Wild Jasmine (39 page)

“I was devastated by his news,” Velvet continued. “Mama and Papa were in India, being held for ransom by the Portuguese governor. Murrough was to set sail that very day with the gold needed to obtain their release. I instantly begged him to take me with him. I could not bear to be left alone in my grief.”

“You might have come to me or Deirdre,” Willow said sharply.

Velvet laughed. “You would have tried to run my life, dear, bossy Willow. And sweet Deirdre would have sympathized so deeply with me, I would have slipped into the grave myself with my grief,” she told her two elder sisters. “No, my decision to go to India was actually the best decision I could have made under the circumstances. I needed Mama’s strength. But when we arrived in India, we discovered that Mama and Papa had escaped the Portuguese and were already on their way home.

“The Portuguese governor was furious. He removed me from Murrough’s vessel and forced our brother to deliver the ransom anyway, in exchange for my freedom. What Murrough was not aware of was that Mama had so offended the governor, who had made lewd advances toward her that she quite harshly rebuffed, that he intended to be revenged upon her by sending me as a gift to Akbar, India’s ruler, the Grand Mughal.

“By the time Murrough learned of the Portuguese deception, it was too late. The caravan was long gone, and me with it.” Velvet sighed deeply and then took up the skein of her story once again. “I will not go into the harrowing details of either the journey or my arrival at the Mughal’s then capital city, Fatahpur Sikri. You need only know that the Mughal, Akbar, fell in love with me and made me his fortieth wife under the laws of India. I fell in love with Akbar, and on August ninth in the year of our Lord 1590, our daughter Yasaman was born at my palace in Kashmir.

“Bearing a man’s child binds a woman closer to that man than she has ever been before,” Velvet said thoughtfully, and the women in the room, but for Sybilla, understood exactly
what she meant. “I loved the man I believed to be my husband. I loved our baby girl. When Yasaman was several months old, however, our uncle, Michael O’Malley, arrived at Akbar’s palace to tell us that Alex Gordon had not been killed in that infamous duel. He was alive and, despite everything that had happened, it was he and not Akbar who was my legal husband. I had no choice but to return to England.

“At the time I did not want to return. I had been married to Alex but a few months; to Akbar almost two years. We had a child! The Mughal, Akbar, however, is a man of deep honor. Despite what we had shared, he would not allow another man’s wife to remain in his zenana. I was drugged and sent from him without my daughter. Akbar would not allow me to take her. She was all, he told me, that he had left of the great passion we had shared. He feared for her reception here in England. He is more than well acquainted with the European nature.

“I knew little of her after that, but that she was still alive. Each year on her birthday, Akbar would send a pearl to Mama, a small sign that my daughter thrived. Two years ago Mama said she had received a letter from Cullen Butler, Jasmine’s tutor, saying that Jasmine was married and quite happy. Whatever small dream I might have harbored to meet Yasaman again, I certainly never expected to see my daughter after her marriage.”

Robin Southwood looked at his new niece and, smiling, said, “It is Jasmine’s turn now, I believe, to take up the story. Will you tell us, my dear, how you came to be here in England?”

All eyes turned to the girl. They admired her beauty and obvious good manners. The Earl of BrocCairn, however, could not help but feel anger toward this beautiful creature who had so changed his life. As for the earl’s daughter, Sybilla, her anger burned even hotter than her father’s. She was Velvet’s daughter, not this exotic creature! She would not permit this
Jasmine
to have even the slightest share of Velvet.
Velvet was her mama!

“I do not remember the mother who gave me birth,” Jasmine began softly, “but never was I allowed, from earliest memory, to forget the woman who was called Candra, whom my father had so deeply loved. I am told that on the day she was taken from me, he ascended into a high tower on the palace grounds overlooking the road to the coast. He did not
come out for three days, emerging only at the insistence of his mother, whom his frightened wives had sent for, as he would neither answer nor heed their pleadings. When my father finally came from his tower, his hair had gone white. He never really ceased to grieve for his Candra.”

Velvet gasped. Tears sprang into her eyes. “He had such beautiful dark hair,” she said, almost to herself. “It was so soft, yet strong, even as he was.”

A spasm of pain crossed Alex Gordon’s face.

