Chapter 21

Henry Stuart rode most of the day, to meet his parents, who were staying at Sudley Castle, the home of Lord and Lady Chandos. From early afternoon on he and his valet, Duncan, traveled in a driving rain, but the prince was anxious to reach his family that he might tell them of his son's birth. They stopped once to allow the horses a small respite and to eat something. The inn was small, and the innkeeper had absolutely no idea of whom he was serving. Duncan told him, and the man's mouth dropped open with surprise. The innkeeper had heard the royal family was hereabouts, but he had certainly never expected to see one of them, let alone bring him an ale.

"Have ye any hot food?" Duncan demanded.

"There's no time," Henry Stuart told his servant.

Duncan had been with the prince his entire life, and now he invoked the privilege of a beloved servant—forthright speech. "I'll nae go another step, my lord, wi'out something hot in my belly. I'm nae as young as ye are, and while I'm about it, a wee bit of something warm would nae hurt ye either. Yer cough is still wi ye, and this weather will do ye nae good."

" 'Tis easier to agree with you than to argue with you, Duncan," the prince said with a chuckle, and then he began to cough.

"Ah-hah!" the valet said. "Ye see, my lord? Ye need food, rest, and Lady de Marisco's elixir before we can go another step." He turned to the still open-mouthed innkeeper. "Food, man!"

"Right away, sir, my lord," the innkeeper babbled, and fled into his kitchen, almost knocking over his wife, who had been listening wide-eyed behind the half-open door.

In short order a hot soup appeared along with a rabbit stew, several thick slices of ham, and a capon. There were bread, cheese, and a small tartlet of dried apples. The prince, who had not thought himself hungry, found that despite his cough, he was famished. When they had finished eating, Duncan paid the innkeeper generously, and the two men went out to the stables where they had left their horses.

"I've fed 'em and given 'em a bit of water, my lord, but only after I cooled 'em off," the young stable boy said.

"Good for you, lad," Henry Stuart said, and flipped the youngster a coin. "They've a bit of a ways yet to go. I know they're as refreshed by your good care as we are by the meal we just had." He led his horse from the stall and mounted it.

"Tell yer grandchildren one day, laddie, that ye cared for the horse of England's next king," Duncan told the amazed boy. "This is Prince Henry Stuart himself." Then he mounted his own horse, and the two men were off again into the downpour, leaving the astounded youngster looking after them with wide eyes and an open mouth.

When they finally reached Sudley Castle, the king and the court were already at supper in the Great Hall. Still booted, Henry Stuart joined them, kissing his mother, who frowned when she heard the wheeze coming from his chest. The prince ignored her and took up a goblet of wine, saying, "Your Majesties, my lords, and my ladies, I ask you to raise your goblets to the good health and long life of Charles Frederick Stuart, my son, born at Queen's Malvern on the eighteenth day of September!"

There was a deep, stunned silence. It was not that the court was ignorant of Lady Lindley's condition, but until now everything had been so discreet. This was hardly a circumspect moment, and they did not know what to do.

Then the king clambered clumsily to his feet, his goblet raised, and said, "To the health and long life of Lord Charles Frederick Stuart, my firstborn grandchild!"

The court rose as one. "Here! Here!" they said.

Henry Stuart was grinning ear to ear now, and graciously accepted the congratulations of those around him.

Then his mother hissed up at him, "Sit down, Henry! You are making a spectacle of yourself. You are certainly not the first man in the history of the world to sire a son, nor the first Stuart to sire a royal bastard. Sit down! God bless me, you are soaked clear through. Get up from the table and find dry clothes. Your father and I will see you in our privy chamber when the meal is finished."

The prince was relieved to be released, and with a quick grin at his mother, he left the Great Hall.

Lord Chandos's majordomo hurried forward. "Your Highness, allow me to escort you to the apartments that have been prepared for your arrival. Your valet is already waiting, and I have given orders to have a tub and hot water brought, for he says you have ridden all day in this downpour."

Once within the safety of the rooms that had been set aside for him, Henry Stuart found that his teeth were chattering. Muttering balefully, Duncan stripped the wet clothes from his master and settled him in the hot water.

"Ye've no more sense than an unbreeked laddie, my lord," he said. "We'd have done better to stay at that wee inn instead of riding in the rain all these miles. My old bones are aching, and yer coughing again. Get yourself warm, and then I'll tuck ye into bed."

"My parents wish to see me in their privy chamber," the young prince answered his valet. "We drank a health to my wee Charles in the hall, Duncan. The entire court drank, and my father led them!"

"Yer getting into bed, my lord, and I'll hae no nonsense about it. I'll tell yer parents myself. They can come to ye. Yer royal mam would agree wi me, and 'tis nae lie."

Henry Stuart did not argue any further with Duncan. The truth of the matter was that as his euphoria faded, he was beginning to feel simply dreadful again. He remained in his bath long enough to let the hot water take the ache and the cold from his bones, and then he let Duncan dry him. Wrapped in a warm nightshirt, the prince climbed into his bed and accepted a small portion of Lady de Marisco's cough mixture. He wasn't even aware that he had dozed off until he realized that his mother was gently shaking him awake.

"Your cold is worse for your journey to Queen's Malvern," she said quietly, "although Duncan tells me old Lady de Marisco cared for you like one of her own, and you were better for a time."

"I'll be all right after a few days of rest, madame," he assured her. "I helped birth my son, Mama. I took him myself from his mother's womb even as he gave his first cry. It was magnificent!"

Anne of Denmark was astounded, and not just a little appalled. James had always fled the palace when she was giving birth. She was not even certain she would have wanted him there, let alone in the same room with her, helping her to bear her child. "Is the boy strong?" she asked her son.

"Strong, beautiful, and well-formed," Henry told her. "He has the Stuart auburn hair, and though his eyes are now blue, Jasmine says that they could change as he grows older."

