“Your reputation precedes you, sir. It is said you have overseen the murder of innocents, and that would certainly seem to be the case in my daughter-in-law’s tragic demise,” Jasmine said angrily. “You say you have come to ask after Autumn. Surely you can see the grief upon her visage, sir. She will never again be the same innocent girl she was before you and your men forced your way into Queen’s Malvern. You insult us, coming here!”
He was shaken by her angry words, but he understood. He turned to Autumn. “Will you forgive me, Lady Autumn?” he said.
“I am going to France tomorrow,” Autumn answered him as if he had not just asked her pardon. “I shall never have to see you or England again.”
“You are leaving the country?” Sir Simon was surprised.
“My mother inherited a small house in the Loire,” Henry said quickly before Jasmine might begin a tirade. “My sister’s health, as you can see, is fragile. She will heal better away from all of this sadness, you will agree.”
“Where are you sailing from?” he asked them.
“They sail from Harwich,” Henry said.
“My men and I will escort you, your grace,” Sir Simon said formally.
“That is not necessary, sir,” Jasmine told him coldly.
Then her son spoke up again. “I think it an excellent suggestion, Mama. I thank you, Sir Simon, for your consideration. Mama, I have no men-at-arms to go with you, and in these times I fear to hire any. Your own escort could turn on you and rob you. I know you will be safe with Sir Simon, and reach Harwich alive and with your trunks intact. I will even go with you.”
“My men are garrisoned at the castle, my lord. We shall meet you on the road tomorrow morning. I will take my leave of you now.” He bowed and hurried from the room.
When they heard the front door of the dower house slam closed, Jasmine turned to her son, outraged. “Are you mad?” she demanded.
“Nay,” Autumn spoke up. “He is very clever, aren’t you, Henry? And he is right, Mama. We cannot travel alone in such dangerous times. What better escort can we have than Sir Simon Bates and his Roundheads? No one will dare to accost us. He does it because, I believe, he is taken by me, but once we reach Harwich I shall never see him again. It is hardly a just punishment for what he did that he should pine of a broken heart for me, but I suppose it is the best we can do.”
“You are a foolish girl,” Jasmine told her daughter. “This man has dared to have pretensions in your direction, Autumn.”
“Which can come to nothing,” the girl replied.
“I meant it when I said I would go with you to Harwich, Mama,” Henry Lindley said. Then he turned to his sister. “And you will continue to behave as a frail and frightened young girl would, little sister. I believe as long as you do that, Sir Simon will be foiled in his aspirations toward you.”
“What you mean,” Autumn said with a small chuckle, “is that even Sir Simon Bates would not attempt to seduce a half-wit, eh, brother?”
“Precisely!” he agreed with a grin.
“You shall be the death of me yet,” the Duchess of Glenkirk said, throwing up her hands. “Henry, pour me some of that excellent Glenkirk whiskey. My nerves are shattered.”
“Oh, Mama, you are as bad as I am, feigning distress,” Autumn teased her mother. “If India’s adventures in Barbary and Fortune’s in Ulster did not do you in, I doubt very much I can.”
“I was much younger then, and I had your father,” Jasmine replied. She took the tumbler her son handed her and swallowed down a draught of the peat-flavored whiskey. “Excellent!” she pronounced. “I do believe I shall recover after all.”
And her children laughed.
They gathered that night in the Great Hall of Cadby, and Jasmine felt a deep sadness, knowing it might be some time before she saw her eldest son’s family again. Her daughter-in-law, Rosamund, instinctively understood and attempted to comfort Jasmine.
“Do not grieve, madame. We will come to France to visit you next summer, if these difficulties have not been solved by then. I know how much you love your grandchildren. But certainly this civil strife will be over with by next year, and the king will return.”
“Rosamund, we have spoken on this, you and I,” Henry chided his wife. “Cromwell will not relinquish his power easily, nor will the men who support him. They have murdered one king and would murder the other were he in their hands. The young king hasn’t the power to return yet, and the people of England, while complaining, have not yet had their bellyful of these psalm-singing Puritans so that they will rise up in the king’s defense. We will probably go to France to visit Mama.”
