Darling Jasmine (20 page)

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Authors: Bertrice Small

BOOK: Darling Jasmine
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For the next three days Piers St. Denis arrived at Greenwood, beribboned bouquet in hand, only to be turned away by Adali. His mistress, the formidable servant reported, was yet too ill to receive visitors. No, a leech had not been called. His mistress did not believe in leeches. Perhaps tomorrow she would be well enough to receive him. On the fourth day, just as the marquis was becoming irritable, Adali greeted him with a broad smile, saying that his mistress would be happy to see the marquis, but only for a few moments. Beckoning the visitor to follow him, he led him up the two flights of stairs to Jasmine's apartments.
As he followed Adali, Piers St. Denis's eyes flickered back and forth, catching glimpses of the rooms above the main level, for he had never been allowed upstairs before. An open door revealed a large library, but the other doors on the second level were closed to his sight. Greenwood was not a particularly large house, and he wondered at its location at the end of a row of homes belonging to the high and very mighty. Its furnishings were fine, but not ostentatious by any means. He might have even called it simple but that the tapestries, the carpets, and the silver were so obviously rich and of the finest quality. They had reached the third floor of the house, and Adali ushered him through the doors into Jasmine's apartment, through a dayroom, and directly into her bedchamber.
“My lord!” She held out her hands in welcome to him. Her dark hair was loose about her, and she wore a modest chamber robe with a round, high neckline. He was relieved to see she appeared recovered.
“You are well?” He kissed the two hands offered him, then, without being invited, sat upon the edge of her bed.
“I am weak yet, but the fever and chills have gone, I believe,” Jasmine assured him, withdrawing her hands from his grip. “And I have received wonderful news from my dear grandmother. My children are coming to London to be with me!”
“Your children?”
The marquis of Hartsfield did not look particularly pleased. “I thought your children lived in the country.”
“Ohhh no, my lord! My children have always lived with me. I am not one of those mothers who but spawns her offspring, then leaves them entirely to the mercy of servants. Gracious no! My little ones are in the country because Grandmama brought them back from France so Jemmie and I might have a bit of time alone together; but now I want them back with me again, particularly as Jemmie is gone and I am so alone. Besides, you seek to be my husband, so you should really meet my children, don't you think? And, of course, the king will be absolutely delighted to see my little not-so-royal Stuart.” She gave him a dazzling smile. “I do believe I am better just knowing my little ones are coming.”
Piers St. Denis was not pleased. He had gotten rid of James Leslie so he might be alone with Jasmine, and the earl was gone a week now, and he had yet to be alone with her. Now her blasted brats were coming to take up her time, and when would he have his chance with her at all? This was something he could not complain to the king about, for the king was totally sentimental where family was concerned. He would be delighted to see his grandson and the other three little beasts as well. Aggravated as he was, he smiled back at her. “Of course I should meet the children,” he said. “Aren't the two eldest old enough to be fostered out? As we are to spend our life at court, Jasmine, we should begin to consider your children's futures as well.”
“I will not foster my children out, my lord,” she said. “I consider it a nasty custom, giving one's offspring to other families to raise. My children are wealthy, titled, and of impeccable lineage. They will be considered quite eligible marriage partners when the time comes, and without being sent away into other households.”
“I think, perhaps,” Adali interrupted, “that we should conclude your visit, my lord. Agitation is not good for my lady, as I know you realize. You will be welcomed back tomorrow, however.”
St. Denis rose from her bedside and bowed to Jasmine. “The queen sends you her regards,” he told her. “I will be back tomorrow, madame. There is a masque at the end of the week, and I would escort you to it if you are well enough, and I hope that you are.”
“We shall see,” Jasmine murmured, falling back upon her pillows.
“Farewell then, my love,” he replied.
“Farewell, my lord,” she responded as he departed her chamber.
His love?
There was Salim's distant voice again, she thought, and shivered.
