Wild Jasmine (35 page)

“Do they know about me?” Jasmine asked him.

“Not yet,” Adali replied. “Your lady grandmother wishes to keep it a secret until your mother can be informed.” He then said to Jasmine, “Lady de Marisco is most formidable, my princess. She hides a marble fist beneath a swath of silk, but her family all love and respect her. She is most happy to welcome you, and cried when I told her of your coming. Your grandfather is a wonderful old gentleman, gracious lady. He, too, looks forward to meeting you.”

The Greenwood barge made its way up the river to Chiswick-on-Strand, where Greenwood House was located, the very last house on Riversedge Street. From the water, Jasmine saw that, unlike its more magnificent neighbors, it was an elegant but small house of mellowed pink brick, one wall of which was covered in dark green ivy. The house, she would later discover, was set within a beautifully kept park with a small woodland.

The barge nosed its way gently into the small dock where a waiting footman made it fast and then helped the passengers from the vessel. For a moment Jasmine swayed, unable to regain her land legs, but then she stepped firmly forward onto the snowy lawn. Behind her came her women, the priest, and Adali.

“This way, my lady,” the footman said politely, wondering to himself what manner of creatures they were. They surely looked like a pack of Gypsies with their odd, colorful garments and head shawls. He shook his head. He was paid to serve, and not to involve himself in the business of the gentry. Lady de
Marisco was a good employer. The footman led the way up from the river’s edge toward the house.

Suddenly, from the lovely brick building, a woman emerged. She was half running, and her dark green velvet skirts blew in the light breeze off the river. She was tall and more slender than not, yet she had the substantial look of a woman who had borne children. Her hair was very dark but for two silver wings that showed just above her ears, and she wore it in an elegant chignon dressed with silk flowers. There was a smile of welcome upon her face, and for a brief moment Jasmine wondered if this was Candra.

The priest jumped forward and hurried toward the lady. “Aunt Skye!” he said, catching her hand up as he reached her and kissing it. “Why is it you never age, madame? I shall return to Ireland to find my own mother, your sister, a white-haired little old lady.”

A peal of rich laughter rang out at the loving flattery. “If I were going to age, Cullen Butler,” Skye said, “I should have done so years ago with all my adventures, but I have not.” She kissed him on the cheek, then gently pushing him aside, moved past him, stopping before Jasmine.

For what seemed a very, very long moment, the two women surveyed each other carefully, Skye’s Kerry-blue eyes hungrily scanning the slender girl for something familiar, something of Velvet, but not really finding it; Jasmine absolutely astounded that this elegant, youthful lady was her grandmother. Mariam Makani seemed ancient by comparison. Did Candra look like her?

“You are so beautiful,” the girl finally said softly, breaking the silence between them.

“So are you,” Skye told her granddaughter, a half smile touching her mouth, yet biting her lower lip to keep from crying.

“Am I like Candra? My mother, I mean,” Jasmine corrected herself, blushing. “I really am trying to think of her as my mother.”

“No. Yes. Perhaps a little,” Skye replied, and she laughed aloud. “Your face is heart-shaped like mine, but you have your mother’s mouth, and your nose is long and slender like your mother’s. Your eyes have the same shape as Velvet’s, but there is a much different look to them, and the color! They are like a Persian turquoise. As for that charming little mole between your upper lip and your left nostril, I do not recognize it at all,
but I do not doubt the gentlemen will find it fascinating. You are yourself, I can see, my darling girl. I am so happy to have you with me at long last! Welcome to England, Yasaman Kama Begum!”

“I have left Yasaman Kama Begum behind in India, Grandmother,” Jasmine told her. “With your permission, I should prefer to be known as Jasmine de Marisco.”

Tears threatened to totally overwhelm Lady de Marisco for a moment, and then she said, “So you shall be, my darling girl! Welcome to England, Jasmine de Marisco!” Then, unable to restrain herself any longer, Skye hugged the girl hard, kissing her soft, perfumed cheek. Releasing her, she said briskly, “Let us go in! You and your ladies must be freezing in this river wind. Your grandfather is awaiting you in the house. I would not let him come out with me because I wanted to see you first. If we do not go in now, however, he will come stomping out and catch a chill from which it will take him weeks to recover.” She linked her arm in the girl’s and together they hurried into Greenwood.

