India was silent for what seemed a very long time to her mother. Then, at last, she said, “You are correct, madame. I would be very foolish indeed should I act in haste. Now, tell me, when is my marriage to be celebrated, and where?”
“Here, at Glenkirk, by proxy, prior to your departure,” Jasmine answered. “The earl has left the choice of a proxy to you.”
“Since neither Henry nor Charlie are here, I think the best choice would be my brother, Patrick Leslie,” India said. “It will be good practice for him when he weds one day. Patrick and my younger brothers seem to know little of the niceties of polite society, although I know you strive hard with them, madame. Still, they persist in being wild Scots. Fix the day for the thirtieth of May, at dawn, and then I shall depart immediately thereafter for England. Will the earl send an escort for me?”
“You will be escorted as far as the border by Glenkirk men, and the earl’s men will meet you there,” the duchess told her daughter.
“I am taking Meggie with me, and Diarmid More-Leslie would come, too. He and Meggie have asked my permission to wed. I have given it. They will marry immediately after I have been wed. It is far more practical that they travel as man and wife.”
Jasmine nodded, agreeing with her daughter. “Your father . . .
stepfather,
must give his permission to Diarmid,” she said.
“Surely he can have no objection,” India replied.
“Oh, I am sure he does not,” Jasmine replied quickly lest India fly into a temper again.
“We haven’t a great deal of time, madame. We should begin my trousseau immediately,” India announced. “And I will want a full accounting of my possessions as well. Nothing of mine is to remain at Glenkirk.”
“I am giving you the Stars of Kashmir as a wedding gift,” Jasmine said softly. “You are my eldest child, and my first daughter. When your first daughter weds one day, see that you give the jewels to her. They are to remain in the female line. Jamal Khan’s father gave them to his mother, and he gave them to me. Now I give them to you, India.”
“Mama!” India was overwhelmed. “Surely you do not want to part with the Stars of Kashmir now, do you?”
Jasmine laughed. “I always meant them for you,” she said. “Besides, we live simply here at Glenkirk. I have no occasion to wear them anymore, and they simply lay alone in their case. You will enjoy them, I am sure. Perhaps the earl will take you to court, and you can dazzle everyone there with them.”
“It would be amusing to visit court as the countess of Oxton,” India remarked. “I hope, however, this earl prefers the country. I will not leave the raising of my children to others.”
Jasmine nodded in agreement.
The next day, seamstresses arrived from the local villages to prepare the trousseau India would be taking with her to England. She stood patiently, being measured, and pinned. She chose the finest and richest fabrics in the castle storerooms: jewel-toned velvets, and rich brocades, and silks. The farthingale was no longer fashionable. Skirts were flowing. Numerous under-petticoats were required to support the gown skirts. These were made of fine lace-trimmed cotton, and soft white flannel. The skirt petticoats, which topped the under-petticoats, were of silk and brocade. There were chemises perfumed, and plain but for a lace frill at the neck. The necklines were cut low with a short V opening in front where it was tied with silk ribbons. The large, balloon sleeves of the chemises were finished with lace ruffles. India also insisted upon a dozen pairs of calescons, or silk drawers, and a matching number of half-shirts. She had at least two dozen nightgowns, all lavishly trimmed with lace.
“There shall be nothing left in the storerooms for my trousseau,” Fortune complained, watching enviously as the bejeweled bodices and matching skirts, the fur-trimmed capes and newly made leather boots and shoes with silver buckles piled up. The bodices had beautiful buttons of precious stones, as well as ivory and bone. There were combs with pearls around the arch, lawn handkerchiefs trimmed in lace, muffs of fur, and luxurious fabrics, beautiful fans, and painted masques.
The duchess had gathered all the jewelry that had been given to her by her second husband, Rowan Lindley, the marquis of Westleigh. The pieces that belonged to the Lindley family she put aside for the bride her son, Henry, the current marquis, would choose one day. The jewels that Rowan had given her, she divided equally between their two daughters, India and Fortune. Dark-haired India favored the sapphires and rubies. Flame-haired Fortune preferred the emeralds and diamonds.