His wife looked crestfallen. “I can hope it is over soon,” she said sadly. “What is going to happen to the children? With everything, and anything that was pleasurable forbidden, how can they meet other young people of their station, and how can we make matches? Henry is already eleven, and I daren’t even teach him to dance, lest one of the servants reports it to the authorities!”
“Perhaps you should come to France too,” Autumn suggested.
“I will not leave my home,” Henry Lindley said, “nor will my family leave it. We ceased going to court years ago. If we cannot hold a few celebrations in this time, then we will find other ways to make matches for the children when their time comes. They are all far too young now anyway. Eventually Cromwell will be sent packing and the king will return. You are brought low, Rosamund, by all that has happened lately. After Mama and Autumn depart for France, we will take the children and go to visit your parents at RiversEdge.”
His wife, who was the eldest daughter of the Earl and Countess of Langford, clapped her hands in childlike delight. “Aye, Henry, I should like to visit RiversEdge!”
Autumn smiled to herself. How easy it was for Rosamund. She had a husband she adored and five beautiful children. Her parents were both alive at their family’s home. Nothing had really changed for Rosamund, except that her social life was now curtailed because of the Puritans. Cadby had never been threatened and was unlikely to be, although isolation was not a guarantee, as she had learned from the incident at Queen’s Malvern.
Still, Rosamund was not being driven from her home and the life she had always known. Autumn had no idea if she would ever return to Glenkirk. She looked at her three nephews, Henry, James, and Robert. By next summer they would have changed, as would their two sisters. She wondered if Henry would be able to bring his family to France, or if he would keep them at Cadby for fear of losing his estates should he leave them. And what would happen to Queen’s Malvern? Would it still be there when this was all over, and Charlie came home again?
The next morning dawned clear and cold. They would travel in the Marquis of Westleigh’s large, comfortable coach, accompanied by a baggage cart. When they arrived in France a coach, already purchased by the duchess’s agents, would be awaiting them, along with horses for both it, the baggage cart, and the travelers, who might on some days prefer riding. There would also be servants awaiting them from Jasmine’s chateau. The duchess had left nothing to chance. It was important that Autumn like France, for it would more than likely be her home for the rest of her life.
She did not want her daughter becoming involved with some exiled English nobleman. Anyone connected with the Stuart court was suspect, in her mind. Besides, what could an exile offer her daughter? No home. No family. No income. No life. Never! Autumn would marry a Frenchman. The Dutch were too dull and stolid, but a Frenchman would understand Autumn. The Duchess of Glenkirk was a woman who believed firmly in fate. No young man had caught Autumn’s fancy in either Scotland or England. The duchess had to believe that her youngest child’s fate lay in France. Bidding Rosamund and her five Lindley grandchildren farewell, she climbed into the coach with her two serving women, Rohana and Toramalli, and with Autumn’s serving wench, Lily. Toramalli’s husband, Fergus, and Adali, would drive the baggage cart. Red Hugh, Jasmine’s personal captain, had already departed for France to oversee the preparations for his mistress.
He would meet them there.
“I shall write to you as soon as we reach Belle Fleurs, my dear,” she told Rosamund. “Enjoy your visit to RiversEdge, but after that stay close to home and keep the children near. My felicitations to your parents.”
Rosamund’s soft blue eyes were teary. “I wish you would stay,” she said. “The dower house is always here for you, Jasmine.”
“It is comforting to know that, my dear,” came the reply. Then the window of the coach was pulled firmly up, and the vehicle rumbled off down the gravel driveway toward the main road.
As they approached Warwick Castle, they were joined by Sir Simon Bates and his troopers. The Roundhead captain drew his mount up next to the Marquis of Westleigh.
“Good morning, my lord. How far will you travel with us?” he asked politely.
“I will accompany my mother all the way to Harwich, sir,” came the pleasant reply. “I am loath to see her go, you will understand.”
“Of course, my lord.” Sir Simon turned to Autumn. “Good morning, my lady. You are well, I trust.”
