Darling Jasmine

by Bertrice Small

  “They could as easily slit your throat for it one night,” Kipp remarked dryly. “You’ve wasted your money, Piers. All we had to do was remain in Edinburgh and command the earl of Glenkirk to come to you in the king’s name. If he didn’t, the Scots government would have then sent out their own men to capture him. They would have known how to handle the situation. You have marched into James Leslie’s own territory with twenty men of dubious report, and you believe you can take him? The local authorities would have acted had you but shown them the king’s signature on your warrant.”

  “I could not take the chance that someone here would see that signature,” the marquis of Hartsfield told his brother. “What if someone knows the king’s hand, Kipp?”

  Kipp St. Denis was shocked by his half brother’s words. “You told me the king signed that warrant, but just left out the names,” he said. “Are you now saying the king didn’t sign the warrant?”

  “I asked him to, but he never seemed to have the time,” came the startling answer. “I know his hand well enough, and so I signed it for him, smudging it slightly. Then I took his seal and stamped partly over it in the sealing wax.” Piers St. Denis laughed, almost childishly. “Do you think he will be angry at me, Kipp? Old king fool always forgives me when I’m naughty. He likes me to be naughty, so he can correct me with his wisdom.”

  The impact of what his half brother had done slammed into Kipp St. Denis with an almost physical force. He had forged the king’s name to a document that would allow him to murder two innocent people. This was treason! Didn’t Piers understand this? Nay. He didn’t. All he understood was that he wanted something, and he would have it at all costs because he always got whatever it was he sought. And he always escaped punishment for his sins. But not this time, Kipp thought. God help him. This time his brother had gone too far, and there would be no escape.

  “When it is discovered the king’s signature is a forgery,” he said to Piers, “you will be charged with treason, and if you have harmed the Leslies of Glenkirk, with the crime of murder as well.”

  “Who is there to discover it?” Piers said.

  “You cannot kill the earl and countess of Glenkirk and expect the king not to avenge them. In the name of God, Piers, James Leslie is related to the king! His clan will march into Whitehall itself to demand revenge. You have lost this game. It is over.

  “Jasmine de Marisco Lindley chose James Leslie for her husband and has by now delivered a child sired by him. It is finished. Let us return to England before it is too late. No one need know about the warrant. We will say it was merely a rumor, and we will burn the damned document today before anyone can steal it off of us and prove otherwise. If you make up to the queen as Villiers has done, she will relent and find you a wife. She is a vain woman, but well-meaning. You will keep your favor with the king. Do not throw everything you have gained away in this passion you have for revenge. It is not worth it, Piers. You will lose all! You must come to your senses, brother, I beg of you!”

  “You grow tiresome, Kipp,” the marquis replied wearily. “Ahh, look! There is her Indian, Adali, awaiting us.”

  Adali noted Kipp’s urgent conversation as the two men approached. He wished he knew what was being said. The marquis’s faithful dog, Kipp, looked mightily distressed. Interesting. They came to a halt before the staircase leading up to the castle door. “Welcome, my lord,” Adali said in a pleasant voice. “Welcome to Glenkirk Castle. Your men will be shown to their quarters by our own men-at-arms. Dougie, lad, take the gentlemen’s horses to the stable,” he instructed a stableboy. “And if you will follow me, please.” He led them into the Great Hall, clapping his hands as he entered the room and telling the servant who hurried forward, “Wine, for my lord St. Denis, and our other guest. Please to sit by the fire, sirs. A gray day always seems colder.” Taking the tray from the servant, he personally offered them the silver goblets of red wine.

  The marquis of Hartsfield sniffed appreciatively. “Ahhhh,” he said, “Archambault wine. It is the finest!”

  “It is, my lord,” Adali agreed pleasantly, and remained standing attentively as they drank. When they had put their cups down, he said, “And how may I be of service to your lordship?”

  “You may inform the earl and his wife that I have arrived,” the marquis of Hartsfield said.

  “I am afraid I cannot do that, my lord. You see, the earl of Glenkirk and his countess are not here right now.”

  “Where are they? When will they return?” demanded Piers St. Denis.

