Intrigued

by Bertrice Small

  “I am here,” the old woman said. “Now, I will take one of your women to the market, to see if we can find something for your supper tonight. Ah!” The concierge jumped back as Fergus and Red Hugh entered the house. “Who are these great beasts?” she demanded.

  “They are my servants,” Jasmine explained, “and gentle as lambkins for all their size, Madame Alma.”

  The old woman looked the two men up, and then she looked them down again. “I shall take them to the market with me,” she said. “How long has it been since I was last seen in the company of a man, I cannot recall. This will set the old wives chattering,” she cackled merrily.

  “What kind of men are these Parisians,” Red Hugh teased the old woman in excellent French, “to overlook such a fine figure of a woman as yourself, Madame Alma?” Then he gave her a kiss on her withered cheek. “I’d follow you to the ends of the earth if you could cook,” he concluded.

  “I can,” she told him with a wink. “Come along now, mes braves! There is bread and cheese to buy.”

  Striding on either side of the little old lady, the two big Scots left the house. Behind them the women were laughing. When they returned from the marketplace, laden with fresh bread, cheeses, a fat capon, plucked and ready to roast, fresh fruit, and other staples, the dustcovers had disappeared; the horses were stabled and the coaches set to one side of the yard; the luggage was unloaded; and smoke was coming from all the chimneys. Obviously everyone had settled in nicely.

  In the morning the women dressed in their finest gowns, Jasmine in midnight blue, Autumn in rose, Madame de Belfort in silvery gray, and Madame St. Omer in deep wine. They departed for the Palais Royale to first pay their respects to Queen Henrietta Maria. It was she who had sent the invitations to the royal proclamation.

  “How did she know we were in France?” Autumn had asked her mother when they had arrived.

  “I send the queen a purse each month,” Jasmine explained. “She is very poor and, while the young king’s aunt, neither he nor his mother give her enough to really live comfortably. I do not believe they intend being mean, but the queen is used to living as a queen. She does not know how to live any other way, and now she must. She is very much in debt. So each month I send her a purse. It is not so much as to be embarrassing to her, or ostentatious. Just a token, a reminder of my loyalty. Remember, Autumn, in different circumstances this lady would have been my sister-in-law. Then, too, she has young children to bring up. The Duke of Glocester is just eleven, and little Princess Henriette Anne only six. The poor lady has lost her husband, as well as Princess Elizabeth last year. Her lot is not a happy one.

  Autumn had been quite surprised at her mother’s response, especially given the fact that she thought the Stuarts brought bad luck to the Leslies of Glenkirk. Now, on the day of the king’s proclamation, she found herself curtsying to a queen she had never known but who obviously knew her mother. It seemed odd to Autumn that her mother knew a queen so well; but then, everything had been different since they had left Scotland and England behind.

  “Ah, Jasmime, votre fille est trés charmante. She is to be married soon, non?” The queen tipped Autumn’s face up and gave her a kiss upon her cheek.

  “We had affixed the date for August thirty-first, but then came your majesty’s kind invitation,” Jasmine said. “The wedding will now be held on the thirtieth of September, your majesty.”

  Henrietta Maria looked at Autumn. “Is he handsome, ma petite?”

  “Oui, your majesty, he is very handsome,” the girl replied with a blush.

  “And what is this very handsome man’s name?” the queen asked playfully.

  “Jean-Sebastian d’Oleron, your majesty. He is the Marquis d’Auriville,” Autumn answered the queen.

  “It is time, Madame la Reine,” one of Queen Henrietta Maria’s servants said. “The procession is forming now.”

  “Come,” the queen said, rising. “You, your daughter, and your cousins will come with me. It will almost be like having members of my own court with me again.” She sighed sadly.

  The ceremony was to take place in the Parlement of Paris, and the hall was filled to overflowing. To the right, in the upper tiers of the building, Anne of Austria, Prince Gaston d’Orleans, the Prince de Conti, the marshalls of France, the high nobility, and the clergy were seated. Paris’s troublemaking archbishop and two of the most powerful bishops in France, of Senlis and of Tarbes, were together looking pompous and quite smug, as if they alone were responsible for this event. To the left were seated other churchmen of rank, the papal nuncio, and the ambassadors of Portugal, Venice, Malta, and Holland, as well as the conseillers de grand-chambre, the presidents and the councilors of the Parisian Parlement, and other guests of rank.

