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Authors: Bertrice Small

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BOOK: Intrigued
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In a wing to one side sat Queen Henrietta Marie of England; two of her sons, James, Duke of York, and Henry, Duke of Glocester; her little daughter, Princess Henriette Anne; la Grande Mademoiselle, the Duc d’Orleans’s daughter, and many other duchesses and ladies of quality, including the widowed Duchess of Glenkirk and her party. Jasmine was frankly wide-eyed and realized what a true country mouse she really was. She had never before seen anything so magnificent.
Before her sat the young king on his
lit de justice,
which was, as Autumn looked more closely, a pile of pillows. Around him in a strictly prescribed order was the Duc de Joyeuse, who was his grand chamberlain, and the Comte d’Harcourt. Monsieur de Saint-Brisson, the provost of Paris, in the company of the guards of the chamber knelt before Louis, hats off. The provost bore a chased silver mace. Chancellor Seguier knelt in his crimson gown and cloak. The master of ceremonies, who was called
le grand maitre
of France, led the rest of the government officials, the
avocats generaux
and Monsieur Fouquet, the procureur general, into the hall to kneel before the king.
When all had entered, the young king arose and said, “Messieurs, I have come to my Parlement to tell you that, following the law of my state. I wish henceforth to take upon myself its government and administration. I trust that with God’s grace, this will be with piety and justice. Monsieur the chancellor will explain my intentions in greater detail.”
1
The chancellor then spoke, and when he had finished Anne of Austria arose and, turning to the young king, said, “We are now in the ninth year since, according to the wishes of the late king my dread lord, I took charge of your education, and the government of your state. God has, by His goodness, blessed my work and kept you safe, you who are so dear and precious to me and to all your subjects. As the law of the kingdom presently calls you to govern this kingdom, I remit to you with great pleasure the power which was given to me for its government. I trust that God will give you grace and help you with the spirit of vigor and prudence and give you a happy reign.”
1
She then knelt before the king, who kissed her.
Then, to everyone’s surprise, the king spoke again, saying to his mother, “Madame, I thank you for the pains you have taken with my education and the administration of my kingdom. I beg you to continue to give me the benefits of your good counsel and desire that, after me, you should be the head of my Council.”
1
Then came everyone in the Parlement hall to pay homage to King Louis XIV, undisputed and now reigning king of France. There were other small speeches by various officials that day, and three royal decisions were presented for registration. One involved blasphemers; a second reestablished the directive against dueling; the last proclaimed the Prince de Conde innocent of treason, although many knew he was guilty. On this day, however, the king was of a mind to be generous and offered an olive branch to Conde in the hope that he could be brought peacefully back into the royal fold.
The king now officially established, the celebrations began. Jasmine and her party had been invited to the Palais Royale as, it seemed, had everyone else in Paris. The king opened the fetê by dancing with his mother. Prince James, the English Duke of York, led Autumn out onto the floor as his own mother was in mourning. Besides, he far preferred dancing with a beautiful girl. Autumn was thrilled, and grateful her
tantes
had taken the time to teach her the minuet, a dance that had become the fashion.
She was at court!
At long last she had taken her place in the kind of society her sisters had once enjoyed, and she was having a wonderful time.
“Why do you smile as if you have a secret, cousin?” James Stuart asked her as they finished the dance and he led her from the floor. “Not that it isn’t a most delicious smile, mind you.”
“We are not cousins,” she replied.
“Your brother is my first cousin by virtue of his paternity. Therefore, I consider you my cousin as well, Lady Autumn,” the prince returned with a grin.
“Are you flirting with me, my lord?”
He was!
“Would you like me to cease, m’lady?” He again grinned engagingly, and Autumn suddenly realized they were in a remote alcove of the hall. His amber eyes were glittering speculatively at her.
“Yes,” Autumn said firmly. “I should like you to stop, Jamie Stuart. I am betrothed to be married shortly. You will remember that the Leslies of Glenkirk are an honorable clan.”
“You are very beautiful,” he replied.
“So I have been told on many an occasion,” Autumn responded.
“Why do you marry this Frenchman?” he asked her as he backed her into a corner of the alcove.