  “I cannot be certain where they are right now, my lord,” Adali said in a noncommittal tone, “and as for when they will return, I have absolutely no idea. Glenkirk is always in readiness for them, of course, whenever they do come home, and generally they send a messenger ahead so I may have meals prepared, but the messenger only arrives a few hours before my master and mistress do.”

  “How long have they been gone?” the marquis said.

  “This time? Several days, I believe. It is so peaceful here that one day rolls into the next, and I forget the time myself,” he said.

  “I do not understand why it is, you, who are so careful of your mistress’s safety, don’t know where she is,” Piers St. Denis said skeptically.

  “I have no fear for my lady’s safety when she is with her husband,” Adali replied. “And as for where they are, the earl has not been home in several years. He has, I have discovered, an enormous family, and a large clan, many of whom are also distantly related to him. We arrived here last autumn, and then a short time later the winter set in so that the roads were blocked with ice and snow until recently. The earl wished to begin visiting his family and clansmen and women—to introduce his wife to them and to renew old acquaintances and loyalties.”

  “Where are the children?” St. Denis asked suspiciously.

  “They, too, are visiting the family,” Adali said smoothly.

  “I have a royal warrant for the arrest of the earl and the countess of Glenkirk,” the marquis of Hartsfield said. “If you do not tell me where they are, I will have you taken on a charge of obstructing the king’s justice, Adali!”

  “My lord, I have told you the truth. I have no idea where they are. I am a stranger in this land and know little of it, or of the earl’s relations. I have not had the time to learn yet. However, like my mistress, I respect the king. The old man who was steward here before me lives in a cottage nearby. Perhaps he can tell you some of the places you might look to find my lord and my lady. Come, I will take you to him.”

  Adali led them from the Great Hall and out into the courtyard again.

  “Where are my men?” Piers St. Denis inquired nervously.

  “They have been housed in a barracks and are being fed,” Adali told him cordially, as they passed beneath the castle’s iron portcullis and out across the drawbridge, off the main track and into the woods, picking out a barely discernible track to follow.

  “Why are we going this way?” St. Denis queried Adali.

  Adali stopped. “This is the way to Will Todd’s cottage, my lord. He lives near a mountain stream, and will probably be fishing when we get there. There is nothing to be fearful of, my lord.”

  “I am not fearful, I was just curious,” the marquis snapped.

  Adali smiled to himself and continued onward. Actually, there was an easier path to Will’s cottage, but he chose the more roundabout way in order to confuse the two men with him. It was a rocky path that led up a hill, and down again, through sharp brambles, and thick gorse bushes. He could hear the men behind him cursing as their clothing caught on the briars, but he moved with such fluidity that neither his white pants nor his white coat was shredded or torn. Finally, they could hear the water of a stream ahead of them as it tumbled over the rocks in its bed, but it was not Will’s water, Adali told them, leaping from stone to stone as he quickly crossed it. Again he could hear cursing behind him as his companions unsuccessfully followed him, splashing their way through the stream. He chuckl
ed softly to himself.

  At last they exited the wood and crossed over a meadow filled with shaggy, big-horned cattle. “Mind your feet,” Adali warned them as he tiptoed through the clumps of cow manure, almost laughing aloud at the marquis of Hartsfield’s yelp of dismay.

  “How much farther is it?” Kipp called to him.

  “We’re almost there,” Adali replied calmly.

  And then they saw the cottage on the far side of the meadow, heard the swiftly flowing water beside it. As they approached it they could see a figure, almost hip-deep in the stream, fishing rod in hand.

  “Hello, the house!” Adali called loudly. “ ’Tis Adali, Will Todd, and I’ve brought visitors.”

  The figure turned slowly, openly annoyed to be disturbed at his pastime. Then, reluctantly, he moved nearer the bank, but did not come from the water or cease his activity. “What ’tis it ye seek?” he asked, his local accent thick to the ears of the two Englishmen.

  “Good morrow, Will Todd,” Adali said cheerfully. “These two gentlemen are seeking his lordship. I would not know where to tell them to look, but I am certain you can help them.”

