When she opened them again there was food waiting for her.
She was still not hungry but to please the elderly woman she tried to eat a few mouthfuls and succeeded.
Then she slept again, drifting away into a dream-land where her mother was waiting for her and no fear existed.
It was the following morning before she really felt that the clouds had moved away from her head and she could think more clearly.
The room was even more beautiful than it had appeared at first glance.
The white and gold walls, the pink hangings which matched the carpet, the huge, gold-framed mirrors; the pictures and flowers, all were part of an ideal room she had sometimes imagined owning but which never before had she actually seen.
Now she learnt that the elderly woman who attended to her had been Lord Rothwyn’s Nurse.
“A sweet little boy he was, and ‘Nattie’ was one of the first words he ever said. It’s stuck to me ever since!”
She brought Lalitha some breakfast and set it down beside her on the big bed.
Lalitha stared at it, yet for a moment she did not see the fine Worcester china, the gleaming silver, and exquisitely embroidered cloth.
Instead she saw the food she had eaten having cooked it herself on the dirty, unscrubbed kitchen-table at the house on Hill Street.
What would her Step-mother be thinking of her now that she was not there?
What explanations had been given when she had not returned?
What would they say to her when she saw them again? Because she was frightened by such questions she forced them to the back of her mind and tried to listen to what Nattie was saying to her.
“You’ve got to fatten yourself up, M’Lady! Already you have put on a little weight!”
Lalitha stared at her, her eyes wide.
“How could I . . . have . . .” she began, and then asked in a tense voice: “How long have I . . . been here?”
“Nearly three weeks.”
Lalitha started in such amazement that the china on the tray rattled.
“It cannot be true! Three weeks! But why? How can it have ... happened?”
“You have been ill,” Nattie replied. “It’s what the Physician described as ‘exhaustion of the brain,’ but we didn’t pay much attention to him, although His Lordship insisted on consulting him.”
She paused, and as if she realised that Lalitha was waiting for her to explain she went on:
“It’s the Herb-Woman who has been treating you, M’Lady. You won’t recognise your back when you see it in the mirror.”
“The Herb-Woman?” Lalitha repeated, thinking to herself that she must be stupid as she still could not understand what had happened.
“Famous she is in these parts,” Nattie went on, “and people come down from London for her to cure their complaints with her herbs. She won’t allow anyone to use Doctors’ medicines. A lot of rubbish, she calls them!”
“Is it herbs that you have been giving me to drink?” Lalitha asked. “Even though I was unconscious I somehow knew they were delicious!”
“Herbs and fruits from her garden,” Nattie said, “and honey from her bees. She would not use anyone else’s. Says they have special healing powers.”
Lalitha was silent for a moment and then she said: “You say I am ... fatter?”
“A little,” Nattie answered, “and it’s an improvement.”
She went to the dressing-table and picked up a small mirror with a gold frame surmounted by dancing angels.
She carried it across the room and held it in front of Lalitha so that she could see herself.
It was a very different reflection from the one she had last seen in her bed-room on Hill Street.
At that time the skin of her face had seemed taut over the prominent bones. Her eyes, red and inflamed, had been half closed, and her hair had fallen in
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