Intrigued. Bertrice Small
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met her on the deck of the ship.
“My lady. All is in readiness for you,” he told her. “I thought as you were arriving so late, and it almost dark, you would want to stay the night here in Nantes. I have arranged accommodations at the best in the city, Le Canard Bleu. When you are ready, your coach is waiting on the dock.” He pointed.
“Thank you, Red Hugh. Now greet your family and we can be on our way,” the duchess said with a small smile.
The big Scotsman grabbed Toramalli and gave her a noisy kiss. “Damn me, woman, if I haven’t missed you!” he said.
“You big fool!” she muttered, but her cheeks were flushed with pleasure. “All right, I’ve missed you too.”
In far more restrained fashion, Red Hugh greeted his sisters-in-law and his niece. He turned to his brother. “Fergus, lad.” Then he said to the duchess, “We’re ready, my lady.”
Jasmine thanked Captain Ballard again, and with her daughter and servants debarked the Fair Winds. The coach Red Hugh had obtained was spacious and beautifully outfitted. A smaller vehicle was also awaiting them at the inn, he told his mistress as he ushered her and the other women inside. Then he and his brother climbed up on the coach’s box, and they drove off from the harbor to their inn. Upon their arrival the landlord hurried forth, bowing and smiling. Red Hugh had obviously made quite clear the importance of his mistress to the innkeeper, who personally escorted Jasmine and her party into his establishment.
Inside the inn was clean and warm, and quite spacious. The aromas of food cooking permeated the place, and the smells were utterly delicious, Autumn thought, as they were brought to a gracious apartment on the main floor of the building. Young Lady Autumn was also amazed by the ease with which her mother switched back and forth between the English and French languages. This was done so Lily might understand, for all the others spoke French, even Red Hugh and Fergus.
“Lily, you must learn French, for if this is to be our new home, you cannot communicate without a command of the language. Besides, how will you flirt with the young men if you don’t know what they are saying and can’t speak with them,” the duchess teased. She turned to the innkeeper. “Now, M’sieu Pierre, we will have our supper here in our apartment. Nothing special. The odor from your kitchens is delightful, and I shall leave the choices up to you. We shall eat as soon as the food is ready, for I long for a hot bath and my bed. I am not as young as I once was, and travel is quite exhausting.” She favored him with a small smile.
The innkeeper bowed so low his head almost touched the floor. “We shall serve you immediately, madame la duchesse, and afterwards hot baths shall be brought for both you and your beautiful daughter.” He bowed again and backed from the room.
“What a funny man,” Autumn said, “but so accommodating.”
“He is a clever fellow, and his establishment is well run,” Jasmine noted. “Nonetheless, my gold buys the best service. Remember that, Autumn. Gold is power.”
“Am I an heiress?” Autumn asked her mother. “I have never before considered such a thing.”
“You are an heiress,” her mother said. “You have a large dowry that your father arranged, and you will also receive a generous portion from me, my daughter. You are wealthy enough to attract only the best husband.” Then she smiled wickedly. “And a few handsome fortune hunters as well, ma bébé.”
“Will we go to Paris, Mama?”
“Eventually,” Jasmine said. “I must learn firsthand what is really happening here in France. Queen Anne is the regent, but there has been much haggling back and forth over little King Louis. The queen’s closest adviser is Cardinal Mazarin, and he is hated by many of the princes of the blood, but their hate is just a disguise for jealousy. They want the power that having the young king in their possession can bring, but he and the queen have kept the boy safe so far.”
“At least the French have not killed their king,” Autumn said. “How old is little King Louis, Mama?”
“He is twelve, and next year when he reaches his thirteenth birthday he will come into his majority and rule without a regent, although I suspect his mama will still influence him. However, once he is legally in charge, the queen and the cardinal’s enemies cannot kidnap the king and claim to be doing it to protect him from Queen Anne and Cardinal Mazarin.” Jasmine laughed. “The queen and her allies have been very clever, Autumn. She is to be admired.”
“A twelve-year-old king cannot have much of a court,” Autumn said, sounding disappointed.
Her mother laughed. “You will have your chance, ma bébé,” she promised her youngest child.
The door to their apartments opened, and a line of servants entered with bowls and platters from which were emanating delicious smells. The table was set up, and the dishes placed upon the sideboard.
“I shall serve madame la duchesse,” Adali told the inn’s servants, and they departed.
“We will not stand on ceremony here,” Jasmine said. “Sit down, all of you. Adali at the foot, Autumn on my right, and the rest of you wherever you choose.” She allowed Red Hugh to set her at the table’s head, smiling a small thanks to him.
Adali filled each plate, passing the first to his mistress, the second to Autumn, and then the rest, serving himself last. There were whole artichokes steamed and served with a piquant vinaigrette and a delicate olive oil. A boeuf bourguignonne with tiny green onions and slivers of carrot in a rich and succulent gravy; prawns broiled and flavored with fennel; a fat capon stuffed with onions, celery, and sage that Adali carved thin, juicy slices of breast from; a pink country ham. There were two kinds of cheese, a runny Brie and an English cheddar; freshly baked bread, still warm from the ovens, and a crock of newly churned sweet butter, which Adali placed upon the table for them all. On the sideboard there remained an apple tartlet and a pitcher of heavy golden cream. There was a hearty red wine served, but while she enjoyed two cups of it, the duchess declared that the wines from her family’s vineyards at Archambault were better.
When the meal had been thoroughly appreciated by them all and the inn’s servants had returned to clear away the debris, two wooden tubs were placed in each lady’s bedchamber. They were promptly filled, Fergus and Red Hugh generously helping the innkeeper’s staff in the task. Jasmine and her daughter then bathed before retiring. Lily, Rohana, and Toramalli would sleep in their mistress’s chambers. The men would sleep in the parlor, where they had eaten. They slumbered heavily for the first time in many nights, their beds steady and not rolling beneath them. When morning came they arose and ate a hearty breakfast. Adali had the previous evening ordered a basket of food for their journey that day.
For the next few days they traveled north along a road that followed the River Loire. Each inn they sheltered in at night was every bit as good as Le Canard Bleu had been, and Autumn complained that she was going to get fat with all this delicious French cooking.
“You do not have to eat it all,” her mother said.
“Mama, I need to keep up my strength!” the girl protested.
At Tours they crossed the Loire where it met the River Cher, following a secondary road, finally turning off onto a narrower track leading them deeper into the countryside. On either side of their coach they could see the dormant vineyards, and beyond a small hill was crowned with a beautiful chateau.
“That is Archambault, where my cousins reside,” Jasmine told her daughter. “When we are settled I shall take you to visit.”
“How far are we from Belle Fleurs?” Autumn asked.
“Not very,” her mother said even as their carriage and the baggage coach turned off onto a thin ribbon of a path, rumbling and lurching down the rutted and frozen dirt path. Bare branches scraped against the vehicle, almost impeding their passage. It had not been so overgrown when she had last been there, Jasmine thought; but then it had been so long ago. She would need to hire several gardeners, but Guillaume would be able to direct her there.
“Mama!