Chapter 8

Chapter 8

"Thistlewood!" Skye O'Malley de Marisco leaned precariously out of the window of her coach as it careened along the London Road. Behind her, inside the vehicle, her husband, Adam, sat calmly, a slight smile upon his handsome face. "Damn it, Thistlewood! Can you go no faster?" Skye shouted up to her coachman, who had his hands quite full with the galloping horses and trying to remain securely upon his seat.

"The horses is full out, m'lady," the terse answer came back.

"God's foot! We're going to be late," Skye concluded as she withdrew back into her coach, raising the window up to keep the cold air out. Grumbling, she pulled the beaver lap robe back over her knees. "Our little princess, the grandchild we've never seen, has been at sea for almost six months. A wonderful welcome she'll receive when she gets to London and finds no one to greet her. She'll think we don't want her, Adam! Poor child!" Her Kerry-blue eyes grew misty.

"Sit back, little girl," her husband advised her quietly, and he took her hand in his big one. "Adali left Queen's Malvern before the storm blocked the roads between our estate and London. He was safely in town two weeks ago. If our trading fleet arrives early, he will be there to greet his young mistress and to escort her to Greenwood House, where she will be safe until we can reach London. You sent word to the servants to open the house and prepare for our coming. Mrs. Winters will have an ample amount of lads trained for footmen, and Davis will have found his grooms for the stables. As for Mrs. Evans, she'll be in her glory planning menus." He patted the icy little hand in his. "We'll be there soon, Skye, but then when were you ever patient about getting something you wanted? No one knows better than I do how much you desire to get your hands on this particular grandchild of ours." He chuckled wickedly.

"Are you going to sit there, you maddening old man, and tell me that you aren't as anxious to meet Yasaman as I am? That you do not want her with us at long last?" she demanded of him. "That child is Velvet's firstborn!"

"I know," he said, "and I won't lie to you. I'm eager to meet the girl. I want to know what she is like. I'm not a man for mysteries."

"Ohh, Adam!" Skye continued. "Do you know what a shock it was to me when Adali arrived at Queen's Malvern on Christmas Day? And the servants! I thought their eyes would pop out of their heads when they saw him in that wonderful furlined robe with a turban upon his head. I am amazed they were able to keep him a secret from the family." She giggled, a sound he found charming in a woman of her years. "And the family still thinks us mad for our little outburst in the Great Hall after baby Adam's christening. Willow, in particular, thinks us quite dotty with all our teasing talk of a forty-sixth grandchild. And all our daughters and daughters-in-law were hotly denying that any of them was with child. We had the hall in quite an uproar." She laughed aloud with the memory.

"Particularly," he agreed, "as you would not explain yourself to Willow despite her persistence. How your eldest daughter dislikes being kept out of anything. Well, she'll know soon enough; and I, for one, want to personally be there to see her face when she meets Yasaman." He chuckled again. "Our dear prim and proper Willow is in for quite a shock."

"I hope their voyage was a good one," Skye said. "I remember how tedious the days seemed when we were going out and coming back from India on that expedition for Queen Bess."

"Adali told me that the voyage was quite pleasant up to the time he left them. Yasaman and Father Cullen spent their days teaching her female servants English. Adali, of course, learned it years ago from Velvet and Father Cullen. That is why the emperor entrusted him with that letter he sent us. I think it quite clever of Adali that he suggested to Captain Small he come ahead in a single ship rather than waiting for the entire fleet. It gave us a good month's warning so we might prepare for our grandchild's arrival.

"Aye," Skye agreed. "Adali is a very clever fellow. His purpose has always been to smooth our grandchild's way. He tells me that this is the first time in Yasaman's life that he has been separated from her for any period of time. He's terribly devoted to the girl. I hope he will be content in England. He says his father was a French sailor. He certainly has a Gallic look about him, but for his brown skin. I trust him, and I like him, Adam, don't you?"

"Aye, I do," Adam replied. "He fit right in, too, with all our good English servants. Your tiring woman Daisy confided in me that he was a ‘real gentleman, m'lord.' He'll get no higher praise than that coming from our good Daisy," Adam de Marisco said with a smile.

The coach raced toward London. Outside it was a cold but quite clear day. It had snowed heavily several days before. Now the sunlight glinted off the crystalline whiteness with almost blinding intensity. The bare trees stood out black against the bright blue sky. Already, from his vantage spot atop the coachman's box, Thistlewood could see the spire of Westminster. He whistled to his horses, encouraging them onward.

The O'Malley-Small trading fleet, fifteen vessels strong, slowly made its way up the Thames River toward the London Pool, where they would anchor. Jasmine de Marisco and her two women servants stood in the large bow window in the master's cabin watching the landscape pass by.

"There is no green," Rohana said nervously. "It is so stark a land and so cold."

"It is winter, but England, I have always been told, is a very green and beautiful land," Jasmine assured her. "Why are you so fretful? You have seen snow before in Kashmir, Rohana."

"That is true, my lady princess," the servant admitted, "but Kashmir was familiar to me. This place is not."

"It will be soon enough, sister," Toramalli said briskly. She had always been the braver of the twins. "I, for one, am simply happy to see land at long last! Desert isle or snowy hill, I will be glad to be off this ship after so many months at sea, and pleased to see our dear old Adali again. It has seemed so strange without him."

There was a knock upon the cabin door and Rohana ran to open it, admitting Cullen Butler. He was dressed as they had never seen him before, in black wool pantaloons and a black velvet doublet with the most modest amount of gold embroidery. There was a small ruff about his neck, and his leather boots came to his knees. Upon his head was a flat black cap of velvet with a small white plume.

Seeing their look of surprise, he explained, "Priests of the Holy Mother Church are not warmly welcomed in England anymore. It is best that I remain discreet with regard to my calling."

