Miss Morgan and the Gypsy

Seven: We Are All Wanderers

"Oh, Lady Esma, I would be fine in some servant clothes. You don't have to give me your own."

"Nonsense. I just hope you aren't offended by Rom attire."

Harriet turned her pale eyes to Esma. "Never my lady."

Esma dressed her in a high-necked white blouse with bell sleeves that Esma almost never wore and a midnight blue skirt with soft yellow daisies sprinkled over it. At first glance the skirt would appear black but when the light hit it just right the blue hue shined through.

She stepped back and observed at the fair creature in such harsh Roma clothing. Harriet Morgan was breathtaking in it. The contrast of her soft features highlighted the boldness of the wardrobe.

"Come, I'll fix your hair." She sat Harriet down and began to brush out the tangles in her unusual locks. "Such an extraordinary color. It must be the softest blonde I have ever seen. It's as if someone cast a draba on you."

"What is that?" Harriet asked curiously.

"Forgive me," Esma replied. "It means charm or spell. I will try to refrain from speaking the old language."

Harriet shook her head. "Please don't. It's beautiful."

"Not many people think that."

As Esma braided and pinned Harriet's hair up, the faintest voice came from the girl's petal pink lips. "I've always loved words. Expressing them in the way they should be when I'm not trying to follow societies laws. But the way Mr. Rowe and you speak, it gives language a whole new depth. It's like any foreign word you two express comes to life. So... heavy and with such an emotional gravity that simple English can't contain it. I think even Shakespeare would be hypnotized by it."

Esma paused and truly saw the young woman who seemed a good deal younger than herself. Harriet Morgan was innocent and pure, her looks that of an angel who had been sent here to deliver a message, not one that was cast out. But she also saw a young woman who lost a lot and was sheltered most of her life.

"Harriet, I want you to know that wandering led me to exactly where I needed to be. I think it will do the same for you." She leaned in and whispered their two faces so different it was extraordinary. "You have a way with words, little love."

Esma watched Harriet examine herself in the mirror. Despite the lack of needed nourishment, Harriet's face was the definition of fairylike features, soft, delicate, and luminous, the polar opposite of Esma's sharp and strong, catlike ones.

Small slender fingers touched the coiled braids Esma had pinned prettily to Harriet's head and had made sure to have every piece of hair pinned back.

"I've never seen a coiffure like this before." Harriet said in adoration as her fingers continued to examine the intricate fastenings.

"With hair like yours, it deserved proper handling."

Harriet flushed. "There's no way this suits me. Such beautiful garments..." Harriet's words died in her throat.

Esma liked her. It was rare to come across such humility.

While glancing at the inviting fall weather through the window, Esma saw Nicu and St. George walking from the forest. Most likely from investigating. Harriet walked up next to Esma; keen eyes directed right at Nicu. "What's he like?"

They both watched the two men striding up towards the house. Esma didn't even need to ask Harriet who she was curious about. "Arrogant, eccentric... honestly, there's not enough words to describe Phal."

"Does that mean brother?"

Esma nodded.

Harriet gave a small grin. "It seems to hold so much more depth and meaning."

Esma smiled at that. "You will be able to find out for yourself what he's like. But do remember, there is more to him than you can see."

How I picture the beautiful Esma. She is probably another favorite character of mine. This chapter is short but the next one will be longer I promise ;)

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