This Heart of Mine (33 page)

Dame Cecily curtsied as low as her stiff joints would allow her to, but Alex put out his hand and raised her up. Kissing the old, gnarled hand with its beautiful diamond and sapphire rings, he said, “I can see ye’re one of the few good influences my wife has had, madame. I hope that even though we will live in Scotland ye’ll continue to be a part of our lives.”

Dame Cecily’s eyes sparkled with delight. “You’re a rogue, my fine Scot! That I can certainly see! Nevertheless, I suspect
you’re well matched with my girl. Come in now! Come in! ’Tis far too cold out here, and I’ve several warm fires going in the house.”

Her eyes lit on Pansy. “You, girl! Your mother wants to see you, and then hurry and draw a hot bath for your mistress. There’ll be time enough later on to flirt with that evil-looking Scot with the naked knees you keep eyeing!”

With a mumbled “Yes, ma’am!,” Pansy scrambled from her pony and hurried around the side of the house, out of sight.

“Take your animals to the stable,” Dame Cecily commanded the waiting horsemen. “Then come into the house. It will be crowded, but there’s ale and meat for all.” Then she led Velvet and the gentlemen into
Queen’s Malvern.

Inside, the house was toasty and fragrant with the smell of applewood fires. From the small family hall came a tall man, and Velvet ran toward him, her arms outstretched. “Uncle Conn!”

Lord Bliss hugged his wayward niece, muttering, “You get more like your mother in temperament every day!”

“Have you come for my wedding?”

“Aye, and your aunt Aiden, too,
and
all your little cousins.”

“All
my cousins? How lovely,” Velvet replied, but her tone of voice lacked sincerity. “ ’Tis only to be small ceremony! Alex and I have already been wed twice.”

“Surely you don’t consider what happened in Scotland as a true marriage, Velvet?” Conn asked.

“I will not be happy until I have been wed in my own church, Uncle Conn, but perhaps we had best consider the Scots ceremonies, should I already be carrying a child.” Her eyes danced merrily.

“Velvet!”
He was shocked. She was far too young to be saying such things, wasn’t she? Then he realized that she was quite shamelessly teasing him. “You’re impossible!” he grumbled.

Velvet laughed while Conn St. Michael looked at her closely. The half-grown girl who had left
Queen’s Malvern
six months ago was gone. This was an incredibly beautiful and headstrong woman. He looked at the Earl of BrocCairn and was startled to see in the amber eyes of that craggy-faced Scot a look of pure love and devotion directed toward his niece. God help Alex Gordon, Conn St. Michael thought to himself. Velvet has her mother’s magical allure.

“Come along, come along!” Dame Cecily fussed at them all. “If there is to be a wedding here tonight, then we must
all work together. Robin, my lad, take your Scots friend to the Tapestry Room, and I’ll send his man and a bath along.” She fixed Alex with a sharp gaze. “You’ve something respectable to wear, I trust?”

“My kilt, madame,” he replied soberly.

For a moment they all thought that she would argue with him, but Dame Cecily finally nodded, saying, “ ’Twill serve quite nicely, my boy. Get along with Robin now.”

Alex’s eyes were dancing with delight. It was plain that he liked the tart-tongued Dame Cecily mightily. He bowed elegantly and then, turning, followed Robin upstairs.

“Now as for you, Velvet de Marisco, go directly to your room. Pansy should be there by now. Daisy and I have a surprise for you,” Dame Cecily said.

“Aren’t you coming?”

“Nay, child. I have a great deal to do before Father Jean-Paul weds you and your Alex in the chapel.”

“Will you give me away, Uncle Conn?” Velvet asked.

“Aye, sweetheart,” came his heartfelt reply. “If Adam cannot be here to do it, then I’ll be proud to stand in his place.”

Velvet felt tears start, and Dame Cecily snapped at Conn, “You’ve no sense, Conn St. Michael! No sense whatsoever!” Then she gathered Velvet to her bosom. “There, child. I know you wish your parents were here, but your wild Scot has taken that choice away from us. Don’t cry. There, there!” She held Velvet close as she waved Lord Bliss away with her other hand.

“I’m all right.” Velvet sniffed. “Just for a moment I had the most terrible longing for Mama and Papa. Oh, Dame Cecily, what would I do without you?”

“A pity you didn’t think about that before you went running off to court, Mistress Willful! Go along now and get ready for your wedding!”

