“The king comes incognito, madame. He brings with him but a body servant and one companion,
the Earl of Glenkirk!
” This last was said triumphantly.
“What does he want of us?” Skye asked suspiciously. “Why does he travel like a beggar instead of the king he is?”
“He wanted to come fishing,” Alex said with a laugh. “So I invited him. He is nae like your old Queen Bess wi all her love of pomp and show. Jamie is on his summer progress, visiting a great house nearby. There are half a dozen masques planned for him and several banquets. The king is nae exceedingly fond of such things. The queen and Prince Henry will preside in his place. His hosts will be told he is abed with a summer flux of some sort or another. This will allow Jamie the opportunity to escape for a day or two of fishing. I have warned him Queen’s Malvern cannot offer him the salmon that our icy, swift-flowing Scots rivers can, but he will be satisfied to fish for perch, rudd, and pike.
“He will also enjoy the peace of simple family life and plain meals. He doesna like food that is oversauced. The life you lead here at Queen’s Malvern is more to his taste. He will be no trouble at all, belle-mère,
and
it will give me an opportunity to display our wee Sybilla to her best advantage before Glenkirk! ’Tis an excellent plan for him to get to know her again before she goes to court to serve the queen.” He grinned, looking very pleased with himself.
“Perhaps,” Velvet said, “it is a good idea that Jemmie Leslie
renew his acquaintance with Sybilla under less formal circumstances.”
“Humph!” her mother snorted. “She’ll have no choice unless you intend to send her over to Blackthorne Hall or Pearroc Royale. Well, if she’s to impress this Glenkirk, she had best sweeten her sour temper where Jasmine is concerned, Alex. They have fought again this day, and over nothing, as usual,” Skye told her son-in-law.
“Perhaps, then, madame,” he replied, “it would be better if you sent
your
granddaughter to Blackthorne Hall or Pearroc Royale. I will nae hae her spoiling my Sibby’s chances wi Jemmie Leslie.”
“Only Sybilla can do that,” Skye told him sharply. Why was Alex so blind to Sybilla’s faults? she wondered. “ ’Tis she who starts these altercations, and well you know it. This is Jasmine’s home. I do not intend to send her away from it to please any of you. Let Sybilla mind her manners for a change. ’Tis time she was forced to practice a little self-control. If she really wants to be the Countess of Glenkirk, she will have to. If battling with Jasmine means more to her, then so be it! Now, since you’ve invited the king, Alex Gordon, I’ll take my leave of you. The entire house will need to be turned out to receive such a guest. When are we to expect him?”
“The day after tomorrow, madame,” the Earl of BrocCairn replied.
“You have certainly given me a great deal of time to make my preparations, haven’t you?” Skye answered him sarcastically, and turning, hurried back across the lawns into her house.
“I thought she would soften wi age,” Alex Gordon said, bemused.
Velvet burst out laughing. “
Whatever
made you think that?”
After informing Adam of the impending royal visit, Skye gathered her servants together in the Family Hall and told them they would be receiving a very important guest in another day. “
He
comes to us in private,” she said meaningfully, and only the densest of her retainers did not understand what she was telling them. Skye smiled, amused by the gasps of surprise. “
He
comes to fish for a day. None of you may leave the house until
he
departs. I want the entire house turned out and ready to receive him. Mrs. Bramwell,” Skye addressed her housekeeper. “The four housemaids will do nicely. You need bring
no others in from the village. Our guest comes with only one body servant and is accompanied by the Earl of Glenkirk and his servant. His visit is not official. I am happy to say we will not be burdened with half the court.
He
is to be accorded every respect, but prefers an informal way of life such as ours.”
“Yes, m’lady,” the housekeeper replied, relieved, but at the same time disapproving. What kind of a king was it who traveled without a great retinue and liked a simple country life? The old queen would have had none of such behavior if she had ever visited Queen’s Malvern. Mrs. Bramwell was still entertained by the tales told by Lady de Marisco’s tiring woman Daisy and her daughter Pansy, both of whom had been to court in the days of the great Elizabeth Tudor. Now there was a real monarch!
“Mrs. Garman.”
The cook stepped forward. “Yes, m’lady?”
“Our guest likes good country food. Nothing is to be oversauced. I know that you should like to show off your great culinary skills, but please keep your menus simple and hearty.”