"That is true," the queen agreed, and then she said, "How is Lady Lindley? She came through her travail easily?"

"Aye! She's nursing the laddie already, but I have told her I want her at Bessie's wedding in the winter, so she must wean our son to a wet nurse by Twelfth Night. How long are we to stay at Sudley?"

"Five days," his mother said. "You need your rest, Henry. I am not at all pleased by your condition, and I will brook no defiance from you in this matter. You will remain abed until I say you may arise."

"As you will, madame," he said meekly, but his eyes were twinkling at her, and the queen knew that as soon as her son felt better, there would be no keeping him in one place.

In the morning, Henry Stuart awoke to find that his parents had left Sudley quite early.

"They've gone to Queen's Malvern," Duncan told him.

"Why did they not tell me?" the prince complained, and he gave a cough. "I would have gone with them."

"They dinna tell ye because they dinna want ye running about the countryside sick as ye are, my lord. 'Tis twenty-five miles or more. They'll nae be back for two days, and no one else must know. 'Tis being said the king is sick wi the headache, and the queen is nursing ye. Lord Chandos is part of the plot. He'll keep the court busy wi hunting, and dancing into the night. They'll nae miss the king."

A rider had been sent ahead to Queen's Malvern at first light to warn the de Mariscos of the impending royal visit. The king and the queen, incognito, traveled with just half a dozen retainers. Both were used to being in the saddle all day, and were hardly fatigued by the time they reached Queen's Malvern in the late afternoon.

Skye and Adam de Marisco made an elegant obeisance to the royal couple as they entered the house.

"Welcome to Queen's Malvern, sire," Adam said. "I apologize that my granddaughter is unable to greet you, but she is not yet recovered from Charles Frederick's birth but a few days ago."

"We hae come to see the laddie," the king said, stripping his gloves and his long cloak off.

"Will you have some wine and biscuits after your long journey, sire, madame?" Skye asked politely.

"May we see the bairn first?" the king asked, almost shyly.

"Aye, my lord," Skye said, smiling. She remembered her first grandchild. "If Your Majesties will come with me," she told them, and led them up two flights of stairs to Jasmine's apartments. "The baby is with his mother now, nursing."

Jasmine had known that the king and queen were coming, and so she was not surprised when her grandmother escorted the royal couple into her bedchamber. Her new son was cradled in her arms, sucking lustily upon her breast. She was looking extraordinarily beautiful, her long black hair full and loose about her. Soft color had returned to her creamy cheeks. She wore a white chamber robe whose sleeves were trimmed lavishly in fine French lace as she sat propped by her grandmother's best pillows.

"Sire, madame," she greeted them, and gave a small nod.

The queen hurried to the bedside and gazed down upon her grandson. "Ahh, he's beautiful!" she said, and she smiled warmly at Jasmine, thinking that it really was a pity Henry could not have her to wife. She was not simply beautiful and fertile, she had dignity. She knew how to be royal. The situation was really very sad.

"Gie me the laddie," the king said, joining them, and when Jasmine had detached Charles from her nipple, he picked the baby up.

Charles Frederick Stuart began to wail. He had been quite comfortable within his mother's arms, suckling his supper.

"Nah, nah, laddie," his royal grandfather crooned, and the baby, intrigued by the sound of an unfamiliar voice, ceased his howling to stare at the king. "Aye now, and he's a beautiful laddie, as my Annie says, Jasmine Lindley. Ye hae done my son proud. I understand that Henry hae arranged wi Salisbury, before he died in May, that if he sired a son on ye, 'twould inherit yer grandfather's title and estates one day. When that day comes, I will create the lad Duke of Lundy, and nae just Earl. For now, lassie, he will be known as Viscount Lundy. He's a royal Stuart for all his birth. We Stuarts watch over our own, as yer stepfather BrocCairn can tell ye, madame."

"Thank you, Your Majesty," Jasmine said softly.

"Let me have him, Jamie," the queen demanded. "Now just look at that! You are holding him all wrong. You would think you had never held a bairn before. Support his wee neck!" She took her grandson from her beaming husband. "Your mother and stepfather have come with us, my dear," she said to Jasmine. "I thought you would want to see them, and your mother, of course, is eager to see her grandchild."

The royal couple stayed for a few minutes longer, promising to return on the morrow before they departed back to Sudley Castle.

"Please, madame, how is the prince?" Jasmine asked the queen as Anne prepared to leave the chamber.

A sharp retort was about to spring to the queen's lips when she looked at Jasmine and saw the genuine love and concern in the girl's face. "His cold lingers, my dear," Anne of Denmark reported gently.

When they had left her, Toramalli took the baby and set him back in his cradle by Jasmine's side. "He's sleeping, my lady. No need to wake him up and continue feeding him. He's full, right enough, else he'd howl to wake the dead. He's a true Mughal."

"And a not-quite-royal Stuart," Jasmine said with a small smile.

Velvet now rushed into her daughter's bedchamber, Alex behind her. "Let me see him!" she demanded. "Let me see my Stuart grandson!"

"Why, Mama," Jasmine said with humor, "I did not know you were such a snob. He is in his cradle, having fallen asleep in his royal grandmama's arms. The king will make him a duke one day, he says."

Velvet looked down at the baby who lay upon his stomach, his small head turned to one side. "He's lovely," she said, "and I do not begrudge the queen her few moments with him. 'Tis I little Charles Frederick Stuart will call ‘Grandmama'; and 'tis I who will see him grow. I am glad I am not a queen. There are too many disadvantages to it, I fear." She looked at her daughter. "You are content?"

"Aye," Jasmine told her. "Why should I not be? Henry Stuart loves me, and I have his son. There is nothing more for me but Hal, and all my children. My life is complete."

Velvet nodded, pleased with her daughter's answer.

"Henry Stuart will make a good king one day," Alex Gordon noted. "He considers everything. I understand he arranged through poor old Cecil before he died last May to gie the bairn yer grandfather's titles one day. 'Tis just what my grandfather did for my father."