Jasmine nodded. "And shall I call you cousin Cullen?"

"Aye," he said. " 'Twould be best, and the lasses will call me Master Butler."

"Do you understand?" Jasmine asked her servants, and they nodded in the affirmative. "I think," she continued, "that you must go home to Ireland as soon as you can, cousin Cullen. If I am safe in my grandmother's care, then there is little need for you to chaperon me any longer, is there? Your duty to me is done, cousin. You long for your Ireland, I know, and for a little stone church somewhere in its hills. And your mother will want to see you, too, won't she? I do not imagine she ever expected to see you again."

"Nay, she surely did not," he agreed, "but I will wager she already knows that I am coming. Your grandmother will have written to her. It's true, Jasmine, you really do not need me any longer. You're educated, and you have grown into a beautiful woman. Your education I can take credit for, but as for your spiritual well-being, I have failed miserably."

"Is my grandmother a devout woman?" Jasmine asked him.

"In her own way, I suppose," he said glumly.

"In other words, just like me?" Jasmine teased him.

Cullen Butler thought a moment, and then he laughed. "Aye, I think you're probably correct, cousin. My aunt Skye has supreme faith in God and her own ability to handle anything that is presented to her. She once told me that God never gave us anything to do he did not truly believe we could handle. It was just before I came out to India. I was so fearful that the emperor would not like me, or that the Jesuits would attempt to interfere in my appointment, or that you would not want me to be your tutor and spiritual advisor."

"How foolish of you," Jasmine told him. "I loved you from the first. It will be hard for me to part with you, cousin Cullen, but you are a priest. Your first loyalty must be to God and service to Him. That is why I will send you home to Ireland. I do not need you, but there are many souls who will, I know."

Her astute words touched him. "Perhaps I have not failed with you after all, Jasmine de Marisco," he said quietly.

There was another knock upon the door, and Rohana admitted Captain Small. "We'll be anchoring in another minute or two. The barge from Greenwood House is already awaiting you, my lady," he said. "I have brought you a fur-lined cape to wear. It is very chilly upon the river, and you have a bit of a row before you." He handed Toramalli the garment and, bowing, returned to his duties.

"I know that our clothing isn't warm enough, cousin," Jasmine worried. She and her serving women were dressed in salwar pajamas, baggy trousers gathered at the ankles that had been made of soft Kashmir wool. Over the trousers they wore jaguli dresses. Cullen Butler had given each girl several pairs of silk stockings to wear with their dainty slippers so that their feet would stay warm, but he wondered now, given the particularly cold weather, if it was enough.

"There will be a heater in the barge," he told her, "and hot bricks wrapped in flannel for your feet." He wrapped the cape about his charge and then escorted the three women out onto the deck. There was a light breeze blowing and it seemed, Jasmine quickly found, to go right through all her many layers of clothing. She looked to her servants and saw that they were already shivering. There was nothing she could do about it, Jasmine thought. She just hoped that they would reach Greenwood House quickly. She walked to the ship's rail and peered over. Beneath her a very elegant barge bobbed in the waves. It was large, and the cabin appeared to have glass windows.

A turbaned head popped from beneath the wooden canopy. A familiar grin split the face. "Gracious lady!" Adali called up to her. "Welcome to England! Your grandparents should be awaiting you at Greenwood House."

Jasmine nodded excitedly, suddenly eager once again. She turned and thanked Michael Small and his ship, Cardiff Rose, for bringing her in safely from India. She thanked his youngest son, who had been the cabin boy, giving the blushing lad a kiss on the cheek and a tiny ivory elephant for a souvenir. "Shall I take my grandmother any message, Captain Small?" she asked him.

"Just say it was a successful, profitable trip, my lady, and I will await her summons tomorrow. I thank you for asking. Do not fear for your possessions. They will be brought immediately upriver to Greenwood House."

Rohana and Toramalli had already been put into the Greenwood vessel. Cullen Butler now helped Jasmine into the bosun's chair, and as soon as she was settled, it was swung out over the ship's side and lowered to the barge where Adali helped his mistress out. The chair was hauled up to take the priest, who quickly joined them.

Jasmine and her two servants found themselves settled upon a well-upholstered velvet bench within the cabin. Heavy fur lap robes were tucked in about them. Hot bricks were placed at their feet. A small brazier of hot coals set upon the floor helped to assuage some of the icy, damp air. Adali was grinning delightedly. He and Cullen Butler settled themselves opposite the women.

"I cannot believe you are finally here, gracious lady," the eunuch said to her. "I arrived over a month ago. I reached your lady grandmother's house, a place called Queen's Malvern, on Christmas Day. Your newest cousin was being christened. You have a huge family, gracious lady. They are all most beautiful, but very noisy."

"Do they know about me?" Jasmine asked him.

"Not yet," Adali replied. "Your lady grandmother wishes to keep it a secret until your mother can be informed." He then said to Jasmine, "Lady de Marisco is most formidable, my princess. She hides a marble fist beneath a swath of silk, but her family all love and respect her. She is most happy to welcome you, and cried when I told her of your coming. Your grandfather is a wonderful old gentleman, gracious lady. He, too, looks forward to meeting you."

The Greenwood barge made its way up the river to Chiswick-on-Strand, where Greenwood House was located, the very last house on Riversedge Street. From the water, Jasmine saw that, unlike its more magnificent neighbors, it was an elegant but small house of mellowed pink brick, one wall of which was covered in dark green ivy. The house, she would later discover, was set within a beautifully kept park with a small woodland.

The barge nosed its way gently into the small dock where a waiting footman made it fast and then helped the passengers from the vessel. For a moment Jasmine swayed, unable to regain her land legs, but then she stepped firmly forward onto the snowy lawn. Behind her came her women, the priest, and Adali.

