“It stopped raining long enough for us to take the children out into the gardens,” the earl replied glumly.
“My brother-in-law, the comte de Cher, had the most delightful idea,” Skye continued on breathlessly. “He has suggested that I bring the children to Archambault for a visit and leave you two alone to become reacquainted again without the distraction of your family. I hope you will let us go. His grandson, Phillippe, is Jasmine’s contemporary, and has a littleson a bit older than Charlie, and a tiny bit younger than Mistress Fortune. It would be so good for the children to get to know the French side of their family. Who knows! We may have a French princess for a queen one day.”
“How far is Archambault?” the earl asked.
“But a few miles across the fields,” Skye said brightly. “The comte, Alexandre de Saville, is Adam’s half brother. His son, named for my husband, was killed, and so it is his grandson, Phillippe, who is his heir. They are a lovely family.”
“How long a visit, madame?” the earl inquired.
“A week, or perhaps two,” Skye ventured, refusing to acknowledge her granddaughter’s outraged look.
“I will think on it, madame,” James Leslie said.
“It is a ridiculous idea!” Jasmine burst out. “Why should it matter if my children know the de Saville children? Once we have returned to England it will not matter at all. Besides, Charlie is not quite weaned yet. I couldn’t possibly let them go, Grandmama.”
“The decision is not mine to make, my darling girl,” Skye said with a nod in the earl’s direction. “And as for little Charles Frederick, it is past time, Jasmine, that he was weaned. Why the lad will be three in the autumn. I never nursed any of my children for so long a time. As for your children, and the de Saville children, one never knows when one might need help from a relation. ‘Tis better to know one’s relations, even the distant ones, if possible. Alexandre de Saville is your great-uncle. His son, Phillippe, is your cousin. It could one day prove a valuable connection. Why I believe even Lord Leslie has relations here in France. Is that not so, sir?”
“Indeed, madame, it is. Two of my father’s uncles wed Frenchwomen. Their families live near Fontainebleau, southeast of Paris. I am acquainted with both branches,” the earl answered.
“There, you see!” Skye crowed. “The earl knows his French relatives.” Her smile took them both in with its warmth.
“I do not want my children separated from me,” Jasmine said stubbornly. Her look was definitely mutinous, her turquoise eyes angry. “I am their mother, and it is up to me what they do.”
“Nay, madame, it is up to me as their legal guardian,” James Leslie replied. “I think your bairns should go to Archambault to visit with their cousins. As for young Charlie, ‘tis past time, madame, that he was separated from your tit. He’s got teeth to chew his food, and you’ll make a mother’s boy out of him if you continue on as you have.”
“Ohhhhhhh!” Now Jasmine looked truly affronted.
“My dears,” Skye quickly spoke. “I do not want Alexandre’s little suggestion to be the cause of dispute between you. Jasmine, my darling girl, be reasonable. The children have been cooped up here with you at Belle Fleurs for months. They need a change, and they need to be with other children of their own class. It will give them a chance to practice their manners and deportment before their return to England, when they must take their place in our society. You know that at one time or another they will go to court. Would you have them at a disadvantage? They will not thank you for it. Manners learned young are manners learned forever. Let them go to Archambault.”
“Well,” Jasmine amended, “‘tis only a little way away.”
“Aye,” Skye purred in kindly tones, “and I shall be with them the whole time. I shall enjoy it, for it has been many years since I have visited with Adam’s family. Ahhh, what fine times we had at Archambault when your grandfather and I were young and ripe!” She sighed gustily, and her hand went to her heart.
“Do not overplay your part, madame,”the earl of Glenkirk murmured softly in her ear.
Skye’s face never betrayed her surprise at his remark.Well, well,she thought,he is brighter than I gave him credit for, isthis earl of Glenkirk. Aye! I am doing the right thing in taking the children away, and forcing these two together to work out their problems.She would discuss the Paris leg of their journey later on, but not now.
“Oh, very well,” Jasmine decided, “but not for a week. It will take at least a week to make certain their clothing is in good repair, and to tutor them in their deportment.”
“I agree with you, madame,” James Leslie said with a small smile.
“You do?”Jasmine was somewhat surprised.
“We cannot always disagree,” he replied, a twinkle in his eye.
“Perhaps not,” she answered him, not certain what he exactly meant by the wry remark.
It was ten days before Jasmine was satisfied that her children were ready to leave for Archambault. She had kept her small staff busy washing, pressing, brushing their clothing until Skye had complained the nap would be worn off the fabrics altogether. The little trunks were packed neatly; the nursemaids given detailed instructions as to the children’s care, and what to do in the event of this or that.
Finally, irritated, Skye snapped at her granddaughter, “I have raised seven children, my darling girl, and I will be with my great-grandchildren.I know what to do.We leave on the morrow, and I’ll hear no more about it!”
The earl of Glenkirk repressed a small smile. Jasmine looked so worried. She was a good mother but far too obsessed with her offspring. He didn’t doubt for a moment that this little trip to Archambault for Madame Skye and the children was all the old woman’s idea. She had promised to help him, but he had not been certain he trusted her, especially after the last time. It would appear now, however, that his fears were groundless. She was whisking Jasmine’s youngsters off so that he might bealone with their mother. He didn’t know how she was going to do it, but he suspected that the children would not return to Belle Fleurs. He chuckled softly. What a holy terror Madame Skye was. He was glad to have her on his side this time.
In the morning, his arm about Jasmine, he watched as the grand old lady and the children departed Belle Fleurs. The rain had gone, and the day was bright and sunny. It was the end of February, and there was a definite hint of spring in the air. Jasmine sniffled, and he warned her softly, “Do not cry, madame, lest you distress the bairns. They are happy for this little adventure. Do not spoil it for them.”
“I have never really been parted from them,” she murmured low, attempting to disengage his arm, but he held her firmly.
“See how fine Henry, India, and Fortune look upon their ponies,” he pointed out to her. “They sit their mounts well. Was it you who taught them, madame?”