Adam de Marisco had watched the women from the vantage point of his library windows. Even with less than perfect vision, he could see that the girl was extraordinarily lovely. This, then, was his firstborn grandchild. He wondered what his daughter Velvet was going to say about this development. He had wanted to write to her immediately after the arrival of Adali, but Skye had not let him.

“Let us see what the girl is like first,” she said reasonably. “Perhaps she cannot speak English, or has no idea of English manners. If that be so, we will teach her that she show to her best advantage with her mother when they finally meet.”

“What if she is presentable?” he had demanded of his wife.

“There is no great rush to write to Velvet,” Skye had told him. “She and Alex and the children will be here as usual for their English summer. Time enough for Velvet and her daughter to meet one another. What a wonderful surprise it will be for Velvet to finally know the child she was forced to leave behind in India. I shall never forget how devastated she was over it, Adam.”

“Nor will I,” he had replied. “But do you think surprising her like this is really a good idea, little girl?”

“I cannot wait to see the look on her face!” Skye had answered gleefully. “Velvet has always loved surprises.”

He was still not certain that his wife’s idea was a particularly
good one, but then the door to the library opened and Skye came in accompanied by his grandchild. Adam de Marisco opened his arms to the girl and, without a word, she went into them. He struggled not to cry, but the tears slipped down his weathered cheeks. He thought himself an old fool, but he could simply not help it. “Dear girl,” he said. “I never thought to hold you in my arms, but now I can die happy.”

“Stop talking of dying, Adam de Marisco,” Skye scolded him. “You may be seventy-five years of age, but you’re in better health and vigor than most men half your age! Now stop smothering Jasmine and let her go. You haven’t had a proper look at her yet, and when you do, you will see what a magnificent beauty she is. Once the gentlemen get a look at her, we will have to hire men-at-arms to protect her. This new court is not as elegant, nor does it have the delicacy of manners that Bess’s court had in its heyday.”

Adam de Marisco released his granddaughter from the bear hug in which he had enveloped her and said to his wife, “
Court?
We have not been to court in years. What is this talk of court?”

“We never went to court because Bess banned me,” Skye said airily, “but this Stuart king doesn’t even know me. How are we to find a new husband for Jasmine if we don’t go to court?”

“
Jasmine?
” He looked puzzled.

“Our granddaughter has Anglicized her name from Yasaman to Jasmine, and she has taken your surname for her own. She is Jasmine de Marisco now. Is it not perfect, Adam?”

“Indeed it is!” He beamed with approval, and then he looked at the girl, scanning her carefully with his smoky blue eyes. “She has your look about her, Skye,” he said.

“Do you really think so?” the proud grandmother asked.

“Have you no granddaughters who look like you?” Jasmine asked.

Skye thought a moment and then she said, “Perhaps your cousin, Laura Southwood, or mayhap Thalia Blakeley, but they are so young yet, I cannot really be certain. Little Bessie Burke is certainly like me in temperament.” She chuckled. “Oh, darling girl, what a large and loving family you have here in England. They will love you on sight as I do!”

“How many grandchildren do you have, Grandmother?” Jasmine wondered aloud.

“Well, let me see,” Skye considered. “My eldest son, Ewan
O’Flaherty, has eight children, including Alain, whom you met in Cambay. Ewan’s brother, Murrough, has six children; your aunt Willow has eight; your uncle Robin, the Earl of Lynmouth, has eight, three from his first marriage, five from his second; your aunt Deirdre has seven; and your uncle Padraic, Lord Burke, who was slow to marry, has but two so far. The baby, Adam Burke, was christened on Christmas Day when your Adali came to us with the news you were arriving in England within the month.”

“And my mother? How many children has she now?” Jasmine inquired.

“You have five half brothers and a stepsister, my darling girl,” Skye told her. “Your brothers are named James, although he is called Sandy; Adam Charles; Robert and Henry, who are twins; and last is Edward. They’re fine boys, if a bit rough from growing up in Scotland. As for your stepsister, she is Lady Sybilla Alexandra Mary Gordon. She is just six months older than you. Perhaps you will be friends,” Skye said. “Your mother and her family will be arriving at the end of April. Velvet’s birthday is May first. We always try to be together on that day. You, darling girl, will be the best birthday present your mother ever had! You have no idea how she mourned leaving you behind.”

