lined in beaver, about her shoulders. Then she set Autumn’s garment, which was also lined in thick, warm fur, around her slender frame, carefully fastening the silver frogs down the front of the cloak. Stepping back, she curtsied.
“Thank you, Lily,” the duchess said, and then, turning to her daughter, said, “Bid Henry farewell and go aboard the ship.” Then she watched as her eldest son, the second of her children, and her youngest daughter, the last of her children, bid each other good-bye.
“You don’t have to do everything that Mama says,” Henry murmured low, “but listen to all she says. She is wise. Still, you certainly have enough common sense to know what is right and what is not. Guard your tongue, your virtue, and your reputation, Autumn. Beware of men who praise you too greatly. They will want either your maidenhead, your fortune, or both, and cannot be trusted. Marry only for love and no other reason, sister. Let me know if Mama needs me, or the others.”
“I will,” Autumn replied. “And I will heed your advice, Henry.” She kissed his cheek. “I love you, brother.”
He returned the embrace, enfolding her in his arms and kissing her tenderly. “God bless you, little sister, until we meet again.”
“Remind Charlie not to get killed,” Autumn said softly, “if you can, Henry.” Then she extricated herself from his embrace and followed her servant aboard the waiting vessel.
Jasmine turned to her eldest son. “Be careful,” she warned him. “Do not get caught up in this foolishness like your brother. Heed me as I know Patrick and the others have. Cromwell and his ilk, with their mean-spiritedness, will not last forever.”
“Will you come home when they are gone?” he asked her.
She smiled at him and drew her hood up as the wind gusted about them. “I do not know,” she answered honestly. “God only knows Belle Fleurs isn’t much bigger than my dower house, but I have always had a weakness for the place. Besides, I like the weather in the Loire better than in England. I shall not say never, Henry. See I am buried at Glenkirk when the time comes, and if that is not possible, then Queen’s Malvern, near my grandmother.”
“You are not planning on dying on me, madame,” he said with a twinkle in his eye.
“Nay, but the time will come, Henry, one day. I want you to know what I want else you do the wrong thing and I am forced to come back and haunt you.”
He burst out laughing. “Mama, there is no one like you in the whole world.” Then he kissed her heartily on both cheeks. “God speed, and write to me so I know what is happening with Autumn.”
“I will,” Jasmine promised, and then, kissing her son a final time, she turned and hurried up the gangway of the waiting ship.
The Marquis of Westleigh remained standing upon the dock until the Fair Winds had cleared the harbor. Only then did he return to his coach, directing his coachmen to take them home with all possible speed. His mother and sister sailed upon one of the family’s trading ships. It would take them down the North Sea into the English Channel, past Brest and across the Bay of Biscay to the mouth of the Loire, and from there up the river to the city of Nantes, where their coach would be waiting for them. The duchess’s personal captain had gone ahead to France to make all the necessary arrangements.
It was mid-November and the seas were rough, though the weather was fair. The wind blew constantly from the north, speeding their travel as they passed the Channel Islands and rounded the Ile d’Ouessant. A northwest wind blew them past Pointe Penmarche, and it began to rain the afternoon their ship sailed between Belle Ile and Le Croisic. Captain Ballard, the ship’s master, came to the main cabin, where Jasmine and her daughter were housed. Autumn and Lily, her servant, were lying down, for the pitch of the vessel left them dizzy. Adali dozed in a chair, while Rohana and her sister, Toramalli, sat quietly sewing by their mistress’s side. At the discreet knock upon the door, Toramalli jumped up and ran to answer the summons.
“Good afternoon, your grace,” Captain Ballard said as he entered. His eye lit upon Autumn. “Is her ladyship all right, madame?”
“A wee touch of mal de mer, Captain,” Jasmine explained. “My daughter has never been to sea before. She has battled her symptons since boarding, but today it finally overcame her. She will survive.”
“Perhaps the knowledge that we will be entering the mouth of the Loire by morning will cheer her,” Captain Ballard said with a smile. “We should reach the city by late afternoon, your grace.”
“Excellent, Captain,” Jasmine replied. “I do want to thank you for coming out of your way like this. You would be well on your way to Mary’s Land now had you not had to make this side trip. You will remember to give my daughter, Mistress Devers, the packet of letters I have given you?”
“Indeed, your grace, I will. They will make a nice Christmas treat for her, even if these Puritans running our country don’t allow for a celebration of our Lord’s birth.”
Jasmine laughed, but then she warned the captain, “You must be careful, Ballard, in your criticism. If the wrong people heard, they could demand your replacement. My family perfers to manage their own commerce, and not be interfered with by others. The O’Malley-Small Trading Company has survived for almost a hundred years because of our discretion.”
“Aye, your grace,” he agreed, shamefaced.
“I know your heart is where it should be, Ballard,” Jasmine tempered her criticism, “but unlike others, we have always accepted all faiths, and consequently your crew is quite mixed. Among them, however, may be some who are not quite as open-minded as we. Be careful, not just for our sake, but for your own as well.”
He nodded again, and then with a bow withdrew.
“These Puritans have caused quite a stir,” Rohana said to her mistress. “I never expected that at our ages we should be uprooting ourselves yet another time.”
“And how will we find Belle Fleurs, my princess?” Toramalli asked. “It has been more than thirty years since we were last there. Old Mathieu will be long gone. Who has been taking care of the chateau?”
“His grandson, Guillaume,” Jasmine answered her serving woman. “He and his wife, Pascaline, have been caring for Belle Fleurs. It will seem very old-fashioned to Autumn, I think, but it was always a welcoming place, eh?”
Her serving woman chuckled, remembering how years before they had fled England with their mistress for Belle Fleurs. And then the duke had come and they had married and departed France, never to return until now. The twin sisters looked at each other and nodded their graying heads. Belle Fleurs had been a good place then, and it would be once again.
It was still raining by morning, but the lurching and tossing of their vessel had almost ceased and, looking out of the porthole, Autumn saw they were already on the River Loire. She could see the land through the mist and fog. France! They were in France. Soon she would be involved in the merriment of a royal court, and she could forget Master Cromwell and his sour-faced Puritans, who seemed to hate everything that was beautiful and light. She was feeling infinitely better than she had the night before. Even Lily was up, humming as she packed the remainder of her mistress’s garments into her trunks.
“Where is Mama?” she asked aloud to the servants.
“Topside with my Fergus,” Toramalli answered her.
Autumn headed