Chapter
10
“H
er Majesty, the queen,” Adali said, ushering Queen Anne into Jasmine's dayroom.
Jasmine arose quickly from her chair by the fire and curtsied low. “You honor me, madame,” she said.
“Let me look at you, child,” the queen said, as the younger woman came forward. She took Jasmine's face between her thumb and her forefinger, turning it first this way, and then that. “As I thought,” Queen Anne finally pronounced. “What a dreadful little fraud you are, my dear, but now you must cease your willfulness. I cannot help you if you will not help yourself. St. Denis has already begun to whine to the king that he has not enough time in which to court you. I have only just managed to prevent the king from doing something very foolish. You will have to let him dance attendance on you for the next few weeks, I'm afraid.”
“If only the king . . .” Jasmine began.
“I know, I know,” the queen soothed her. “If only my well-meaning Jamie had not interfered just as you and the earl of Glenkirk had come to a comfortable understanding. He's quite in love with you, you know. You do love him, don't you?”
Jasmine nodded.
“Let us sit down,” the queen said, and turning to Adali, she continued, “Do bring us something nice to drink, Adali, won't you?”
Adali bowed. “Of course, Majesty.”
They sat together by the fire, and the queen spoke once again. “Both Steenie and I are in agreement. We are your allies in this matter, my dear. And now another element has been added to the brew. The earl of Bartram has suggested to His Majesty that custody of little Charles Frederick Stuart be assigned to him.”
“Who is he?” Jasmine asked.
“A protégé of Robert Cecil's who has worked in His Majesty's service for many years. He began his career in the reign of the late queen. He has recently lost favor with my husband thanks to the greed and the jealousy of Piers St. Denis and the foolishness of the countess of Bartram, who is obviously sillier than I am. He seems to believe if he can get the king to grant him the care and custody of our grandson, he will have been restored to our favor. Jamie, of course, has absolutely no intention of any such thing, but you know how softhearted he is. He cannot come right out and say no to poor Lord Stokes. While he will not return him to favor, and indeed will soon dispense with his services altogether, for the man has Puritan leanings; he is yet mindful of the many long and loyal years of service Richard Stokes has rendered the crown. He is seeking a kind way to retire him.
“In the meantime, however, Steenie and I thought we might use Lord Stokes ourselves in a rather clandestine manner, implying to St. Denis that the king is indeed considering transferring the guardianship of your son to Lord Stokes. The marquis will, of course, attempt to learn if it is true from the king, but Jamie will dither about until he has made up his mind how to rid himself of the earl of Bartram in a considerate manner. This will but add to the confusion. St. Denis will not have as much time to court you, which will relieve you of his company. Then, too, he will be desperately trying to decide which is more to his advantage: a rich wife or a powerful connection.” The queen's laugh tinkled about the chamber, and she gratefully accepted a silver goblet of fruity wine from Adali. Sipping it, she declared, “You have the best cellar in London, my dear Jasmine! Well, what do you think of our little plot?”
Jasmine was not certain what she thought of the queen's intrigue. She was silent a long moment. Then she said, “I think that you and George Villiers may underestimate the marquis. I think he could be dangerous in certain circumstances. For the moment all he has to contend with is James Leslie, and he has managed to send him away; but if he believes someone else might gain custody of my son . . .” Jasmine grew silent again, a single finger tapping thoughtfully upon the arm of her chair.
“St. Denis? Dangerous?” Her laughter tinkled once more. “Oh, no, my dear. Piers St. Denis is simply an ambitious young man seeking to better himself, very much like our dear Steenie. In the end you will choose Glenkirk, and we will give him another heiress to wife with our royal blessing. He will then return to his holding and never be heard of again.”
“He has suggested to me, madame, that he will remain at court after his marriage,” Jasmine told the queen. “I believe Your Majesty's assessment of him to be correct in that he is ambitious. I think he is a man who desires power more than anything else.”
