Intrigued (23 page)

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Authors: Bertrice Small

Tags: #Fiction, #Romance, #Historical, #General

BOOK: Intrigued
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Lily clambered from her own bed and quickly pulled her clothes on before emptying the night jar out the window into the lake. Then she hurried off to arrange for hot water to be brought upstairs. Adali, however, had already anticipated Autumn’s wishes, and the water was ready to be hauled from the kitchen to the bedchamber. Lily ran back up the stairs to pull the oak tub from its niche. Autumn climbed back into her bed and drew the curtains for modesty’s sake as the young footmen hurried in with their buckets. When the last of them had gone, leaving several extra buckets of hot water, Autumn came from her bed again, drawing off her night garment as Lily poured a mixture of oil of apricot and oil of jasmine into the steaming water.
Autumn washed herself as she always did, but for her long and supple back, which Lily scrubbed. Then Lily proceeded to wash her mistress’s hair, rinsing it first with vinegar and then clean water from the buckets. Vinegar removed excess soap and gave shine to dark hair. Autumn stood and wrapped her head in a towel as Lily rinsed her body with the remaining clean water. Then the bride stepped from the tub to be enfolded in a warm towel. The two girls squealed as the door to the bedchamber opened, but it was only the duchess.
“Good!” she approved. “You are awake and preparing. Father Bernard says you are excused from early mass because there will be a mass at your wedding. I will have Adali bring you something to eat.”
“I don’t think I can,” Autumn admitted.
Her mother smiled. “You are nervous, but believe me,
ma fille,
it will be better if you eat. An egg poached in cream and marsala with some fresh bread?” she coaxed her daughter. “A cup of newly pressed cider with a stick of cinnamon?”
“You’ll need your strength, m’lady,” Lily chimed in in an effort to help the duchess.
Autumn sighed. “Well,” she considered, “I suppose I could eat a little something now.”
“A wise decision,” her mother agreed. “After the mass you may be too busy greeting your guests to eat at our little feast.”
“When will Monsieur Reynaud want me to dress?” Autumn asked.
“I will come with him an hour before the ceremony,” her mother said, and then hurried from the chamber.
Autumn sat in the windowseat of her bedchamber while Lily toweled and toweled her long hair until it was just damp. Then the maidservant brushed out the dark tresses, and Autumn sat back as Lily brushed the hair over the sill into the morning air to dry.
When Adali brought the two young women the meal, Autumn found she was more than able to eat. The chef had sent her favorite soft cheese in a small crock, and fresh pears, which she always enjoyed.
“You’ll not fit into your gown,” Lily chided as Autumn reached for another pear. “Put it back. My aunt will have my hide, and poor Monsieur Reynaud will have a fit right before us. ’Twould not be a particularly good omen, m’lady.”
“I’m suddenly hungry,” Autumn insisted.
“ ’Tisn’t food you crave,” Lily said sharply.
“Shame!” Autumn scolded her maid, but Lily just laughed.
“ ’Twas not the flavor of the pear you were just now contemplating as you licked your lips so laciviously, m’lady,” Lily replied. “Come on now, and clean your face, hands, and teeth. Monsieur Reynaud will be here before we know it. You have to be decently clothed when he arrives clucking and crowing,” the servant chuckled.
Now it was Autumn who laughed. The tailor’s name in English might mean
fox,
but both young women thought of him more as a little bantam cock, strutting and preening.
Autumn had decided not to wear a chemise, but rather a waistcoat, which was like a man’s half-shirt and fashioned of silk. It would not show above the neckline of her bodice, which was cut straight across. She also wore no caleçons, the drawers worn by French-women. She stepped into the twelve silk petticoats one by one, lifting them to sit down, so Lily might dress her hair into an elegant chignon at the nape of her neck. In Scotland her hair would have been left flowing to indicate her virginity, but the French did not hold with such customs any longer. Elegance above all was their rule. Carefully, Lily looped narrow strands of small pearls on either side of the chignon. Then she fastened fat pearl eardrops into Autumn’s ears.