“Because I love him, and there was no one in Scotland, where I have spent most of my life, whom I loved. Have you ever been in love, my lord? It is an emotion that has no rhyme or reason, I fear. My eldest sister fell in love with a man who became another man. My second sister chose the
wrong
man and was forced for love of him to go to the New World, where they have built a wonderful life together. I came to France to escape the misery of what Cromwell has done to our homeland and found Sebastian. Is love not strange?”
He kissed her. James Stuart pulled Autumn into his arms and kissed her with all the passion in his eighteen-year-old soul. He felt her small but full breasts pressing against his jeweled doublet. His lust was engaged and he fondled her bosom.
Autumn pulled away and slapped the young man. “Oh, you Stuarts are all alike,” she scolded him. “You think with your cock and not with your head! Shame on you, Jamie Stuart! Now ask my pardon, and we will remain friends.” Autumn shook her skirts free of the embrace.
“Girls like it when I kiss them,” he protested ingenuously.
Autumn laughed. “You are younger than me, and besides, you know well I am betrothed to the Marquis d’Auriville.”
“Your mother was older than my Uncle Henry,” the prince said.
“By several years, I am told,” Autumn agreed, “but I am not my mother, who when she fell in love with your uncle was a mature woman who had already outlived two husbands and had three children. I, on the other hand, am a virgin of noble family, affianced to a man I love whom I will wed at month’s end. It is very dishonorable of you to make unwanted advances to me, Jamie Stuart. If there is one thing I know about the Stuarts, it is that they are not dishonorable men.”
“We are related by blood, you know,” he said, changing the subject as best he could. “The Leslies of Glenkirk have always intermarried down through the centuries with the Stuarts. Your grandfather, Lord Gordon, descends from James the Fifth of Scotland.”
“Indeed?” Autumn said, not bothering to tell this prince that the Gordon of BrocCairn was her grandmother’s husband but in no way related to her by blood. Then she smiled at him. “I am still awaiting your apology,
cousin.”
“You have it,” he said with a bow, “but I am not sorry I kissed you, Autumn Leslie. You are a most delicious armful.”
They danced another minuet together, but as the dance ended, the Duke of York found himself skillfully replaced in the figure by the young king, who grinned mischievously at him.
“Noblesse oblige, sire,” the prince said with a bow.
Louis nodded briefly but then turned his entire attention to Autumn as he led her from the floor and invited her to sit upon a stool by his throne. “I did not think to see you again, mademoiselle,” he said. “How come you to my festive day?”
“My
maman
is a friend of your aunt, Queen Henrietta Maria. It was she who invited us, your majesty. It has all been very exciting, especially tonight! I have lived in the country all my life and have always hoped to come to court, although I always believed the court I would attend would be an English one.”
“Where is your husband?” the king asked her.
“When the invitation came, we were forced to postpone the wedding, your majesty, but it will be celebrated at the end of this month, after I return home,” Autumn explained, thinking as she did that the king, for all his youth, was a very handsome young man.
“Why did your marquis not accompany you?” Louis demanded, sounding a trifle affronted.
“He was not included in the queen’s invitation, your majesty. Queen Henrietta Maria did not know I was betrothed. Besides, it is the harvest at Chermont. The grapes must be picked at just the right time if they are to be made into good wine. Only Sebastian and his winemaster can choose that exact moment, your majesty. Picked too soon, the grapes could make an inferior vintage. I should not like to send your majesty a
vin ordinaire
when we are capable of a superior vintage.”
The king’s brown eyes twinkled. “Mademoiselle, you are a clever girl and an excellent advocate for your marquis,” Louis said. “I hope one day you will come to Versailles.”
“You are really going to build it?”
“My Uncle Gaston has already hired the finest model makers in all of France to come and live here with me while they do their work. Once I can see my dream, the architects will take over and we will begin,” Louis said enthusiastically. “I am young yet, but by the time I am twenty-one, I shall have my dream well begun!”
“I shall look forward to it, your majesty,” Autumn told him.
“And you and your husband shall come to see my creation,” the king continued. “I want all the beautiful women in my kingdom about me, Lady Autumn.”
She blushed prettily at the compliment. “It is sometimes difficult for me to realize how young you are, monseigneur,” she told him. “You speak like a man grown, and yet you are just thirteen.”
