Surely you can see the grief upon her visage, sir. She will never again be the same innocent girl she was before you and your men forced your way into Queen’s Malvern. You insult us, coming here!”
He was shaken by her angry words, but he understood. He turned to Autumn. “Will you forgive me, Lady Autumn?” he said.
“I am going to France tomorrow,” Autumn answered him as if he had not just asked her pardon. “I shall never have to see you or England again.”
“You are leaving the country?” Sir Simon was surprised.
“My mother inherited a small house in the Loire,” Henry said quickly before Jasmine might begin a tirade. “My sister’s health, as you can see, is fragile. She will heal better away from all of this sadness, you will agree.”
“Where are you sailing from?” he asked them.
“They sail from Harwich,” Henry said.
“My men and I will escort you, your grace,” Sir Simon said formally.
“That is not necessary, sir,” Jasmine told him coldly.
Then her son spoke up again. “I think it an excellent suggestion, Mama. I thank you, Sir Simon, for your consideration. Mama, I have no men-at-arms to go with you, and in these times I fear to hire any. Your own escort could turn on you and rob you. I know you will be safe with Sir Simon, and reach Harwich alive and with your trunks intact. I will even go with you.”
“My men are garrisoned at the castle, my lord. We shall meet you on the road tomorrow morning. I will take my leave of you now.” He bowed and hurried from the room.
When they heard the front door of the dower house slam closed, Jasmine turned to her son, outraged. “Are you mad?” she demanded.
“Nay,” Autumn spoke up. “He is very clever, aren’t you, Henry? And he is right, Mama. We cannot travel alone in such dangerous times. What better escort can we have than Sir Simon Bates and his Roundheads? No one will dare to accost us. He does it because, I believe, he is taken by me, but once we reach Harwich I shall never see him again. It is hardly a just punishment for what he did that he should pine of a broken heart for me, but I suppose it is the best we can do.”
“You are a foolish girl,” Jasmine told her daughter. “This man has dared to have pretensions in your direction, Autumn.”
“Which can come to nothing,” the girl replied.
“I meant it when I said I would go with you to Harwich, Mama,” Henry Lindley said. Then he turned to his sister. “And you will continue to behave as a frail and frightened young girl would, little sister. I believe as long as you do that, Sir Simon will be foiled in his aspirations toward you.”
“What you mean,” Autumn said with a small chuckle, “is that even Sir Simon Bates would not attempt to seduce a half-wit, eh, brother?”
“Precisely!” he agreed with a grin.
“You shall be the death of me yet,” the Duchess of Glenkirk said, throwing up her hands. “Henry, pour me some of that excellent Glenkirk whiskey. My nerves are shattered.”
“Oh, Mama, you are as bad as I am, feigning distress,” Autumn teased her mother. “If India’s adventures in Barbary and Fortune’s in Ulster did not do you in, I doubt very much I can.”
“I was much younger then, and I had your father,” Jasmine replied. She took the tumbler her son handed her and swallowed down a draught of the peat-flavored whiskey. “Excellent!” she pronounced. “I do believe I shall recover after all.”
And her children laughed.
They gathered that night in the Great Hall of Cadby, and Jasmine felt a deep sadness, knowing it might be some time before she saw her eldest son’s family again. Her daughter-in-law, Rosamund, instinctively understood and attempted to comfort Jasmine.
“Do not grieve, madame. We will come to France to visit you next summer, if these difficulties have not been solved by then. I know how much you love your grandchildren. But certainly this civil strife will be over with by next year, and the king
He was shaken by her angry words, but he understood. He turned to Autumn. “Will you forgive me, Lady Autumn?” he said.
“I am going to France tomorrow,” Autumn answered him as if he had not just asked her pardon. “I shall never have to see you or England again.”
“You are leaving the country?” Sir Simon was surprised.
“My mother inherited a small house in the Loire,” Henry said quickly before Jasmine might begin a tirade. “My sister’s health, as you can see, is fragile. She will heal better away from all of this sadness, you will agree.”
“Where are you sailing from?” he asked them.
“They sail from Harwich,” Henry said.
“My men and I will escort you, your grace,” Sir Simon said formally.
“That is not necessary, sir,” Jasmine told him coldly.
Then her son spoke up again. “I think it an excellent suggestion, Mama. I thank you, Sir Simon, for your consideration. Mama, I have no men-at-arms to go with you, and in these times I fear to hire any. Your own escort could turn on you and rob you. I know you will be safe with Sir Simon, and reach Harwich alive and with your trunks intact. I will even go with you.”
“My men are garrisoned at the castle, my lord. We shall meet you on the road tomorrow morning. I will take my leave of you now.” He bowed and hurried from the room.
When they heard the front door of the dower house slam closed, Jasmine turned to her son, outraged. “Are you mad?” she demanded.
“Nay,” Autumn spoke up. “He is very clever, aren’t you, Henry? And he is right, Mama. We cannot travel alone in such dangerous times. What better escort can we have than Sir Simon Bates and his Roundheads? No one will dare to accost us. He does it because, I believe, he is taken by me, but once we reach Harwich I shall never see him again. It is hardly a just punishment for what he did that he should pine of a broken heart for me, but I suppose it is the best we can do.”
“You are a foolish girl,” Jasmine told her daughter. “This man has dared to have pretensions in your direction, Autumn.”
“Which can come to nothing,” the girl replied.
“I meant it when I said I would go with you to Harwich, Mama,” Henry Lindley said. Then he turned to his sister. “And you will continue to behave as a frail and frightened young girl would, little sister. I believe as long as you do that, Sir Simon will be foiled in his aspirations toward you.”
“What you mean,” Autumn said with a small chuckle, “is that even Sir Simon Bates would not attempt to seduce a half-wit, eh, brother?”
“Precisely!” he agreed with a grin.
“You shall be the death of me yet,” the Duchess of Glenkirk said, throwing up her hands. “Henry, pour me some of that excellent Glenkirk whiskey. My nerves are shattered.”
“Oh, Mama, you are as bad as I am, feigning distress,” Autumn teased her mother. “If India’s adventures in Barbary and Fortune’s in Ulster did not do you in, I doubt very much I can.”
“I was much younger then, and I had your father,” Jasmine replied. She took the tumbler her son handed her and swallowed down a draught of the peat-flavored whiskey. “Excellent!” she pronounced. “I do believe I shall recover after all.”
And her children laughed.
They gathered that night in the Great Hall of Cadby, and Jasmine felt a deep sadness, knowing it might be some time before she saw her eldest son’s family again. Her daughter-in-law, Rosamund, instinctively understood and attempted to comfort Jasmine.
“Do not grieve, madame. We will come to France to visit you next summer, if these difficulties have not been solved by then. I know how much you love your grandchildren. But certainly this civil strife will be over with by next year, and the king
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