Free Curse of the Gypsy by Donna Lea Simpson Page A

thinking of it, my dear. But the gypsy mother has not been here for over a week and there were many days between the visit and the illness.” He frowned. “It is worth considering what they ate that could have been the same, but I do not know what that could be. The gypsy mother, whose name, to a gajo like myself, is Kizzy, began to open her heart a little to me, Anne.” He looked up at his daughter, frowning over his spectacles. “I cannot help but wonder why she is said to have been cursing people lately. Ever since the trouble began, she has not been back to this house. What has occurred that she is said to have cursed poor little Robbie?”
    Anne told him her own experiences at the gypsy encampment, including the trouble among Madam Kizzy and Robbie and Mary. “I just don’t know what to think, but it is beginning to affect how the villagers are viewing Harecross Hall, and that, of course, is a concern.”
    “But others have spoken of this gypsy curse, is that not true, my dear?”
    “There has been trouble locally, Papa, and the gypsies blamed, you know that. The town gentlemen asked you to evict them for a reason, after all. In fact, I came upon one such encounter a few days ago in Hareham, before all this illness broke out. Some townsfolk were tormenting the old gypsy woman. I put a stop to it, of course. We have dealt with them for a century, our family, and never had trouble like this. No one is so adept at the harvest as a gypsy, and no one is so willing to move on once the work is over. Even the villagers know we rely on the gypsies at harvest.”
    He nodded, a frown on his pouched face. He scratched his forehead, sending his wig askew. “That is why I cannot understand what has gone wrong with the folks of Hareham. The only thing different this year is my own interest in the gypsy culture. I do miss Kizzy’s visits. Fascinating woman. Claims to be European royalty, you know, though she cannot say of what country or what family!” He chuckled.
    Anne leaned over and settled his wig on his head properly. “If she has not been here in over a week, then her illness cannot derive from here, or nothing that Robbie could have eaten, too. But he did play with the gypsy boys, even before that scene between Madam Kizzy and Mary.” She shook her head and muttered, “Better the gypsy children than those awful Noonan boys.”
    “Awful?” her father said. “What is wrong with Mrs. Noonan’s boys? Has something happened?”
    Anne sighed, wishing she had kept her mouth shut. She was not going to tell her father that the Noonan demons almost killed her with their mischief, though she still intended to have it out with them. “It’s nothing, Papa. Don’t fret about it.” She rose, crossed to him and kissed his forehead. “I have things to do now, so I’ll let you get on with your work. If you think of anything that could have made them all ill, please let me know.”
    “I will indeed, my dearest daughter,” he said, patting her hand on his shoulder.
     
    ***
     
    It was afternoon when Darkefell and Osei, traveling by Royal Mail coach in plain dress to avoid notice, were set down in Canterbury. Not an hour later, the two men were riding out through St. George Gate on hired mounts, heading for the Darkefell hunting lodge known as Hawk Park since his family had acquired it many years before.
    “How close is Harecross Hall to Hawk Park, Osei?” Darkefell asked.
    “It is some distance, my lord. A good half day’s ride, anyway.”
    The day around them was brilliant and warm, the breeze just brisk enough to be pleasant while riding swiftly, even on a hired mount that could not compare to his own favorite steed, Sunny. Now that they were out of Canterbury town the only unpleasant scent on the air was from the gibbet they passed, and the stinking corpses of three men, hanged after the last assize court. Once past them both the view and the smell improved. They traversed long rolling hills over dry hard-packed