"And 'tis as canny of him as it was of his grandfather," Jasmine teased her stepfather. "By passing on a title that is already in the family, he does not have to create a new one, nor offer an allowance to support a new peerage. I am certain that Robert Cecil highly approved of that. He did so disapprove of my affair with Hal."

The Earl of BrocCairn chuckled. "Aye," he agreed. " 'Twas a consideration that would hae pleased Cecil mightily, God rest him. He was always so careful of the king's purse. Poor little royal beagle. He worked himself into the grave. The king hae replaced him with Robert Carr, and created that idiot Earl of Somerset to boot. A poor choice, I fear."

"I hear that Frances Howard has divorced Essex and plans to wed Carr," Jasmine said to her stepfather. "Is it so?"

"Aye, the bitch," BrocCairn told her. "But 'twas nae a divorce. She had her marriage to Essex annulled, and not satisfied to seek the annulment on the grounds of propter maleficium versus hanc—that he was impotent only toward her—she embarrassed the man by declaring propter frigiditatem. She claims he is impotent to all women, and the whole damned court knows that isn't so, but the archbishop looked the other way. The annulment is a fact, although it has not been declared so yet. She and Carr will wed next spring."

"Jasmine needs her rest, Alex," Velvet declared. "Let us go. We will see you in the morning, my dear."

"Are you returning to court with the king and queen, Mama?"

"Nay, 'tis time we returned to Scotland," Velvet told her daughter. "The boys have been running wild since spring without us, I can be certain. It is time to bring order to their lives. Sandy and Charlie must go to university. God knows what mischief they have gotten into in our absence. Or," she said archly, "what girls they have impregnated at Dun Broc. Your stepfather does not see my concern."

Alex grinned over his wife's head, and winked at his stepdaughter.

"I am sure the boys have done fine, Mama," Jasmine said.

"Aye, and I hope so," the Earl of BrocCairn said.

"Alex!" his outraged wife declared. "This is why I have no control over our sons any longer. You encourage them to bad behavior."

"There is nae wrong wi a lad chasing after a perty lassie," the earl said staunchly. "I did it myself before I wed ye, sweetheart."

"You have two sons, Jasmine," her mother said. "Do not let loose of the reins for one moment, or you will have chaos. I warn you."

When they had left her, Jasmine considered that her mother was beginning to sound more and more like her aunt Willow.

In the very early morning, the king and queen came a final time to see their grandson before returning to Sudley Castle. The king gave Jasmine a purse, which she accepted although she felt uncomfortable doing so. The royal purse was always empty, or near it, she knew, and she was a very wealthy woman. She did not refuse, however, for she would not offend their majesties.

"There is the matter of the bairn's baptism," the king said.

"The prince and I had hoped that Prince Charles and Princess Elizabeth would be permitted to stand as our son's godparents," Jasmine said.

"And what Church will he be baptised in?" the king asked.

"Why, the Church of England, Your Majesty," Jasmine answered.

"Is nae this family of the old Kirk, Madame?"

"We were all born into it, my lord," Skye interposed, "but the politics of the times being what they are, sir, we worship with the Church of England now. Elizabeth Tudor was fond of saying that ‘there is but one lord Jesus Christ, and the rest is all trifles.' 'Tis possibly the only matter on which she and I ever agreed. My family and I are peace-loving peoples. We wish to remain at peace."

The king was forced to chuckle, and he nodded at Skye. "How well I understand, Lady de Marisco," he said. "How well I understand. When will the baptism take place?"

"In a few days' time, my lord," Jasmine said. "We will, of course, have proxies stand in for Prince Charles and his sister."

"They will be told, Lady Lindley," the king said, and then he and the queen took their leave.

The Earl and Countess of BrocCairn stood in for the royal godparents at the baptism of their grandson, but Prince Charles and his sister each sent fine gifts to their godchild. From the princess came six silver goblets with the Stuart crest engraved upon them, and a length of fine lawn to make infant dresses. Prince Charles sent his namesake a dozen silver spoons, and a fine gold ring with a sapphire for a seal. The king and queen sent a beautifully bound copy of the new Book of Common Prayer.

The queen, who had accepted her husband's choice for Princess Elizabeth's husband only at the behest of her eldest son, now greeted Frederick V, the Elector Palatine, with less than her usual enthusiasm. Although the marriage was scheduled to be celebrated on St. Valentine's Day, Prince Frederick arrived in England in mid-autumn. Henry Stuart, his illness now visibly draining his strength, greeted his brother-in-law-to-be at Gravesend when he landed, and personally escorted him up to London.

On October 24, 1612, there was to be a magnificent dinner given by the lord mayor, but Henry was so ill now that he could not attend, and the affair was called off. The superstitious English now began to murmur nervously about the prince's health. That same autumn, the remains of Mary, Queen of Scots, had been disinterred from Fotheringay Castle and brought with much pomp to London, where they were reburied in a beautiful sepulchre commissioned by King James for his mother in Westminster Abbey. There was an ancient English saying that when the grave of a family member was disturbed, another family member would die. Then a lunar rainbow occurred, lasting several hours. Another omen, the superstitious declared, and indeed by October twenty-ninth Henry Stuart's condition had grown much worse.

The Londoners came in great numbers to stand outside of St. James's Palace awaiting the latest news. They watched as the queen and Princess Elizabeth arrived to visit the sick man. Then the physicians declared that the prince's fever was infectious, and the royal family were barred from further visits, much to the queen's sorrow. She had always been fearful of contagious diseases, and now her fears were borne out. She had not, to her shame, the courage to defy the doctors and stay with her firstborn child. Instead Anne fled to Somerset House in great sorrow. The king stubbornly remained with the prince.

The crowds grew bigger, until they lined every street between St. James's Palace and the queen's residence. They wept as the news grew more dire, and a thousand rumors of various natures swept through the press of people. Finally, just before midnight on November fifth, Henry Frederick Stuart breathed his last, to the great shock of all. He had been so young, and so vital.