"This way, my lady," the footman said politely, wondering to himself what manner of creatures they were. They surely looked like a pack of Gypsies with their odd, colorful garments and head shawls. He shook his head. He was paid to serve, and not to involve himself in the business of the gentry. Lady de Marisco was a good employer. The footman led the way up from the river's edge toward the house.

Suddenly, from the lovely brick building, a woman emerged. She was half running, and her dark green velvet skirts blew in the light breeze off the river. She was tall and more slender than not, yet she had the substantial look of a woman who had borne children. Her hair was very dark but for two silver wings that showed just above her ears, and she wore it in an elegant chignon dressed with silk flowers. There was a smile of welcome upon her face, and for a brief moment Jasmine wondered if this was Candra.

The priest jumped forward and hurried toward the lady. "Aunt Skye!" he said, catching her hand up as he reached her and kissing it. "Why is it you never age, madame? I shall return to Ireland to find my own mother, your sister, a white-haired little old lady."

A peal of rich laughter rang out at the loving flattery. "If I were going to age, Cullen Butler," Skye said, "I should have done so years ago with all my adventures, but I have not." She kissed him on the cheek, then gently pushing him aside, moved past him, stopping before Jasmine.

For what seemed a very, very long moment, the two women surveyed each other carefully, Skye's Kerry-blue eyes hungrily scanning the slender girl for something familiar, something of Velvet, but not really finding it; Jasmine absolutely astounded that this elegant, youthful lady was her grandmother. Mariam Makani seemed ancient by comparison. Did Candra look like her?

"You are so beautiful," the girl finally said softly, breaking the silence between them.

"So are you," Skye told her granddaughter, a half smile touching her mouth, yet biting her lower lip to keep from crying.

"Am I like Candra? My mother, I mean," Jasmine corrected herself, blushing. "I really am trying to think of her as my mother."

"No. Yes. Perhaps a little," Skye replied, and she laughed aloud. "Your face is heart-shaped like mine, but you have your mother's mouth, and your nose is long and slender like your mother's. Your eyes have the same shape as Velvet's, but there is a much different look to them, and the color! They are like a Persian turquoise. As for that charming little mole between your upper lip and your left nostril, I do not recognize it at all, but I do not doubt the gentlemen will find it fascinating. You are yourself, I can see, my darling girl. I am so happy to have you with me at long last! Welcome to England, Yasaman Kama Begum!"

"I have left Yasaman Kama Begum behind in India, Grandmother," Jasmine told her. "With your permission, I should prefer to be known as Jasmine de Marisco."

Tears threatened to totally overwhelm Lady de Marisco for a moment, and then she said, "So you shall be, my darling girl! Welcome to England, Jasmine de Marisco!" Then, unable to restrain herself any longer, Skye hugged the girl hard, kissing her soft, perfumed cheek. Releasing her, she said briskly, "Let us go in! You and your ladies must be freezing in this river wind. Your grandfather is awaiting you in the house. I would not let him come out with me because I wanted to see you first. If we do not go in now, however, he will come stomping out and catch a chill from which it will take him weeks to recover." She linked her arm in the girl's and together they hurried into Greenwood.

Adam de Marisco had watched the women from the vantage point of his library windows. Even with less than perfect vision, he could see that the girl was extraordinarily lovely. This, then, was his firstborn grandchild. He wondered what his daughter Velvet was going to say about this development. He had wanted to write to her immediately after the arrival of Adali, but Skye had not let him.

"Let us see what the girl is like first," she said reasonably. "Perhaps she cannot speak English, or has no idea of English manners. If that be so, we will teach her that she show to her best advantage with her mother when they finally meet."

"What if she is presentable?" he had demanded of his wife.

"There is no great rush to write to Velvet," Skye had told him. "She and Alex and the children will be here as usual for their English summer. Time enough for Velvet and her daughter to meet one another. What a wonderful surprise it will be for Velvet to finally know the child she was forced to leave behind in India. I shall never forget how devastated she was over it, Adam."

"Nor will I," he had replied. "But do you think surprising her like this is really a good idea, little girl?"

"I cannot wait to see the look on her face!" Skye had answered gleefully. "Velvet has always loved surprises."

He was still not certain that his wife's idea was a particularly good one, but then the door to the library opened and Skye came in accompanied by his grandchild. Adam de Marisco opened his arms to the girl and, without a word, she went into them. He struggled not to cry, but the tears slipped down his weathered cheeks. He thought himself an old fool, but he could simply not help it. "Dear girl," he said. "I never thought to hold you in my arms, but now I can die happy."

"Stop talking of dying, Adam de Marisco," Skye scolded him. "You may be seventy-five years of age, but you're in better health and vigor than most men half your age! Now stop smothering Jasmine and let her go. You haven't had a proper look at her yet, and when you do, you will see what a magnificent beauty she is. Once the gentlemen get a look at her, we will have to hire men-at-arms to protect her. This new court is not as elegant, nor does it have the delicacy of manners that Bess's court had in its heyday."

Adam de Marisco released his granddaughter from the bear hug in which he had enveloped her and said to his wife, "Court? We have not been to court in years. What is this talk of court?"

"We never went to court because Bess banned me," Skye said airily, "but this Stuart king doesn't even know me. How are we to find a new husband for Jasmine if we don't go to court?"

"Jasmine?" He looked puzzled.

"Our granddaughter has Anglicized her name from Yasaman to Jasmine, and she has taken your surname for her own. She is Jasmine de Marisco now. Is it not perfect, Adam?"

"Indeed it is!" He beamed with approval, and then he looked at the girl, scanning her carefully with his smoky blue eyes. "She has your look about her, Skye," he said.

