Wild Jasmine (77 page)

“That was Scotland, Jasmine,” Velvet said. “This is England.”

“King Henry the Eighth had a well-loved bastard son, Mama, upon whom he heaped honors and love. ’Twill be the same for my child, I know. I realize the idea is difficult for you to digest, and poor Aunt Willow will rant and rave over the news when I choose to tell her; but Grandmama would understand.”

The two women sat in silence before the fire for a time, and then Velvet said, “When will you withdraw from court, Jasmine? You will certainly have no great desire to parade a big
belly before the court, I know. Discretion has always been your finest quality.”

“Why, thank you, Mama,” Jasmine said with a small smile. “I shall wait until May, I think. The roads will be good then, and I shall go to Queen’s Malvern, not Cadby. I always feel safest with Grandmama.”

“What will the prince say? I wonder.”

“He will be pleased with the idea he is to be a father, but unhappy that I would leave him. It must be, however. I will not remain at court while I grow as fat as a shoat and wagers are made as to when I shall deliver my child, or whether it will be a boy or a girl,” Jasmine said to her mother. “I shall stay with Grandmama until after the baby is born. Perhaps I shall rejoin the court next winter, and perhaps not. The king and the queen argue over a choice of a bride for Hal, but they will make their decision quickly once they learn I am with child by their heir. It is past time Henry Stuart had a wife. You must say nothing of this, Mama. Not even to Lord Gordon.
Promise me!
”

Velvet nodded. “I promise,” she told her daughter wearily.

The Earl of Lynmouth’s guests began arriving with the early evening. A long parade of carriages lined the drive leading from the high road, through the park, and to the earl’s front door. Ladies and gentlemen, masked and in utterly magnificent costumes of every possible color and hue, stepped from the vehicles and tripped lightly into Lynmouth House. There were all sorts of amusements for them. They danced. They drank. They gossiped, played cards, and watched cockfights in a special cockpit that had been set up in one of the beautiful salons. There was much wagering back and forth amongst both the men and the women.

A buffet was served. There were barrels of oysters just up from the coast that same day. The oysters were devoured mostly by the men, who were unable to refrain from lewd remarks on how the shellfish would increase their sexual prowess that night. Next to the oyster barrels was an entire table devoted to fish. There was Scotch salmon in calf’s-foot jelly, trout baked whole in pastry, smoked sturgeon, smoked eels, creamed cod with dill, salted herring, and prawns that had been steamed delicately in fine white wine and set a-swimming upon their platters with wedges of carved lemons.

A second table was devoted to game birds and poultry. It
had a centerpiece fashioned from a magnificent peacock with its colorful tail spread full. Upon the table was roast goose, and ducks stuffed with saffroned rice and herbs in plum sauce. There were capons filled with dried fruit in a lemon-ginger sauce, large roast turkeys, platters of partridge, quail, and ortolons, and large pies of lark and sparrow, oozing rich brown gravy.

A third table was groaning with six sides of beef that had been packed in rock salt and roasted over the great, open kitchen fires. A servant in livery stood by to carve for the guests. There were legs of lamb, two roast pigs, country hams, and several dozen large rabbit pies, not to mention a new dish from France consisting of chunks of beef, red wine, and carrots and onions, which seemed to please everyone who tasted it, and there were many who did.

Another table held braised lettuce in white wine, bowls of peas, beets, carrots, turnips, and marrows. There were loaves of bread, plenty of sweet country butter, and great wheels of cheese for the guests to sample, which came not just from England, but France as well.

A final table held sweets of all kinds: cakes, jellies, sugar wafers, custards, tarts of dried fruits, candied angelica, violets, and rose leaves. There were bowls of pears and apples as well as oranges from Spain for the guests. Ale and wine flowed without ceasing.

The queen would not allow any of the players to either eat or drink before the masque. Several years prior, before she had sternly instituted this rule, Ben Jonson had written a masque to be performed during her eldest brother’s visit from Denmark. Unfortunately, the fete during which this masque was to take place had gotten quite out of hand. Most of the ladies that evening were swept up in the spirit of the moment and became intoxicated.

The masque, which dealt with the seven virtues, turned into a riotous scandal as Faith vomited upon the King of Denmark’s boots. Hope, too drunk to utter a syllable, stammered unintelligibly, and Charity was found behind a curtain futtering Lord Oliver, which one wag declared at least gave evidence that she understood the meaning of the virtue she was portraying, for Lord Oliver was neither handsome, rich, nor particularly likable.