James, despite all advice, had stayed by his eldest son's bedside until Henry had lapsed into an irreversible coma. Then, weeping bitterly, he had departed for Theobalds, only to return to London to the house of Sir Walter Cope. But he could not rest. Finally, word was brought to the king of his son's death, and James Stuart, before he retired to mourn in private, gave orders that his son should he in state at his palace of St. James, his coffin to be set upon a bier in the chapel royal, with its beautiful painted ceiling.

When the pomp and circumstance of the funeral was finally over, James Stuart remembered Jasmine Lindley and her infant son. He called for his private secretary and dictated a message that was to be carried by royal messenger to her with all speed at Queen's Malvern. He had no idea if she knew of the prince's death, for her grandmother's home was isolated.

She did not, and consequently Jasmine collapsed in shock upon reading the royal missive. As Skye knelt to see to her granddaughter, Adam de Marisco snatched up the parchment as it fluttered to the floor.

He scanned it quickly and then swore beneath his breath. "Jesu! What a damned tragedy for us all, and for England."

"What is it?" Skye demanded, looking up at him as she attempted to revive Jasmine back to consciousness.

"Henry Stuart is dead," Adam said bluntly, and then he read,

Signed, James R."

Jasmine, half revived, was beginning to weep piteously.

"How did he die?" Adam demanded of the royal messenger.

"Well, my lord," the messenger said, "he wasn't well at all the whole autumn long. The prince took to his bed almost two weeks before the end. Some said he had smallpox, but 'twas not. I've heard that typhus or typhoid killed him, but many say the king should not have removed his mother's bones from Fotheringay Castle and reburied them in the abbey. 'Tis a great loss."

"Aye," Adam agreed. "A great loss for everyone."

The messenger stayed the night, and went his way back to London the following morning. Jasmine was so broken-hearted that her milk dried up, much to her great distress, but a healthy young wet nurse was found for Charles Frederick and quickly moved into the house.

"Why is it," Jasmine bemoaned sorrowfully to Skye, "that every man I love dies? Ohh, Grandmama, I should have told Hal that I loved him, but I did not want to complicate matters any more than they were complicated!"

"You did exactly the right tiling," Skye assured her grandchild. "As for losing men to death, that, my darling girl, is a part of a woman's life. I lost five husbands to death before I married your grandfather, not to mention a son, my wee Johnnie. I know that you loved Henry Stuart, and I am so sorry, Jasmine, but all your weeping will not bring the prince back. You have lost your lover, but England has lost a great future king. A lover can be replaced. Perhaps not easily, but 'tis possible.

"Will poor little Prince Charles, however, be able to fill his brother's boots, I wonder? Henry Stuart was strong and vital until the end, but Prince Charles has been a sickly child. What will happen if we lose him, too, and the queen past her prime for childbearing? 'Tis been five years since she lost that last little princess. I think we had best pray for the little prince that God will spare him and keep him safe for England."

Christmas came, but Jasmine could not celebrate, although she tried to confine her mourning to the privacy of her own apartments for the sake of her children. India would be five in March, and was a wise little girl for her age.

"Are you sad," she asked her mother one day, "because Prince Henry has died, Mama?"

"Aye," Jasmine said, turning away so India would not see her tears.

"Has he gone to Heaven? Will he see my father?"

Jasmine nodded.

"We have no papa," India said. "None of us."

"Nay," Jasmine told her eldest child. "None of you have a papa anymore."

In the middle of January another royal messenger arrived at Queen's Malvern with a missive for the dowager Marchioness of Westleigh. Jasmine was commanded to come to London for Princess Elizabeth's wedding on February fourteenth. Under normal circumstances the marriage would have been postponed because of Prince Henry's death, but the young bridegroom had come so far, and he was unable to remain away from his domain much longer. It was deemed wiser to celebrate the royal match and send the newly weds on their way, than to send Prince Frederick V home to return another time.

Skye concurred, as did Jasmine, who said, "Hal would not want Bessie to wait. The princess has been so excited about her impending marriage."

"What will you wear?" her grandmother asked. "It cannot be mourning, for this is a wedding, despite all the tragedy that has preceded it. What about that magnificent ruby-red velvet you possess?"

Jasmine shook her head. "I shall wear black," she said.

"You have a midnight-blue gown that is just perfect," Skye said, ignoring her granddaughter. "The Stars of Kashmir go just beautifully with it, as I remember, my darling girl."

"I shall wear black," Jasmine insisted.

"The black velvet with the silver lace?" Skye inquired hopefully.

"The black velvet with the high neck, and the white lace ruff," Jasmine replied stubbornly. "I will not flaunt myself."

"The black with the silver lace is more appropriate to a wedding, my darling girl," Skye wheedled. "Even if the prince is dead, you are his chosen representative. Will you have people wonder what it was he ever saw in you in the first place, Jasmine? Where is your damned pride? He was proud of you."

"The neckline on the gown you suggest is too low, Grandmama. I do not intend to exhibit myself for the amusement of the court. It will look as if I am peddling my wares seeking another protector, when the truth of the matter is I do not care if I ever make love to another man again, even if I live to be one hundred!" Jasmine declared vehemently.

When Jasmine reached London, however, she found that the gown whose packing she had so carefully supervised was no longer in her trunk. In its place was the magnificent black velvet and silver lace gown her grandmother had wanted her to wear, along with a wonderful necklace, and ear bobs of rubies.

"Damn her for a meddling old woman," Jasmine muttered, and then she laughed. "God's boots, we are so alike! I would have done the same thing had our positions been reversed," she told Toramalli.

"I know," giggled her faithful servant, "and 'twas exactly what your lady grandmother said when she pulled that plain black gown from the luggage. She is right, though, my lady. The prince would want you to be the most beautiful woman at the wedding, next to his sister."

