All the Sweet Tomorrows (20 page)

“Welcome, my lady, m’lord,” Daisy said.

“Does your maid not speak French?” the duc demanded.

“She is a simple English country girl, monseigneur, but she is a fine tiring woman, and has been with me for many years.” Skye turned to Daisy, saying, “Daisy, this is the duc.” She then said to the duc, speaking French this time, “Monseigneur, this is my maid, Daisy, whom you would call Marguérite in your tongue.”

Daisy bobbed a pretty curtsey, and smiled her gap-toothed smile.

The duc barely nodded. “I will come back for you in a few minutes,” he said. “You will be a beautiful bride, madame. And because you are so beautiful, and I believe that there is no real malice in you, I will be patient with your rather hoydenish
and independent ways.” He bowed curtly, and left her standing there surprised.

Daisy pulled her mistress into the room. “Come in, m’lady! Lord bless me, it’s lovely here, it is! I ain’t never seen such flowers! Isn’t the town simply adorable, all pinklike?” Daisy was full of enthusiasm. “Maybe it won’t be so bad living here after all.”

“Is there some water, Daisy? I must refresh myself before the duc comes back. We are to be married immediately.”

“Ohh.” Daisy’s eyes widened. “He’s that anxious, is he?” She giggled with delight. “He’s a fine-looking man, m’lady. He might even be called handsome if he’d just smile, but you’ll have him smiling soon enough.” She hurried off to fetch the water.

Skye looked about her. She was in a square room with pale-gray stone walls. There were fireplaces on either side of the room, their enormous narrow mantels held up by seated golden marble lions with green jasper eyes. The walls were hung with exquisite silk tapestries all depicting tales of knights and maidens and dragons in colorful and bright threads. Each tapestry was beautifully done, and Skye wondered if some past Duchess of Beaumont had lovingly stitched them. She also wondered if that long-dead duchess had loved her husband.

The room had no windows. In its center was a long oak refectory table with a silver bowl filled with peach-colored roses upon it. Their fragrance perfumed the room. The rest of the furnishings consisted of several straight-back, carved chairs with velvet cushions, strategically placed. There was a door opposite her, and another beside one of the fireplaces, through which Daisy had disappeared.

She now reappeared carrying a golden basin. “Oh, m’lady, come just through the other door, please, into your bedchamber.”

Skye walked across the room, and opened the door. “I’m sorry, Daisy. I’m daydreaming, it seems.”

Daisy hurried into the room behind her mistress. “And why not?” she demanded. “You’re about to be married, and this is a beautiful place!”

Skye looked around the bedchamber. It was a tower room and round in shape. There were windows directly before her that extended to the floor, opening onto a small balcony. She could see the sea through them. To her left was a huge carved bed with a linenfold paneled headboard, draped in plain dark green velvet.
Opposite the bed was a small fireplace. There was but one candlestand beside the bed, holding a golden candlestick with a fine beeswax taper. There was a low-backed stool with a tapestry cushion at one side of the fireplace.

“It’s not very large for the duchess’s chambers,” she noted.

“The duc’s is next door, m’lady. See the little door on the other side of the bed? That goes into his chambers. There’s also a dressing room off the antechamber.”

Daisy put the basin down on the candlestand, and Skye rinsed her hands and her face quickly. Daisy had scented the water with her mistress’s rose fragrance. Skye was very quiet, and Daisy could not help noticing.

“I wouldn’t think you’d have bridal nerves after all these years,” she remarked.

Skye laughed weakly. “It’s all very different this time, Daisy. I don’t know the duc, and our conversation in the coach as we came from the port was not reassuring. He is a Huguenot, and a fanatic at that. He wants children desperately, but I do not know if I can give them to him. He frightens me a little.”

Daisy looked shrewdly at her mistress. “Ye’re taking the potion that yer sister, Eibhlin, gave you, aren’t you?”

Skye nodded. “I intend to go on taking it until the duc and I can come to some sort of arrangement. I don’t plan to be his brood mare, locked up in this fairy-tale castle forever.” She took the creamy linen towel that Daisy handed her, and dried her face and hands. Then, as an afterthought, she pulled the kerchief from her neckline in a gesture of defiance.