"Do you really think so?" the proud grandmother asked.

"Have you no granddaughters who look like you?" Jasmine asked.

Skye thought a moment and then she said, "Perhaps your cousin, Laura Southwood, or mayhap Thalia Blakeley, but they are so young yet, I cannot really be certain. Little Bessie Burke is certainly like me in temperament." She chuckled. "Oh, darling girl, what a large and loving family you have here in England. They will love you on sight as I do!"

"How many grandchildren do you have, Grandmother?" Jasmine wondered aloud.

"Well, let me see," Skye considered. "My eldest son, Ewan O'Flaherty, has eight children, including Alain, whom you met in Cambay. Ewan's brother, Murrough, has six children; your aunt Willow has eight; your uncle Robin, the Earl of Lynmouth, has eight, three from his first marriage, five from his second; your aunt Deirdre has seven; and your uncle Padraic, Lord Burke, who was slow to marry, has but two so far. The baby, Adam Burke, was christened on Christmas Day when your Adali came to us with the news you were arriving in England within the month."

"And my mother? How many children has she now?" Jasmine inquired.

"You have five half brothers and a stepsister, my darling girl," Skye told her. "Your brothers are named James, although he is called Sandy; Adam Charles; Robert and Henry, who are twins; and last is Edward. They're fine boys, if a bit rough from growing up in Scotland. As for your stepsister, she is Lady Sybilla Alexandra Mary Gordon. She is just six months older than you. Perhaps you will be friends," Skye said. "Your mother and her family will be arriving at the end of April. Velvet's birthday is May first. We always try to be together on that day. You, darling girl, will be the best birthday present your mother ever had! You have no idea how she mourned leaving you behind."

"What does she look like now?" Jasmine asked her grandmother. "Our first night at sea after we had left India, Adali gave me this miniature of my mother." Jasmine drew it from the pocket of her jaguli dress and held it out to Skye. "Candra had given it to him before she departed India. Her instructions were that he give it to me someday when I was old enough, but over the years he forgot all about it. He found it when he was packing his possessions to come to England."

Skye looked at the little painting and smiled. "This was your mother at fifteen or sixteen," she said. "She will be celebrating her thirty-third birthday this year. The face in the picture is a girl's face, innocent and really quite unknowing of the world. If anything, she is lovelier now, but her features are more mature than the maiden's in this picture. Still, you will easily recognize her when you see her."

"In the spring?" Jasmine looked eager; and for the first time she seemed like the young girl she really was, Adam thought, watching her.

"Aye, in the spring," Skye promised her, "but until then we must keep your presence here a secret. I want no one spoiling my fine surprise. If one of your aunts or uncles know, soon the entire family will know. We will stay here in London until mid-April. If we go home to Queen's Malvern, Deirdre could easily discover you, for she and her family live nearby. She would tell her brother Padraic, who cannot keep a secret to save his soul. Soon Robin would know, and your aunt Willow, and both of your O'Flaherty uncles. Besides, you will need time to recover from your long voyage; and you will need a whole new wardrobe, my darling girl; and your servants will need new clothes more in keeping with their station here in England. Now, let me see," Skye said, "where shall we begin?"

Adam de Marisco grinned at his granddaughter, who was beginning to look somewhat overwhelmed by her grandmother. "Best to let her have her way, Jasmine," he counseled her. "She will anyway in the end."

"I have been told that my grandmother is formidable," Jasmine said mischievously. She already adored this great big man with his wonderful smoky blue eyes and his shock of silver-white hair.

"Formidable? Me?" Skye pretended to look offended, but seeing the look in her companions' eyes, she could not help but burst out laughing.

The de Mariscos were astounded by the vast wealth that had accompanied Jasmine. If they had not been certain of it before, they were now quite sure of Akbar's deep love for his youngest child. The quantity and the quality of the rare, costly spices that had come to England with their granddaughter, when sold, would make her a very rich woman for the rest of her life. There was yet another fortune in fine fabrics; the silks and cottons that the princess brought with her sent her grandmother into rapture. Skye, whose own collection of jewelry was one of the finest in Europe, was frankly amazed by the magnificent jewelry and uncut gemstones in Jasmine's possession. Indeed, her wealth was fabulous.

"My husband, Jamal, gave me this," Jasmine told her grandmother one day, showing her the Stars of Kashmir necklace.

Skye took the jewels and examined them carefully. "They are the finest sapphires I have ever seen, and each stone is flawless," she told her granddaughter honestly. "Do you see that tiny flame of green within each stone? Only the greatest sapphires have such a flame." She handed the necklace back to the girl. "Did you love him very much, my darling?" she asked. Jasmine had not spoken a great deal about her husband.

"It seems so long ago," Jasmine admitted. "He has been dead almost a year. I am not even certain that I can remember his face now. Is that awful of me, Grandmother? Did I love him? Yes, I did love him, and he loved me. He was charming and wise. He would have served my father and my brother well, but my brother arranged his murder. I will never forgive Salim for it, even if I live to be an old lady of one hundred!"

Jasmine had said little about her life in India, but she never failed to answer a direct question when asked. It was just that she never volunteered any information about herself or her past.

"She is hurting," Adam said to Skye. "I think she finds it easier to come to terms with herself and the life she must now lead by putting her past behind her."

The winter was quickly over, for there was so much to do and the long days sped swiftly by. A skilled dressmaker was found to come and live in while she created an entire wardrobe for Jasmine. There were gowns of velvet, taffeta, brocade, silk and damask weaves. Jasmine's rich complexion with its hint of gold favored rich shades of red, green, violet, lavender, black, gold, peacock-blue, and cream. Skye insisted that everything be in the latest styles. Farthingales were smaller now, although the skirts were still bell-shaped, and yet divided to show an undergown. Skirts were also slightly shorter, coming to the ankle, but necklines were still square and very low.