Jasmine had sent word of her arrival to the king, but she had insisted upon staying at Greenwood. James, still deeply distraught over his eldest son's death, bridled at this, but the queen soothed him, saying, " 'Tis most proper and discreet of Lady Lindley, my dear. I fully approve of her behavior in this most delicate matter. She is not our son's widow, after all. Only his mistress. When will ye speak with her about little Charles Frederick?"

"After the wedding," the king replied absently.

Although the king had complained that he could scarce afford such a grand affair, the wedding of Princess Elizabeth to the young, handsome Elector Palatine was a magnificent one attended by every member of the court from the highest to the lowest. The crown jewels were put on display, including a large pearl pendant, the Bretherin, the Portugal Diamond, and an even larger diamond set in a gold setting, called the Mirror of France. Jasmine had never seen these jewels, and although she found them beautiful, she thought she had better in her possession.

It was a strange celebration. In Westminster Abbey, where Frederick V was created a Knight of the Garter, the effigy of Henry Stuart was yet on display. Jasmine bravely fought back her tears. Then the king forgot to dub the new knight, but no one dared to tell him.

The wedding itself was celebrated on February fourteenth in the royal chapel at Whitehall. It was the first royal marriage using the new form of common prayer in England. The little princess glowed with happiness, for she and her bridegroom had fallen madly in love in the four short months in which they had known each other. The marriage had become a love match, to the surprise of everyone.

Elizabeth Stuart wore a magnificent gown of silver tissue. Her long, blond hair was unbound, signifying her innocence. Atop her head was a crown of diamonds and pearls. Her young bridegroom was garbed in scarlet and silver, the garter about his neck. The bridal attendants all wore pure white satin. The queen was gowned in cloth-of-gold and diamonds. The king, however, had given little care to his garb. He was dressed all in black, and his stockings quite obviously did not match. A rather bedraggled pheasant's feather hung from his cap, and he had a short black Spanish cape with its half-erect collar and hanging cowl about him.

At the party that followed the religious ceremony, James Stuart fidgeted, and complained about the expense of it all and about the overwhelming boredom he felt at the masque presented. "My brave laddie's dead, and yet they dance," he said sadly at one point. Jasmine felt deeply sorry for James Stuart, and she knew exactly how he felt. She could see the queen struggling to keep up a good front for the sake of her daughter, whom she truly loved. It was like being in a bad dream.

Jasmine had attempted to keep herself very much in the background. A royal page had come to Greenwood the afternoon before the wedding, and brought her a message from the king. She was not to leave London. He would see her in a week's time. She wondered what it was all about. Perhaps the king wanted to make some sort of provision for her infant son. She would, of course, tactfully refuse. She did not need a royal pension to support her children.

"Good evening, madame," a voice said at her ear.

Jasmine looked up to see James Leslie, the Earl of Glenkirk, towering above her. "My lord," she answered politely.

"Will you allow me to escort you through this crush, madame?" he asked her politely.

Jasmine opened her mouth to refuse him, and then thought better of it. It was unlikely that she would be pestered by the bold young men about the court if she was being escorted by the Earl of Glenkirk. She wanted no scenes or misunderstandings. "Thank you, my lord," she said.

"Your children are well?" he inquired solicitiously, having found them a quiet corner in which to sit.

She nodded politely.

"How old are they now?" Glenkirk persisted in the conversation.

"India will be five next month, Henry four in April, Fortune three in July, and my wee Charles will be five months old in four days," Jasmine said. "And you, my lord. Have you satisfied your family's pleas yet to remarry, and have more children?"

"I am yet a bachelor, madame. There has been but one woman to attract me over the years, but I did not speak up, and she married another gentleman. Now, however, she is a widow." His green-gold eyes looked directly at her.

Jasmine looked at him with shock. "Surely I misunderstand you, my lord," she said coldly.

"I do not think so, madame," he responded calmly, taking her hand in his.

She grew pale. Then she arose, snatching her hand back. "How dare you, my lord? How do you dare to presume to solicit me under the circumstances!"

"I lost you once, Jasmine, because I was too proud to say I wanted you, and you were too proud to admit to wanting me," James Leslie told her bluntly. "When Rowan Lindley died, I dared to hope I might begin anew with you, but Henry Stuart came between us."

"There is no us, my lord," Jasmine said furiously.

"I will not lose you again," the Earl of Glenkirk said, and reaching out, he took her into his arms, and kissed her with all the pent-up passion in his soul.

Jasmine pulled from his embrace and slapped him as hard as she was able to do. "Do not ever approach me again, Lord Leslie," she told him icily, tears of outrage prickling her eyes. "Your presumption goes beyond the bounds of decency and certainly beyond those of good taste! I will mourn Henry Stuart until the day I die, my lord!" Then turning, she walked angrily away from him.

James Leslie cursed softly under his breath. A less determined man might have lost heart, but he was only annoyed that he had perhaps misjudged the depth of her feelings for the prince. Of course she had loved Henry Stuart. She was not the sort of woman who gave herself to a man for gain. She was an honorable woman, and for her, love was paramount. He remembered their brief encounter of almost six years prior. She had been relatively newly widowed, and he was still hurting from his wife and children's untimely deaths. Together they had comforted each other, but it had been more for him. He had always believed that it had been more for her as well.

Jasmine pushed her way through the crowds of courtiers who made up the wedding guests. Her cheeks felt hot, and her Mughal temper was as close to out of hand as it had ever been since her arrival in England seven years ago. What was she doing here? She knew virtually no one, and frankly, there was no one she cared to know. Who was to know if she left? It was a breach of etiquette to be certain, but in this mob, who would even miss her? She would go back to Greenwood, and she would stay there until her appointment with the king next week.

Then a page was at her elbow. "Are you the dowager Marchioness of Westleigh, madame?" he asked her.

"I am," she said "What is it you want of me?"