  In a wing to one side sat Queen Henrietta Marie of England; two of her sons, James, Duke of York, and Henry, Duke of Glocester; her little daughter, Princess Henriette Anne; la Grande Mademoiselle, the Duc d’Orleans’s daughter, and many other duchesses and ladies of quality, including the widowed Duchess of Glenkirk and her party. Jasmine was frankly wide-eyed and realized what a true country mouse she really was. She had never before seen anything so magnificent.

  Before her sat the young king on his lit de justice, which was, as Autumn looked more closely, a pile of pillows. Around him in a strictly prescribed order was the Duc de Joyeuse, who was his grand chamberlain, and the Comte d’Harcourt. Monsieur de Saint-Brisson, the provost of Paris, in the company of the guards of the chamber knelt before Louis, hats off. The provost bore a chased silver mace. Chancellor Seguier knelt in his crimson gown and cloak. The master of ceremonies, who was called le grand maitre of France, led the rest of the government officials, the avocats generaux and Monsieur Fouquet, the procureur general, into the hall to kneel before the king.

  When all had entered, the young king arose and said, “Messieurs, I have come to my Parlement to tell you that, following the law of my state. I wish henceforth to take upon myself its government and administration. I trust that with God’s grace, this will be with piety and justice. Monsieur the chancellor will explain my intentions in greater detail.”1

  The chancellor then spoke, and when he had finished Anne of Austria arose and, turning to the young king, said, “We are now in the ninth year since, according to the wishes of the late king my dread lord, I took charge of your education, and the government of your state. God has, by His goodness, blessed my work and kept you safe, you who are so dear and precious to me and to all your subjects. As the law of the kingdom presently calls you to govern this kingdom, I remit to you with great pleasure the power which was given to me for its government. I trust that God will give you grace and help you with the spirit of vigor and prudence and give you a happy reign.”1 She then knelt before the king, who kissed her.

  Then, to everyone’s surprise, the king spoke again, saying to his mother, “Madame, I thank you for the pains you have taken with my education and the administration of my kingdom. I beg you to continue to give me the benefits of your good counsel and desire that, after me, you should be the head of my Council.”1

  Then came everyone in the Parlement hall to pay homage to King Louis XIV, undisputed and now reigning king of France. There were other small speeches by various officials that day, and three royal decisions were presented for registration. One involved blasphemers; a second reestablished the directive against dueling; the last proclaimed the Prince de Conde innocent of treason, although many knew he was guilty. On this day, however, the king was of a mind to be generous and offered an olive branch to Conde in the hope that he could be brought peacefully back into the royal fold.

  The king now officially established, the celebrations began. Jasmine and her party had been invited to the Palais Royale as, it seemed, had everyone else in Paris. The king opened the fetê by dancing with his mother. Prince James, the English Duke of York, led Autumn out onto the floor as his own mother was in mourning. Besides, he far preferred dancing with a beautiful girl. Autumn was th
rilled, and grateful her tantes had taken the time to teach her the minuet, a dance that had become the fashion. She was at court! At long last she had taken her place in the kind of society her sisters had once enjoyed, and she was having a wonderful time.

  “Why do you smile as if you have a secret, cousin?” James Stuart asked her as they finished the dance and he led her from the floor. “Not that it isn’t a most delicious smile, mind you.”

  “We are not cousins,” she replied.

  “Your brother is my first cousin by virtue of his paternity. Therefore, I consider you my cousin as well, Lady Autumn,” the prince returned with a grin.

  “Are you flirting with me, my lord?” He was!

  “Would you like me to cease, m’lady?” He again grinned engagingly, and Autumn suddenly realized they were in a remote alcove of the hall. His amber eyes were glittering speculatively at her.

  “Yes,” Autumn said firmly. “I should like you to stop, Jamie Stuart. I am betrothed to be married shortly. You will remember that the Leslies of Glenkirk are an honorable clan.”