For a moment the kingly masque dropped, and she caught a brief glimpse of the boy. “I must be a man,” he said low. “My struggle for what is mine by right is not yet over. If I show weakness for even a minute, they will be on me.” Then, as quickly, the man reappeared.
“Oh, monseigneur,” she said softly, sorrow tinting her voice. “I will pray for you and your good
maman.”
“Pray for the cardinal as well,
ma belle.
I am surrounded by his enemies and will not be entirely safe until he returns.”
“But he has been exiled,” Autumn said.
“But I am now the king,” Louis said firmly, his brown eyes serious. “Go back to your marquis, Autumn Leslie. Marry him, and live a peaceful life amid your vineyards. You are fortunate to have been given such a life. It is a blessing.” Now the king held out his hand to the beautiful girl by his side. Autumn kissed it and, dismissed, she rose, curtsying deeply. Finding her party, they left the Palais Royale to return to Belle Fleurs and Archambault the next day.
Chapter
10
I
t was her wedding day. Autumn rose at first light as Lily still snored lightly in her trundle bed. Tiptoeing to the window, she looked out onto the lake. It was pink, reflecting the color of the clouds in the sky above. Narrow silver streamers of mist arose from the warmer water into the cool morning air. Everything was still and quiet. It was a magical time. The perfect beginning to a new and perfect life, she thought, smiling to herself as she did.
They had returned from Paris, and Sebastian’s kisses made her realize how much they had missed one another. Monsieur Reynaud had appeared to make her wedding gown and trousseau, chortling and taking partial credit for her happiness because of his beautiful garments. Autumn did not tell him that Sebastian had seen her mostly in her riding clothes, and the simple gowns she already owned. The proud little tailor would have been hurt by such knowledge.
Autumn and her mother rode out one day to see Chermont. There was no time for them to make a proper visit, but Jasmine thought her daughter should have some idea of where she was to make her new home. Sebastian’s chateau was like a fairy palace, with four pepperpot turrets at each corner of the building. It sat on a low rise just above the river, in a broad green meadow that was edged with green willows. Beyond the meadow the vineyards stretched, their vines almost empty now of grapes, the leaves beginning to turn yellow about the edges.
Inside the chateau was exquisite. Unlike Belle Fleurs, with its narrow and winding staircase, Chermont had a main staircase ramp that ascended in the elegant Florentine fashion. It was obvious that the chateau, while old, had been modernized. Most of the rooms were paneled, decorated with paint. The ceilings were embellished with gold and classical depictions. Glenkirk had been a fine castle and Belle Fleurs was a comfortable home, but Chermont was frankly the most beautiful house Autumn had ever seen.
“It is wonderful, monseigneur,” she told the marquis, and he was openly pleased that she was content.
“Would you like to see the Lady Chamber?” he asked her.
Autumn nodded, but then she said, “Mama too, please.”
“Of course,” he agreed, and led the two ladies up the beautiful, broad marble staircase with its carved balustrades.
On the second floor of the chateau were the bedroom apartments. Sebastian d’Oleron opened a door decorated with gold moldings and ushered them inside. Autumn was stunned, but her mother clapped her hands, delighted.
“Sebastian,
mon brave,
what a wonderful salon!” She turned to her daughter. “Is it not marvelous, Autumn?”
The walls of the chamber were paneled, and each panel was painted with a scene of romance. Venus with Adonis. Jupiter seducing Lyda. A maiden in flowing white robes being importuned by a kneeling youth dressed in little but a small drape covering his most private parts. There was Cupid shooting his arrows at a group of fleeing maidens. Venus, again, this time with her husband, Vulcan, god of the forge. Each panel told a small story of love. It was very beautiful, and Autumn had never in her life seen anything like it.
“How charming!” she heard her mother exclaim. “Look at the ceiling,
ma bébé,”
Jasmine said. “How absolutely lovely!”
Autumn raised up her eyes and saw the ceiling was painted to resemble a morning sky, bright blue, its white clouds touched along their edges with pink and gold. A flock of doves fluttered across the firmament. Suddenly she began to cry, unable to help herself.
“What is the matter,
ma cherie?”
the marquis asked, surprised.
“I am not grand enough for such a beautiful place, Sebastian,” Autumn sobbed. “I am a country lass and this is a palace.”