“Mama says I will marry a Frenchman,” Autumn answered. “I do not think I ever met a Frenchman. Have you met a Frenchman, Sir Simon? Are they like us? I wish I could go home to Scotland, but Papa is dead. It makes Mama unhappy to think about him and Glenkirk.”
“She was not like this at Queen’s Malvern,” Sir Simon noted to the marquis. “She was quite spirited with me then.”
“She managed to maintain her composure until she saw Mama. It was then she collapsed into tears, whether over her father or over Bess, or perhaps both, we do not know. She has been childlike ever since, but we believe she will recover in the peaceful surroundings of Mama’s chateau. Poor Autumn,” Henry Lindley sighed, and then he looked straight ahead, preventing further conversation.
Autumn struggled with herself not to break into laughter. She almost felt sorry for Sir Simon, but that she knew him to be a true villian. She gained a certain satisfaction in the fact that he felt guilty over Bess’s death and her supposed plight. They traveled for five long days, finally reaching Harwich on the coast. Autumn kept herself from Sir Simon as much as possible, lest she give away her ruse. Still, in the hours before they sailed he sought her out.
“I hope you will be happy in France,” he said.
“I was happier before I met you and Bess was killed. I was happier before this civil strife and my father’s death. I shall never know that kind of happiness again,” Autumn told him.
“You are not mad!” he said, the relief palpable in his voice.
“Nay, I am not mad, sir, just filled with sorrow. I believe the trip has begun to restore me already.”
“Perhaps you were mocking me, my lady,” he replied.
“Perhaps I was,” she agreed.
“You do not like me,” he said.
“Why should I?” Autumn demanded. “You are responsible for my sister-in-law’s murder. You espouse a cause that has destroyed my world and murdered my king. You and your compatriots have turned England into a dour and dark land. Nay, I do not like you, Sir Simon.”
“You are the most beautiful girl I have ever seen,” he said, totally heedless of her scorn.
“You lust after me in your heart, sir. You have from the moment you stepped through the doorway at Queen’s Malvern,” Autumn said, her voice filled with contempt.
“What would a virtuous maid know of lust?” He was suddenly jealous. How could she be chaste and yet have such knowledge?
“Am I a fool then, sir, that I cannot see desire in a man’s eyes?” Autumn berated him. “You are the fool, I fear, if you believe that! I despise you, and men like you.”
“I could keep you in England,” he said suddenly.
“How?” Her glance mocked him.
“You committed a murder to which I was witness,” he said menacingly.
“Prove it,” she taunted him. “You cannot. All you would do is succeed in delaying my voyage. It would be your word against mine. Even your psalm-singing judges in their black garb would not believe that I killed a man. I am a young, unmarried girl of good family. I had no weapon, and this man you allege I killed, where is his body?”
“You are much too clever for a mere woman,” he told her. “You have bewitched me, Autumn Leslie! Perhaps that is the charge I should bring against you. Witchcraft!”
“Go to hell!” she spat at him. “Try it, and I shall revert to the poor half-wit you believed I had become. Tonight on the tide, my mother and I will sail for France. We shall never again see one another, Sir Simon, and for that I am eternally grateful!” Then, to his surprise, Autumn slapped him as hard as she could. “That is for your presumption, sir!”
To her surprise he caught her hand and, turning it palm up, he quickly placed a hot kiss upon it. “We shall indeed meet again, my lady,” he promised her softly, and his dark eyes lingered a moment on her beautiful face. Then he turned and was gone.
She could feel the wetness of his mouth upon her flesh, and Autumn shuddered. She hurried from the private sitting room where they were speaking to her small chamber next door to wash her hands. Scrubbing at the spot his lips had touched, she wondered if she would ever remove the sensation of the kiss from her skin. The feeling was one of deep revulsion. Outside, in the inn’s courtyard, she could hear Sir Simon and his troopers departing. Autumn drew a deep sigh of relief. His threats had been worthless. He could do nothing.
Jasmine entered the little bedchamber and looked hard at her daughter. “Sir Simon came to bid me farewell, and said he was relieved that your indisposition had only been temporary. What did he mean by his words, and what have you done, child?”