The cook curtsied. “If that’s what
he
wants, that’s what
he’ll
get, m’lady, but more’s the pity, for I’ve several new recipes from France I’ve been wanting to try.” Mrs. Garman looked very aggrieved.
“You may try them on us,” Skye answered her, “once our guest has left. Our palates are not quite so finicky as the royal one is.”
The house was in a frenzied state as the servants cleaned, swept, dusted, and polished everything they might lay their hands to. Even Violet, Velvet’s old nurse, was called upon to arrange the flowers, for she had a great talent for such work, and because Velvet’s sons, but for little Ned, were quite able to fend for themselves.
On the appointed day, the king’s body servant rode ahead of his royal master to warn the de Mariscos of his lord’s impending arrival.
“Shall I have the servants line up in the drive to meet his majesty, m’lady?” Bramwell, the majordomo, asked.
“Nay,” Skye answered him. “The king would be incognito, and so we shall let him be.”
Bramwell bowed himself from his mistress’s presence.
“Well,” said Daisy, “he sounds to me like a queer fellow, this Scots King of England. Old Queen Bess would have really had us jumping, and she did when she came to Lynmouth
House, didn’t she, m’lady?” Daisy tucked an errant lock of her lady’s hair into place. “There, that’s done!” She stood back and admired her handiwork.
Skye smiled into the mirror at her faithful tiring woman. “Aye, Bess always had us on our mettle, Daisy, but ’tis a new century, and with it, a new king. We’re past our time, you and I.”
“Yet yer going off to court come winter, aren’t you?” Daisy said. “Well, you’ll not go without me, m’lady!”
Skye arose and smoothed down the dark blue silk of her gown. “I go for Jasmine. She is the Mughal’s daughter and must have every chance at happiness here in England.”
“Seems to me,” Daisy noted sagely, “that Mistress Jasmine is very happy right where she is. According to Toramalli and Rohana, yer granddaughter lived a country life in India. And that Marquess of Westleigh seems an eager enough suitor for all Mistress Jasmine pretends not to notice. She can see he’s hot for her, and one day soon, I expect, she’ll return his ardor. She’s been widowed long enough. The women in this family don’t like to be too long without a man.”
“Daisy!” Skye laughed. “You are a shameless old biddy.”
“I only tell the truth as I sees it,” Daisy said with a chuckle.
There was a knock on the bedchamber door and Molly, an apple-cheeked maidservant, popped her head in. “The king is coming up the drive, m’lady. M’lord says ye’d best hurry.”
“Indeed I had,” Skye said, and hurried from the room, Daisy in her wake.
In the main hallway of the house, Skye found her daughter Velvet and son-in-law, their five sons, Sybilla, Jasmine, and Adam, all awaiting James Stuart. The gentlemen were garbed formally in black silk suits with starched white linen ruffs. Six-year-old Neddie looked as if he was strangling, his small fingers wedged between his neck and his collar. Velvet wore a silk gown the color of violets. Jasmine was in crimson.
It was obvious, however, that a great deal of care had been taken with Sybilla. Her gown of pale blue silk with its delicate lace embroidery made her look extraordinarily virginal. There was not a curl out of place, and she seemed to be enveloped in a cloud of lavender. Skye caught Adam’s gaze, looked toward Sybilla and rolled her eyes. Lord de Marisco’s cough sounded very much like laughter to those about him, but he maintained a dignified demeanor.
They watched through the open door of the house as their
guests rode up. Seabert, the head groom, was waiting with Will and John, the two stablemen. Bowing politely to the king, the three men hurried the horses off as soon as the riders had dismounted. Skye and Adam then stepped through the door of the house to greet James Stewart. The king and his companions were garbed simply. Only their son-in-law’s description of his kingly cousin allowed them to know him. Lady de Marisco curtsied low, even as her husband bowed gallantly.
As Skye arose, pleased that her left knee, which had gained a stiffness lately, had not failed her, she said, “Welcome to Queen’s Malvern, Your Majesty. We are honored by your presence.”
“Welcome, sire!” Adam echoed his wife’s greeting.
The Earl of BrocCairn quickly stepped forward and bowed. “May I present my in-laws, sire? Your host and hostess, Lord and Lady de Marisco, the Earl and Countess of Lundy.”