“I was given to my father’s first wife, Rugaiya Begum, to be raised,” Jasmine continued. “I call her Mama Begum. My life was simple, surrounded by family. I had three half brothers and three half sisters. Then, on the night of my thirteenth birthday, my eldest brother, Salim, came to me. I will not go into lurid detail,” Jasmine said, “but my brother began a seduction of me which he eventually hoped to carry to the fullest extent of the word. He was willing, however, to be patient and left my maidenhead intact that night.”

Sybilla gasped, but her aunt Valentina pinched her sharply on the arm to silence any outburst which would arouse her father’s ire. Sybilla, despite her virginal state, knew more, Valentina believed, than she pretended.

Jasmine continued her tale, telling them of her marriage, and finally Jamal Khan’s murder. Then she stopped. The tears she had restrained before now slipped down her pale cheeks.
Remember, you are the Mughal’s daughter
. She could hear Mama Begum’s voice in her ear.

“Why was your father incapable of protecting you?” Murrough O’Flaherty asked gently.

Jasmine shook her head. “My father’s health was precarious at best. For better or for worse, Salim was his eldest son and his heir. There was but one solution to our problem: that I leave India. My father and Mama Begum conceived a plan. I escaped incognito to the port of Cambay with Father Cullen and my servants. I learned after I reached England that my father, the Grand Mughal Akbar, had died two months after I set sail.

“Salim has now taken the name of Jahangir, which means ‘World Seizer.’ He is Grand Mughal of India today. Had I remained in India, I should have been forced into an incestuous relationship with my own brother. The very thought is horrifying to me. Mama Begum and my father believed I should be safe in England with my mother’s family.”

“Does your brother know that you are here?” Robin Southwood asked.

“No, my lord, to my knowledge he does not. No one but Mama Begum, my father, and my servants who have traveled with me knew of my destination.”

There was a long silence as they digested what Jasmine and Velvet had told them. Then Padraic, Lord Burke, who was closest in age to Velvet, spoke.

“What will you do now, Jasmine?” he asked.

Jasmine laughed. “Grandmother says I must have another husband, but I do not think I am quite ready to settle down yet, Uncle.”

“Jasmine will live with me,” Skye told them firmly. “Adam and I have rewritten our wills. She will inherit both Greenwood House in London and Queen’s Malvern one day. Although Velvet will inherit her father’s title, it will eventually go to Jasmine as Velvet’s firstborn daughter. None of you need Greenwood or Queen’s Malvern. You cannot possibly object to our decision.”

“But Mama was to have Greenwood and Queen’s Malvern,” Sybilla Gordon wailed. “And she said it would one day come to me!”

“She should not have said such a thing to you, Sybilla,” Skye responded sharply. “Neither of those houses was hers to give. Although we had, for many years, thought to leave them to Velvet, the truth of the matter is that she does not need them. Your father has decided against making a permanent home in England, Sybilla. You, I am told, hope to become the Earl of Glenkirk’s wife. You, too, will remain in Scotland then. Jasmine is my granddaughter of my blood, and she needs her own home.”

“It will always be open to the family, as it always has been,” Jasmine said in an attempt to soothe her stepsister’s fears.

“
How kind of you,
” Sybilla said acidly, “but if you think I will ever come into this house or Greenwood once they are yours, you are sadly mistaken. I will not associate with some foreign-born bastard, even if she is my mother’s child!”

Jasmine grew pale, but then before anyone else could speak, she said, “I was born in India, the legitimate issue of its ruler. You, however, were born in England, the illegitimate issue of a silversmith’s daughter and my mother’s husband. What does that make you, I wonder?”

“Ohhhhh!” Sybilla wailed, and she stomped her foot angrily, her golden curls bouncing with her aggravation.

Jasmine burst out laughing. Although she found Sybilla annoying, she also thought her response silly.

“
Papa!
That bastard girl is laughing at me,” Sybilla cried to Alex Gordon. “Make her stop this instant! I will not have it!”

Jasmine stepped forward and slapped her stepsister upon her cheek. “If you use that word to describe me ever again,” she threatened, “I will claw your round blue eyes from your head!”

Sybilla shrieked and then her fury spilled over. She was Lady Sybilla Alexandra Mary Gordon, the daughter of the Earl of BrocCairn. The girl before her was nothing!
Nothing!
“My father legitimatized me, you bastard!” she screamed.

Jasmine slapped her again, this time harder. “I told you not to use that word,” she warned her antagonist. “Being legitimatized has certainly not improved the low streak in your blood that you have obviously inherited from your mother.”