  “You are very beautiful,” he replied.

  “So I have been told on many an occasion,” Autumn responded.

  “Why do you marry this Frenchman?” he asked her as he backed her into a corner of the alcove.

  “Because I love him, and there was no one in Scotland, where I have spent most of my life, whom I loved. Have you ever been in love, my lord? It is an emotion that has no rhyme or reason, I fear. My eldest sister fell in love with a man who became another man. My second sister chose the wrong man and was forced for love of him to go to the New World, where they have built a wonderful life together. I came to France to escape the misery of what Cromwell has done to our homeland and found Sebastian. Is love not strange?”

  He kissed her. James Stuart pulled Autumn into his arms and kissed her with all the passion in his eighteen-year-old soul. He felt her small but full breasts pressing against his jeweled doublet. His lust was engaged and he fondled her bosom.

  Autumn pulled away and slapped the young man. “Oh, you Stuarts are all alike,” she scolded him. “You think with your cock and not with your head! Shame on you, Jamie Stuart! Now ask my pardon, and we will remain friends.” Autumn shook her skirts free of the embrace.

  “Girls like it when I kiss them,” he protested ingenuously.

  Autumn laughed. “You are younger than me, and besides, you know well I am betrothed to the Marquis d’Auriville.”

  “Your mother was older than my Uncle Henry,” the prince said.

  “By several years, I am told,” Autumn agreed, “but I am not my mother, who when she fell in love with your uncle was a mature woman who had already outlived two husbands and had three children. I, on the other hand, am a virgin of noble family, affianced to a man I love whom I will wed at month’s end. It is very dishonorable of you to make unwanted advances to me, Jamie Stuart. If there is one thing I know about the Stuarts, it is that they are not dishonorable men.”

  “We are related by blood, you know,” he said, changing the subject as best he could. “The Leslies of Glenkirk have always intermarried down through the centuries with the Stuarts. Your grandfather, Lord Gordon, descends from James the Fifth of Scotland.”

  “Indeed?” Autumn said, not bothering to tell this prince that the Gordon of BrocCairn was her grandmother’s husband but in no way related to her by blood. Then she smiled at him. “I am still awaiting your apology, cousin.”

  “You have it,” he said with a bow, “but I am not sorry I kissed you, Autumn Leslie. You are a most delicious armful.”

  They danced another minuet together, but as the dance ended, the Duke of York found himself skillfully replaced in the figure by the young king, who grinned mischievously at him.

  “Noblesse oblige, sire,” the prince said with a bow.

  Louis nodded briefly but then turned his entire attention to Autumn as he led her from the floor and invited her to sit upon a stool by his throne. “I did not think to see you again, mademoiselle,” he said. “How come you to my festive day?”

  “My maman is a friend of your aunt, Queen Henrietta Maria. It was she who invited us, your majesty. It has all been very exciting, especially tonight! I have lived in the country all my life and have always hoped to come to court, although I always believed the court I would attend would be an English one.”

  “Where is your husband?” the king asked her.

  “When the invitation came, we were forced to postpone the wedding, your majesty, but it will be celebrated at the end of this month, after I return home,” Autumn explained, thinking as she did that the king, for all his youth, was a very handsome young man.

  “Why did your marquis not accompany you?” Louis demanded, sounding a trifle affronted.

  “He was not included in the queen’s invitation, your majesty. Queen Henrietta Maria did not know I was betrothed. Besides, it is the harvest at Chermont. The grapes must be picked at just the right time if they are to be made into good wine. Only Sebastian and his winemaster can choose that exact moment, your majesty. Picked too soon, the grapes could make an inferior vintage. I should not like to send your majesty a vin ordinaire when we are capable of a superior vintage.”

  The king’s brown eyes twinkled. “Mademoiselle, you are a clever girl and an excellent advocate for your marquis,” Louis said. “I hope one day you will come to Versailles.”

  “You are really going to build it?”

  “My Uncle Gaston has already hired the finest model makers in all of France to come and live here with me while they do their work. Once I can see my dream, the architects will take over and we will begin,” Louis said enthusiastically. “I am young yet, but by the time I am twenty-one, I shall have my dream well begun!”