Jasmine was slightly shocked. "But my breasts can be plainly seen," she wailed at her first fitting.

" 'Tis the fashion," her grandmother decreed. "You have beautiful breasts, my darling girl. Besides, if one is to catch a rich husband, one must bait the trap well, eh?"

Jasmine burst out laughing, and even the dressmaker tittered.

"I'm not certain I want another husband, Grandmother."

"What do you want?" Skye asked quietly.

"I do not know yet," Jasmine said honestly. "This is a new world for me. I would explore it and learn all I can about it."

"But when you have finished exploring it," Skye said wisely, "you will want a husband with whom you can settle down and have children. What else is there for a woman if not a family, Jasmine? Were things so different in your native India? I do not think they were. Would not your Mama Begum rejoice to learn you have found another true love and happiness once again, darling girl? If she is the dear, wonderful lady you have told me that she is, I know she would."

"Aye," Jasmine admitted to Skye. "She would be very happy to know I had found happiness with a new love. Ohh, Grandmother! I miss her so very much! Here is another pain Salim has inflicted upon me. He is my brother and claims to love me, but he has caused me nothing but misery. He loved our father, too, but he was never happy being just his heir. He had to be the Mughal. Nothing else would do for Salim. He brought Father great unhappiness despite the love Father had for him. What matter of man is it that loves but constantly brings sorrow to those he loves?"

"I do not know," Skye told Jasmine, "but something good has come out of this all, my darling girl. You have come to England!"

The fittings continued. There were nightgowns, chemises, blouses, and petticoats to be made. Corsets, made of laths about two inches wide, banded together by silk ribbons, were the latest fashion from Spain. Jasmine would not wear one, despite the dressmaker's tsking disapproval.

"I cannot breathe in one of those things!" she said.

"Then you shall not have it," her grandmother agreed.

The dressmaker and her assistant sewed on, making high-waisted cloaks with full sleeves, jackets for riding and archery, and capes with hoods for rainy days. There were silk stockings bought, and shoes and boots made to order. Jasmine told her grandmother of how her foot had been measured in India, and the dressmakers listened, their eyes wide. There was clothing for the winter months, and clothing for the warmer months, and clothing for the in-between months. Jasmine's gowns were decorated with embroidery and beautiful buttons of ivory, bone, pearl, and precious gemstones. There were gloves sewn and handkerchiefs embroidered with the monogram J de M. The use of lace and silk ribbons was lavish.

"I shall be able to buy myself a shop with what I have earned sewing for you, my lady," the little dressmaker admitted on the day that she left them.

It was early April, and on that same day two messengers had arrived, one from the north and the other from a ship newly docked from the East Indies. The first messenger, wearing the livery of the Earl of BrocCairn, carried a letter for Skye. Opening it, she scanned its contents.

"We must go home," Skye said. "Your mother and her brood will be at Queen's Malvern in two weeks. I shall hold a family party!" Then she looked at her granddaughter, who had suddenly grown paler as she read the message that had been addressed to her. "What is it, darling child?"

"My father is dead," Jasmine said. She held up a strand of magnificent black pearls. "Alain has sent us the news via a late-departing merchant vessel." Silent tears began to slip down her beautiful face. "My father arranged this sign with me so I should be certain the messenger did not lie."

Skye enfolded the girl in a loving embrace. "Death," she said, "is always a shock. Even when it is expected, we don't quite expect it. I will always remember when my own father died. I came to his bedside, and he entrusted the well-being of the family into my hands, much to the shock of my sisters and brothers-in-law. Only my stepmother Anne supported me." She caressed Jasmine's hair. "Does Alain say when the emperor died, my darling?"

"He died on October fifteenth, 1605. In the evening. It was his sixty-third birthday. Mama Begum and Jodh Bai were with him," Jasmine said. "Alain is quoting the official statement." Then she sobbed her grief for Akbar upon the older woman's breast.

Being young, however, and being away from India, Jasmine began to recover from her sorrow within the next few days. She could never forget her dearly beloved father, but Skye kept the girl so busy that there was little time for her to mope about.

Cullen Butler came to say his good-byes, still wearing the dress of a moderately well-to-do gentleman. He had lingered long enough in England to be certain that Jasmine was adjusting to her new life, but then his aunt had certainly seen to that. He would ride down to Devon and sail from Bideford to Cobh.

"I do not know, Princess, if we will ever meet again," he said seriously, "but I would have you know that I am grateful for my years with you. Kneel, my child, and let me give you my blessing."

When she arose, Jasmine kissed her cousin on the cheek, saying, "Without your help, Cullen Butler, I should have had a much harder time coming to England than I have had. Thank you. I hope my great-uncle, Michael O'Malley, will give you that little stone church you have so longed for all those years you spent in India."

"Tell Michael there are harder times coming for Ireland than they ever had under old Bess," Skye told the priest. "Remind him that he's the O'Malley now, and not me. Tell him not to allow his duty to the Church to turn him from his duty to the family. In our father's time the O'Malley and his bishop were two people and not one. 'Tis hard for Michael, I know." She kissed her nephew. "My love to your mother, Cullen Butler. Tell her that her youngest son has done the family proud. I am grateful."

Cullen Butler departed, and an hour later the de Mariscos also departed for Queen's Malvern. Although accompanied by several coaches, Skye, Adam, and Jasmine preferred to ride. Her grandparents had given her a beautiful, fine-boned black mare whom Jasmine named Ebony. The girl loved racing the beast ahead of her party, letting the mare have her lead and feeling the warm spring wind in her face. The hillsides were awash with daffodils, narcissus, common red poppies, yellow rock rose, and purple gorse. Skye pointed out all these wild flowers new to her granddaughter. The neatly thatched, whitewashed cottages also fascinated Jasmine.