He gathered her into his arms. “You are the perfect jewel in the crown of Chermont,
cherie,”
he told her. “Chermont is not a palace. It is your home. Chenonceaux was far grander.”
“But it was supposed to be,” Autumn said, her cheeks wet with the tears that refused to stop flowing. “It is a royal palace! Belle Fleurs is certainly not as grand, and neither is Archambault.”
“Belle Fleurs is a country house,” he explained, “and Archambault has never been modernized,
cherie.
My mother, who like the old queen came from Firenze, had a great flair for art. She oversaw the design of the public rooms at Chermont and had the marble staircase put in to replace an old twisting and winding one. These were her apartments, Autumn. Now they will be yours, and my mother would approve.”
“Did Elise have these apartments?” Autumn asked, suddenly realizing she was jealous of Sebastian’s first wife.
“Nay,” he said quietly. “She never liked them, and said she believed my mother’s ghost haunted the rooms. It was nonsense, of course, Autumn. If my mother would haunt any place in this chateau, it would be the nurseries where her grandchildren would live.” He caressed her hair tenderly. “Shall we have many children,
ma petite?”
“Perhaps,” she sniffed, feeling just a little better.
“Mon brave,”
Jasmine said quietly, “show us the rest of this wonderful apartment; and then I believe you should introduce Autumn to those who will serve her, eh?”
The bedchamber was all white and sky blue and gold. The wall panels were painted with floral motifs and the ceiling painting was an evening sky, all pink, lavender, and rosy gold tinting the clouds. Autumn’s eyes widened at her first sight of the bed, but she said nothing. It was a very large bed, draped in a brocade with a cream background woven with gold, rose, and muted sage green threads. The bedposts were carved and gilded with vines and leaves.
“I hope you like your bedchamber,” he said. “I had it redone for you. My mother’s taste was a trifle more flamboyant. I did not think it would suit you,
cherie.”
“It’s beautiful,” was all she could say, and it was. She had never seen furniture like this, all carved, painted, and gilded. It was like something out of a fairy tale. The fireplace opposite her bed was made of pink marble, the opening flanked by winged angels. There was a clock made of gilt upon the mantel. A large, carved armoire was set against another wall. Autumn walked across the room and saw the river beyond. She turned back to face him. “I cannot believe I am to live in this exquisite chamber, Sebastian. Just think! Our children shall be created here, and born here.”
“My bedchamber is through here,” he said, touching a molding on a wall panel.
“Your bedchamber?”
Autum was very surprised. “Are we not to share this incredible bed, monseigneur?”
“We are,” he agreed, “but certainly your parents had their own chambers at Glenkirk.”
“Jemmie never used his,” Jasmine replied softly.
“We cannot make children if you do not share my bed,” Autumn said frankly. “What nonsense to think you need your own chamber.”
“I will need it to store my clothing, Autumn,” he responded with a twinkle in his silvery eyes. “If you are like other women, you will arrive at my house with enough gowns and other fripperies to clothe an entire convent school. Every bit of space in these chambers will be filled with your possessions quite soon. Am I not correct?”
“Monsieur Reynaud would not have it any other way,” Autumn laughed. “I shall bring trunks and trunks and trunks to Chermont, Sebastian.”
They returned to the main floor, and in the Great Hall the marquis introduced his bride-to-be to her servants. There was Lafite, the majordomo, and his wife, Madame Lafite, the housekeeper. There were eight housemaids; a man named Leon, whose only task was to polish all the silver and gold in the house; another named Pinabel, whose duty was to see that all the candelabras, lamps, and chandeliers were in proper working order. Candles could only be obtained from Pinabel, who kept a strict accounting of his stock. Caron was the chef, and he had half-a-dozen kitchen maids, a boy to scrub pots, and another who sharpened knives, in his charge. There were six footmen. The laundress was a large woman with thick arms and a ruddy complexion named Methina. She had two helpers.
“Will madame le marquis require a maid to serve her? I have a well-trained niece, Orane, who could fill such a position.”
“If Orane would be willing to serve in a secondary capacity to my serving woman, Lily, I would be glad to have her in my service, Madame Lafite,” Autumn replied diplomatically.