  “Here,” Will Todd moved nearer the bank, and thrust his fishing pole at Adali. “Dinna drop it, mon! I canna chatter wi it in hand.” He pierced the two strangers with a sharp glance. “So yer seeking his lordship, eh? Weel, I canna rightly say where he maught be, but hae ye sought at Sithean for him? He maught be there. Or he and his lassie could hae gone to Hay Hoos or Greyhaven. Or mayhap he’s at Briarmere Moor or Leslie Brae. Hae ye looked in any of these places, sir?”

  “What is he saying?” St. Denis demanded tightly. He could hardly make out a word the old man was uttering.

  “I thought he was quite clear,” Adali replied, “but then I’ve been listening to these people for several months now, and I do have a rather good ear for accents.”

  “Yes! Yes!” St. Denis almost shouted, “But what the hell did he say? It sounded like gibberish to me.”

  “Will Todd said that the earl of Glenkirk and his wife might be over at Sithean visiting the earl of Sithean, who is Lord Leslie’s uncle. Or he could be at Hay House or Leslie Brae, visiting with his uncles, or he might be at Greyhaven or Briarmere Moor, with his brothers.”

  “Or the Gordons,” Will Todd spoke up again. “He maught be wi the Gordons, fer our Morag is wed wi a Gordon.”

  “He could also be visiting with the Gordons, his late wife’s family. Their youngest son is wed to the earl’s youngest sister,” Adali translated quickly.

  “Or the games,” Will Todd added. “He maught hae gone to the games, but then there be several this summer. Two, or three, I dinna remember.” He took his fishing rod back from Adali and stepped back out into the swiftly flowing stream. “ ’Tis all I can tell ye,” he said with a firm air of finality.

  “Games?” The marquis of Hartsfield was puzzled.

  “Because the winters are so long and so harsh,” Adali explained, “the Scots like to hold games of athletic prowess in the summer months. It allows the clans to gather together, the men to exhibit their skill at things like tossing the caber, it’s a log, my lord; or throwing big round stones a distance. The women come to gossip. They dance, and there are bards and the pipes. Will is right, however. There are several sets of games this summer, and the earl could have gone to any of them, for he is related to many people through his Stuart connections.”

  “How barbaric,” St. Denis sneered.

  “Let us return to Edinburgh,” Kipp said. “Seeking out Glenkirk here will be like looking for a needle in a haystack. If you send for him in the king’s name, he must come or risk treason.”

  “Oh, I’m certain you can find the earl if you really want him,” Adali lightly taunted the marquis of Hartsfield to see what he would do when torn between his brother’s suggestion and that of Adali.

  “Edinburgh is our best bet,” Kipp St. Denis insisted.

  “No!” the marquis said. “We are here, and surely it cannot be too difficult to find these places the old man has named.”

  “And do not forget the games, my lord,” Adali helpfully volunteered, causing Kipp St. Denis to stare hard at him.

  “Do you know where they are being held?” the marquis asked.

  “Well, I believe there are some at Inverness, and others at Nairn, and I had heard of some being held at Loch Lomond, my lord.”

  “You will write it all down, and give us directions,” the marquis of Hartsfield said. “We will stay the night and start off again in the morning.” Piers St. Denis was too excited to contemplate Adali’s cooperation, but Kipp St. Denis was not.

  “What are you up to?” he asked the castle steward when they were finally alone in the Great Hall, the marquis having been shown to a guest chamber.

  Adali turned a bland face to him. “Master St. Denis?” he said.

  “You know what I mean,” Kipp said. “Why are you being so helpful to my brother? Your loyalty to your mistress is legendary.”

  Adali smiled a small smile. “Why, sir, your master carries a royal warrant from the king. For me to disobey would be treason, wouldn’t it now? As my mistress respects the divine right of kings, so do I also. I cannot disobey King James, even for my mistress.”

  Kipp was not content with the answer. “You are up to something,” he said suspiciously. “You would not betray your mistress, I know it!”

  Again Adali smiled. “If, sir, I believed your brother had any chance of catching up with my lord, and my lady . . .” He allowed the rest of the sentence to hang.