"Her majesty requests your presence, my lady," the young boy said. "If you would be so kind as to follow me."

God's boots, Jasmine thought irritably, and just when I was about to make my escape from this madhouse. But she followed the page to the queen, curtseying low before Anne of Denmark.

"A stool for Lady Lindley," the queen said, and then, "Come and sit next to me, my dear. Are you enjoying the wedding?"

Jasmine seated herself, spreading her black velvet skirts prettily around her. "The princess is a most beautiful bride, Your Majesty," she said.

"But court is not quite the same without him, is it?" the queen answered, nodding her head. "Like me, Lady Lindley, you hide what is in your heart, and put on a good face. What a pity you could not have been his wife, but tell me, how is Charles Frederick Stuart?"

"He thrives, madame. I became unable to nurse him when—" Her voice shook a moment, and the queen put a comforting hand on her hand.

"I understand," she said low, her gaze sympathetic.

"I have an excellent wet nurse for my son," Jasmine continued bravely. "He grows more beautiful every day, and he has two tiny teeth already. His brother is very protective of him, and his sisters adore him. He has the best nature, madame, even when he first awakens."

"I can see how much you love your children, my dear," Queen Anne said. "That is good. I, too, came from a large and loving family. There were five of us. I have two sisters and two brothers. We were a very happy family, perhaps even spoiled. Do you know that I was carried everywhere until I was nine? I never walked until then. I think I may have even learned to dance before I learned to walk," she said with a small chuckle. "Henry, of course, told you how different life for him was in Scotland."

Jasmine almost winced at the sound of his name.

"Ahh, how little I knew of the Scots when I married my Jamie," the queen continued on. "They took my son from me right after he was born. I was not allowed to nurse him, and I was not allowed to care for him. That pleasure and privilege went to the Earl and dowager Countess of Marr. They are the hereditary guardians of Scotland's heir, but I did not know that before I gave birth to my son. I was not allowed to even see him except by making an application in advance to Marr and his old mother.

" 'Twas they who felt my Henry's little gums for his first teeth. 'Twas they he greeted with his first smile. They who saw his first steps. I have never forgiven them for it, and now I never will! They took time from me that should have been mine, and they had no sympathy for my feelings in the matter. They were arrogant and stiff-necked about their position as the heir's guardians," the queen said.

Then she leaned even nearer to Jasmine. "Do not let anyone take Charles Frederick Stuart from you, my dear. He will be safer with his mother, and 'tis far better for him to grow up in a warm, loving family with his sisters and brother. Then, too, your family is a very large one, isn't it? Are your grandparents still alive?"

"Yes, Your Majesty, they are. My grandmother and I are best friends. I do not like being parted from her."

"You are very fortunate," the queen said.

Shortly afterward Jasmine was obliged to join the women of the court in preparing the bride for her marital bed. Elizabeth Stuart was all rosy with anticipation, for she loved her handsome young husband. The only sour note to these final wedding day festivities came from the king who told the young couple he would expect proof come the morrow that they had done their duty, and done it well.

Jasmine returned to Greenwood. She did not take part in any further celebrations, but rather waited the time until she was to see the king.

Her appointment was set for the early morning a few days later.

"With luck," she told Toramalli, "we can be on the road back to Queen's Malvern by noon. I cannot wait to get home. It seems as if we have been parted from the children for months instead of just weeks."

Toramalli dressed her mistress carefully for her meeting with the king, choosing an elegant gown of deep violet velvet with a large collar of fine lace which extended low on her shoulders. The sleeves, which were long, had small slashes through which puffs of deeper violet silk showed. Jasmine wore a heavy gold chain about her neck, to which was attached an oval brooch edged in pearls. In the center of the brooch was a small clear crystal through which could be seen a small lock of hair. It was Henry Stuart's hair. She wore no head covering, her hair affixed in its usual chignon, but the hood of her violet velvet cloak, which was trimmed in ermine, could be pulled up in inclement or cold weather.

To her great surprise, Jasmine was brought into the king's privy chamber. Both the queen and the Earl of Glenkirk were in the room, but no one else. Jasmine curtsied to their majesties, and ignored James Leslie.

"Come and sit by the fire, lassie," the king said. " 'Tis a raw day, though I think springtime will eventually come."

Jasmine loosened her cloak and laid it over the arm of the chair. Then she sat, her hands resting nervously in her lap. It was not her place to speak until the king had spoken his piece to her, but although she understood the presence of Queen Anne, she was confused by that of the Earl of Glenkirk. He had but nodded politely when she entered. The queen smiled at her encouragingly.

James Stuart sat himself opposite his guest. "How is my wee grandson, madame?" he asked her.

"He is well, Your Majesty. He has two teeth, and is of a most sunny disposition," Jasmine told the king.

The king nodded. "But for an accident of fate," he said, "that child might be England's next king." Then catching himself, he looked directly at Jasmine. "You are remaining at Queen's Malvern, madame? Not Cadby?"

"Aye, Your Majesty. I prefer being with my grandparents, and although I promised Rowan that his children would be raised at Cadby, our circumstances have changed since I made that promise. I believe it best we remain at Queen's Malvern. We will visit Cadby each year, and starting when Henry is six he must live there three months of the year for his tenants' sake."

"Is Queen's Malvern a safe house, madame?"

"Safe, sire? I do not think I understand you," Jasmine said.

"Safe from attack, madame?" the king replied.

"Attack?" She looked astounded. "Who would attack Queen's Malvern, and why, my lord?"

"Madame, you are the mother of a royal Stuart," the king told her with utmost seriousness.

"Sire, this is England. Queen's Malvern is in a quiet little valley which encompasses the whole estate. I do not believe there has been an attack of any kind there since before the days of William Norman, when the Welsh used to raid, or so my grandfather says."

"It is the custom of the royal Stuarts, madame, to assign a guardian to each of its children," the king told her.