Inigo Jones had designed wonderful scenery for the masque this particular Twelfth Night. The story was set in the faery
kingdom. Its inhabitants lived the vital part of their lives during the warmer months of the year. They did not like the few winter months when the Frost King and his minions, the brownies and elves, were dominant. The faeries slept that time away in secure little nooks and crannies.

The court settled itself, and as the music began, the curtains of dark blue velvet were drawn back by two young pages garbed in pale blue velvet and lace ruffs, their soft velvet caps dripping white plumes, the toes of their shoes upturned in medieval fashion. The little lads drew the curtains open but halfway, revealing the oak tree bedchamber of the faery king and queen. Oberon lay sleeping alone, the coverlet next to him thrown aside.

Suddenly Oberon awoke, rubbed his eyes, stretched, and then saw that Titania was gone. He leapt up. The audience applauded as Henry Stuart stood before them, and the ladies of the court nudged each other over the prince’s costume. His gilded leather boots were studded with gems and had wings upon the heels. Far more of interest to the ladies was the fact that the prince’s legs were quite bare above his boots all the way to mid-thigh. He wore short, close-fitting pants striped in silver and gold, and trimmed with gold lace. The upper part of his costume was fashioned to resemble a sleeved breastplate such as might have been worn in Roman times. A royal-purple silk capelet was artfully draped from front to back.

Angrily the faery king aroused his court. He ordered them to find the queen. The faeries dashed to and fro, diligently seeking the missing Titania. Finally the three adorable wood sprites—played by Prince Charles, Edward Gordon, and Lady Laura Southwood, garbed in forest-green tights, green and brown blouses with ragged edges, and with small wings of a pearly hue edged in gold attached to their backs—hurried to tell the king that they had overheard some young brownies gossiping in the forest. The wood sprites danced quite charmingly as they told their tale, their tiny wings appearing to flutter realistically.

The Frost King had stolen Titania! He intended by means of enchantment to make her his own queen, for he had long envied Oberon the beauteous faery woman. Titania had been put beneath a spell which had caused her to forget Oberon. The wedding was set for dawn of the following morning.

Oberon was devastated. Then, as he placed a plumed gold helmet encircled with a gilded victory wreath of laurel upon
his head, he had an idea. If he could convince Springtime to come early, the Frost King and his court would be banished until next winter. Under the influence of the birds and the flowers, Titania was certain to regain her memory.

As the masque progressed, Inigo Jones’s genius was evident to all who watched. The scenery, beautifully painted and affixed to tiny wheels, was moved effortlessly by liveried servants with each change of scene. The costumes tonight were thought to be the absolute best that the designer had ever created.

Aurora, the glorious goddess of the Dawn, arrived, bringing with her the new day. Party to Oberon’s plot, she moved slowly, drawing her colors lazily across the sky. The Frost King, played by Viscount Rochester in silver and white, prepared to take his bride. The court waited avidly for Jasmine’s entrance. The gossip surrounding her costume was scandalous. A large snowflake, which had been made from wood and painted silver, was lowered from the ceiling. Seated upon it was Lady Lindley in her role as Titania.

At first the audience was disappointed, for it seemed that her costume was nothing out of the ordinary. The Frost King moved forward to help her from her precarious perch, and when she stepped forward into the lights, a collective gasp arose from the spectators. Never had anyone seen a costume of such gossamer quality. It could have very well been fashioned from moonbeams and spiderwebs, for it was both alive and pearlescent at the same time. The hem of the garment was deliberately ragged, and consequently allowed for glimpses of long, slender legs. A silver ribbon had been tied beneath her bosom, thereby underlining her full breasts, and her nipples had obviously been painted carmine-red. Jasmine’s long, dark hair was loose, and dusted with both gold and silver dust. Atop her head was a delicate crown of crystals and pearls, set in a gold frame. When she danced with the Frost King, her buttocks and belly glowed pale and tantalizing beneath the sheer silk.

“I shall swoon,” Willow, the Countess of Alcester declared dramatically, a hand going to her heart.

“Do not bother, my dear,” her husband James told her. “ ’Twill not divert attention from our niece, I assure you.”