  “They knew he was coming!” Kipp gasped.

  “They knew he was in Edinburgh all winter long,” Adali replied. “It would seem that Scotland is a very small country, sir, and once more I remind you that the earl of Glenkirk is related to many people throughout it. We had word before Christmas, but immediately the first storm of the season came, and the roads were to be blocked for the next few months. We were told, however, that when the roads were open again, the marquis of Hartsfield would be paying us a visit. Unfortunately, the earl and his wife could not wait, for they have many visits themselves to make this summer.”

  “He will hunt them into hell and back,” Kipp said despairingly.

  “By the time he catches up with them, if he can catch up with them,” Adali told his companion, “there will no longer be any danger for my master and my mistress, sir, but I fear there may be great danger for your half brother.”

  “They have sent to the king!” Kipp whispered.

  “The king is an honorable man,” Adali told him. “He would not take back his word to the earl and countess of Glenkirk.”

  “I warned him,” Kipp almost whispered to himself. “I warned him!”

  “Then you are surely wiser than your brother,” Adali told him. Then he said, softly, “There is yet time for you to save yourself, sir.”

  “I swore to our father on his deathbed that I would watch over Piers,” Kipp said, his defenses down, his mood desperate.

  “You have tried to prevent your brother from his folly, have you not?” Adali asked him softly. “I have seen it myself.”

  “For many years,” Kipp confided in Adali, “I have followed along in my brother’s wake. He was simply ambitious, and I saw no harm in his actions when he caught the king’s attention. And over the years I kept him from much wickedness, although I have not always been successful in my attempts; but the women he so enjoyed abusing, I made certain they were, for the most part, experienced in the amatory arts. Only three or four times did he misuse an innocent; but they were girls of no import, and afterward I was kind to them and paid them not to complain to the authorities.”

  “You joined him in his deviant practices, I am told,” Adali said quietly, not willing to let Kipp escape his censure.

  “I did,” Kipp admitted, “but by doing so I kept many women from greater harm at my brother’s hand. I accept my shame, Adali. Our father encouraged us as young men to such wickedness, for as he grew
older it seemed more difficult for him to enjoy a woman without hurting her. I remember telling my mother. It was she who warned me for my own sake I must play my part or risk losing my father’s favor.”

  “But your father is long dead,” Adali reminded him. “Your brother has now strayed completely into evil’s dominion. There is no going back for him, Kipp St. Denis, but you have not yet crossed completely over into the darkness. You have a conscience, and you now have the chance to save yourself as you will not be able to save your brother. Would your father want to lose both of his sons, if he were here to make the decision? Would he want to see his proud old name wiped from the face of the earth?”

  “I am his bastard,” Kipp said simply.

  “But he gave you his name, and he raised you in his house, and favored you as well as he did his legitimate heir,” Adali argued. “I believe your father loved you, too.”

  “If I do not stay with Piers,” Kipp said, “he will continue on to worse mischief, Adali.”

  “He will continue on anyway,” Adali replied. “You are not responsible for his behavior. Save yourself while you have the opportunity! You have lived your whole life through Piers St. Denis. Now live your life for yourself. If you asked the king for his mercy, I know he would give it to you. King James has a large and a kind heart. He might even reward your timely behavior.”

  An accident of birth. It was only an accident of birth that had kept him from being the marquis of Hartsfield, Kipp thought silently. Did he dare to hope he might change that? Was it possible? Could he betray Piers? Was it really a betrayal? Aye, he had promised their father he would look after his younger half brother; but Piers no longer wanted looking after. He has never really listened to my good counsel, Kipp said silently to himself, and by following him, I have been dragged down in the gutter with him. He will be caught in this attempt to revenge himself upon the Leslies and in his endeavor to steal the fortunes belonging to them.

  And whatever made Piers believe that the king would give him custody of all those children? The queen despised him so openly she could not even bring herself to pick a wife for him! She would hardly allow her only grandson or the other children to come under Piers St. Denis’s control. Indeed Kipp believed the queen would kill him herself before she would see those children in Hartsfield House.