QUEEN’S MALVERN
Autumn 1667
“Did she, or did she not murder her husband, Mama?” Charles Stuart, the duke of Lundy, asked his mother.
Jasmine Leslie, the dowager duchess of Glenkirk and the marchioness of Westleigh, looked directly back at her son. “If you would know the answer to that question, Charlie, then you must ask her when she arrives” came the quiet reply.
“I must know!” the duke insisted. “You are, after all, introducing this girl into the bosom of our family, Mama.”
“This girl, as you call her, is your niece, Charlie. She is Fortune’s youngest child. She is family!”
“She is a stranger, Mama, for all she is Fortune’s daughter,” he said. “We know nothing about her.”
“I know,” Jasmine responded sharply.
“Then why will you not tell her?” he pleaded.
“Because it is a terrible tragedy for Frances. It should have remained private, but unfortunately, Lord and Lady Tolliver, newly returned from the Virginias, have been swift to bruit this disgraceful scandal about the court. This calumny should have remained on the other side of the ocean! Frances comes to us to escape the backbiting, and the uninformed gossips whose lives are so barren they must tittle-tattle this misadventure. Your sister and her husband have acted with incredible discretion and perfect good manners considering all that has happened.”
“But I don’t know what has happened!” the duke almost shouted at his mother. He ran an impatient hand through his slightly graying auburn hair, which was cropped very short in order for his court wigs to fit properly. His amber eyes were lively but his look quite disturbed.
Jasmine sighed deeply; still she reached out to take her son’s hand in hers. “I have always acted carefully, Charlie,” she began.
“Except with my father,” he murmured and received a sharp pinch on his arm for his words. “Ouch!” he exclaimed, but he grinned.
“Mistress Frances Devers would not come into this house, Charlie, indeed I should not receive her at all, had I any doubts as to her character. I do not. Remember, my dear, that your sister has corresponded with me for thirty-two years. I have not seen her, or Kieran since that sad day when they left for Maryland, but I know everything there is to know about them and about their family. Aine is a nun. Shane is his father’s heir. He has a wife and three children of his own. Cullen and Rory have their own plantations, with wives and children. Maeve is happily married and expecting her second child. Jamie and Charlie are out on the frontier exploring. Kieran is not well. He has worked too hard these past years to make his plantation thrive. Fortune writes it has weakened his brave and noble heart. And now this tragedy that has beset the family has played havoc with all their lives. It was better that young Frances leave the Colonies and return to England.”
“But this rumor of murder?” Charlie persisted.
“If you would know what has happened, Charlie, then you must ask your niece,” his mother repeated. “No charges were ever made against her, nor was she even brought before the king’s magistrate. Unless your morbid curiosity overcomes you, dear boy, then you must be satisfied with that answer no matter the evil rumors. They will swirl about her for a time when we introduce her into court, but eventually some other scandal will catch the court’s interest and Frances’s difficulties will be quickly forgotten.” Jasmine arose from the tapestried-back chair where she had been sitting. “If Frances cannot be welcome in this house, Charlie, then I shall open my dower house at your brother Henry’s. I am, after all, the dowager marchioness of Westleigh as well as the dowager duchess of Glenkirk.”
“Oh, no, you don’t,” Charlie said, suddenly laughing. “Barbara and I do not intend to be left in charge of those two vixens you have raised and influenced. And Cadby is not big enough for all of you. Nay, you will remain here, dear Mama, where I may keep an eye on this family’s current crop of wicked wenches.”
“Then I shall go and prepare for my granddaughter’s arrival,” Jasmine said. “The outrider arrived less than an hour ago. She should be here shortly. I requested she travel without a servant of her own. I have chosen a sensible Queen’s Malvern lass for her.” She turned and walked away from the old family hall. “I shall be down when the coach arrives, Charlie,” she told him.
The duke of Lundy turned to his beautiful wife, Barbara, who had been sitting silently during the entire exchange. “Well?” he demanded of her. “What say you, my lady wife?”
“I have never known your mother’s judgment to be wrong, Charlie,” the lady Barbara replied. “Whatever has happened to young Frances, she has been charged with no crime. These rumors of murder will frankly make her far more interesting to the gentlemen of the court than if she were just an ordinary young widowed colonial coming to court with the backing of her influential relations. Indeed, I fear it may take the light from Diana and my own, Cynara. I want those two wed before they get into any difficulties we cannot get them out of, Charlie!”
The duke chuckled. “They are just high spirited, my darling,” he murmured.
“They are a pair of young devils, Charlie! We have all spoiled them dreadfully. Young Frances’s difficulties, whatever they are, will pale in comparison with the mischief Diana and Cynara can get into. They go to court this winter, and we will find them husbands as soon as possible,” the beautiful duchess of Lundy said firmly.
“If you say so, my darling,” he answered her.
Barbara shook her head, laughing. “I do say so,” she told him. Then she kissed him. “Thank goodness we only had one child, Charlie. I do not believe I should have survived with a second like Cynara.” The duchess sighed deeply. “I love her, but she is every bit a Stuart. Arrogant and proud.”
“You think me arrogant and prideful?” he asked her, surprised.
“Yes, but you have those qualities in the nicest way. Aye, you are proud to be a Stuart, and because of your Stuart grandparents, you have never known any stigma of being born on the wrong side of the blanket. But you can become cold and proud when anyone has the temerity to suggest that you are any less for your birth than you really are. After all, your grandfather was king of England and Scotland. Your father was the heir to that throne before his untimely death. The late king was your beloved uncle. The present king your favorite cousin, and he certainly favors you. You are the not-so-royal Stuart, Charlie, but you are Stuart nonetheless.
“Our daughter, however, thinks that being a Stuart places her above everyone else. She believes that being related to the king gives her advantages and privileges that she really does not have. Your mother and I have tried to convince her otherwise, but Cynara will have her own way. One day, however, she will learn otherwise, of course.”
Charlie looked troubled by his wife’s words, but then the sound of a carriage coming up the driveway reached his ears. “She is here,” he said. “Come, Barbara, and let us meet Fortune’s daughter, who may or may not have murdered her husband.”
“If your mother says it is all right, my darling,” the duchess of Lundy responded, “then I will trust that it is. Lord help us, my husband. We will now have three vixens on our hands to marry off.”
Part One
ENGLAND
