Wild Jasmine (47 page)

“I meant it when I said Sybilla is to return to Dun Broc on the morrow,” Skye told her son-in-law.

“I’ll nae argue wi you over that,” Alex Gordon said. “She behaved shamefully and is obviously nae fit for civilized company. Let her cool her heels at Dun Broc until late autumn. Then she must return to England to go to court. She hae been promised a place amongst Queen Anne’s maids, and we canna renege now.”

“She will be heartbroken to be sent home,” Velvet ventured, her soft heart going out to the daughter she had raised.

“She hae brought it all upon herself,” Alex said harshly.
“Perhaps Jamie is right. Perhaps I should gie her a good beating as well. She surely deserves it.”

“
Mama!
” the Countess of BrocCairn cried softly to her mother.

“No, Velvet, she cannot stay,” Skye said in answer to the unspoken question, “though I realize what Sybilla did was out of her fear that her stepsister was proving more attractive to Lord Leslie than she. Had I not been so angry, I should have laughed at the Earl of Glenkirk’s recital of Sybilla’s tale. He was obviously quoting her very words. ‘Carnal bondage’? ‘Tawdry incident’?” Skye laughed.

“The lass must learn to live wi the consequences of her actions,” the Earl of BrocCairn said angrily. “Ye hae spoiled her, Velvet.”

“
I have spoiled her?
” Velvet looked positively outraged. “I was not the only one who spoiled her, Alex Gordon! You have ever doted on the child. ’Tis not I who have filled her head full of Gordon history and how she is related to the king. I am responsible in part for what she has become, but you must accept your responsibility in this matter as well.”

“Cease your bickering,” Skye sharply ordered them both. “Nothing will come of it. You are Sybilla’s parents. It is up to you to make her see the error of her ways. You had best warn her that this sort of behavior will not be tolerated by her majesty Queen Anne. If she does not wish to lose her place at court and disgrace her family, she will behave herself.”

The Gordons of BrocCairn left the Great Hall of Queen’s Malvern and found their way to their apartment. There upon their bed lay Sybilla, sleeping, her pretty face tearstained.

“Oh, Alex!” Velvet whispered, her soft heart touched.

“I’ll nae be moved,” he whispered back, “and I’ll nae allow you to be.” He gave her hand an encouraging squeeze and then said in a hard voice, “Sybilla! Wake up! Yer mother and I would hae words wi ye.”

The girl slowly sat up, her blue eyes wide. “Did you speak to Glenkirk about a match between us?” Sybilla asked. “What did he say? Will he have me to wife? Ohhh, Papa! Is he not the most handsome man in the whole world?”

Alex Gordon felt a shiver go down his spine. How was it possible, he wondered, that Sybilla was suddenly so like Alanna Wythe, the woman who had birthed her? Sibby certainly was exhibiting the same selfishness that Alanna had always shown. The Earl of BrocCairn shook his head wearily
and said to his daughter, “I most certainly didna speak wi Glenkirk, Sibby. Can ye nae understand? Ye hae behaved quite badly and brought shame upon both yer mother’s family and my own. No man would want a wife who did that. Perhaps if ye shine in Queen Anne’s service when yer at court, however, ye will make a favorable impression upon him. Then I may finally suggest a match between ye.”

“ ’Tis not fair,” Sybilla Gordon whined. “ ’Tis not fair that I suffer because of that Jasmine. This is all her fault!”

“Nay, lass, ’tis yer fault,” her father said harshly. “Ye cannot blame Jasmine for this. Now ye hae best find yer own bed and get some sleep. Ye leave at dawn for Dun Broc.”

“
Mama!
” Sybilla clutched Velvet. “Please don’t send me away! Oh, please do not!”

“You must accept your just punishment with better grace than this, Sybilla,” Velvet said, smoothing the girl’s hair.

“The matter is settled, lass,” Alex told his daughter. “Now gie us a kiss and go to bed.”

“I will not!” Sybilla said, and stamping her foot, she turned and ran from the room.

“Oh, Alex! What are we to do with her?” Velvet groaned.

“Stand firm, sweetheart,” he told her. “Sybilla is out of hand, and I am ashamed I dinna see it before now—before she hurt Skye and Adam.”