“What does she look like now?” Jasmine asked her grandmother. “Our first night at sea after we had left India, Adali gave me this miniature of my mother.” Jasmine drew it from the pocket of her jaguli dress and held it out to Skye. “Candra had given it to him before she departed India. Her instructions were that he give it to me someday when I was old enough, but over the years he forgot all about it. He found it when he was packing his possessions to come to England.”

Skye looked at the little painting and smiled. “This was your mother at fifteen or sixteen,” she said. “She will be celebrating her thirty-third birthday this year. The face in the picture is a girl’s face, innocent and really quite unknowing of the world. If anything, she is lovelier now, but her features are more mature than the maiden’s in this picture. Still, you will easily recognize her when you see her.”

“In the spring?” Jasmine looked eager; and for the first time she seemed like the young girl she really was, Adam thought, watching her.

“Aye, in the spring,” Skye promised her, “but until then we must keep your presence here a secret. I want no one spoiling
my fine surprise. If one of your aunts or uncles know, soon the entire family will know. We will stay here in London until mid-April. If we go home to Queen’s Malvern, Deirdre could easily discover you, for she and her family live nearby. She would tell her brother Padraic, who cannot keep a secret to save his soul. Soon Robin would know, and your aunt Willow, and both of your O’Flaherty uncles. Besides, you will need time to recover from your long voyage; and you will need a whole new wardrobe, my darling girl; and your servants will need new clothes more in keeping with their station here in England. Now, let me see,” Skye said, “where shall we begin?”

Adam de Marisco grinned at his granddaughter, who was beginning to look somewhat overwhelmed by her grandmother. “Best to let her have her way, Jasmine,” he counseled her. “She will anyway in the end.”

“I have been told that my grandmother is
formidable
,” Jasmine said mischievously. She already adored this great big man with his wonderful smoky blue eyes and his shock of silver-white hair.

“
Formidable? Me?
” Skye pretended to look offended, but seeing the look in her companions’ eyes, she could not help but burst out laughing.

The de Mariscos were astounded by the vast wealth that had accompanied Jasmine. If they had not been certain of it before, they were now quite sure of Akbar’s deep love for his youngest child. The quantity and the quality of the rare, costly spices that had come to England with their granddaughter, when sold, would make her a very rich woman for the rest of her life. There was yet another fortune in fine fabrics; the silks and cottons that the princess brought with her sent her grandmother into rapture. Skye, whose own collection of jewelry was one of the finest in Europe, was frankly amazed by the magnificent jewelry and uncut gemstones in Jasmine’s possession. Indeed, her wealth was fabulous.

“My husband, Jamal, gave me this,” Jasmine told her grandmother one day, showing her the Stars of Kashmir necklace.

Skye took the jewels and examined them carefully. “They are the finest sapphires I have ever seen, and each stone is flawless,” she told her granddaughter honestly. “Do you see that tiny flame of green within each stone? Only the greatest sapphires have such a flame.” She handed the necklace back to
the girl. “Did you love him very much, my darling?” she asked. Jasmine had not spoken a great deal about her husband.

“It seems so long ago,” Jasmine admitted. “He has been dead almost a year. I am not even certain that I can remember his face now. Is that awful of me, Grandmother? Did I love him? Yes, I did love him, and he loved me. He was charming and wise. He would have served my father and my brother well, but my brother arranged his murder. I will never forgive Salim for it, even if I live to be an old lady of one hundred!”

Jasmine had said little about her life in India, but she never failed to answer a direct question when asked. It was just that she never volunteered any information about herself or her past.

“She is hurting,” Adam said to Skye. “I think she finds it easier to come to terms with herself and the life she must now lead by putting her past behind her.”

The winter was quickly over, for there was so much to do and the long days sped swiftly by. A skilled dressmaker was found to come and live in while she created an entire wardrobe for Jasmine. There were gowns of velvet, taffeta, brocade, silk and damask weaves. Jasmine’s rich complexion with its hint of gold favored rich shades of red, green, violet, lavender, black, gold, peacock-blue, and cream. Skye insisted that everything be in the latest styles. Farthingales were smaller now, although the skirts were still bell-shaped, and yet divided to show an undergown. Skirts were also slightly shorter, coming to the ankle, but necklines were still square and very low.