“
This is my mother!
” Sybilla screamed, pointing to Velvet.

“No,” Jasmine said. “
That is my mother.
”

“Stop it you two!” Skye finally interceded. “Stop it this instant!” She grasped Velvet’s stepdaughter by the arm. “Sybilla, you began this contretemps. Jasmine, however, has finished it. Velvet is mother to you both. She bore Jasmine, and she has raised Sybilla from her earliest memory. Now apologize to each other. I will not have my family torn apart by silly bickering.”

“
Apologize? To her? Never!
” Sybilla spat.

“I can hardly apologize for speaking the truth,” Jasmine told her grandmother angrily.

“
Bastard girl!
” Sybilla snarled.

Jasmine leapt forward and knocked her stepsister to the carpet, throwing herself atop her to pummel her with tightly clenched fists. She would teach this little bitch a lesson not to be forgotten. How dare she use such an epithet toward her?
Bastard?
She was no bastard.
She was the Mughal’s daughter!
Sybilla shrieked and fought back. She was no mean opponent and defended herself with spirit.

“This is what your reckless behavior has brought us to!” shouted Alex Gordon to his wife.

“
My reckless behavior?
” his wife countered. “I was a helpless slave in the Mughal’s zenana. Would you prefer that I had killed myself to preserve
your
honor? You hardly considered honor when you set about to swive Alanna Wythe with such
vigor and openly made her your mistress. You even took her back to Scotland and set her up in your village in her own cottage, where she tormented me and almost got me killed!
My reckless behavior
?” Velvet rounded on her husband and hit him a blow that sent the Earl of BrocCairn reeling.

The Earl of Lynmouth burst out laughing. “Now here’s a sight I never thought to see again,” Robin chortled. “The battling BrocCairns. Why, everything’s been so lovey-dovey the last few years between Alex and Velvet, I thought for certain that contentment had finally turned them into dull beings. I love surprises, don’t you?” He moved back as his nieces rolled screaming and clawing beneath his feet.

“Robin, how can you?” his wife, Angel, scolded, but Robin had already dissolved into even heartier guffaws, and was joined by the rest of the gentlemen, who wheezed with mirth, tears running down their cheeks.

“Men,” Skye said grimly to her daughters and daughters-in-law, “are consummate fools. Aidan!” she called to her sister-in-law. “Give me a hand with these two wildcats. Willow, you can help as well!”

Not without difficulty were the two combatants separated and dragged apart by their female relations. Jasmine’s three servants had been stunned and shocked by the melee. Now they looked helplessly to Skye for direction. She shook her head at them.

“This is a different world, and your mistress must learn to cope by herself.” Then her Kerry-blue eyes twinkled. “I think she is doing quite nicely, do you not?” she whispered to them.

Unable to help himself, Adali grinned. “Yes, my lady,” he said low, and then he chuckled as Rohana and Toramalli giggled helplessly behind their little hands.

Jasmine’s beautiful black hair had been pulled from its elegant chignon, and there was a small purple bruise beginning to form high on her left cheekbone. Her gown had been ripped off one shoulder, but other than that she was little the worse for wear.

Her two half brothers, Sandy and Adam Charles, were wide-eyed with surprise. They had never imagined that girls could fight like boys. The younger of the two could not prevent the grin that split his face as he looked at Jasmine.

“Sibby hae almost blacked your eye,” he said matter-of-factly.

Jasmine regarded him with equal interest. She had always
been the youngest, but now suddenly she was the eldest of her new siblings. “I did black hers,” she said.

“Are you really a bas—” He stopped, and then, “You know …”

Jasmine laughed. “It is difficult to explain,” she told the boy. “We have the same mother, but different fathers. What is your name, boy? I think I should know your name as we are brother and sister.”

“Adam Charles, but they call me Charlie,” he answered.

“Well, Charlie,” Jasmine said, “I know you’ve heard my story, but let me see if I can explain it in simpler terms. In my land I was born of a legitimate union. In your land, you and your brothers were born of a legitimate union, but there are some in your land who would think the marriage between our mother and my father illegal. In my land they do not. Does any of this make sense to you?” She looked down at the boy. He had dark hair and their grandmother’s green-blue eyes. There was a sprinkle of golden freckles across the bridge of his nose.