It had taken almost two weeks for them to reach Nantes from Leith. Using Pansy’s obvious condition as an excuse, they had kept very much to their cabin, coming out only once a day toward evening when the light was dim, and no one about, to walk about the deck.
Captain Michael Small did not usually take passengers, but an expected cargo had not been delivered in Leith on time, and since he had the room, he had decided to accept several passengers. They had been very lucky, for there had just been one small cabin left and only the intercession of the landlord of the Golden Anchor had gained it for them.
“They’re respectable women, Captain,” he had said. “There isn’t another ship I would dare trust to transport them safely, and they can pay in gold.”
“Very well,” the captain had finally agreed, “but they must bring their own food. I’ll supply drinking water, three cups each day, and one cup each of rum, but nothing else. There are two bunks in the cabin, but they must bring their own blankets.”
Velvet had agreed to the captain’s terms, and the landlord had negotiated the price for them and then helped them to quickly assemble their provisions, which consisted of oatcakes, dried and salted beef, a small cheese, and, at Velvet’s insistence, a basket of apples and pears. There had been no time either to bathe or to purchase fresh clothing before they sailed, and so when they reachedBelle Fleurs, they had been wearing the same garments for a month.
“We were forced to flee quickly,” Velvet had explained to Mignon. “We could take nothing with us but what we had on our backs. I am certain that my mother has clothing stored here in the chateau.”
“Oui, madame, indeed she does,” replied Mignon. “I should know for was I not her tiring woman while she lived here in France? I myself packed everything away in cedar-lined trunks. They are stored in the attics. Tomorrow I will have Matthieu fetch them down.”
The following day Velvet had opened her mother’s trunks to find them filled with beautiful garments: gowns, skirts, and blouses; night rails of gossamer quality; petticoats; chemises; stockings; and shoes. There was even a small ivory box containing some rather magnificent jewelry. There were pink-tinged pearls with a matching ring set in gold; a marvelous necklace of large diamonds, blue-white in color, which also had matching earrings; several other pairs of earbobs of sapphires, emeralds, and rubies set in gold; bracelets; rings; and hair ornaments decorated with diamonds, pearls, and rubies.
“Were these my mother’s?” she asked Mignon.
“Yes, madame, they were. She brought them with her when she came toArchambault.”
Velvet was utterly intrigued, particularly in light of the yellowed parchment she found at the bottom of the ivory box. Its fading message offered yet a further mystery as it read:
Doucette, I had these made for you when I thought you might return to me. Since I will not give my wife jewelry made for another woman, I beg that you take this small offering that was meant only for you. Nicolas.
“Who was Nicolas, Mignon?” Velvet asked.
“Nicolas? Why, I do not know, madame,” came the reply. “Is it important?”
“Nay,” said Velvet. “I was but curious.”
It was Pansy, however, who supplied the key to the mystery. “Nicolas,” she said musingly, as if trying to remember something, and then her face lit up. “I know who he was, m’lady! Me mum told me many stories of Mistress Skye’s adventures, some of them mum shared. I remember a Duke Nicolas that your mother was supposed to marry once. I can’t remember why she didn’t. He lived here in France somewheres. I will wager the note and the jewelry are from him.”
Velvet was fascinated. It never occurred to her that her mother would receive jewelry from someone other than her father. Oh, all her life she had heard bits and pieces about her mother’s adventures, and certainly at court there had been those who were only too eager to repeat the gossip about her mother. Skye herself, however, had never spoken a great deal of the past. She seemed to always live for the moment, for the morrow, and that was how her daughter saw her. Now, suddenly, her mother appeared in a different light; as a woman whom other men had adored and loved, and for whom men had jewelry created, a woman with a past. Why had the jewelry been left in France? Had the man who had given her the gems meant so little to her mother that Skye had carelessly left his gift behind? It was interesting, and she was going to have to ask her mother when she saw her again.
Velvet now picked up the diamond necklace and held it up against her throat. It really was quite beautiful, and it went very well with the green velvet gown. Clasping it about her neck, she admired herself for a moment in the glass and then added the earrings. Despite her somewhat old-fashioned dress she felt quite confident to receive the king.
If Henri of Navarre noticed that Velvet’s gown was not of the latest fashion, he said nothing about it during their meal. Mignon had outdone herself, and on such short notice; Velvet herself was more than amazed at the meal that appeared on her table. The ragout was filled with chunks of tender beef that had been simmered in a brown gravy, which was fragrant with Burgundy and delicate mushrooms. There were small bits of carrot, too, and the green leeks that Velvet had picked earlier. To her surprise, there was also a plump, juicy capon that had been roasted to a golden brown and stuffed with a mixture of bread, sage, tiny white onions, and chestnuts; as well as a fine trout that had been caught by Matthieu in the chateau lake and poached in white wine and herbs. There was a bowl of turnips, and one of baby lettuce and watercress that had been braised in wine. Fresh bread still warm from the ovens was placed with a crock of sweet butter before them.
The king ate with great appetite, filling and refilling his plate three times. When the second course, which consisted of the pear and currant tartlet, apples baked in honey and dusted with cinnamon, a bowl of fat purple grapes, and a Normandy Brie, was placed before him, his eyes lit with delight. He decimated these offerings with equal gusto while Velvet was kept busy seeing that his goblet was never empty, for the king drank as heartily as he ate.
The meal finished, Velvet said, “Will you allow my housekeeper to greet Your Majesty? When she learned she was to cook for you, her delight knew no bounds. She can barely wait to gossip with the entire neighborhood, and your obvious appreciation of her culinary skills will give her much to talk about.”
He nodded his assent, and Velvet sent to the kitchens for Mignon. The old lady came, her face flushed from excitement as well as the heat of her kitchens. Her white hair was neat, just peeping from beneath a fresh cap, and she had taken the time to remove her stained apron, replacing it with a clean one. Kneeling before Henri, she kissed his hand, and there were tears in her eyes.
The king was touched, and, standing, he raised the old woman to her feet, saying as he did so, “I cannot remember ever eating a finer meal, Madame Mignon. You have your monarch’s grateful thanks.”
Somehow Mignon found her voice, although later as she told it, she was surprised that she could speak at all to this wonderful, great man. “When my lady told me of the menu you suffer atChenonceaux, I knew that Your Majesty longed for good country cooking as you once ate in your youth in Navarre. I cannot cook the elegant foods that your own chefs prepare, but I know how to cook for aman;and if the rumors that we hear are correct, Your Majesty is the best man in all of Europe!” Mignon chuckled.
“Mignon!” Velvet was surprised by her servant’s boldness.
The king, however, laughed uproariously. “I will not deny those rumors, Madame Mignon,” he said, and his golden brown eyes twinkled. “If I were but a bit older, I’m afraid I should have chased you around your kitchen for a kiss, thus shocking my young hostess even more.”
“And were I a bit younger,” cackled the housekeeper, “your Majesty would have no trouble catching me! Alas, however, I am an old woman now.”
“Madame Mignon,” said the king, “a spirit such as yours never grows old!” And taking her hand, he kissed it gallantly.
Mignon drew herself up proudly. “I am pleased that I have been able to serve my king, even in so little a matter as this.” She curtsied elegantly, and then said, “I have had a guest chamber prepared for Your Majesty, and when you are ready to retire, my husband, Guillaume, will valet Your Majesty. He once served the Comte de Cher in such a capacity.”
“The king is not staying the night!” protested Velvet.