"Sire, my son is not an heir to your throne," Jasmine said. "There is no need for him to have a guardian. I, as his mother, am more vigilant than any guardian could be. Besides, Charles Frederick Stuart is quite safe in the bosom of his family. My family is a large one."

The king ignored her as if she had not even spoken, and he continued on. "My grandson must be educated, madame."

"I agree, sire," Jasmine said.

"But what can you know of the education of a prince?" the king demanded.

Jasmine bit back the sharp retort that came to mind, and drawing a long, slow breath, said patiently, "I am a princess born, sire, and my father was a man who believed strongly in education for women, as well as for men. I am fluent in several languages including Portuguese, Latin, and French, and some languages you have never even heard of, my lord. I have been taught mathematics, and can keep my own estate and household accounts. I have learned philosophy, and history, and can tell you about the creeds of many religions, each of which thinks it is the best and only faith. I read, and I can write in a legible, fine hand in all the languages that I am capable of speaking. Are these not the things my son, indeed all of my children, should learn?"

"I dinna hold wi so much learning for a woman," the king replied infuriatingly. "The raising of a boy is a man's province, madame. Can you teach him to ride, or use a weapon?"

"Aye, my lord, I can," Jasmine replied with a smile. "I learned to ride at the age of three, when I began accompanying my father to the hunt. I can fire a gun accurately, and my aim with a spear was always deadly. As for the sword, sire, I can hire a good swordmaster for my sons, can I not?"

Behind the king's chair the Earl of Glenkirk hid an amused smile. He had known James Stuart his entire life, and he knew that the king was about to lose his royal temper.

"Damn me, madame, if you are nae the most irritating woman I hae ever known," James Stuart said. "A lad needs a man about him to learn things that a woman could nae possibly imagine."

"What?" Jasmine demanded. "Besides, my lord, my sons have my grandfather, and for all his age, he is an active gentleman. Then there is my uncle Conn; and my Aunt Deirdre's husband, Lord Blackthorne; and a whole host of young male cousins living nearby. Neither of my sons will lack for male company, I assure you."

"Enough!" the king roared. "I will nae be argued wi any further, madame. I hae made my decision. It is true that my grandson, Charles Frederick Stuart, will nae ever inherit England's throne. That great responsibility will go to my son Charles, the bairn's godfather. Nonetheless, no royal Stuart hae ever shirked his duty toward his own. I will nae be the first, and besides, I promised my Henry before he died that I would look after you and the bairn. I have this day affixed my royal seal to a document making James Leslie, the Earl of Glenkirk, guardian over my grandson, Charles Frederick Stuart, Viscount Lundy."

"No!" Jasmine shouted, her own royal temper exhibiting itself. "You have no right! I will not allow you to snatch my child away from me, my lord! What can a man, particularly a man without a wife in his house, know about raising a tiny baby?"

"It is not as dreadful as you think, my dear." The queen finally spoke up. " 'Tis not at all as it was with me. My Jamie has had the most wonderful idea. But listen."

Jasmine looked at the king, but her turquoise-blue eyes were angry.

"Nah, nah, madame, dinna fret yerself," James Stuart said. "I am a man who learns from his errors, and times are changing. My Annie hae reminded me of all the fuss we had over Henry in his infancy and childhood when I gave him to Marr. I realize now that a woman should nae be separated from her bairn until the bairn is grown. A man wi'out a wife is indeed a poor choice to raise a bairn, but is nae a woman wi'out a husband his equal?

"I hae known Jemmie Leslie since he was a bairn. His father was my friend, God assoil his bonnie soul. Jemmie hae been a loyal and true friend to me my entire life. His sweet Isabelle, and their bairns, died an untimely death, but he hae been a widower for eleven years now. Your husband died an equally untimely death, madame, four years ago. 'Tis time ye were both remarried. The Leslies of Glenkirk hae petitioned me regularly to make their earl do so. Well, now I will. Pick the date, madame, for I am commanding you to marry the Earl of Glenkirk as quickly as possible. Together you will raise my grandson. How is it I am told you put it, madame? The ‘not-so-royal Stuart'?" The king chuckled, pleased with himself and with his decision.

Across from him Jasmine sat in stunned silence. Marry James Leslie? It was absolute madness. It was ridiculous. It was impossible!

"Is that not the most perfect solution to all of our problems, my dear?" the queen burbled, well pleased by her husband's cleverness.

Jasmine could still find no words to express herself.

"I believe," the Earl of Glenkirk said with great understatement, "that Lady Lindley has been taken by surprise by Your Majesties' decision in this matter. When she recovers herself, I am certain she will desire to speak with you to voice her thanks, even as I give mine now to you both." The earl came around the king's chair. "With Your Majesties' kind permission, I will escort Lady Lindley to her home at Queen's Malvern. I believe that she had intended to leave London almost immediately following her audience with Your Majesties." He clamped his hand hard beneath Jasmine's elbow and gently forced her to her feet, "Allow me, madame," the earl said softly.

James Leslie bowed to the king and the queen. Jasmine somehow managed to curtsey, and then he was leading her from the king's privy chamber.

"Say not one word, madame, until we are in the privacy of your coach," James Leslie warned her. "You will shortly recover your wits, but we will cause no scandal here at Whitehall, Jasmine, for all the court sycophants to gossip about."

She nodded silently.

"Where to, m'lady?" her coachman inquired as they exited Whitehall. "Back to Greenwood, or home? The baggage coach has already left." The coachman peered down at her.

"Queen's Malvern," the Earl of Glenkirk said to him, and then, "That is correct, madame, is it not?"

Jasmine nodded again.

The carriage moved off from Whitehall. James Leslie took the fur rug that was upon the seat and wrapped it about Jasmine's knees. Then he seated himself facing her. He was very impressed by the luxury of the coach, and soon realized that there was heat coming from the grates in the doors. Ingenious, he thought, and sat back, stretching his long legs out before him. Very soon the city was left behind them. The countryside lay couched in bleak midwinter on either side of the road. There was no snow, but it was cold, and there was frost in the brown fields. Smoke wafted from the farmhouse and cottage chimneys as they passed by them. Now and then a dog would dash madly from a farmyard to pursue the carriage, barking wildly as it raced along, snapping at the wheels until it finally tired of the game.