"Of course," she said, "there are more people in India than there are here in England, but our peasants do not have such fine houses as do yours. The land is all owned by the Mughal, and he parcels it out to his nobles in exchange for military units. The nobles, in turn, give over bits of the land to the farmers and lower peasant orders. In exchange, they must pay with part of their crop and with time given to the military. It is all very complicated. If the Mughal becomes angry with a noble and reclaims his land to give to another, very often chaos results. Do your peasants own their land or do they just farm it for the nobility? And look!" She pointed. "Do they own their sheep and cattle too? And their orchards as well? This is an interesting land!"

"Some farmers rent their lands from the nobility," Skye told Jasmine, "but others own their own land as well as their livestock and orchards. Men and women are all free here in England."

"So Cullen told me, Grandmother. I freed Adali and my maids before we left India."

They rode toward the Midlands, and on a bright, warm day in late April, Jasmine de Marisco saw Queen's Malvern for the first time. Built in the reign of Edward IV, it had been a love token given to that king's queen, Elizabeth Woodville. The building, set in a small valley within the Malvern Hills between the rivers Severn and Wye, had been constructed in the shape of an E. It had always been a royal property, and Elizabeth Tudor, the late queen, had loaned it to Skye and Adam in exchange for Adam's island of Lundy. Late in Elizabeth's reign, desperate for money, she had sold Queen's Malvern to the de Mariscos.

The house was built of warm, long-mellowed pinkish brick, and two of its walls were covered in shiny, dark green ivy. The windows were lead-paned, but tall and wide, allowing a good deal of light to enter into the house. As they rode up the graveled drive, the coaches rumbling behind them, Jasmine saw that the hedgerowed fields surrounding Queen's Malvern were filled with mares and colts.

"Your grandfather and I raise horses," Skye explained.

The front door to the house opened and the footmen came out to greet the travelers. They were accompanied by a gap-toothed woman who called, "Mistress Skye! And 'tis high time you got home! I was beginning to think it was the old days all over again and you had gone off without me."

"Ahh, Daisy, I'd never go off without you." Skye laughed, and drawing her horse to a stop, dismounted slowly. "I'm certainly not as agile as I once was," she complained ruefully.

"Well, m'lady, you just come along," the serving woman said, "and I'll have a nice hot tub prepared for you this minute." Then Daisy's sharp eyes saw Jasmine, who was next to her grandfather. "And who is this?" she demanded, peering closely at the girl, a puzzled look coming into her eyes. "She seems familiar. Do I know this lass, Mistress Skye?"

"Nay, Daisy," Skye told her tiring woman of many years. She slipped her arm through Daisy's and together they went into the house. "Come into the library, old friend, and we shall tell you who she is."

Once the door to the room closed, Skye motioned her servant to a chair and sat down opposite her. She drew Adam to her side while Jasmine settled herself onto a stool by her grandmother's knee. The girl looked particularly lovely in a midnight-blue velvet riding skirt with an elegantly tailored matching silk jacket with pearl buttons.

"This is Velvet's firstborn, Daisy. Though you have been discreet over the years, I know Pansy told you," Skye said simply, and then to Jasmine, "Daisy's daughter, Pansy, is your mother's tiring woman. She was with her in India, too, my darling."

"God Almighty!" Daisy gasped. "Then that's what that heathen, Adali, was about with his arrival on Christmas Day, and all of us wondering and never knowing." She peered again at Jasmine. "No wonder you looked familiar to me, child. You've both your grandmother and your mother in you, but more of your grandmother, I'm thinking. I've been with her since before Mistress Willow was born, and 'tis going on fifty years, it is. I can remember when my lady was as fresh and as ripe as you are now, child. Now why did that daughter of mine not get word to me about this? Probably too busy with her life in the BrocCairn castle and all of Dugald Geddes's rambunctious sons—seven of them she has, but now that she's got her girl, there will be no more babies for my Pansy. Blossom is the last of 'em, you can be certain."

"Velvet does not know," Skye said quietly.

"What?" Daisy looked astounded. "You have had this child for over two months and her own mother doesn't know she is here? Shame on you, my lady!"

"Velvet will be here for her birthday on May first and remain for her English summer, Daisy. Jasmine is going to be my gift to her. She will be so surprised! I've sent invitations to Robin and Angel down in Devon; and to Murrough and Joan as well. They are to leave the children, however. 'Twould be too much for the children to absorb. Let my sons and daughters come to terms with all this first. Willow and James have been invited. Now that I'm home, Deirdre and John, as well as Padraic and Valentina, shall be sent for as well.

"And, Daisy, not a word to the other servants," Skye cautioned. "Ohh, I cannot wait to see the look of surprise on Velvet's face when she meets Jasmine for the first time! She never thought to see her child again, but fate, as I so often have warned Velvet, is a capricious but kind bitch when she chooses."

When Daisy had gone, taking Jasmine along to show her her rooms and to carry out the other myriad instructions her mistress had given her, Adam poured his wife and himself goblets of rich red Archambault wine.

Handing Skye one of the goblets, he said, "Do you really still think it wise to surprise Velvet with her daughter's arrival? I have never heard her speak of the child since she came home to reconcile with Alex." He sipped thoughtfully as he looked at her.

"Because she has not spoken of her does not mean she has not thought of her, Adam," Skye answered. "No mother forgets a child she has borne and raised for even as short a time as she and Jasmine had each other. She is, I promise you, going to be thrilled."

"Will Alex? Does he even know?" Adam wondered.