“She will be more than happy to serve madame in that capacity,” the housekeeper replied with a pleased smile. “She is quite good with her needle. Madame will certainly be satisfied.” She curtsied.
“You have all made me feel so welcome,” Autumn said. “I know I shall be very happy at Chermont. I already see I will be well taken care of by all of you.”
Dismissed, the household staff departed. In their own hall afterwards Madame Lafite said, “We have all waited for monsieur le marquis to choose another wife. This marquise will do well for Chermont, I can already see it. She loves our master and is a well-brought-up young lady. Within the year we shall have a new generation for Chermont.” Nodding, the servants raised their cups of wine to toast their master and his bride-to-be.
Autumn returned home with her mother, having met the outdoor staff before their departure. There had been Arno, the head groom, and his two undergrooms. The care and feeding of the horses was their duty. There were six stablemen who kept the stables clean and the animals fed. There was Henri, the coachman; Xarles, the game-keeper and head huntsman, who had an assistant; and Yves, the kennel-master, who also had an assistant. There was Florus, the head gardner, who had a staff of ten men under him. There was Marlon, the falconkeeper, and his assistant, who also kept the dovecote.
“I don’t think I shall ever remember all the names,” Autumn said to the marquis.
“You will in time,” he replied with a smile. “These people are only those who serve the household. There are many others who work in the vineyards, and with the farm animals. We are self-sustaining here at Chermont. You will eventually have more to do than just be my beautiful wife and the mother of our children.”
“I don’t think I can do it,” Autumn said as she and her mother rode home to Belle Fleurs late that afternoon. “I did not realize what was involved in marrying Sebastian.”
“It would have been even more difficult with the Duc de Belfort, and little better with the Comte d’Auray,” her mother said. “A woman must manage her household, knowing everything that goes on, learning to delegate authority to her servants but keeping an eye on all. You did very well with Madame Lafite,
ma bébé.
You might have said Lily was your serving woman, but instead you offered madame’s niece a position, while not exactly what she hoped for, but a respectable position nonetheless. You will do fine, and I will be here to guide you, Autumn. I was not there for either of your sisters, but I will be here for you.”
“What news from England, Mama?” Autumn asked.
“It is not good,” Jasmine said. “I was not going to tell you until after the wedding, but you may as well know now. King Charles marched into England with a Scots army. Do I need to tell you how the English felt about that? Instead of getting the full support he needed from his countrymen, they recoiled in horror at the skirl of the pipes. All the English could see was an invading
Scots
army. That their own king was at its head meant little. The English have never really taken to the Stuarts. As much as they may dislike Master Cromwell they hate the Scots far more. It seems to be ingrained in their souls, this tribal hate for the Scots. What a pity the king did not consider the centuries of warfare before he came over the border in kilt and tam.”
“What happened?” Autumn said.
“King Charles was defeated in early September at Worcester,” her mother answered.
“Charlie?”
“I don’t know. Henry sent me the news. He says there was no word that Charlie had been killed, but he has no idea where he may be, or even if he is alive,” Jasmine responded, her voice suddenly hard.
“He’s alive, Mama,” Autumn said firmly.
“What makes you so certain? Henry writes that Worcester was terrible, and many were slain,” Jasmine replied.
“Charlie is the not-so-royal Stuart, Mama. He isn’t a Leslie. He is the Mughal’s grandson. He has luck unlike poor Papa.”
“You may very well be right,” her mother said, and then she blaughed. “Aye, you probably are right, Autumn. My son Charlie could charm even death out of taking him too soon. We will wait, and eventually we will hear what has happened.”
Autumn’s eye caught a movement at the lake’s edge, and she was brought back to the reality of the morning.
Her wedding morning.
An antlered stag had come from the forest to drink. She watched him, fascinated. Then, as the beast lifted his handsome head, it seemed to look directly at her. Autumn laughed. The stag turned and leapt back into the forest.
“Yer awake.” Lily’s sleepy voice sounded from the trundle bed.
“Aye,” Autumn answered her servant, “and you had best get up, lest Mama finds us lingering. My wedding is planned for ten, so we may have time for a feast and time to travel back to Chermont today. I will want a bath first, and I will need time for my hair to dry.”
BOOK: Intrigued
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