There was a cursory knock at the door. The duchess entered, with Monsieur Reynaud and his assistants in her wake. Jasmine nodded her approval at Lily’s efforts. Then they all set about to get the bride into her wedding gown, which was a very rich cream in color, the underskirt and the bodice being silk, the overskirt looped to the back of velvet. The bodice was boned, and the sleeves tight to below the elbow. The waist of the gown was set
au natural,
and where the overskirt encircled in back a large velvet bow decorated with pearls had been affixed. It was beautiful and fashionable in its simplicity.
Autumn stood, strangely quiet as they fussed and bustled about her. She suddenly felt as if she was in a dream. That wasn’t really how she had imagined her wedding day. She had always thought she would be surrounded by her sister India and her brothers. Her father would escort her to the altar, where some faceless gentleman would be waiting for her. And afterwards in the Great Hall of Glenkirk Castle her family’s piper would play for them, and her brothers would dance amid crossed swords for the entertainment of the bride, the groom, and their many guests. She would have been wed in Glenkirk Church amid the tombs of her ancestors, by a cleric who had known her since her infancy. It had been only a small dream, but so easily destroyed by Master Cromwell and his wicked Roundheads, who had dragged her country into civil war, caused her sire’s death, and forced her mother to flee.
She should be grateful, Autumn suddenly considered. She had found her true love in Sebastian d’Oleron here in France. Life here was as it should be. While there might be bad men trying to control King Louis’s thoughts and actions, they had been foiled, would be deterred. The boy king, she knew from their brief meetings, was determined and strong. No abusive Parliament would lop off his head.
Her mother’s small chateau had been here to shelter them. Her French family had welcomed them warmly and brought them into the society of the Cher region. They had introduced her to Sebastian. Today she would be married in the little chapel of Belle Fleurs, by a young priest who was thrilled to be performing the ceremony. She would be surrounded by her uncle and the two aunts, and by Adali, Rohana, Toramalli, Red Hugh, Fergus, and Lily. They were every bit as much her family as her siblings, and she was fortunate to have them. Suddenly she felt a hand on her shoulder and looked up to see her mother’s face.
“I miss them too,” Jasmine said softly.
“Oh, Mama, how did you know?” she asked aloud.
“Of all my children, Autumn, you have the most expressive face. You wear your heart on your sleeve,
ma petite,”
Jasmine answered. “It isn’t forever, you know. One day King Charles will sit upon his throne again, and you will see the others, except for Fortune, whom you do not remember. She always said once she crossed the sea to Mary’s Land she would not come back again. She is the one I regret most.”
“As intolerance has cost you Papa and your home,” Autumn said wisely, “it cost you a daughter too, but I am here for you, Mama. I shall never leave you. Where I go, you must be. That is my promise to you on my wedding day.”
Jasmine hugged her youngest child; then, taking her face in both her hands, kissed her cheeks. “And my promise to you is that only death shall separate us,
ma bébé.”
“Madame!
The mademoiselle’s skirts! You will wrinkle them,” Monsieur Reynaud fumed.
The women laughed as the duchess stepped back, and even the tailor smiled. Then Adali’s head popped around the door.
“The guests and bridegroom await,” he said.
“Will you and your assistants join us in the chapel, Monsieur Reynaud?” the duchess asked the tailor, who nodded, delighted. How envious his compatriots in Tours would be when he told them that not only had he fashioned Madame la Marquise d’Auriville’s wedding gown, he had been invited to remain to see her take her vows.
They all descended to the main floor of the chateau, where the little chapel was located. Autumn was left outside its door while her mother and the others entered. She could see Sebastian, so very elegant in his dark velvet suit and white lace, awaiting her at the altar rail. He was so handsome! Oh, if onlyPapa were here today to give her into his keeping, everything would be perfect. Then she jumped, startled, at the familiar voice by her ear.
“Will you take my arm, little sister?” Charles Frederick Stuart, the Duke of Lundy, said softly.
Autumn turned and looked up at her favorite brother.
“Charlie!”
she cried, and then promptly burst into tears.