“And Jasmine too,” Velvet said.

“
Jasmine
,” the Earl of BrocCairn said slowly. “Now there’s another problem to solve.”

“Perhaps with Sybilla returned home to Dun Broc,” Velvet suggested, “you will be able to get to know her better.”

“Aye,” the earl said absently. “Perhaps.” And he gave his wife a kiss.

Chapter 12

T
he court was back at Whitehall for the winter season, and a group of young English nobles clustered about, observing everyone at the evening’s entertainment with a sharp eye.

“The queen has two new maids of honor, I’m told,” remarked a young man with dark, saturnine good looks.

“One is a horse-faced heiress from Lincoln,” replied another of the group, a large fellow with sandy hair. “Best leave her to our Scots compatriots. They’ll marry
anything
English with a plump purse.”

His friends chortled at this witticism.

“You seem to be the best informed of all of us, Henley,” the dark gentleman, Lord North, said. “Tell us, who is the other new maid of honor?”

“The daughter of a Scots earl,” came the reply.

“God’s nightshirt!” exploded Lord North. “Is it not bad enough we are overrun by young, impoverished second sons out of Scotland seeking to marry our ladies? Eager, uncouth fellows pushing us from our own court! Now they are sending us their bold, freckle-faced women.”

“Do not despair,” Baron Henley told him. “This girl has an English mother, and frankly, my dear North, she is divine. Petite, skin like cream. Golden curls, and eyes so blue a man could drown in them. She is absolutely adorable. The Earl of Kempe is already making a fool of himself over her. She is the Earl of BrocCairn’s only daughter, and the man absolutely dotes upon her. She’ll have a fat dowry, you can be certain of it. Not only that,” Baron Henley lowered his voice. “I am told she is the granddaughter of the Countess of Lundy.”

“
Who is the Countess of Lundy?
” Lord North inquired, puzzled.

“God’s foot, North! You really know nothing. The Countess of Lundy is the magnificent Skye O’Malley herself. She was old Bess’s great rival, and was banned from court after her marriage to Lord de Marisco, the Earl of Lundy. They say she was the most beautiful woman in all the kingdom. Few, except
her family, have seen her in years, if indeed she is even still alive. She is rich beyond all knowing, I am told. Why, you’ve met several of her children here at court. The Earl of Southwood is her son, and so is Lord Burke of Clearfields. The Countess of Alcester is her daughter. They say the mere mention of her name could infuriate old Bess.”

“Why?”

Baron Henley looked confused. “
Why?
” he repeated. “I have absolutely no idea, North. It just could, I am told.”

Lord North laughed. “Point out the little Scots girl to me, Henley,” he said.

“There,” his friend said, his finger delicately thrusting forth, “next to the queen herself upon a stool. The pretty girl in sky-blue velvet.”

Lord North peered. “Very nice,” he finally said. “Indeed, she is quite acceptable, Henley. Perhaps we should go over and encourage Anglo-Saxon relations. ’Twould surely please Old King Fool. While he is so generously handing out tokens of his friendship to all and sundry, why should we not be included amongst the fortunate?”

Just then the majordomo stationed at the entry of the hall banged his staff of office upon the floor and announced, “The Earl and Countess of Lundy. Mistress Jasmine de Marisco.”

The large Baron Henley almost tangled himself in his storklike legs turning about to gape with surprise. “God’s foot!” he said. “It cannot be, and yet … and yet it must be! Lord, how old Bess must hate it that her greatest rival has outlived her! And who is that spectacular creature with them! I have never seen such a beautiful woman in all my life. Look at the sapphires about her neck, North! They are surely worth a king’s ransom! Ahhh, perhaps the winter will not be dull after all.”

“How you spend your winter, my lord, is, of course, up to you,” a voice murmured softly in his ear, “provided that you do not attempt to accost Mistress de Marisco.
She is mine.
”

Startled, Baron Henley turned about to find himself face to face with the Marquess of Westleigh and his cousin, the Earl of Kempe.

“I believe,” Tom Ashburne said, “that my cousin is warning you off, Henley. He staked his claim to Mistress de Marisco some six months ago when they first met. You would not, of course, want to hinder his courtship of the lady. And North, my dear fellow, the dainty Sybilla Gordon—for that is her
name—is mine. You will do well to remember it lest I be forced to remind you.”