They heard the knock on the antechamber door at the same time, and Daisy hurried to open it. Edmond de Beaumont hurried in, his handsome face distressed.

“I did not know,” he said. “As the good God is my judge, Skye, I did not know he had become a Huguenot. I didn’t even know he was contemplating it. That damned Lichault! He waited until I was gone, and then, like the snake in the Garden of Eden, he wormed his way deep into my uncle’s confidence. God, he is an evil creature!”

“Your uncle says he has driven the priests from Beaumont de Jaspre. Is it true?”

“He thinks he has, but Père Henri has already come to see me. He was the family chaplain. He says he understands the difficult position you, the niece of a bishop, must find yourself in, but you are not to fear for your immortal soul. He gives you a dispensation to wed my uncle in this new faith, knowing that
eventually you will overcome that man Lichault and bring my uncle back to the true Church.”

Skye nodded, but inwardly she was amused. Her religion was a private thing, although she had been baptized a Catholic. Her second husband had wed her in the Moslem faith, her third in the Church of England. That she had loved them both made the difference. But she did not like the duc telling her what she was going to do, and what she was going to be. If this religion of his was really that way, she would cling like a barnacle to her own faith and let the good local priests think she was devout. It couldn’t hurt her reputation, and if she could wean the duc from his obviously unpleasant faith, she might be able to learn to care for him in time. Beneath the stern façade she had detected small flashes of humor. She wondered again what he looked like when he smiled.

Another knock sounded upon the door, and this time it was the duc who entered. He carried with him a nosegay of fragrant orange blossoms, white freesias, and tiny white rosebuds, tied with lilac-colored silk ribbons. With an elegant bow he handed the flowers to her. “For you, madame. Pastor Lichault says such things are the Devil’s enticements, but I believe that women appreciate such small vanities, especially on their wedding day.” He held out his arm to her, and with a return curtsey she took it.

“Will you allow Daisy to see the ceremony, monseigneur? It would mean a great deal to us both.”

“Of course!” He was pleased to note that she had deferred to him in this matter.

The duc led the way to the family chapel, where Robbie, Sean MacGuire and Bran Kelly already awaited them. Edmond de Beaumont drew in his breath sharply as they entered.

“What has happened here?” he demanded furiously. “Where are the tapestries, Uncle? Where are the beautiful altar cloths? The candles? The crucifix? The paintings? Where is the tabernacle?”

The chapel was indeed bare and plain with its simple wooden altar. There was no vigil light. The only light was from its windows, magnificent arches of red, blue, gold, and green stained glass.

“Those fripperies were but trappings of the Devil, Edmond. It was my decision to remove them.”

“To where? There were pieces in this chapel that go back almost a thousand years! They belong to this family and to the Church!”

“Pastor Lichault would have destroyed them, Edmond, but I had them packed away. I do not want them any longer. Now be silent, nephew, else you spoil my wedding day.” The duc nodded to a man who stood by the altar, and immediately the servant ran out through the sacristy to return a moment later with another man.

He has the look of a cadaver, Skye thought. He was very tall, and very thin, and his face was long with narrow lips, a strangely large nose, and eyes that burned with the fervor of a martyr. He was garbed totally in black, and his rather spare, gray hair stuck out from beneath his square black hat at funny angles. As they approached him Skye could see that his fingernails were dirty, and as they came still closer she noted that he smelled terrible and that there was a ring of dirt around his neck.

“Behold the bride!” the stranger said in a voice that was surprisingly masterful and compelling for such an unattractive man. Then he smiled, showing yellowed teeth, some of which were broken.

The duc returned the smile. “Pastor, I would present to you my new duchesse, Skye.” It was the first time he had said her name, and she was surprised that he remembered it, since he had kept calling her madame.

Pastor Lichault chortled. “Ah, Fabron, my son, she is not yet your duchesse, not until I have made her so!” He smiled again. This time his eyes fastened upon Skye, and she fought back the urge to shiver as she saw the man mentally undress her, licking his lips as he obviously liked what his imagination showed him. “Well, let us get on with it then,” he said briskly. “Will you take this woman to wife, Fabron?”

“I will,” the duc said.

“Will you take this man to husband, Skye? Will you accept him as your master?”

“I take him as my husband,” Skye said, and the pastor glared at her.

“You are then man and wife,” the pastor finally said grudgingly.