Putting his arms about her, he said, “I arrived just at dawn this morning. Adali told me it was your wedding day. I decided to surprise you and Mama. For God’s sake, Autumn, stop weeping or I shall regret I came.”
“Oh, Charlie!” Autumn sobbed against his velvet doublet. “I have never been happier in my whole life to see anyone! We heard about Worcester. Mama was so worried. I told her you would have escaped. I knew you couldn’t be dead. I knew it!”
He took his linen handkerchief from his doublet and gently wiped the tears from her face. “You knew more than I did, minx. I had one hell of a time escaping England, and there is no word on the king yet—although if he had been captured, Cromwell would be boasting on it. Still, no one knows where he is.”
“Charlie!”
Their mother’s voice suddenly cut into their tender reunion. “Bring your sister forward immediately before the marquis cries off! There is a feast awaiting, not to mention a trip to Chermont.”
Charlie grinned, then said to Autumn, “It’s for love, isn’t it? Remember what I told you?”
“It’s for love,” she reassured him. “You’ll like him.”
“Then I suppose I must give you away, minx,” the Duke of Lundy told his little sister, and then he led her up the aisle of the chapel.
Jasmine couldn’t help but think back to her own wedding day to James Leslie. She had married him in the chapel of her grandmother’s house, Queen’s Malvern. It had been the second time she had wed there, the first time being to Rowan Lindley. How long ago it had been. Now, her youngest child, Jemmie’s only daughter, was being wed here at Belle Fleurs, where Autumn’s great-grandparents had begun their long and happy married life. It was as if a circle was closing. She could almost sense Madame Skye here, approving.
The scented beeswax tapers in their gold candlesticks glittered. Sunlight poured through the stained-glass windows, throwing red and blue shadows on the gray stone floor. Young Pere Bernard, in his white and gold garments, said the mass most beautifully. The bride’s voice could be clearly heard as she spoke her vows. The groom stood tall, his own voice strong and sure. There was soft weeping: the two
tantes,
pleased with the outcome of their match-making; Jasmine, clutching her son’s arm, suddenly missing James Leslie more than she ever had; Adali, Rohana, and Toramalli, happy for Autumn and astounded to find themselves here after all the many years and their many wild adventures.
Afterwards, when they entered the chateau’s hall, Autumn introduced her brother to her husband.
“I will admit I am relieved you are her kin,” the marquis said. “When I saw my beloved Autumn clutching a strange man and weeping all over him, I thought I had lost her to another, an old love.” He shook his brother-in-law’s hand heartily.
“It was only by chance I arrived this day,” the duke said.
“How could you not tell me he was here?” Jasmine demanded of Adali. “I almost fainted dead away when I heard his voice. I thought he was dead, and that I was imagining it!”
“Now, Mama, don’t go scolding Adali. I am the one who decided to surprise you both.” He chuckled. “I thought it a good jest.”
“A jest?”
his mother said anrily. “We had only gotten word of what happened at Worcester. All we knew was casualties, and the fact that the king was among the missing. Under the circumstances, I would have thought it far better to have announced yourself immediately instead of playing at boys’ games, Charlie.”
“I wasn’t aware the news had penetrated so deep into the French countryside, Mama. I do apologize for frightening you.”
“How long can you stay?” she demanded.
“My friend, Lord Carstairs, has remained behind in Paris, where we first went. Queen Henrietta Maria is beside herself with worry over her son. Carstairs will let me know when the king arrives. Then I must leave you, Mama. Cousin Charles needs all the help he can muster, especially now. I suspect he will shortly be on the Continent. He can’t remain in England, and he hated Scotland.”
“Where are my Stuart grandchildren?”
“With Patrick and his wife at Glenkirk,” Charlie said. Then, seeing the look on his mother’s face, he cried, “Oh, God! You didn’t know? Mama, I am so sorry! I would have thought Patrick had written to you by now. His wife is the daughter of the Brodie of Killiecairn. Her dowry was Brae Castle and its lands. Her mother was a Gordon. Patrick wanted those lands for Glenkirk. He is very much drawing in and wants nothing to do with society.”

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