“A cat may look at a king or a queen as the case may be,” Baron Henley said with a weak smile.

“There are easier pickings to be had here,” Lord North remarked, shrugging. “Usually an orphan or a girl without powerful connections is best, I have found. No need to distress yourselves, my lords.” And arm in arm with Baron Henley, Lord North lost himself in the crowd of courtiers within the hall.

“As fine a pair of blackguards as I’ve ever seen,” Rowan Lindley said, annoyed.

“But cowardly and easily dismissed,” Tom Ashburne replied. His eyes turned to where the queen sat, Sybilla at her side. “Is not my darling the most precious creature you have ever seen, Cousin?”

The marquess laughed. “Tom, you are impossible. In all the time you’ve known that unbearable little chit, she has scarcely given you the time of day. She is determined to be the Countess of Glenkirk, but Glenkirk’s eyes, I fear, stray in another direction. But now that Mistress Jasmine de Marisco has come to court, Cousin, I will redouble my efforts to make her my wife. I am not a man to give my heart easily, as you know.”

The two gentlemen made their way through the crowds to the dais where the royal couple sat. They were just near enough to hear the conversation that ensued.

The de Mariscos made their obeisance to the king and the queen.

James Stuart smiled broadly. “ ’Tis verra good to see ye, my lord and my lady. I am pleased that ye took my invitation to heart.” He turned to the queen. “Annie, ’tis BrocCairn’s in-laws and his stepdaughter, the Indian princess I hae told ye about.”

The queen was staring hard at Jasmine’s necklace. “I’ve never seen such beautiful sapphires in all my life,” she said by way of greeting.

“They were a gift from my late husband, madame,” Jasmine replied. “The stones in the necklace are called the ‘Stars of Kashmir.’ ” Then she proffered a small ivory box to the queen. “I am told that Your Majesty is fond of pearls. Will you accept this small token of my pleasure at being here in England?”

Sybilla Gordon, being nearest the queen, took the delicately carved box from her stepsister and handed it to her royal mistress.

The queen, with a childlike delight, opened the box and gasped, her large jaw falling slack with her surprise. There, nestled upon a pillow of black velvet, was a baroque pearl the size of a Seville orange. “Gracious!” she finally managed to say. Then she looked directly at Jasmine. “Mistress de Marisco, yours is truly a most magnificent gift. I’ve never received its like before.”

“If I have pleased Your Majesty, then I am content,” Jasmine answered with a smile and, knowing she was dismissed, she curtsied, backing away along with her grandparents.

“Nicely done, lass,” the Earl of BrocCairn told her with a smile of approval as he joined his in-laws. In the months that Sybilla had been exiled to Dun Broc, he had come to know his stepdaughter Jasmine better. Although it was still hard for him to reconcile himself to the fact that his beloved wife had borne another man’s child,
her first child
, he found he could not hold that fact against Jasmine. It was impossible not to like the girl. He fully approved the strong streak of good common sense she possessed and that he only wished his daughter would emulate. Although Sybilla no longer struck out at her stepsister, she was still not one bit won over by Jasmine; particularly as she was barred from staying at Greenwood when she was in London with the court. Greenwood would belong to Jasmine one day, as would Queen’s Malvern. Had it not been for the kindness of Velvet’s elder brother Robin, the Earl of Southwood, who allowed Sybilla to stay at Lynwood House when she was off duty with the queen, the girl would have had no place to live.

“Hae ye come to enjoy Robin’s Twelfth Night fete?” Alex Gordon asked his in-laws.

“Aye,” Skye told him. “With all these Scots newcomers, it is important that old English families like Robins’ remain noticed. The queen loves masques and fetes. The more elaborate the better, I am told. When the king inherited the throne, Robin began at once again to celebrate Twelfth Night as lavishly as his father did in Elizabeth Tudor’s time. The queen just loves it. She spends half a year, Robin says, preparing for it.” Skye smiled wistfully. “Bess always loved Twelfth Night too,” she said, allowing her memories to engulf her for a moment. Then she asked, “Will you go, Alex?”