Willow glared at him. “ ’Tis outrageous and shocking, James!”

“Aye, my dear,” he agreed, his mild blue eyes upon the stage.

“God’s nightshirt,” murmured Tom Ashburne softly. “What a pity my cousin Rowan died. To leave such a woman is more than just a tragedy.”

“Do you think her more beautiful than me?” Sybilla demanded, a tiny worm of jealousy gnawing at her heart. What was it about Jasmine, she thought irritably, that made her so fascinating to all men?

The Earl of Kempe heard the annoyance in his young wife’s voice, and turning to her, he looked deep into her eyes. “No one, my Sybilla, is more beautiful to me than you are,” he said sincerely.

“Oh, Tom, you are such a rogue,” she replied, pleased, soft color flooding her cheeks.

“Jasmine’s costume is certainly daring,” Angel Southwood whispered to her husband. “I am surprised that the prince allowed it.”

“He would show his prize to all the court,” Robin Southwood said quietly. “They’ll marry him off soon enough. ’Tis time, I think.”

“Have you no feeling for my daughter, Robin, and her position?” Velvet hissed angrily. “What of Jasmine!?”

“Jasmine, like our mother, dear Velvet, will survive quite magnificently, I assure you,” the Earl of Lynmouth told his sister, patting her hand comfortingly.

Onstage, the Frost King’s hall was suddenly overrun with warm southern zephyrs. They danced gaily about. Birds were heard chirping spring songs. Mistress Springtime and her maidens, attired in flowing silken robes of varied pastel hues, flowers entwined in their long, loose hair, entered the hall of the Frost King dancing and singing. Springtime was being played by the delightful Princess Elizabeth, younger sister of Prince Henry. Betrothed to Prince Frederick V, the young Elector of the Palatine, she was to be married in the coming year.

With Springtime’s arrival, the Frost King was thwarted. The warm zephyrs dancing about Titania, the fragrance of the flowers, all worked to restore the faery queen’s lost memory. The spell was broken. Rejecting the Frost King’s overtures, she flew to the arms of her lover, Oberon. Vowing revenge, the Frost King was banished for another year while Oberon, Titania, their court, and their allies all danced joyfully, celebrating their victory.

The Earl of Glenkirk watched the masque, his green eyes fixed upon Jasmine. It was ridiculous, he knew, but it seemed that she flaunted herself expressly for him.
He wanted her!
Why had he not said that he would marry her that morning several years back when they had been caught abed? Their combined pride had cost him so much. He watched as the masque came to a triumphant end. Jasmine and Henry pirouetted together with joyous abandon, surrounded by all the members of the faery court.

The curtain closed briefly, only to be drawn halfway back once again. The royal bedchamber in the oak tree was revealed. In the pale golden light of the candles on stage, Oberon, king of the faeries, walked across the stage, his beautiful queen, Titania, in his arms. Gently he laid her upon their marital bed, joining her, their lips meeting in a tender kiss even as the candles on stage were extinguished by the three wood sprites, and the two young pages drew the curtains discreetly closed.

For a moment there was complete silence in the ballroom of Lynmouth House, and then the audience commenced a thunderous clapping. The curtains were drawn back to reveal the players who took their bows, and then the curtains were closed a final time. Those members of the court who might have wished to get closer to Jasmine in her revealing costume were disappointed, for she and the prince quickly disappeared from the room.

“Ohh, you have outdone yourself, Master Jonson, Master Jones!” Queen Anne enthused. “What a charming and romantic masque you have given us this Twelfth Night. I do feel that Lady Lindley’s costume was perhaps a bit daring, however.” The queen was garbed this evening as Bel-Ana, Queen of the Ocean, a role she had played in a previous masque two years prior entitled
The Masques of Queenes
. She had always loved the costume with its magnificent crown and floating plumes.

“Thank you, Your Majesty,” Ben Jonson replied. He wisely left the matter of the costuming to his compatriot.

“Lady Lindley’s costume was indeed daring, my gracious queen,” the designer said, “but ’twas necessary for authenticity. Had she not agreed to play the role, I could not have had such a costume. Her figure is quite perfect, and her skin tone marvelous. Did you see how it glowed beneath her silks? She is a charming woman as well, madame. There is no artifice or deceit in her. A most pleasant change.”