"Of course he knows," Skye said with assurance. "He must. I am certain that Velvet promised me she would tell him. 'Tis true Jasmine will be a bit of a shock to him, but let us not forget that Velvet has raised the child Alex's mistress gave him while Velvet was in India. Indeed, Sybilla thinks of Velvet as her own mother and even calls her Mama. I think Velvet has poured all the love she could have lavished on Jasmine into raising Sybilla Gordon."

"I suppose," Adam mused, "that it will be all right, even if it does come as a bit of a shock to the family at first."

He smiled to himself, and Skye thought how handsome a man he was despite his age. Some men shrank with the passing of time, but not Adam. He stood as tall and straight as he ever had. The smoky blue eyes had never faded, and if his once midnight-black hair was now silvery white, she did not care a bit. They would be married thirty-four years in September. There had not been a year gone by that she had not been supremely happy with this great bear of a man.

Little had she realized all those long years ago when he so tenderly but firmly seduced her that one day he would be her dearest husband, not simply her lover and her best friend. Sometimes she would awaken in the night and listen for the sound of his breathing, afraid that he might have left her. But then he would resume his sonorous snoring and she would poke at him, admonishing him to roll over and cease his noise. Skye O'Malley frankly could not imagine life without her beloved Adam.

For the next few days the servants at Queen's Malvern worked diligently, readying the house for the coming guests. The night before the Gordons of BrocCairn were due to arrive, Skye and Adam called their granddaughter to them. "We had always planned to leave Queen's Malvern to your mother," Skye began. "We knew with Bess Tudor remaining unmarried that England's throne would eventually go to Mary of Scotland's son, King James. We married your mother into a well-connected Scots family believing that when that day came, she would come with Alex and their children to live in England.

"But when King James arrived in England three years ago, he brought with him a host of younger sons and assorted adventurers seeking whatever they could lay their hands upon. There has been much ill-feeling between the English and the Scots. The year after James inherited the throne, he made peace with Spain, England's traditional enemy. Last November there was a plot discovered to blow up the king and his parliament.

"Alexander Gordon, the Earl of BrocCairn, your mother's husband, is related to the king by blood, but he has chosen to remain in Scotland at Dun Broc, his own home. He was never much of a man for the court. The life he chooses to lead suits your mother well. In her youth she enjoyed court, but no more. She loves Scotland greatly, only wanting a milder English summer each year.

"It seems foolish, therefore, for your grandfather and I to leave our home to the Gordons of BrocCairn. We have rewritten our wills. You, Jasmine, will inherit this house one day, and Greenwood in London as well. Adam and I know you will offer your hospitality to the family whenever they need it, but we also feel you must have English roots of your own, my darling girl. That way you will always remain independent of others. Wealth, as you already know, gives you the power to run your own life."

"Will not my mother be disappointed if you leave me Queen's Malvern?" Jasmine asked. "Did she not grow up here? And what of my half brothers? Has one of them been expecting to inherit this house?"

"Your mother will never live in England as long as Alexander Gordon remains alive. It is likely, barring accident, that he will survive to be a grand old man," Skye answered. "We will be gone long before that, my darling. As for his boys, Sandy will inherit Dun Broc, and he will have no use for Queen's Malvern. The others, like all younger sons, will have to make their own way in the world. If I know Velvet, she will see them all wed to heiresses with lands of their own."

"And mother's daughter?"

"Sybilla?" Skye wrinkled her nose. "Velvet has raised the girl practically from infancy, but she is Alex's daughter and no blood kin of ours. I would never leave Queen's Malvern to her."

Jasmine sighed. "I am very grateful to both you and Grandfather, madame, but I would not offend my mother or any in her family."

Skye patted Jasmine's hand. "You will offend no one, will she, Adam? Your mother will understand and probably approve our decision. None of the boys, nor Sybilla, ever expected to inherit this estate from us. Oh, I feel so much better knowing that you are now landed, my darling girl. Just a few more hours and your mother will be here! I can hardly wait, can you?"

When the BrocCairn party was reported to be coming through the main gates of the estate, Jasmine and her servants hurried upstairs to her apartment, where they would remain until the appointed hour that evening. Jasmine was almost sick with excitement. If only her rooms faced the front of the house instead of the back, she thought, she might glimpse Velvet and her family, but her windows all looked out on the beautiful gardens, the fields and the woodlands beyond.

Meanwhile, the coaches rumbled up the driveway. They were accompanied by a party of horsemen, including the Earl of BrocCairn himself, and four of his five sons. Drawing his mount to a halt, Alexander Gordon swept off his broad-brimmed hat with its plumes and bowed to his in-laws from his saddle. His sons followed his polite example.

"Welcome back to Queen's Malvern, my lord!" Skye said.

The earl dismounted and kissed her. "Madame Skye, why do you never grow old? In Scotland there would be whispers of witchcraft, I vow." He turned. "Laddies, come and greet your grandmam!"

While Sandy and Adam Charles, along with Robert and Henry, the twins, crowded about their grandmother demanding her attention, the coach carrying Velvet, her youngest son Edward, and her stepdaughter Sybilla came to a stop. A footman rushed up to open the door and lower the coach steps.

"Grandsire!" Little Edward Gordon tumbled from the vehicle.

Adam de Marisco swept the boy up into a bear hug. "Neddie, my lad, 'tis good to see you again." He set the little boy down and said, "Go and give your grandmam a kiss."

"Sibby was sick all over the coach," Neddie volunteered happily. "She made a really awful stink! Did you ever see anyone turn green, grandsire? Sibby was quite green when she was sick."

Adam could not help but laugh. The idea of Velvet's stepdaughter turning green was an amusing one. Lady Sybilla Alexandra Mary Gordon was not his favorite grandchild. He did not understand how it had happened, but Sybilla was a dreadful snob. She took great pride in her father's heritage, which linked her with not only one of the most powerful clans in Scotland, but with royalty itself.

