Saville town house, which was located in the Rue Soeur Celestine. Although Jasmine’s coach accompanied them, she and James Leslie preferred riding their horses to being confined within the vehicle. A large baggage coach had accompanied them, containing not only the luggage, but Fergus More and Rohana, the two remaining servants. Madame Skye had departed for England two and a half weeks earlier, taking Adali and Toramalli with her, much to Daisy’s great relief.
“Yer surely losing yer wits, my lady, when you volunteer to chaperone those four wild creatures back to England,” she scolded Skye. “Do I not have all I can do just looking after you? You ain’t getting any easier with age, and I ain’t no lass anymore. I’m just an old widow woman like yerself.”
Her mistress immediately reassured Daisy that Jasmine’s two servants would be controlling the children. “They are only traveling with us, Daisy,” she said. “Adali and Toramalli will handle everything.”
“Well, I should hope so!” Daisy responded sharply.
Riding through the French countryside, Jemmie at her side, Jasmine remembered the exchange. She almost felt guilty that she had let her children go on ahead, thus allowing her this wonderful time with the man she was to marry. Beginning their journey, they had ridden a road through the vineyards along the Loire. The vines were replete with a new growth of bright green leaves, the tender tendrils reaching out for support. The vineyards eventually gave way to apple orchards in bloom, the air sweet with the delicate fragrance. The weather was perfect, and they rode beneath a canopy of blue skies with a warm sun on their shoulders.
The comte de Cher had supplied them with a large armed escort. He had arranged for their accommodation in small, clean inns, where the food was simple, but fresh and tasty, and the wines rich and fruity. It was almost a disappointment to arrive finally in Paris. Jasmine liked it little better than she liked London. Like that other city, the smells were rank from the garbage in the gutters, the crush of unwashed bodies in the streets, and the noise of discord that rarely seemed to die away. They visited Notre Dame and were admitted to the Louvre, where they saw the young king, Louis XIII, at dinner with his new queen, the Infanta Anne of Austria.
“Grandmama never liked Paris,” Jasmine noted. “She says the French are an unpredictable people, prone to violence.”
“She’s right,” the earl responded. “The Catholics and the Protestants are beginning to fight again. The queen mother, Marie de Medici, and her brother-in-law, Concini, are yet ruling in the king’s name. Cardinal Mazarin is a man to be reckoned with, and there is a new, young cleric, Armand-Jean de Plessis de Richelieu, who, I suspect, will eventually be a power to contend with, on the horizon. France is not a safe place right now.”
They stayed but two days, departing for the coast where Cardiff Rose, an O’Malley-Small trading company ship, awaited them. Boarding in the afternoon, James Leslie and Jasmine saw the coast of England the following morning, and remained on deck as the vessel swept around Margate Head on the incoming tide and into the wide estuary of the River Thames. The brisk May winds moved their transport up the waterway to London by the early evening. To their surprise they found Adali awaiting them with the de Marisco barge, which would ferry them to Greenwood House on the Strand.
“How on earth did you know when we would be arriving?” Jasmine asked her faithful retainer.
“I escorted your grandmother to Queen’s Malvern, and then returned to London to await you, my lady. The captain of Cardiff Rose was instructed to tell me when he planned to depart, and how long it would take him to return to London. Lady de Marisco’s factor in Paris notified her agent in London by pigeon when you left and when to expect you at Dover, my lady. The rest was quite simple,” Adali concluded. Then he turned to the earl of Glenkirk. “Greetings, my lord. Your journey was a pleasant one, I hope.” But before James Leslie could answer, Adali’s sharp eye caught a movement, and he whirled about shouting, “Be careful of that coach, you barbarians! Has it traveled about England and France only to be destroyed by your carelessness? And go gently with the horses, or you will face my wrath.” He turned back to Jasmine. “My princess, I think I must oversee this process else these louts ruin the carriage and frighten the animals. The barge will take you upriver to Greenwood. Toramalli returned to London with me and awaits you. All is in readiness for your arrival. There has already been a message from the king. He expects you at Whitehall in two days’ time, and your uncle, the earl, is in residence at Lynmouth House, my lady.” He bowed to them, and then, turning away, hurried off the vessel onto the docks, shouting instructions, and waving his arms.
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