There were other things that belonged to India as well. Large carved chests of embroidered linens, featherbeds, pillows, and bed coverings, with matching draperies. There were silver candlesticks, and candelabra, as well as ornate silver salt cellars. There were decorated cups of both silver and gold, Florentine forks, table knives with bone handles, and silver spoons. Porcelain bowls, plates, and matching cups. Silver bowls. All were gathered and packed carefully. The days flew by with a rapidity that even surprised India.
“She will nae forgie me, darling Jasmine, will she?” the duke sadly said to his wife.
Jasmine shook her head. “Nay, Jemmie, she will not forgive you, and you cannot blame her that she does not. Do you think a husband can make up for the loss of her firstborn son?” The duchess of Glenkirk touched her husband’s face with a gentle hand. “I love you, Jemmie Leslie, but I agree with my daughter. You have been monstrously unkind. Even I don’t know where our grandson is. It would be better if I knew, so I might make certain that he is well cared for, my lord. A man’s eye is never as keen as a woman’s in matters like this. I should know if the cottage was truly clean, and if the woman into whose hands you have put our grandson is really kind-hearted, or an abusive slattern. India says the laddie was born in true wedlock, and I believe her. Our grandson cannot be raised nameless, or of little account, Jemmie.”
He nodded. He did not tell her but he had been to see the child several times now. His grandson was safe, but in a remote area of the estate lands. The cotter’s wife thought his interest in the lad stemmed from the fact that the duke was his father. She treated the child kindly, envisioning an even greater reward one day. It was not necessary that James Leslie enlighten her otherwise. Rowan was a bright wee bairn, his blue eyes darting about at every sound, a thatch of black hair upon his tiny head. “When India is safe away in England,” James Leslie said to his wife, “I will tell ye where the bairn is. I know ye well, darling Jasmine, and ye’ll nae be satisfied until ye can see him again for yourself.” He caught the hand that caressed his cheek, and kissed it.
The duchess smiled at him. “I am satisfied then,” she replied, and later when she was alone with her daughter, she told India of his words. “Let it set your heart and mind at ease now, my daughter,” she said gently to India. “Jemmie is feeling guilty, for he knows I thoroughly disapprove of his actions, but he will not relent until he sees you happy again, and wed. You must make an effort, India, for all our sakes, especially wee Rowan’s.”
“I will,” India promised her mother. “More than anything, I want my son back again!”
Two wedding gowns had been made for India. She would wear the simpler one at her proxy wedding. The bodice of the rose-colored silk gown had a square neckline, and the bride wore a wired lace collar about her slender throat. The opening of the skirt was decorated with an embroidered golden braid trim. The skirt petticoat was silver and gold tissue. The puffed sleeves were decorated with cloth-of-gold bows to match the trim. About her neck, below the lace collar, India wore a single strand of fat pearls with matching ear bobs. Her hair was dressed in a simple chignon on the nape of her neck. On her feet she wore rose-colored silk slippers.
Her half-brother was dressed in his blue-and-green kilt, his white shirt trimmed with lace on the sleeves, silver buttons on his sleeveless velvet doublet. Patrick, with his father’s dark hair and his mother’s turquoise-colored eyes, proudly escorted India to the altar, where the Anglican minister awaited them. He made the responses required of him as the earl of Oxton’s representative in a clear, loud voice. India’s voice was less sure. The memory of her marriage day to Caynan Reis flooded her senses so painfully that she almost wept, and was unable to speak for a moment.
When it was finally over, she stood motionless, receiving the congratulations of her family, and wondering why they bothered tendering their good wishes when they knew she had been forced to the altar. Wordlessly she witnessed the marriage of her two servants, Meggie and Diarmid, a happier event for her as she knew the two were in love. The formalities over, they repaired to the Great Hall to break their fast.
The duke of Glenkirk toasted his stepdaughter. “May ye be happy always, and may ye hae healthy sons.” He lifted his goblet to her, and then drank it down.
India glared, outraged, at him. Then she lifted her goblet. “To my son, Rowan, wherever he may be,” she said softly.