“Nothing,” Autumn said. “He said he hoped I should be happy in France. When I spoke he realized I was not suffering any longer.” There was no need, Autumn thought, to reveal the entire conversation to her mother, now that the Roundhead captain was gone.
“The captain of the Fair Winds says we sail within the hour,” Jasmine told her daughter. “The luggage is aboard. Come and say farewell to your brother, child.”
They were actually leaving. Suddenly she was overwhelmed by sadness and struggled to hold back her tears. This was difficult enough for her mother without her bursting into tears, Autumn thought.
“Where is Lily?” she asked. She had not seen her maidservant when she had fled to her chamber.
“Lily is already aboard the ship with the others,” her mother said. “Adali says she is terrified of the sea voyage. You will have to make certain she remains calm.”
“But we shall not be at sea for that long,” Autumn replied. “Lily is such a little coward. I am surprised she left Glenkirk.”
“She would not have, but for her Uncle Fergus,” Jasmine told her daughter. “He and Red Hugh are her only living blood kin. Remember that Fergus and Toramalli have raised Lily since she was seven, having no children of their own. As she had no young man to stay for, she screwed up her courage and agreed to come with us. England is one thing, but France an entirely different entity. Do not say she is a coward, for she is not. It has taken all her ability to conquer her fears. She might have returned to Glenkirk and remained in your brother’s service. She is a clever girl no matter her timidity, and she saw the advantage in remaining with you, my child. I know you don’t know her very well yet, but Rohana and Toramalli have trained her well.”
“She is sweet,” Autumn admitted. “I just miss my old Maybel.”
“I know, but Maybel, poor woman, was becomiong bent and crippled with age. She could not have made this trip. I should have replaced her several years ago, but I knew you loved your dear old nursemaid, and she has missed you, Autumn. Still, she is very content, snug in a fine new cottage with a good stone fireplace that your father had built for her. She will never want for anything, and you needed a younger woman to look after you.”
“Who were Lily’s parents?” Autumn asked. “They are never mentioned at all. How are they kin to Fergus?”
&nbs
p; “Fergus and Red Hugh had a much younger sister who ran off with a tinker years ago. She died when Lily was seven, and the tinker sent Lily back to Glenkirk, saying that while she was his child, he had never wed her mother and could not take care of her. Red Hugh was in no position to care for the child, and as it was obvious by then that Toramalli would have no bairns, she and Fergus took Lily in, raising her as their own. Now you know. It wasn’t necesary you know before. Come along, Autumn. Your brother will be wondering where we have gotten to if we do not join him soon.”
The Duchess of Glenkirk and her daughter departed the small chamber and joined the Marquis of Westleigh in the courtyard of the inn. Seeing them coming toward him, Henry Lindley felt a pang of sadness sweep over him, but he bravely mustered a smile.
“So,” said jovially, “you are ready to depart on your adventure! I hope, little sister, you will not find yourself in all the difficulties that your female relations in the past have managed to find themselves.” He chuckled at the dark look his mother shot at him. “Now, Mama,” he said, patting her beringed hand, “you will be there watching over Autumn like a dragon, I am quite certain. Besides, she is not like either India, or Fortune in her disposition. She is a much more bidable lass, eh?”
“She has not had the opportunities her sisters had, and besides, Henry, times have changed.”
“My lady, your cloak, and my mistress’s.” Lily hurried up to them with the garments. “Rohana apologizes, but she brought them aboard the ship in error, fearing they would be left behind.” The young girl placed the duchess’s dark blue velvet cloak, lined in beaver, about her shoulders. Then she set Autumn’s garment, which was also lined in thick, warm fur, around her slender frame, carefully fastening the silver frogs down the front of the cloak. Stepping back, she curtsied.
“Thank you, Lily,” the duchess said, and then, turning to her daughter, said, “Bid Henry farewell and go aboard the ship.” Then she watched as her eldest son, the second of her children, and her youngest daughter, the last of her children, bid each other good-bye.
Intrigued Page 6
