you do that, Sir Simon will be foiled in his aspirations toward you.”
“What you mean,” Autumn said with a small chuckle, “is that even Sir Simon Bates would not attempt to seduce a half-wit, eh, brother?”
“Precisely!” he agreed with a grin.
“You shall be the death of me yet,” the Duchess of Glenkirk said, throwing up her hands. “Henry, pour me some of that excellent Glenkirk whiskey. My nerves are shattered.”
“Oh, Mama, you are as bad as I am, feigning distress,” Autumn teased her mother. “If India’s adventures in Barbary and Fortune’s in Ulster did not do you in, I doubt very much I can.”
“I was much younger then, and I had your father,” Jasmine replied. She took the tumbler her son handed her and swallowed down a draught of the peat-flavored whiskey. “Excellent!” she pronounced. “I do believe I shall recover after all.”
And her children laughed.
They gathered that night in the Great Hall of Cadby, and Jasmine felt a deep sadness, knowing it might be some time before she saw her eldest son’s family again. Her daughter-in-law, Rosamund, instinctively understood and attempted to comfort Jasmine.
“Do not grieve, madame. We will come to France to visit you next summer, if these difficulties have not been solved by then. I know how much you love your grandchildren. But certainly this civil strife will be over with by next year, and the king will return.”
“Rosamund, we have spoken on this, you and I,” Henry chided his wife. “Cromwell will not relinquish his power easily, nor will the men who support him. They have murdered one king and would murder the other were he in their hands. The young king hasn’t the power to return yet, and the people of England, while complaining, have not yet had their bellyful of these psalm-singing Puritans so that they will rise up in the king’s defense. We will probably go to France to visit Mama.”
His wife looked crestfallen. “I can hope it is over soon,” she said sadly. “What is going to happen to the children? With everything, and anything that was pleasurable forbidden, how can they meet other young people of their station, and how can we make matches? Henry is already eleven, and I daren’t even teach him to dance, lest one of the servants reports it to the authorities!”
“Perhaps you should come to France too,” Autumn suggested.
“I will not leave my home,” Henry Lindley said, “nor will my family leave it. We ceased going to court years ago. If we cannot hold a few celebrations in this time, then we will find other ways to make matches for the children when their time comes. They are all far too young now anyway. Eventually Cromwell will be sent packing and the king will return. You are brought low, Rosamund, by all that has happened lately. After Mama and Autumn depart for France, we will take the children and go to visit your parents at RiversEdge.”
His wife, who was the eldest daughter of the Earl and Countess of Langford, clapped her hands in childlike delight. “Aye, Henry, I should like to visit RiversEdge!”
Autumn smiled to herself. How easy it was for Rosamund. She had a husband she adored and five beautiful children. Her parents were both alive at their family’s home. Nothing had really changed for Rosamund, except that her social life was now curtailed because of the Puritans. Cadby had never been threatened and was unlikely to be, although isolation was not a guarantee, as she had learned from the incident at Queen’s Malvern.
Still, Rosamund was not being driven from her home and the life she had always known. Autumn had no idea if she would ever return to Glenkirk. She looked at her three nephews, Henry, James, and Robert. By next summer they would have changed, as would their two sisters. She wondered if Henry would be able to bring his family to France, or if he would keep them at Cadby for fear of losing his estates should he leave them. And what would happen to Queen’s Malvern? Would it still be there when this was all over, and Charlie came home again?
The next morning dawned clear and cold. They would travel in the Marquis of Westleigh’s large, comfortable coach, accompanied by a baggage cart. When they arrived in France a coach, already purchased by the duchess’s agents, would be awaiting them, along with horses for both it, the baggage cart, and the travelers, who might on some days prefer riding. There would also be servants awaiting them from Jasmine’s chateau. The duchess had left nothing to chance. It was important that Autumn like France, for it would more than likely be her home for the rest of her life.
She did not want her daughter becoming involved with some exiled English nobleman. Anyone connected with the Stuart court was suspect, in her mind. Besides, what could an exile offer her daughter? No home. No family. No income. No life. Never! Autumn would marry a Frenchman. The Dutch were too dull and stolid, but a Frenchman would understand Autumn. The Duchess of Glenkirk was a woman who believed firmly in fate. No young man had caught Autumn’s fancy in either Scotland or England. The duchess had to believe that her youngest child’s fate lay in France. Bidding Rosamund and her five Lindley grandchildren farewell, she climbed into the coach with her two serving women, Rohana and Toramalli, and with Autumn’s serving wench, Lily. Toramalli’s husband, Fergus, and Adali, would drive the baggage cart. Red Hugh, Jasmine’s personal captain, had already departed for France to oversee the preparations for his mistress. He would meet them there.
“I shall write to you as soon as we reach Belle Fleurs, my dear,” she told Rosamund. “Enjoy your visit to RiversEdge, but after that stay close to home and keep the children near. My felicitations to your parents.”
Rosamund’s soft blue eyes were teary. “I wish you would stay,” she said. “The dower house is always here for you, Jasmine.”
“It is comforting to know that, my dear,” came the reply. Then the window of the coach was pulled firmly up, and the vehicle rumbled off down the gravel driveway toward the main road.
As they approached Warwick Castle, they were joined by Sir Simon Bates and his troopers. The Roundhead captain drew his mount up next to the Marquis of Westleigh.
“Good morning, my lord. How far will you travel with us?” he asked politely.
“I will accompany my mother all the way to Harwich, sir,” came the pleasant reply. “I am loath to see her go, you will understand.”
“Of course, my lord.” Sir Simon turned to Autumn. “Good morning, my lady. You are well, I trust.”
“Mama says I will marry a Frenchman,” Autumn answered. “I do not think I ever met a Frenchman. Have you met a Frenchman, Sir Simon? Are they like us? I wish I could go home to Scotland, but Papa is dead. It makes Mama unhappy to think about him and Glenkirk.”
“She was not like this at Queen’s Malvern,” Sir Simon noted to the marquis. “She was quite spirited with me then.”
“She managed to maintain her composure until she saw Mama. It was then she collapsed into tears, whether over her father or over Bess, or perhaps both, we do not know. She has been childlike ever since, but we believe she will recover in the peaceful surroundings of Mama’s chateau. Poor Autumn,” Henry Lindley sighed, and then he looked straight ahead, preventing further conversation.
Autumn struggled with herself not to break into laughter. She almost felt sorry for Sir Simon, but that she knew him to be a true villian. She gained a certain satisfaction in the fact that he felt guilty over Bess’s death and her supposed plight. They traveled for five long days, finally reaching Harwich on the coast. Autumn kept herself from Sir Simon as much as possible, lest she give away her
