of this stroke of good fortune that had befallen them.
“Tell Pere Bernard that I shall expect him here before week’s end to take up his duties. He will live in the house until a small cottage can be built for him. I will explain his responsibilities to him when he arrives and is settled. Go and tell your bonne femme now, for I can see in your eyes that you are anxious to do so.” Then Jasmine smiled.
Guillaume bowed several times. “Merci, madame la duchesse, mille merci!” He hurried off in the direction of the kitchens.
They had settled in, and now Jasmine was bringing a priest to the house. France was really going to be her home, she considered. I never thought to leave Glenkirk when I married Jemmie. I have lived so many places in my life. I wonder if this is my final home, or whether fate will surprise me again in my old age. Then she laughed softly at herself. A change made life interesting. She had gotten too complacent with her life at Glenkirk. She had not left there since they had come home from Ulster, and Autumn had been a little baby. Oh, occasionally she would come down into England for an English summer with her mother, but Queen’s Malvern had changed with Charlie’s marriage to Bess. She had been content to remain in her own home.
Now, however, life was taking her by the hand and leading her down a new path. She hoped she had done the right thing, bringing Autumn to France. What if she didn’t find a husband to love? What would happen to her daughter then? Jasmine sighed deeply. She had always considered herself independent and self-reliant. Now she wished Jemmie Leslie, her beloved husband, was still by her side. All these decisions she had made regarding her children she had made with his help and advice. They had looked over their combined family together. She hadn’t done it alone at all. Not until now.
“Damn the Stuarts!” she said softly. “And damn you, Jemmie Leslie, for going off and leaving me alone! Your loyalty to me should have been greater than your loyalty to the Stuarts. What did they ever do for you? Nothing!” Then she began to cry bitter tears.
“My princess, drink this.” Her faithful Adali was by her side, pressing a small crystal of cordial into her hand.
She swallowed the potent liquid down and then said, “What am I to do without him, Adali? What if I have made the wrong move in this chess game of life?” She looked up at the old man, now past eighty.
The kindly brown eyes met hers without hesitation. “His loss is great indeed, my princess, but we survived before him and we will survive now. There was nothing for your daughter in Scotland or England. If her fate is here, we will know it soon enough. If not, we will go where we are directed, even as we have always done. You are strong, my princess. You have always been strong. Rohana, Toramalli, and I have been by your side since your birth to aid you. None of us will desert you now.”
“We are old, Adali,” she said. “I am past sixty.”
He made an elegant swirl of motion with his hand. “Age, my princess, is but a number. Oh, the body grows old, but it is what is in the heart that keeps us young.”
She was forced to smile now. “Then like Grandmama, I shall remain forever young, Adali, even if I eventually turn into a wizened crone.” She swallowed down the rest of the cordial. “I think I have finished feeling sorry for myself now. Thank you.”
He bowed slightly from the waist. “I overheard the two mesdames, and I have been to the storerooms in the cellar below the kitchens. It is filled with trunks holding absolutely magnificent fabrics. The trunks were cedar, and lined in copper. The fabrics are free of mildew, or mold. They will, of course, need airing to disperse the cedar fragrance, but other than that, they will be fine. I shall have them brought to the hall. The chapel was locked, and I could not find the key for it, but relying on some of my old skills, I managed to open the door. We shall take the lock to the blacksmith and have a new key made.”
“You will not let me rest, Adali, will you?” Jasmine said with a chuckle, and she patted his arm lovingly.
“Time will not wait for us, my princess, no matter how much we wish it,” Adali said. “We have work to do if young Autumn is to be ready for her debut into French society.”
The Duchess of Glenkirk arose from her chair by the fire. “Very well, Adali, lead on,” she told him, and together they departed the Great Hall.
Chapter 5
“Mademoiselle must have at least a hundred petticoats.”
“One hundred petticoats?” Autumn was astounded by the tailor’s pronouncement. “M’sieu Reynaud, why do I need so many petticoats?”
“Mademoiselle,” came the pained reply, “the farthingale is passé. It is the petticoat that is fashionable now. They give body to the skirts, and you certainly do not want your skirts drooping about you in a bedraggled and ragtag manner, like some merchant’s daughter, or”—he rolled his eyes dramatically—“a street urchin. Non! Non! Non! One hundred petticoats is absolutely the least number you can have. Silk, of course. It has the best texture,” he explained.
“Starched lawn will not do for some of them?” Jasmine asked.
“If madame la duchesse wishes to scrimp . . .” The tailor raised a disapproving eyebrow and shrugged his bony shoulders.
Jasmine laughed, not in the least intimidated by the tailor. “I will agree to one hundred silk petticoats for my daughter, M’sieu Reynaud, but she must also have twenty-five lawn petticoats as well. They are cooler on a summer’s day. Not for evening wear, of course, but for morning or afternoon, you understand.”
“But of course, madame la duchesse,” the tailor said with a small smile. “Madame is absolutely correct. I bow to her fashion sense.”
“He bows to her well-filled purse,” murmured Madame St. Omer in low tones. “Why have I never before noted what a terrible snob Reynaud is? But he is the best tailor in all of France, even Paris. Worse! He is well aware of that fact, the little beast.”
“Oh, hush, sister, lest he hear you!” Madame de Belfort whispered back nervously. “You know how he is, and if you insult him, he will not do Autumn’s wardrobe for her. Without him what chance has she?”
“Have you had the opportunity to inspect the fabrics I have?” the Duchess of Glenkirk asked the tailor.
M’sieu Reynaud burst into rapturous cries of approval. “Madame, never in my life have I seen such quality! The velvets! The brocades! The silks! The cloth of gold and of silver! And the ribbons and laces, madame! Where on earth did you obtain such magnificence?”
“My grandmother left them here many years ago,” Jasmine said. “They were in my storerooms, m’sieu.”
“C’est impossible! They have no odor of rot about them, or any sign of mildew staining the fabric!” the tailor cried.
“The trunks were cedar, lined with copper,” Jasmine explained.
“Amazing!” he replied. Then he was all business once again. “Michel, my tape, s’il vous plait. If we are to have anything ready in the ridiculously short time Madame St. Omer has insisted upon, we must begin today. I shall measure mademoiselle myself.”
Autumn stood quietly upon a small stool as the tailor swiftly took her measurements, his sharp voice snapping off the figures to his assistant, who quickly wrote them down and then repeated each figure to be certain
