but he came anyway, and the commons love him for it.”
The Duke of Glenkirk bowed low to his king, but looking at him he did not see a Stuart. Charles’s great height was his only Scots feature. His eyes were black as currants as his mother’s were. His hair was black. His face was very saturnine and French. He looked like his grandfather, King Henry IV, not at all like a Stuart. There was nothing at all familiar about him, Red Hugh told his mistress. Visibly troubled, James Leslie had a second qualm of conscience. Why had he come? he now wondered. Was it out of sentiment? Duty? He had ignored the cardinal tenet in his family, not to become associated with the royal Stuarts. Jasmine had been right, he told Red Hugh, that every time the Leslies of Glenkirk became involved with the royal Stuarts, difficulties abounded. When the king spoke, however, even Red Hugh’s fears vanished. He was mesmerizing.
“My lord duke,” Charles II said in a deep, rich, and smooth voice, “your loyalty does not go unnoticed, though we have not met before today. You have not come to court in many years, but my cousin, the Duke of Lundy, speaks of you and his mother often and lovingly. Please convey my felicitations to your duchess.”
“I am grieved for your father, Your Majesty,” James Leslie answered. “I knew him from his birth and pray for his good soul.”
“In the manner prescribed by the kirk, I hope,” the king said, but there was just the faintest twitch of a smile on his lips.
“Indeed, Your Majesty,” the Duke of Glenkirk replied, bowing, his green eyes twinkling with their shared conspiracy.
During the month of August the English sought in vain to breach the Scottish defenses. David Leslie made certain that his troops held the stronger defensive position, and the English were finally forced to retire to the coast to restock their dwindling provisions. Hunger and illness plagued them. Their numbers fell to eleven thousand while the Scots had grown in strength to twenty-three thousand fighting men. Cromwell retreated to Dunbar to find more supplies. The Scots followed, trapping them.
On the second of September the Scots departed their position of strength on the hills surrounding Dunbar, camping boldly before the English that same night on Dunbar Plain. Their plan was to attack their enemy on the morrow, but instead the English attacked earlier, and first. The Scots Covenanter army of Charles II was ensnared on impossible terrain and badly defeated. Fourteen thousand men were killed that day, among them James Leslie, the first Duke and fifth Earl of Glenkirk.
Jasmine Leslie was stony-faced on their return. She buried her beloved husband dry-eyed, though she personally saw his body was lovingly washed and dressed in his finest clothing. It was placed in its coffin, candles burning about it. The Reverend Mr. Edie came from the village kirk to preach the long and extemporaneous service. When he had gone away, Jasmine brought forth the Anglican priest who had once had a comfortable living at Glenkirk. Upon imposition of the National Covenant, he had been forcibly retired for his own safety and theirs. Father Kenneth now interred James Leslie in the family tomb with the beautiful words from the King James prayer book and the elegance of the Anglican sacrament.
Jasmine closed herself off from her family for the next few days. “I wish to mourn in private,” she told her son, but she went one day to BrocCairn to see her seventy-seven-year-old mother.
“Now we are both widowed,” said Velvet Gordon.
“I came to say farewell,” Jasmine told her quietly. “I can no longer bear to remain at Glenkirk. Perhaps I will return one day, but I do not want to be there now.”
“Will you desert your son?” her mother demanded. “Patrick needs you now. He must find a wife, marry her, and settle down. The line must be secured, Jasmine. It is your duty to remain by his side.”
“Patrick is thirty-four, Mama, and quite capable of finding his own wife. He does not need me, or heed me, but I must escape Glenkirk lest I die of sorrow. In every room, and every corner, there are memories of my Jemmie, and I cannot bear it! I have to go! You have had your five sons and your many grandchildren about you. They helped you to overcome your sorrow when Alex died five years ago. I have only Patrick here. My other children are scattered to the four winds. Patrick does not need me. He needs a wife and heir, but he will not find them if I remain to keep him in comfort. I intend to take Adali, Rohana, and Toramalli with me.”
“Patrick should have been married long since,” the Dowager Countess of BrocCairn said irritably. “You and Jemmie spoilt him and allowed him to run wild. What will happen when you are gone, I do not know, but I do not think you should run off, Jasmine.”
Jasmine bid her mother, her half-brothers, and their families farewell. Then she returned to Glenkirk, having firmly made her decision. She called the servants who had been with her her entire life and told them of her resolve to depart Glenkirk. “I want you with me.”
“Where else would we go if not with you, my princess,” her steward, Adali, said. He was very old now, but still very active and in complete charge of the household as he had been since coming to Glenkirk. “We have been yours since your birth. We will remain with you until the great God separates us from one another.”
Jasmine blinked back the mist she felt rising in her eyes. It was the first true emotion she had shown since her husband had died. “Thank you, Adali,” she said softly. Then she turned to her two maidservants, who were equally ancient. “What of you, my dearest Rohana and Toramalli?”
The twin sisters chorused as one, “We will go with you, lady. Like Adali, we are yours till death.”
Rohana had remained a maiden all her long life, but her twin had married a Leslie man-at-arms. They had no children, but had raised a niece.
“Toramalli,” her mistress asked, “are you certain? Fergus may not want to come with me. He has scarcely left Glenkirk lands all of his life. You must consult with him before you give me your answer.”
“Fergus will come,” Toramalli said firmly. “We have no bairns or grandchildren to leave behind, and Lily is already in England with Lady Autumn. We have just our little family made up of my sister and our good Adali. We have been together too long to be separated now.”
“I am grateful to you all,” the Dowager Duchess of Glenkirk said to her faithful retainers. “Tomorrow we will begin to pack.”
She ascended to the top of the castle that afternoon, clambering up a ladder that led to the parapets of the west tower. Breathless, she reached the roof and climbed out onto it. Behind her the skies were darkening. In the east was the evening star, large, and bright, and cold. Before her the sun was setting in a glorious spectacle of blazing colors. Fiery red-orange was streaked with deep slashes of purple. Above it the sky was still a rich cerulean blue and filled with gold-edged pink clouds that floated all the way to the horizon.
Jasmine sighed as she looked out over the forested hills that surrounded Glenkirk. She had been truly happy these many, many years at Glenkirk. She had lived here longer than anyplace else in her whole life, but she had lived here with Jemmie. Suddenly, with his death, Glenkirk seemed foreign to her. She knew she had to get away. She didn’t know if she would ever come back, whatever she might say to others. Glenkirk would never be the same for her without James Leslie. She sighed deeply again and turned back to the trapdoor leading into the castle. If she stayed here too long, poor Adali would attempt to climb up to find her. With a final glance at the majestic scene surrounding her, Jasmine began her descent. She wanted to talk to Patrick now.
She found her son in the Great Hall, seated by one of the two fireplaces. “I have come to a decision,” she told him. “I am leaving Glenkirk as soon as my belongings can be packed.” She
