Wild Jasmine (41 page)

Exiting her room, she found her little brother awaiting her in the hallway. “That was quick,” he said approvingly. “Sybilla is never that quick, nor is Mama.” He took her hand in his.

They hurried down the staircase of the house to find the front door opened wide. With a muttered oath the boy tugged Jasmine’s hand and pulled her along.

“God’s foot! There are some ahead of us!”

“Does it make a difference?” she asked.

“Probably not,” he admitted, “but I like being the first out on May morn. Look! There are our uncles Robin and Padraic wi their wives! They are still in the same clothes they wore last night. I will vow they’ve nae been to bed. Did you ever stay up all night, Jasmine?”

“Not all night,” she said, “but very late sometimes. How old are you?”

“I was eleven on St. Valentine’s Day,” he told her. “They say I am big for my age,”

“I will be sixteen on the ninth day of August, by your calendar,” she replied. “Tell me how old Sybilla and our brothers are.”

“Sibby,” he answered, “was sixteen on February the first. She’s practically an old maid at this point. Most girls are married by sixteen, but Mama did nae want her forced to any prearranged match. She wants Sibby to find love. Sibby thinks she hae found it in Lord Leslie. I dinna know why she thinks such a thing. She hardly knows the fellow. She hae only seen him three times in her whole life. On two of those occasions his first wife was living.”

“What about our brothers?” Jasmine pressed him. This business about Sybilla Gordon was interesting, but she wanted to know more about her mother’s children. Her stepsister was quite unimportant.

“Sandy turned thirteen last month,” Charlie said.

“Is Sandy his real name?” Jasmine asked.

“James Francis Henry Alexander is his full name,” Charlie replied. “James for the king, but there are so many Jameses in Scotland that he was not called by his first name. Francis was for the king’s cousin, the Earl of Bothwell, who was my parents’ friend. The king doesna like his cousin, so my brother could not be called Francis. Henry was for the crown prince. One of the twins has that for a first name, so my brother is called Sandy, which is a shortened version of Alexander, his last given name. That way he is nae confused with Papa, who is called Alex. What is your full name?”

“In India I was called Yasaman Kama Begum. Yasaman is just the Indian way of saying Jasmine. Kama means love, and Begum was my rank. A Begum is a princess, Charlie. When I came to England I decided to Anglicize my Indian name. Father Cullen told me that when I was baptized as an infant, I was christened Jasmine Elizabeth Mary, for the priests insisted I have a good Christian name. So I am Jasmine Elizabeth Mary de Marisco now. Tell me of the other boys.”

“The twins, Rob and Hal, will be nine at the end of June, and little Ned will be six in the autumn. The twins look exactly alike, and they dinna seem to need anyone but each other.
Ned’s a good little lad. ’Tis nae easy being the youngest, Mama says.”

“I know,” she told him. “Once I was the youngest.”

“Good morning, Jasmine, Charlie,” the Earl of Lynmouth greeted his niece and nephew. “Have you come to go a-Maying with us?”

“You nae went to bed last night, Uncle Robin,” Charlie accused.

“No,” laughed Angel, ruffling his dark hair, “we did not.”

“What do grown-ups do when they stay up all night?” Charlie wondered aloud.

“We talk,” Lord Southwood told his nephew, “and sometimes we sing songs, and sometimes—”

“
Robin!
” Angel warned her husband, and he laughed.

“You have never been a-Maying, my dear, I expect,” Valentina, Lady Burke, said to Jasmine. “Has Charlie explained the custom to you?”

“He tells me we gather early dew for our complexions because it has magical properties,” Jasmine said with a smile, “and flowers and flowering branches, but he has no idea why that is done.”

Valentina laughed. “The custom extends back into the mists of time,” she said. “Our Irish ancestors were called Celts. May first was one of the high holy days. It was called Beltaine. The Celts believed that the earth was their mother, and the sun their father. The mother renewed herself each spring with a new growing season. They celebrated that renewed fertility with dancing, flowers, and songs of praise. The coming of Christianity changed many of the old customs, but some, like May Day and All-Hallows Eve, which was the other great Celtic holy day called Samhein, survive.”

“We have a festival in India called Holi, where the barriers of caste are dropped for a day. It, too, has to do with the growing season. People pelt each other with colored powder and flowers, eat special foods, and sing and dance,” Jasmine told them. “It would seem that there are many things similar in our different cultures.”