After some time James Leslie said quietly, "Do you intend not to speak to me at all, madame, or is it that you have truly lost your tongue?"

"I will not marry you," Jasmine said. "Do you think yourself clever, my lord, to have convinced the king to give you guardianship over my Stuart son? And what foresight you have, Jemmie Leslie! Did you actually believe that by having custody of Charles Frederick, I should have no other choice but to wed you?"

"I did not ask the king for guardianship of your son, madame," he answered her, "and as for marrying you, 'tis true I desired to court you, and to eventually convince you to take me as your husband, but 'twas my damned brothers, importuning first Jamie and then his Annie, that resulted in a royal command to wed. I will admit, however, to feeling no regret at that command, which I will obey gladly."

"I will not marry you," Jasmine repeated.

"I love you," he said.

"You lie!" she retorted.

"Nay, Jasmine, I do not lie. When we were caught abed, and BrocCairn said I must wed you, I refused to speak because I was angry at myself for having been so stupid as to expose you to such embarrassment. Surely you know I was already in love with you then, but the situation with Sybilla was a difficult one. And you, sweetheart, were so coolly gallant in your refusal to force me to the altar. Afterward, I came to Greenwood and told your grandmother that I wished to court you."

"I did not know that," Jasmine said softly.

"Ask her," the earl told her. "She said that you were betrothed to Rowan Lindley and that it would be best if you did not know of my visit, or the reason for it. She sent me away. I left court shortly after that, staying only long enough to meet my obligations to the king. When I returned to Glenkirk, I seriously sought out a new wife, for my brothers have been most adamant that I remarry. There was no woman, however, who pleased me. I finally returned to court to learn that you were widowed, but by then you had involved yourself with the prince. I could hardly reveal my feelings to you under those circumstances, could I?"

"I am not a child, my lord. I am twenty-two, and I will not be forced to the altar by this Scots King of England," Jasmine said firmly, ignoring his explanations.

"Madame, we do not have any other choice but to obey," James Leslie told her. "I will make you a bargain, however. Allow me to pay you court at Queen's Malvern. In a month or so we will set a wedding date, and so inform the king. 'Twill give us time to renew our acquaintance with each other."

"What of my Stuart son?" she asked him.

"Why, he will remain with you, Jasmine," James Leslie told her. "As you so scathingly pointed out to the king, a man without a wife is a poor choice to be guardian for a bairn." The Earl of Glenkirk smiled across the coach at her, and Jasmine, in spite of herself, felt the corners of her mouth turning up slightly.

"I will make you a bargain, my lord," she said finally in return. "The king's ultimatum came as a shock to me, as you know. I need time to accustom myself to it. You see, I never told Henry Stuart how much I loved him. I never told him at all that I loved him. He wanted to marry me, and of course such a marriage was not possible between us. If I had admitted my love for him, he would have been all the more obdurate regarding the choice of a wife. You know he would have, my lord. Then he died, and I could not tell him of my love. I have lived with that these past months, and the pain it has given me is beyond knowing.

"Now, the king, my Hal's father, has ordered me to marry you. That he has done it for reasons that make no sense to me, in his grief, and in the mistaken belief he is protecting his grandson, does not help me to come to terms with that royal decision. You say you love me, James Leslie. I am not certain that I believe you, although I think you believe it. Very well then, if you love me, take me home to Queen's Malvern, and then leave me be for a short period of time. With my children about me, and my grandmother's wisdom, I will be able to accept what must be. Can you do that?"

"When may I return to begin our courtship?" he asked her.

"Come on the first day of April, my lord. 'Tis less than six weeks from now," she said. "I will set our wedding date when I see you again. I promise you that, and a royal Mughal princess would never break her word, Jemmie Leslie."

She said his name softly, and the tip of her tongue flicked out to moisten her lips. He almost grew dizzy with the sensuality of the action, and thought ruefully that he had best gain a firmer hold upon himself lest she rule their household. Then he thought of his mother and smiled. It was the sort of bargain Cat Leslie would have struck in the same situation. She would play for time, and God only knew 'twas little enough she asked him. If it would ease the path that they must travel together, then how could he refuse?

"Very well, madame," he told Jasmine. "I will bring you in safety to your grandmother's home, but you must give me a few days with you before I depart. Then I shall return on the first day of April, to plan our wedding."

"I agree, my lord," Jasmine said quietly.

"I will be a good stepfather to your children," he promised her. "Even now I yet miss my own lads, but you will give me beautiful sons and daughters, Jasmine, I know. You like children, don't you?"

"Aye," she said, "I do. I was the youngest of my father's children, and my siblings were grown but for one sister, and she lived with her mother at court. In my little palace on the lake in Kashmir, it was as if I was an only child. Perhaps that is why I enjoy having a household full of children." She smiled at him. "Grandmama says I spoil my little ones, but I do not believe loving a child as I do can spoil it."

"My mother loved her bairns like that," he told her.

"Where is your mother?" she asked him.

"In Italy," he said. "Someday I will tell you the whole story of Cat Leslie and her love, which in Scotland was called ‘wild and fair.' "

"I shall look forward to your tale, my lord. Does the story have a happy ending?" Jasmine said.

"Aye, a very happy ending, even as our story will have a happy ending," the Earl of Glenkirk promised her.

Jasmine looked directly at him, her turquoise-blue eyes bright. "Are you then so certain of our fates, my lord?"

"Aye!" he replied with a wide grin. "I am!"

"I am not," Jasmine told him solemnly. Then she turned away from James Leslie to watch the gray and brown countryside as it passed by their carriage. Above them the sky had grown dark, and it began to snow.