That her natural mother was a London silversmith's daughter with the morals of a mink, and was now married to a semi-reformed bandit, she could not be persuaded to even acknowledge. As far as Lady Sybilla Alexandra Mary Gordon was concerned, Alanna Wythe Shaw had never existed. Velvet de Marisco Gordon, with her elegant and far preferable ancestors, was her only mother.

Adam often considered that his daughter's soft heart had gotten the better of her where Sybilla Gordon was concerned. His son-in-law had legitimatized the girl, a great kindness on his part. Velvet had raised her, spoiling her unconscionably. If Velvet had given Alexander Gordon another daughter, perhaps Sybilla would not have been so spoiled, but his daughter had borne only sons for Alex, allowing Sybilla to grow into a little madame. Her one saving grace, in Adam's eyes, was that she adored her stepmother above all people, even her father.

"Papa!"

Adam de Marisco snapped from his reverie and a smile split his face. "Velvet, my dear!" He held out his arms to her and she descended gracefully from the coach into them. They kissed, and then putting her back from him, he said, "You are lovelier than ever, Velvet."

Velvet de Marisco Gordon flushed with pleasure at her father's compliment. She was a beautiful woman with fair skin and rich auburn hair, whose voluptuous figure belied the fact that she had borne six children. Her face was oval-shaped with both the forehead and cheekbones high. Her long Norman nose she had inherited from her father's family. Her small, square chin bespoke a lady of firm opinions and determined nature. Her wide, sensual mouth suggested another, more passionate side to her nature. She was tall, but her bones were delicate.

"And you have certainly grown no older in the past year, Papa," she told him, her emerald-green eyes twinkling.

"Neddie says Sybilla was sick in the coach," he said.

Velvet laughed. "Only the first day," she replied. "Neddie will never get over seeing Sibby vomit all over her new traveling dress. They don't get on particularly well, you know. I suspect he adored seeing the idol pulled from her pedestal. He really is a most impossible little boy. I do not know what to do with him."

"He seems a perfectly normal lad to me," her father remarked blandly.

"Grandsire." Lady Sybilla Alexandra Mary Gordon stepped daintily from the coach, having waited until she was certain her entrance would be appreciated and admired. She was a petite girl, standing only about five feet, three inches tall. Her eyes, which she liked to make wide, were sky-blue in color, and not a golden curl upon her head was out of place. Her traveling gown was of pale blue velvet, and although the early afternoon had turned warm on this last day of April, young Lady Sybilla looked cool and comfortable.

"Welcome back to Queen's Malvern, Sibby," Adam said, placing a kiss upon the girl's forehead. "Is it possible you have grown fairer in the year since I last saw you? The gentlemen will be beating a path up that rocky hill to Dun Broc before long, my dear."

Sibby giggled. She loved nothing better than a compliment. "I have already picked out a gentleman, Grandsire," she confided to him. "He is James Leslie, the Earl of Glenkirk. He is related to the king, even as I am. His wife and children died five years ago. His wife was a Gordon cousin of mine. Everyone says he must finally remarry and cease his mourning. He is at court, and Mama says we may go to court! Papa is going to approach Lord Leslie about a match. Isn't it exciting? I shall be the Countess of Glenkirk!" Sybilla, unlike her half brothers, did not speak with a Scots accent. She had made a successful effort over the years to mimic her stepmother's speech.

"You shall be the Countess of Glenkirk only if Lord Leslie decides you are the right woman for him," Skye said as she joined them. "Velvet, my dear, you simply must train Sibby not to chatter so. A wrong word overheard and she could be ruined, as you well know."

Sybilla Gordon wrinkled her nose in disdain. Grandmam always put her off. She was a fussy old woman. What could she possibly know of life? She had spent most of it here in the country and had never gone to court. I shall be the Countess of Glenkirk, Sybilla thought to herself. I shall! Then she smiled sweetly up at Skye and curtsied prettily. "I am happy to be back in England again, Grandmam," she said.

Skye pressed a cool kiss to Sybilla's cheek and told her, "Run along inside, Sibby. You must take a nap if you are to stay up for your mother's birthday party tonight." Skye then turned to her youngest daughter. "I've invited your brothers and sisters this year. Padraic and Valentina have already joined Conn and Aidan at Pearroc Royale this morning. Willow, Murrough, and Robin are coming up from Devon and should be here by mid-afternoon."

"Good Lord, Mama," Velvet said. "The house will be as overflowing with relations and their offspring as it was last Christmas. Although I was not here, both Deirdre and Willow wrote to me that you swore you would never have such a gathering here again at Queen's Malvern."

"I have asked that my grandchildren remain at home, except, of course, for yours and for Adam Burke, who is nursing."

"Well," Velvet reasoned, "if it's only my siblings and their mates, I suppose we won't be too crowded."

"Particularly," her mother told her, "as I have arranged with your sister Deirdre to invite your youngest three over to Blackthorne Hall. Just until the others are gone, of course, Velvet."

"Gracious, Mama, you have thought of everything," Velvet told her, and she hugged Skye. "I'm so glad to be back at Queen's Malvern! 'Tis not my house, and I do not have to do anything. 'Tis not easy managing Dun Broc. Now that the king has left Scotland, it seems even harder than it was before, when he was there. I should tell you now that we have joined the new Kirk, mama. It is better for us now that James is gone. The old Kirk and its members are always in danger. I cannot do that to my children, nor can Alex. What was it old Queen Bess used to say about religion?"

" ‘There is but one Lord Jesus Christ. The rest is all trifles,' " Skye answered her, and linking her arm in her daughter's, they strolled together into the house.