The old lady released Velvet and hurried off down the hall toward the kitchens. With a little sigh, Velvet climbed the stairs and followed the familiar route to her bedchamber. As she drew near she could smell the lovely fragrance of her gillyflower bath oil and knew that Pansy was awaiting her. Entering the room, she found both Daisy and her daughter bustling about.

“Welcome home, Mistress Velvet,” said Daisy, coming forward to give her a hug. “I have a lovely bath ready for you, but before you bathe come and see our surprise.” Taking Velvet’s hand, she led her into the dressing room. There spread
out in magnificent array on a pair of chairs were two of the most exquisite dresses Velvet had ever seen.

One was an apple-green silk, with a low bodice embroidered with gold thread and tiny pearls that matched the panel of the slightly darker underskirt. The leg-of-mutton sleeves were held by a profusion of tiny gold ribbons, the wristbands turned back to form cuffs with gold lace ruffs. The bodice of the gown had a long, wasp waist that ended in a pronounced peak, and the bell-shaped skirt separated in front to reveal the elegant undergown.

The second gown was of a rich, heavy, candlelight satin that was mellowed with age. Its simple bodice was cut low and embroidered with seed pearls. The puffed sleeves, which ended just below the elbows, were slashed and the openings filled with delicate cream-colored lace. Below the elbows the sleeves hugged the arms in alternating bands of satin and lace, and the wrists were ruffled with wide bands of lace. The underskirt was embroidered with delicate seed pearls and tiny diamond flowers. The dress had a small, starched, heart-shaped lace collar edged in tiny diamonds that rose up behind the neck, and the skirt shape was that of a bell.

“Daisy! Where did you find such marvelous gowns?” Velvet demanded.

“The green was your mother’s wedding dress when she married your father. I thought perhaps you’d like to wear it tonight. There’s gold roses for your lovely hair. As for the cream, your mother wore it when she wed Lord Southwood at Greenwich Palace twenty-five years ago! Dame Cecily and I hoped that you would take it with you to London when you marry before the queen.”

“Oh, Daisy!” Velvet was astounded. “My sisters never wore mother’s dresses. Do you think she’d mind if I did?”

“Mistress Willow wanted her own gown so that she could pass it on down to her daughters one day. She puts great store by tradition as you know, particularly those she starts herself. As for Mistress Deirdre, she was so relieved when your parents allowed her to marry Lord Blackthorn that she cared not what she wore. Your mother didn’t feel that these gowns were suitable for Lord Burke’s daughter. Besides, she’s not as tall as your mama, and has more bosom than my lady did at her age. Mistress Skye wanted Mistress Deirdre to have everything new. I know, however, that she would fully approve of Dame Cecily’s and my choices. You, however, may not want to wear them.”

“Oh, yes, I do! If I have Master Hilliard paint my miniature
in each gown, Mama and Papa will know how I looked on my wedding day! If Robin doesn’t mind my wearing the cream-colored gown, I should love to take it to London, but tonight for the ceremony with Father Jean-Paul I want to wear the gown in which Mama married Papa.”

Daisy smiled. “Then let us hurry and get you ready, though I never thought I’d see the day I’d be preparing your mother’s youngest child for her wedding!”

Velvet hadn’t had a bath in several days, and the hot, scented water was wonderful. She loved the hard-milled soap, perfumed with the elusive gillyflowers scent, that Daisy and Pansy used with the boar’s-bristle brushes when they scrubbed her back and with which they lavishly lathered her dusty auburn hair. Velvet regretted that there was no time to soak, but it had been close to sunset when they had ridden into
Queen’s Malvern.
The evening meal was being held up until after the wedding ceremony.

Stepping from her tub, Velvet stood quietly while she was first dried, then perfumed and powdered. Her beautiful long hair was toweled with warm linen, then brushed and rubbed with silk. Pansy held out a pair of green silk stockings with vine leaves embroidered on them with gold thread.

“I made them for you using your mother’s originals for models,” Daisy said, “and I had Bonnie lower the hem on the green gown. We weren’t sure whether or not we would have to edge it in fur to give you enough length, but it turned out there was enough material. ’Twas French made, the gown, and there’s no doubt they’re fine seamstresses. Bonnie did have to edge the cream satin with a bit of lace though to lengthen it enough, you being taller than your mama.”