“Look,” said Angel, “here come Sandy and Sibby to join us.”

“God’s foot,” grumbled Charlie.

“Good May morning, my children,” Angel called.

The two young Gordons replied, Sandy cheerfully, Sibby in
more subdued tones as she cast an unfriendly look at Jasmine. Her blackened eye was more obvious this morning.

They began to walk across the fields, and very shortly the sun slipped up over the horizon, gilding the world in its golden glow. The dew sparkled like tiny crystals on the grass, and they bent down to wash their faces in it. Jasmine followed the example set her. They plucked flowers from the field and the hedges: lilacs and buttercups, early roses, poppies, branches of flowering hawthorn and apple blossoms. A lark burst forth in song, and Jasmine almost cried. It was so very beautiful and peaceful. Suddenly she was filled with an overwhelming happiness.
England
. She loved it despite its vast difference from her native India. It was home. She could feel it in her heart and soul.

She walked on, taking in everything about her, sensing, rather than actually seeing, Charlie at her side. A small herd of deer had come from the woods to graze. There was a buck, three does, and four adorable fawns. Jasmine stopped to observe them until, finally aware of the human in their midst, they looked up startled, and with snorts of annoyance fled into the trees. She gazed down at arms filled with flowers.

“What are you mooning about?” Charlie asked.

“I was just thinking how lovely it all is and how happy I am,” Jasmine told him. Looking about her, she saw that her aunts and uncles had already begun to make their way back to the house. Nearby, however, Sibby and Sandy were still gathering flowers.

“Let’s go back,” Charlie answered. “I hae found some pretty violets for Grandmother. She likes it when I bring her flowers.”

“And you like it when she gives you sweetmeats, which she always does when you bring her something,” Sybilla said meanly, overhearing him. “The old woman likes flattery.”

“Perhaps she simply loves Charlie and is pleased by his sweet thoughtfulness,” Jasmine said quietly.

“Hah! A lot you know,” Sybilla sniffed. “Charlie is a second son. He will have to make his own way in the world. He is hoping that Grandmother will help him, and that’s why he always fusses over her. The old woman has so many grandchildren, and he does not want to be forgotten.”

“I swear,” Charlie responded, “that your mother’s teats ran vinegar, Sibby. You have the sourest tongue I hae ever known.”

Sybilla Gordon lashed out and slapped her younger brother. A moment later she found herself upon her back in the grass. With a shriek she scrambled to her feet. “She pushed me! Sandy, you saw it!”

Jasmine was paying her no mind. She was far too busy examining Charlie’s cheek. One of Sybilla’s fingernails had scratched the boy’s cheekbone and it was oozing blood. “When we get back to the house,” she told him, “I have a special ointment that will heal this with no scarring,” she promised him. “If it does scar, however,” she teased, “you can say it was a dueling scar.”

Charlie, who was still young enough to cry, manfully swallowed back his tears and gave a watery chuckle.

“Sandy!” Sybilla stridently demanded her brother’s attention. “
She pushed me!
That creature attacked me! You must tell Father. She should be beaten for it. She is an uncivilized wild woman and does not deserve to be among gentle folk!”

“Wild Jasmine,” Charlie said with another chuckle, and his elder brother, a serious boy, was forced to smile.

“You had no right to hit Charlie, Sibby,” Sandy said quietly. “I believe Jasmine was just defending him.”

“Ohhhhhh! I hate you all!” Sybilla wailed and, throwing down the flowers she had gathered, ran back toward the house.

“Thank you,” Jasmine said to the eldest of her half brothers.

Sandy Gordon looked at her, and she saw that his eyes were amber in color. He was, in fact, his father in miniature, with his black hair and craggy features. “As my father’s heir,” he told her in the same quiet voice, “I will one day be head of this family. Although I am younger than you, I am your eldest brother, Jasmine. I would appreciate your respect. I dinna like to see you and Sybilla quarrel. If she is behaving childishly, it is because she is afraid that Mama will love you more, having found you after all these years. Though you are almost the same age, Sibby is still a girl wi girlish dreams. You are a woman, Jasmine. You have seen the world and lived a far more exciting life than Sibby can ever imagine.”

“Who am I, Sandy?” Jasmine asked him.

For a moment he did not quite comprehend her, and then the light of understanding filled his eyes. “You are my half sister,” he answered. “You are our mother’s daughter by a previous and legitimate alliance to the Grand Mughal of India.”