“Do you? How interesting,” the queen answered vaguely. She had said what she had come to say and, having emptied her mind, was now at a loss. She looked anxiously at Jasmine. “You will cooperate with us, my dear, won't you? You will just slightly encourage St. Denis for a short time? Between us we can keep him quite confused.”
“If it pleases you, madame, of course I will cooperate, for I wish for only one thing, to be James Leslie's wife,” Jasmine replied.
“Oh, good!” The queen quaffed down the remainder of her wine, and, rising, said, “I must go now, my dear. I am happy to see you looking so well, and I shall, of course, expect you at my masque on Saturday night at Whitehall.”
“Madame.” Jasmine had arisen, too. “The children will be here in a few days from Queen's Malvern. I thought a good way of keeping St. Denis off guard was to introduce him to my little band of rebels.”
“How deliciously ingenious.” The queen chuckled. “I suspect that St. Denis will detest the competition of your offspring.”
“Aye,” Jasmine smiled. “He has already suggested that India and Henry are old enough to be fostered out. Of course, I told him I should not foster out my bairns to strangers.”
“Unnatural monster!” the queen pronounced. “Of course not! You know how I feel about fostering children out. You were absolutely correct to say so.” Then, kissing Jasmine's cheeks, Queen Anne departed Greenwood House to return to the palace.
Jasmine's next visitor was St. Denis, who once again came bearing a beribboned bouquet. She did what was expected of her. Burying her nose in the colorful flowers, she exclaimed over their lovely fragrance, thinking all the while that St. Denis lacked imagination. He always brought flowers but nothing else, which meant he was either without funds or mean-spirited. She suspected a combination of both.
“The queen has been to visit me,” she said brightly. “She came to see how I was and to invite me to her masque on Saturday evening. Will you escort me, my lord?” She gave him a smile.
“What will you wear?” he asked her excitedly. “We must match our costumes, of course!”
“I cannot have a decent costume made in so short a time, my lord,” Jasmine told him. “I shall wear a beautiful gown of royal blue silk instead. I shall leave the selection of a mask to carry to you, however. I want the most beautiful mask possible. We must outshine everyone else, eh, my lord?” She smiled again.
He could scarcely believe it. She was being most cooperative, and she was even asking him a small favor. “You shall have the finest mask in London,” he promised her. And when he had left her and returned to his own house, he told his brother. “I believe she is beginning to weaken in her resolve to hate me, Kipp. She was so amenable toward me today. The queen had just left her, and I think she may have advised Jasmine to seriously consider my suit. I thought the queen was Villiers's ally, but perhaps I was mistaken. Who makes the best masks in London?”
“A fellow named Barrow, near St. James,” Kipp replied.
“You must go to him and order two of his absolute best creations, Kipp. They must be ready for Saturday's masque at the palace,” the marquis of Hartsfield said to his half brother.
“They will be horrifically expensive, especially considering how short a time you are allowing the craftsmen,” Kipp answered him.
“He will not refuse the king's favorite,” Piers St. Denis said with self-assurance. “Besides, when I have married Jasmine Lindley I will be the wealthiest man in England,” he concluded with a grin.
“If
you wed her,” Kipp cautioned him.
“I will marry her!”
the marquis insisted. “And on our wedding night you and I will punish her for her arrogance, eh, Kipp?”
“How?” Kipp goaded his sibling.
“We will put her over the correction bar, her legs spread. Then I shall tawse her bottom until it is pink and shining. She will weep fiercely, I have not a doubt. And while I strap her, you will play with her beautiful breasts so that she is caught between pain and pleasure, which I have not a doubt she will soon learn to like. When I deem her ready, I shall have her, still bent over the bar.”
“And will you share her, Piers, as you usually do with your women?” his brother asked.