Pansy held out Velvet’s silken undergarments and a pair of gold garters. Velvet was beginning to feel better than she had in days. It was amazing, she thought, what good a hot bath could accomplish. Daisy then slid the apple-green silk gown over Velvet’s head. It fell gracefully, and as the tiring woman laced it up, Velvet was astounded by the perfect fit. It molded her waist and made her young breasts more sensual than she had ever believed they could be. Her eyes widened with surprise.

Then Daisy’s voice broke her thoughts. “I had Bonnie take the silk in, for your mother was a trifle thicker in the waist than you are when she finally married your father. The cream satin, however, should fit you perfectly, but we’ll try it on tomorrow and have Bonnie make any alterations necessary. Now sit and let Pansy do your hair.”

Carefully adjusting her dress, Velvet sat down. Behind her Pansy took up the boar’s-bristle brush, and parting her mistress’s hair in the center she drew it back carefully over Velvet’s ears. Then, working swiftly with the brush and a mouthful of gold hairpins, she fashioned the thick, rich auburn hair with its coppery-gold lights into an elegant chignon. Looking critically for any wisps of hair that might have escaped her vigilance, she nodded, satisfied to find none and affixed the cloth-of-gold and silk roses upon the top of the chignon.

In the mirror Velvet could see Daisy bobbing her head in approval. “Lovely!” she pronounced. “I never saw your mother in this dress, for I wasn’t in France when she and your father were wed, but she couldn’t have looked any more beautiful than you do, Mistress Velvet. The apple-green suits you with your gorgeous hair.”

There was a knock on the door, and when Pansy answered it the de Mariscos’ chaplain, Father Jean-Paul, entered the room. With a smile he said, “Good evening,
ma petite cousine.”

With an answering smile, Velvet arose and went to him with her hands outstretched. “Père Jean-Paul! How happy I am to see you!”

Jean-Paul St. Justine was the second son of Adam’s younger sister, Clarice, and her husband, Henri, Comte de St. Justine. From childhood he had known that he wanted to be a priest, and he had entered the seminary on his thirteenth birthday. He had done brilliantly in his studies, and upon his ordination he had, to his family’s pride, been appointed to the staff of a prestigious bishop. Eight years ago, however, he had taken the part of a young peasant girl cruelly raped by her master’s sons. She had sought sanctuary in the village church, but the nobleman’s sons had broken into the church and dragged the hysterical girl from her refuge at the feet of the shocked old priest. It had been at that moment that Père Jean-Paul had ridden by, and using the weight of his office he had managed to rescue the girl.

The noble father of the miscreants had complained to the bishop, to the cardinal, and finally to the king himself. Père Jean-Paul St. Justine had been relieved of his post and sent to England to act as family chaplain to his uncle Adam. He had arrived at
Queen’s Malvern
the year Velvet had been six. Among all people in the rural region in which
Queen’s Malvern
was located, he was most beloved, for he had a strong sense of justice and used his own personal wealth to ease the sufferings of many, be they Catholic or Protestant. He was that
rarest of men, a true Christian, and he possessed a wonderful sense of humor.

Father Jean-Paul took the two lovely hands presented to him and kissed them warmly. “You are absolutely radiant,
ma petite,”
he said. “I am pleased that you have come home to be married. I have already heard your betrothed’s confession, Velvet, and I am quite shocked.” The priest’s blue eyes danced with mischief. “I expect your confession shall shock me equally.”

Used to his teasing, she countered quickly, “But,
mon cousin
, what can I possibly have to confess, for was it not I who was wronged by this wild Scot my parents chose to husband me?”

“And you have not enjoyed one moment of your carnal encounters?” he said innocently.

“As a good daughter of the church,
mon père
, how could I?” she returned demurely. “Such things are but for the procreation of the faith only, I have been taught.”

“Strange,” he mused. “ ’Twas not what Lord Gordon believed. He was most contrite for having compromised your virtue without benefit of clergy, yet he soothed his conscience with the thought that he gave you pleasure.”

“Then he was mistaken, and most ungentlemanly to boot!” replied Velvet, but her lips were twitching with amusement.

The priest tucked Velvet’s hand through his arm. “I have never seen you look so beautiful,
ma petite.
I would not make you sad, but I truly regret that your parents cannot be here. Sometimes it is difficult to understand God’s will, eh?” He patted her hand. “Come,
ma petite
, and we will go to the chapel where I will listen to your confession. I have taught you that marriage is a sacrament, and you must purge yourself of your sins before a holy sacrament.”