James Stuart smiled. The king had not inherited either his parents’ great height or their unusual good looks. He was well-built, and of medium height. Although his legs were slightly bent from a childhood illness, he was not deformed, though when he walked, his steps were slightly uneven. His hair, the Stuart family red in his youth, was now turning reddish-brown in his fortieth year. He had a long face with a long nose and a small mouth, but his most compelling feature was his heavy-lidded amber eyes, which, whatever James’s mood, seemed filled with an unfathomable sadness.
“I thank ye, Lord and Lady de Marisco, that ye would hae me, and on such short notice,” the king said. “I am weary of all the folderol of the court, and a wee bit of fishing will soothe my soul. I’m told ye hae some wickedly large pike on yon river.”
“Aye, sire,” Adam returned. “You will not be disappointed, I am certain. May we offer you a bit of fresh baked bread, some of our ham and October ale? A man should not sport on an empty belly.”
“Aye,” the king agreed, and it was obvious he was pleased with the old Earl of Lundy’s friendly, but respectful courtesy. Although he preferred a simpler lifestyle than he was ordinarily permitted, he never forgot his high position and insisted upon being treated with the courtesy and respect he believed a king deserved. James was glad he had come.
They reentered the house, and the Earl of BrocCairn presented his sons and daughter. The boys were in open awe of
the monarch, while Sybilla blushed and simpered prettily, to James’s pleasure.
“And who is this lovely lassie, Alex?” the king asked, coming abreast of Jasmine.
“My stepdaughter, Mistress Jasmine de Marisco, my liege,” Alex said in even tones.
“My daughter from a previous marriage, sire,” Velvet put in.
“You will undoubtedly be interested to know that my granddaughter is the youngest daughter of the late emperor of India, Akbar,” Skye said briskly. “She has only just arrived in England this past winter. Her father, as you know, died almost a year ago. She has been widowed almost two years. In India she was known as Yasaman Kama Begum. She chose to Anglicize her name, which means Jasmine, and take our surname for her own. It is less confusing. Perhaps at dinner we may entertain you with her miraculous tale.”
“Ahh, aye,” the king said, a trifle confused, but willing to accept this rather formidable lady’s word. Still, his mind stretched back over the years. He seemed to remember that the beautiful Countess of BrocCairn came a maiden to her husband. Was his memory failing him? The king thought not. He would indeed be interested in Lady de Marisco’s story.
“Run along, children,” Adam said. Then he turned to the king. “Will Your Majesty introduce us to your traveling companion?” he inquired politely.
“Och,” the king replied. “I hae almost forgot ye were wi me, Jemmie. This is the Earl of Glenkirk. He’s a quiet fellow, aren’t ye, Jemmie? I like to hae him wi me because he doesna talk me to death as so many others do.”
The Earl of Glenkirk nodded with a brief, amused smile. Then he bowed to Adam and kissed Skye’s hand. “Thank ye for having me,” he said.
Velvet pushed forward and kissed James Leslie’s cheek. “It has been a long time, Jemmie,” she said quietly. “We miss you at home.”
“There is naught for me at Glenkirk now, Velvet. I live my life best serving my king,” was the quiet reply.
Velvet drew Sybilla forth. The girl’s blue eyes were wide with admiration and adoration. “I will wager you do not remember our daughter Sybilla, Jemmie. She has become quite a fine young lady and will go to court this winter to serve the queen. Your friendship would mean much to her, I know. Court is a frightening place when you are new to it, and
young, and inexperienced,” Velvet said, her voice brimming with maternal concern. “I remember my own days there.”
James Leslie’s eyes flickered dispassionately over Sybilla. He gave her a small, wintery smile, even as he kissed her hand. “You, of course, have my friendship, Lady Sybilla,” he told the blushing girl politely. Then he turned away from her before Sybilla even had a chance to speak, looking directly at Jasmine. “Will you introduce me to your other daughter, Velvet?”
“This is Jasmine de Marisco, Jemmie,” Velvet said nervously. It was not going at all as they had imagined it would.
Glenkirk kissed the elegant little hand offered to him. His green-gold eyes stared directly into Jasmine’s turquoise eyes. “Madame,” was all he said, but his look said far more. Even Sybilla noticed it.
“
How could you
?” she demanded of Jasmine shortly afterward, when the gentlemen had gone off to the river to fish. She was near to tears, and she stamped her little foot, as she often did when she was angry.
“What can I possibly have done to displease you now?” Jasmine said irritably. “Please, Sybilla, let us not quarrel while the king is here. We promised Grandmother we would not.”