Henley awoke with a start. A dim, early morning light bled in through the white linen drapes. He looked around, expecting to see a crackling fire, dried herbs hanging from the rafters, and a beautiful gypsy woman sitting by his side. Instead, he saw the same blue and gold wallpaper. The large Henry IV dresser still stood tall and stoic against the back wall, and the writing desk and armchair, positioned directly alongside the settee, were as they should be. The painting of great uncle James III, his riding crop not only visible, but at the ready, was hung miserably at the opposite end of the room. He stared at it for a long while. Would Henry have known Rosetta's ancestors? He wondered which of his relatives, or family for that matter, knew of the gypsy family that lived so close to the Hornbrook estate. Then he wondered if there even was a gypsy family, or whether the exotic beauty he visited in his dream wasn't just that, a figment of his imagination.
