The Gypsy Blessing Read Online Free PDF

enjoyed it so much when you were here, I thought it would be nice for you to have a special treat on your birthday. Cook was especially pleased to hear that hers turned out even better than did Mrs. Hill’s, although, from her expression, I have a suspicion that when transcribing the necessary steps, she held something back—a secret ingredient, perhaps.
    I am afraid this must be a short letter, Lizzy, but I wished to answer yours quickly so that I could relieve you of a falsehood you are living under. I do not know why you thought I sent you a drawing, but I assure you, I did not. I gave up on ever developing the skill necessary for that accomplishment long ago—soon after meeting your uncle, in fact. Your father must remember that my abilities were sorely lacking, for he teases me on this count whenever the subject presents itself. You may ask his opinion if you think I am simply being modest.
    I will write again soon, my dear.
    Yours, etc.
    Madeline Gardiner
    It was obvious to Elizabeth that this was in answer to her first letter to her aunt. She had to read over the second paragraph several times before she could comprehend its full meaning.
    If it is not Aunt Madeline sending me the drawings, then who is?
    She crossed to her dressing table and opened the drawer, removing all the drawings she had received thus far. Examining each closely, she realized for the first time that the artist had not signed them, which was strange in itself; that each one prophesized something that would occur was overwhelming.
    Can this actually be happening? Perhaps I have gone mad! If so, have I been making these drawings myself after the fact and only imagine receiving them before these events transpired?
    But, no... being an admirer of drawing and painting, she had made several attempts through the years at both. Whilst she had made some improvements over time, she never had any talent for either. She could never draw this well.
    Suddenly feeling extremely tired, Elizabeth refolded the pages and tied the ribbon, then placed them in the drawer, closing it quite forcefully. Once upon the bed, she closed her eyes, but her mind was so full, she could not rest.
    Shall I tell father that I am receiving letters from an unknown person? The impropriety of the situation is clear.
    It would not serve to worry him unnecessarily. After all, the drawings were not harmful in any way. If he became alarmed and wished to see them, her madness might be somehow proven.
    No, I cannot tell him! After hearing stories about the madhouse, I would rather throw propriety to the wind than to risk being sent there. But have not I already shown him one of the drawings? After thinking on it, she realized, I had shown him only the handwriting on the outside, which he confirmed was not that of my uncle, either.
    She had once read about the method that some used to “predict” the future to those who would buy their services. They told naive people of occurrences that would eventually happen to everybody. True, her family gathered around the dining table was an event that could be predicted accurately by anyone, and perhaps she was only assuming the plate on the table was filled with marzipan. However, Lydia spilling wine on her favourite gown, Charlotte requiring an antidote for poison, and her mother sitting on the ground covered with mud with a broken wheel beside her were not events that were inevitable.
    Should I stop opening the letters? Elizabeth shook her head. Surely, Charlotte would be dead if I had not opened that particular drawing of the plant—Mr. Jones said so, in his own way.
    Maybe these sheets of paper are blank and, in a state of lunacy, I am only imagining the drawings?
    After spending some time contemplating the last, Elizabeth decided that she would write in her journal the details of what she saw in any further drawings that she should receive and how they made her feel—including anything that entered her mind as she looked at them, even if the