“Overwhelming?” Jasmine supplied with a smile. “Aye, both Gaby and ’Toinette are all-engulfing in their desire to see that everything is done properly. I remember my grandmother saying that they were very much like their mother, but Autumn, we are fortunate to have their good advice. I want you happy, my child, and your father would too.”
Suddenly Autumn’s eyes filled with tears. “I miss him, Mama,” she said brokenly. “Why did he insist on going to war for the Stuarts?”
Jasmine closed her eyes for a long moment so she might manage her own grief. Then, opening them, she said, “You know why, Autumn. James Leslie was the most honorable man I have ever known. He knew it was a fatal mistake for the Leslies of Glenkirk to defend and follow after the Stuarts, but they were his overlords, and related to him by blood. In his mind, even realizing it was likely to be a disaster, he felt compelled to obey their call, particularly as his own distant Leslie kin were involved up to their hips in the muddle. Your father might have pleaded his age, but he would not, and it was there he and I disagreed. I do not believe his honor would have been compromised by refusing to go. He did. It was easier for him to live with my disapproval than his own self-scorn. So he is dead and in his tomb at Glenkirk, and you and I are here in France, attempting to make a new life for ourselves.”
“But what of Patrick?” Autumn fretted.
Her mother laughed now. “Poor Patrick. He always knew that one day he should be the Duke of Glenkirk, but I know he never expected to find himself with all that responsibility so soon. He will survive. Both your father and I were good teachers. Patrick will reach down into himself to find he has both the wisdom and the strength to do what he must. Before I left him I advised him to find a wife to stand by his side. He should have by now had his fill of enjoying the ladies while avoiding his obligations. Now he has no choice in the matter.” She laughed again. “When I left Glenkirk I thought never to return, but now I know that I will one day go back. After all, I do want to be buried next to your father when my time comes.”
“Oh, do not talk of your death, Mama!” Autumn cried, genuinely distressed, throwing her arms about her surviving parent.
“I intend to live to be an old lady, even as my mother is and my grandmother was,” Jasmine soothed her daughter. “I must if I am to see your children and spoil them as Madame Skye spoiled me.”
“Grandmama Velvet never spoiled me,” Autumn said.
“It is not my mother’s way,” Jasmine said.
“And I never knew Papa’s mother, even though I get my green eye from her,” Autumn said. “I remember when I was almost thirteen, her coffin was brought home from Italy. I never knew where she was buried. Papa said it was a secret. Why was that?”
“I suppose it is all right for me to tell you now,” Jasmine said. “Your grandmother’s great love was her second husband, Francis Stewart-Hepburn, the last Earl of Bothwell. He was King James’s first cousin, and poor Jamie was terrified of him, for Francis was everything the king wasn’t. He was highly intelligent, handsome, passionate, and clever. He was called the uncrowned King of Scotland, which of course didn’t please the king or his adherents. His weakness, however, was that when his royal cousin pushed, Francis, I am told, pushed back twice as hard. The king’s counselors had him accused of witchcraft, claiming he was a warlock.”
“Was he?” Autumn was fascinated by this bit of history, which she had never before heard.
“No, of course not,” Jasmine laughed, “and despite the fact that the courts dragged forth several hysterical women—of low birth, I might add—claiming to be witches who identified him as a member of their coven, nothing could really be proved. What no one knew was that the king had a passion for your grandmother. He raped her one night, and she fled to Bothwell, who had been her friend. They fell in love, and eventually, after Lord Bothwell had been exiled and driven from Scotland, your grandmother, who was a widow, joined him, and they were married. It was actually your father who engineered his mother’s escape, and then pretended to know nothing when the king grew angry. Jamie never knew the part your father played.
“When we came to France some years back for the wedding of Princess Henrietta Maria to our king, Charles I, I met your grandmother for the very first and only time. She asked your father when she died to bring her body and Lord Bothwell’s home to Scotland to be buried on the grounds of the old Glenkirk Abbey. He had already predeceased her. Bothwell’s body was removed secretly from its grave in the garden of their villa in Naples. His bones were placed in your grandmother’s coffin with her, and they were, as she had requested, interred together. Your father did not tell me until the coffin was returned to Scotland. Patrick knows now, for I told him before I left Glenkirk, so he would be certain to see the grave was always tended properly. Now you know, Autumn.”
“I think that is the most romantic story I have ever heard!” Autumn said with a gusty sigh.
“And that is not even the entire story,” Jasmine said with a smile, “but it is much too long a tale for today. Now we must consider preparing you for society, and the possibility of your finding a husband. I shall give you one word of advice, ma bébé. Do not marry just to marry. Do not choose a man because everyone else says he is the right man. Marry for love, ma fille. Marry only for love!”
“Why would you marry for any other reason, Mama?” Autumn cuddled next to her mother as they sat before the fire.
“Marriage,” Jasmine began, “is a sacrament, and that is what I was taught; but it is a business arrangement as well. There is property and wealth involved with people of our station. More often than not, love is not considered before marriage. It is hoped that it will come after marriage.”
“But what if it doesn’t?” Autumn asked.
“Then it is hoped that at least the couple involved can respect one another and live together in harmony. My first marriage was arranged by my father. I did not meet Jamal Khan until our wedding day. Fortunately my husband and I fell in love as we grew to know each other. My grandparents arranged my second marriage with Rowan Lindley, but he and I were in love before we wed. My third marriage, to your father, was ordered by King James. You know the story, so I need not go into it with you. Your father and I were fortunate in that we loved one another dearly. I allowed your sisters their heart’s desires, and it has turned out well for both of them. Now you, my youngest daughter, my last child, must find a mate. Choose wisely, Autumn. Your marriage will last until his death, or yours.”
Autumn nodded, then asked, “Am I to become a Catholic, Mama?”
“You were baptized one, although you were not raised in that faith. Such things are not important to me, but here in France they are. I will speak with Guillaume about his son, who is a priest, so you may be taught the faith you must practice and must teach your children one day,” Jasmine told her daughter.
Then, that same day, she spoke with Guillaume about his son.
“Has he found a place yet?”
“No, madame la duchesse, he has not,” answered Guillaume.
“Since I intend making my home here at Belle Fleurs, we must really have a priest,” Jasmine explained. “There is a chapel here in the house, isn’t there?”
“Oui, madame, behind the hall next to the library,” came the reply, “but it has not been used in years,” Guillaume said.
“I shall tell Adali to have the serving girls open it up and clean it. What is