“Not fully, not at first, not until I am bored with her; but I will permit you to take your pleasure within her mouth, Kipp. Together we will teach this proud beauty who is the master. And afterward, in a year or so, when she is well trained, and obedient, we shall allow her to learn this same art of domination we practice. Think of it, Kipp! We shall, the three of us, lure beautiful young maidens and handsome young men into our web of forbidden love. It will be wonderful!”
“I should have known you would have it all planned out,” his half brother said admiringly.
The marquis of Hartsfield smiled. “Go and order the masks,” he said. “And tell this Barrow fellow there will be an extra payment for his trouble.
But I want his best!”
“Naturally,” Kipp replied, and hurried off to do his brother's bidding.
Jasmine's gown for the queen's masque was a magnificent creation. Of royal blue silk, the skirt ankle-length, its undergown was of cloth of silver embroidered with sparkling tiny blue stones in a spiral design. The neckline of the gown was quite low and square, with a draped collar of delicate silver lace. The sleeves showed cloth of silver through their slashes, and silver lace cuffs accented her delicate wrists. Her shoes were matching blue silk with silver roses decorating them; and her hair was twisted into an elegant chignon, with a lovelock tied with a silver ribbon over her left ear. From her ears dripped sapphires, and about her neck was Jasmine's famous sapphire necklace.
The marquis of Hartsfield's mouth fell open in admiration when he saw her, his eyes fastening upon the necklace in particular. Wordless, he handed her her mask, an exquisite creation of silver and gold with white feathers.
“They are called the Stars of Kashmir,” Jasmine told him, one hand going to her throat. “My first husband, Prince Jamal, gave them to me. The lake where I grew up, upon which our palace was located, is just this shade of blue. There was an additional stone found at the same time these were mined in Ceylon. It was a large teardrop-shaped sapphire called the Wular Blue, after that same lake. We gave it to my father upon the celebration of his fiftieth year as emperor.” Reaching out with her other hand, she took the mask from him. “It is lovely, my lord, and quite perfect with my gown, do you not agree?”
He nodded, his throat aching, his mind desperate to say something clever that would gain her approval. “You are the most beautiful woman I have ever seen,” he finally managed to croak, realizing how mundane a thing it was he had just said. She knew she was beautiful, and had undoubtedly been told it a thousand times.
“How gallant you are, my lord,” she responded graciously. Then, “We will take my barge, with your permission. It is more comfortable than any others in which I have traveled.”
“Of course,” he agreed, almost drowning in her smile. This was how he had imagined it would be. She with her blue-black hair, pale gold skin, and turquoise eyes. He, tawny-haired, fair-skinned and blue-eyed. They were perfect together! His costume of cream-colored silk, silver and gold, was an ideal foil for her royal blue and silver gown. They looked as if they belonged together, and they did! Taking her arm, he followed the ever-present Adali down to the quai, where the barge was awaiting them. Strangely, he did not mind the servant's company any longer. Adali, in his white clothing and turban, gave them a certain cachet that no one else at court had.
Whitehall was ablaze with lights. They joined the throngs of other courtiers entering the hall where Their Majesties sat. The queen, as always, was overdressed, but a charming and gracious hostess. The king slumped morosely on his throne. He hated his wife's fetes. He would remain for a brief time, then disappear with a few friends to drink whiskey and play at dice. The sight of Jasmine on the arm of the marquis of Hartsfield, however, brought a smile to his sad face, and he beckoned them forward to the foot of his throne. They made their obeisances, and, as she rose, Jasmine saw Prince Charles standing next to his father's chair.
“Ahh, Piers, ye hae brought Lady Lindley at last,” the king enthused. “She's a rare beauty, is she nae?”
“Indeed, my liege,” the marquis replied. “I am grateful to Your Majesty for this opportunity.” St. Denis then bowed to the queen and nodded to the prince.
Jasmine smiled at Prince Charles. He was a small but dignified young man, who, until his brother's death, had stood very much in his shadow. “My lord,” she said, “it is very good to see you once again.” Then she curtsied low.

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