James Leslie’s eyes darkened with anger, but then he laughed. “Ye’re nae my problem any longer,” he said honestly. “Eat yer meal, India, and then Godspeed to ye, lassie.”
Jasmine squeezed her daughter’s hand beneath the highboard, silently begging India not to quarrel with James Leslie. The younger woman squeezed back her reassurance as the wedding breakfast of poached eggs in heavy cream and Marsala wine was served, along with baked apples flavored with cinnamon, freshly baked bread still warm from the ovens, newly churned sweet butter, thick slices of ham, and thin slices of salmon simmered in white wine with dill. There was a honeycomb for the sweet tooth. Ale, cider, and wine were served to drink.
India gazed about the table; her eyes lighting upon her siblings. Henry and Charlie were in England. She would see them soon enough. Her half-brothers, Patrick, Adam, and Duncan, now eleven, ten, and seven, she would probably see rarely, if ever again. Patrick, of course, would one day be the second duke of Glenkirk. The younger two would have to marry heiresses.
We’ll never really know each other
, India thought sadly.
How lucky Fortune and I were to have each other!
Fortune
. Beautiful, practical, yet impulsive Fortune. What did fate have in store for her? MacGuire’s Ford, its castle and lands in Ireland, were, of course, her marriage portion, but Ireland was such a disturbed land. Still, her parents had always spoken of seeking a husband for Fortune in Ireland. Her sister wasn’t getting any younger. She would be seventeen in July. But who on earth was there in Ireland who might make a suitable husband for Fortune? She looked at her sister. Fortune gazed up at that moment, and smiled encouragingly at her. Whatever was meant for Fortune, she obviously had no fear of it.
I envy her
, India thought, and how Fortune would mock and tease her if she ever knew
that
, India considered with a wry smile.
“Now that you have married me off, madame,” India said to her mother, “I expect Fortune will be next, eh? What have you in mind for my sister? As you have obtained an earl for me, certainly you must do as well for her.”
“I don’t care who he is as long as he has a brain in his head and a good heart,” Fortune replied, laughing. “I don’t need some man’s title to make me presentable. I have my own title.”
“We plan a visit to MacGuire’s Ford this summer,” Jasmine said. “We will not be coming to Queen’s Malvern. I have been in correspondence with Rory MacGuire, our estate manager. As Fortune is the heiress to those lands, the folk are very interested in meeting her, as they have not seen her since she was an infant.”
“I remember when Fortune was baptized,” India said. “It was in the church at MacGuire’s Ford. I remember telling Great-grandfather Adam that I had wanted a pony, not a baby sister. A black pony! Who baptized Fortune, madame?”
“My cousin, Cullen Butler,” the duchess replied.
“A Papist?” Fortune looked shocked. “I was baptized by a Papist, Mama? Why was I never told?”
Jasmine spoke quietly. “You certainly know how I feel regarding religion, Fortune. I hold to the old queen’s maxim that there is but one Lord Jesus Christ, and the rest is all trifles. My father held to such thought, allowing all faiths to be practiced in his kingdom. It is outrageous arrogance for any one faith in God to believe it is the be-all and end-all of religion. That all other faiths are wrong. Did not our Lord Christ Himself say that in His Father’s house were many mansions? Surely He did not lie. And if there are many mansions, then there must be many paths leading to the doors of those mansions in God’s kingdom. Aye, you were baptized in what is referred to as the old faith. Your godparents are a good lady named Bride Duffy, who is the most respected woman in the village, and Rory MacGuire, our estate manager. Before the English took away his lands, and gave them to me, Rory was the lord of Erne Rock Castle. He has cared for your lands with honest diligence. I am very grateful to him, as you should be. The descendants of Nighthawk and Nightbird are the most sought-after horses in both England and Europe. Rory MacGuire has made you a rich woman, Fortune. Remember it well. As for your baptism by a
Papist
, it is a valid one, even in England.”
Fortune flushed. “I think I am going to have a great deal to learn about Ireland, Mama. I hope Master MacGuire will help me so I do not offend the people I must care for; but tell me this: How is it that there has been peace on my lands all these years?”