“You truly believe that?” Jasmine pressed him.

“If I didna believe it, Jasmine,” he replied, “then I should shame our mother’s good name. I will nae do that.”

“Your father is outraged by the revelation of my birth,” she said. “What of his good name, Sandy? Do you not owe him loyalty too?”

The boy smiled. “You are clever, like Grandmother,” he told her. “Aye, my father is very outraged, but he loves Mother. It will take time, but he will eventually come to terms with all of this, if nae for his own sake, then for Mother’s. Be warned, however, that he will protect Sibby at all costs. She is his only daughter and, as such, quite dear to him. Your father would have done no less.”

Jasmine nodded. “In sending me here to England, my father was protecting me. I understand. I will try to be kinder to Sybilla, but she simply must stop provoking me. I will not be bullied. I am the Mughal’s daughter.”

As they spoke, Charlie had gathered up Sibby’s flowers from the grass. Now, seeing that things were settled between his brother and sister, he said, “Let’s go back and bring Grandmother and Mother their bouquets.”

Together the three young people made their way across the field. As they walked they heard hoofbeats behind them. Two horsemen soon came abreast of them. The animals upon which they were mounted were beautiful, finely bred creatures, one a bay and the other black. The gentlemen were dressed for the country in dark breeches, boots, and leather jerkins worn over their doublets. They were both bare-headed and wore no capes.

“Good morrow, children,” said the first rider. “Would that be Queen’s Malvern?” He pointed to the house. “We seek Lord de Marisco.”

“Aye, my lord, that is Queen’s Malvern,” Sandy replied. “We are three of Lord de Marisco’s grandchildren.”

“Bless me!” said the other gentleman. “How many does he have?”

“Forty-six at present, sir,” volunteered Charlie with a grin.

“And are all the girls as lovely as your sister, lad?” the second gentleman asked. “She is your sister, isn’t she?”

“My half sister, sir.”

“Come along, Charlie, Sandy,” Jasmine said briskly. “Mama and Grandmother are waiting.”

“Why, you are not a child at all, are you?” the second horseman said, surprised.

Jasmine looked up at the gentleman, feeling distinctly at a
disadvantage in her bare feet. “No, my lord, I am not,” she said coolly. “Now, please excuse us. Our family is waiting. While you idly chatter, our flowers are wilting and will be dead ere we get to the house,” Moving past their horses, Jasmine shepherded her brothers off.

“By God, Rowan! I do believe you have been given a set-down,” chuckled the first man. “ ’Tis to be expected. You will find the ladies of this family strong, beautiful, and outspoken.”

“Do you know who she is, Tom?” his companion asked. “Did you see those eyes of hers? They were turquoise-blue! I never saw eyes like that in my entire life. Nor did I ever see so beautiful a woman. She is a woman too. No girl would look so lush, so ripe for the plucking.
I will have her!
”

“If she is no girl, Rowan, then she is married. You had best behave around the de Mariscos. They are very protective of each other, and their women are not wantons. If you want to breed your mares with Lord de Marisco’s stud, Nightwind, then you had best mind your manners. The Marquess of Westleigh does not need to chase after women.”

“What about the Earl of Kempe?” mocked his friend. “You chased halfway around the world after Valentina Barrows and then lost her to her cousin, Lord Burke.”

“Alas,” Thomas Ashburne, the Earl of Kempe, replied, “it was a cruel fate that I not wed with my divinity, but Rowan, I always treated her with tenderness and respect. I am happy to say that Val, Padraic, and I have remained good friends. It is a friendship I treasure.”

The Earl of Kempe was a most handsome young man. He was tall and had an athlete’s slender, well-built body. His eyes were best described as misty gray in color, and his thick hair and elegantly barbered Vandyke moustache were a rich gold. He had set many a heart a-flutter in his day, but the only lady who had ever captured his heart was Valentina, Lady Burke. There had been none to catch his fancy since.

His companion was not quite as handsome. He was cleanshaven and had a square jaw that was cleft in the center with a dimple. Tall, he was heavier set, but his bulk came from a larger bone structure. There was no excess fat on his body. His skin was fair, which was to be expected, considering that his two most arresting features were a pair of deep-set gold eyes and a shock of wavy, tawny gold hair. He carried himself with an arrogance that might be expected of a man who could trace his family back to the time of Alfred the Great himself, and
whose same family had possessed the same lands since that very distant past.