If Skye was horrified with this brief display then so were those who witnessed it. Bran Kelly turned to Robbie and said softly, “If that’s a marriage ceremony then I’m a Muslim. Do you think it’s legal, or is our lady being gulled?”

Robbie shook his head. “I don’t know. I suppose if it’s all right with the duc then it’s legal here.”

“It would not be legal in the eyes of the true Church,” Edmond
de Beaumont said in a low, angry voice, and Sean MacGuire nodded his agreement. “I do not know what has come over my uncle,” Edmond finished.

“Come, madame.” The duc had taken her hand, and was turning her about. “I have had a light supper set up in the hall to celebrate our nuptials.”

“Uncle, you have not given Skye a ring. Where is her wedding ring?”

“There is no need for one, Edmond. We have been united according to God’s law in the presence of witnesses. Pastor Lichault believes that wedding rings are a worldly and ostentatious show. I have donated the gold I would have spent on such a ring to him for use among the poor.”

“And will you share your happiness with our people as is customary, Uncle? Will there be feasting and dancing for our people this night in Beaumont?”

“Such extravagances are wasteful and unnecessary, Edmond. A marriage is a part of God’s law, and there is no cause for undue celebration because one keeps God’s law as is expected of him.”

“Another of Pastor Lichault’s gems?” Edmond de Beaumont remarked sarcastically.

“You will apologize at once, nephew!”

“
Never!
The man is a charlatan!”

“Edmond,” Skye pleaded. “For my sake, please.” She didn’t want this appalling day marred any more than it already had been.

“Very well,
chérie
, for you, but only for you,” Edmond replied, smiling sweetly at her. “I regret my hasty words, Pastor.”

“Already,” the pastor oozed, “our new duchesse exerts a salubrious influence upon this family. It is a good sign,” and he smiled his yellow-toothed smile at them all.

The duc led them into the main hall of the castle with its marvelous silk banners and tall windows now red with the sunset. There were two enormous fireplaces in the hall, but neither was lit this night; rather, they had been banked with flowering branches. Daisy had already disappeared, it not being seemly that she eat with her mistress, and so only Skye, the duc, Edmond, Robbie, Sean MacGuire, Bran Kelly, and the pastor sat at the high board. The duc sat to Skye’s right, Robbie to her left. The pastor was on the duc’s right, and next to him sat Edmond de Beaumont. Bran Kelly was on the other side of Robbie, and on Bran’s left was Captain MacGuire.

Immediately the servants in the duc’s azure and silver livery began to pour the lovely rose-colored wine that Edmond had told her was a favorite in Beaumont de Jaspre. An enormous mullet complete with its eyes, set upon a bed of greenery and surrounded with whole carved lemons, was presented as the first course. Skye declined the fish. Her stomach was churning nervously at the thought of what awaited her. She had never been to bed with a stranger, a man she had only just met. No! she amended the thought, and a small smile turned up the corners of her mouth. There was Adam!

She remembered back to the first time she had gone to bed with Adam de Marisco. She had come to Lundy to enlist his help, offering him two percent of her profit if he would aid her. He had asked instead for one percent of the profit—and a night with her. She had been horrified, but had agreed, for she needed his help. Without it she could not triumph over Elizabeth Tudor, who had insulted her unforgivably. But with Adam it had been different. He had been teasing and amusing from the beginning, and although she had been hesitant, she had not been afraid.

She glanced almost fearfully at the stern man by her side. He had not kissed her at the conclusion of their brief marriage ceremony, and although he apparently knew her name, he had only called her by it once.

The servants were now offering capon in gingered lemon sauce, baby lamb, artichokes in olive oil and tarragon vinegar, new peas, and fresh bread. Skye nibbled absently.

“Are you ill?” The duc put his hand on hers.

She started, and looked up at him. His eyes were void of any emotion although his voice was kindly. “I am probably tired,” she answered. “It has been a long trip.”

“Go prepare yourself for bed then, madame,” he said quietly. “I will come to you shortly.”

She nodded and then, leaning over, said to Robbie, “I am going to retire now.”

“I won’t leave you, lass. Remember that I promised you. Tomorrow I shall spend the day looking for a house. Send to me when you want me.” He leaned over and kissed her cheek.