  “I shall look forward to it, your majesty,” Autumn told him.

  “And you and your husband shall come to see my creation,” the king continued. “I want all the beautiful women in my kingdom about me, Lady Autumn.”

  She blushed prettily at the compliment. “It is sometimes difficult for me to realize how young you are, monseigneur,” she told him. “You speak like a man grown, and yet you are just thirteen.”

  For a moment the kingly masque dropped, and she caught a brief glimpse of the boy. “I must be a man,” he said low. “My struggle for what is mine by right is not yet over. If I show weakness for even a minute, they will be on me.” Then, as quickly, the man reappeared.

  “Oh, monseigneur,” she said softly, sorrow tinting her voice. “I will pray for you and your good maman.”

  “Pray for the cardinal as well, ma belle. I am surrounded by his enemies and will not be entirely safe until he returns.”

  “But he has been exiled,” Autumn said.

  “But I am now the king,” Louis said firmly, his brown eyes serious. “Go back to your marquis, Autumn Leslie. Marry him, and live a peaceful life amid your vineyards. You are fortunate to have been given such a life. It is a blessing.” Now the king held out his hand to the beautiful girl by his side. Autumn kissed it and, dismissed, she rose, curtsying deeply. Finding her party, they left the Palais Royale to return to Belle Fleurs and Archambault the next day.

  Chapter 10

  It was her wedding day. Autumn rose at first light as Lily still snored lightly in her trundle bed. Tiptoeing to the window, she looked out onto the lake. It was pink, reflecting the color of the clouds in the sky above. Narrow silver streamers of mist arose from the warmer water into the cool morning air. Everything was still and quiet. It was a magical time. The perfect beginning to a new and perfect life, she thought, smiling to herself as she did.

  They had returned from Paris, and Sebastian’s kisses made her realize how much they had missed one another. Monsieur Reynaud had appeared to make her wedding gown and trousseau, chortling and taking partial credit for her happiness because of his beautiful garments. Autumn did not tell him that Sebastian had seen her mostly in her riding clothes, and the simple gowns she a
lready owned. The proud little tailor would have been hurt by such knowledge.

  Autumn and her mother rode out one day to see Chermont. There was no time for them to make a proper visit, but Jasmine thought her daughter should have some idea of where she was to make her new home. Sebastian’s chateau was like a fairy palace, with four pepperpot turrets at each corner of the building. It sat on a low rise just above the river, in a broad green meadow that was edged with green willows. Beyond the meadow the vineyards stretched, their vines almost empty now of grapes, the leaves beginning to turn yellow about the edges.

  Inside the chateau was exquisite. Unlike Belle Fleurs, with its narrow and winding staircase, Chermont had a main staircase ramp that ascended in the elegant Florentine fashion. It was obvious that the chateau, while old, had been modernized. Most of the rooms were paneled, decorated with paint. The ceilings were embellished with gold and classical depictions. Glenkirk had been a fine castle and Belle Fleurs was a comfortable home, but Chermont was frankly the most beautiful house Autumn had ever seen.

  “It is wonderful, monseigneur,” she told the marquis, and he was openly pleased that she was content.

  “Would you like to see the Lady Chamber?” he asked her.

  Autumn nodded, but then she said, “Mama too, please.”

  “Of course,” he agreed, and led the two ladies up the beautiful, broad marble staircase with its carved balustrades.

  On the second floor of the chateau were the bedroom apartments. Sebastian d’Oleron opened a door decorated with gold moldings and ushered them inside. Autumn was stunned, but her mother clapped her hands, delighted.

  “Sebastian, mon brave, what a wonderful salon!” She turned to her daughter. “Is it not marvelous, Autumn?”

  The walls of the chamber were paneled, and each panel was painted with a scene of romance. Venus with Adonis. Jupiter seducing Lyda. A maiden in flowing white robes being importuned by a kneeling youth dressed in little but a small drape covering his most private parts. There was Cupid shooting his arrows at a group of fleeing maidens. Venus, again, this time with her husband, Vulcan, god of the forge. Each panel told a small story of love. It was very beautiful, and Autumn had never in her life seen anything like it.