Call of the Heart by Barbara Cartland Page A

downwards.
    Sophie had one qualification essential to such a position—a beauty that would strike anyone as soon as they saw her.
    There might be others with blue-blood, a great dowry, or perhaps an engaging personality.
    ‘I have none of those things!’ Lalitha thought.
    She turned her head against the pillows and shut her eyes.
    She had to be practical, she thought. She had to be sensible.
    For a little while until she was well she could stay here in the midst of a beauty which moved her in a manner that was inexpressible in words.
    She had always loathed ugliness, just as she had always loathed dirt, cruelty, lies, and deceit, all of which had been part of the life she had been forced to live.
    Now she had escaped!
    Yet she must not deceive herself into thinking it could last forever.
    Lord Rothwyn had been kind to her, but only because she was ill and because in his anger he had forced her to do as he wished.
    ‘At the same time,’ Lalitha thought, “he must despise me for being so feeble! If I had protested loudly enough, if I had refused to take the marriage vows, he would not be in the position he is in now. ’
    She gave a little sigh.
    ‘I must save him from himself! ’ she thought, ‘and from me! ’
    It was two days later that Lalitha was well enough to go
    downstairs, and before that she had met the Herb-Woman.
    She was not quite certain what she had expected.
    Not a strange old crone who looked as though she had been baked in the sun until her skin was like brass and her eyes were blue as forget-me-nots.
    She had been brought to Roth Park in one of His Lordship’s carriages and had been delighted to see how Lalitha’s health had improved and how there seemed to be a little more fat covering her thin bones.
    “You got a long way to go, my dear,” she said with a broad Hertfordshire accent, “but you be on the right road and all you have to do now is to follow my instructions!”
    She wagged her finger at Lalitha.
    “No cheating now!”
    There were herbs for Lalitha to take which intrigued her. She was to continue with the Bay-oil, which had healed her back and which was still necessary where there were scars.
    There were soft creams that she was to rub over herself after she had bathed and which, she learnt, contained cowslips.
    There was calamint to take, which Lalitha learnt was the herb of Mercury and was not only good for the skin but for all afflictions of the brain.
    “You sound as if you thought I was mad!” she expostulated.
    “You starved your brain as you starved your body!” the Herb-Woman answered. “It needs feeding for it to be as strong as it should be. Calamint will help you. I will leave you a bottle. Let me know when it is finished.”
    There were so many other things that Lalitha, afraid that she would forget her instructions when the old woman had gone, wrote them all down.
    One thing which was easy for her to remember was that she was now to change the lotion for her hair to one made of peach-kernels.
    “Boil them in vinegar,” the Herb-Woman ordered Nattie. “Fortunately peaches are easy to come by at this time of the year. They make the hair grow even upon bald patches and give it a lustre and a shine as beautiful as the peach itself!”
    She also brought Lalitha some of her special honey and told her that she must eat the comb because that was as important as the honey itself.
    “How did you learn all these things?” Lalitha asked. “My father was a Herbalist and his father before him. My ancestor was Nicholas Culpeper.”
    “Who was he?”
    “A very famous Astrologer-Physician,” the Herb-Woman answered. “He was the first man in this country to set down his findings where herbs were concerned.”
    She smiled at Lalitha and added:
    “A study which goes back into the very annals of time.”
    “Yes, I knew that,” Lalitha said, “but I did not know there were books about herbs.”
    “Nicholas Culpeper,” the Herb-Woman said, “devoted his life to the study