“Mistress Willow wanted her own gown so that she could pass it on down to her daughters one day. She puts great store by tradition as you know, particularly those she starts herself. As for Mistress Deirdre, she was so relieved when your parents allowed her to marry Lord Blackthorn that she cared not what she wore. Your mother didn’t feel that these gowns were suitable for Lord Burke’s daughter. Besides, she’s not as tall as your mama, and has more bosom than my lady did at her age. Mistress Skye wanted Mistress Deirdre to have everything new. I know, however, that she would fully approve of Dame Cecily’s and my choices. You, however, may not want to wear them.”
“Oh, yes, I do! If I have Master Hilliard paint my miniature in each gown, Mama and Papa will know how I looked on my wedding day! If Robin doesn’t mind my wearing the cream-colored gown, I should love to take it to London, but tonight for the ceremony with Father Jean-Paul I want to wear the gown in which Mama married Papa.”
Daisy smiled. “Then let us hurry and get you ready, though I never thought I’d see the day I’d be preparing your mother’s youngest child for her wedding!”
Velvet hadn’t had a bath in several days, and the hot, scented water was wonderful. She loved the hard-milled soap, perfumed with the elusive gillyflowers scent, that Daisy and Pansy used with the boar’s-bristle brushes when they scrubbed her back and with which they lavishly lathered her dusty auburn hair. Velvet regretted that there was no time to soak, but it had been close to sunset when they had ridden intoQueen’s Malvern.The evening meal was being held up until after the wedding ceremony.
Stepping from her tub, Velvet stood quietly while she was first dried, then perfumed and powdered. Her beautiful long hair was toweled with warm linen, then brushed and rubbed with silk. Pansy held out a pair of green silk stockings with vine leaves embroidered on them with gold thread.
“I made them for you using your mother’s originals for models,” Daisy said, “and I had Bonnie lower the hem on the green gown. We weren’t sure whether or not we would have to edge it in fur to give you enough length, but it turned out there was enough material. ’Twas French made, the gown, and there’s no doubt they’re fine seamstresses. Bonnie did have to edge the cream satin with a bit of lace though to lengthen it enough, you being taller than your mama.”
Pansy held out Velvet’s silken undergarments and a pair of gold garters. Velvet was beginning to feel better than she had in days. It was amazing, she thought, what good a hot bath could accomplish. Daisy then slid the apple-green silk gown over Velvet’s head. It fell gracefully, and as the tiring woman laced it up, Velvet was astounded by the perfect fit. It molded her waist and made her young breasts more sensual than she had ever believed they could be. Her eyes widened with surprise.
Then Daisy’s voice broke her thoughts. “I had Bonnie take the silk in, for your mother was a trifle thicker in the waist than you are when she finally married your father. The cream satin, however, should fit you perfectly, but we’ll try it on tomorrow and have Bonnie make any alterations necessary. Now sit and let Pansy do your hair.”
Carefully adjusting her dress, Velvet sat down. Behind her Pansy took up the boar’s-bristle brush, and parting her mistress’s hair in the center she drew it back carefully over Velvet’s ears. Then, working swiftly with the brush and a mouthful of gold hairpins, she fashioned the thick, rich auburn hair with its coppery-gold lights into an elegant chignon. Looking critically for any wisps of hair that might have escaped her vigilance, she nodded, satisfied to find none and affixed the cloth-of-gold and silk roses upon the top of the chignon.
In the mirror Velvet could see Daisy bobbing her head in approval. “Lovely!” she pronounced. “I never saw your mother in this dress, for I wasn’t in France when she and your father were wed, but she couldn’t have looked any more beautiful than you do, Mistress Velvet. The apple-green suits you with your gorgeous hair.”
There was a knock on the door, and when Pansy answered it the de Mariscos’ chaplain, Father Jean-Paul, entered the room. With a smile he said, “Good evening,ma petite cousine.”
With an answering smile, Velvet arose and went to him with her hands outstretched. “Père Jean-Paul! How happy I am to see you!”
Jean-Paul St. Justine was the second son of Adam’s younger sister, Clarice, and her husband, Henri, Comte de St. Justine. From childhood he had known that he wanted to be a priest, and he had entered the seminary on his thirteenth birthday. He had done brilliantly in his studies, and upon his ordination he had, to his family’s pride, been appointed to the staff of a prestigious bishop. Eight years ago, however, he had taken the part of a young peasant girl cruelly raped by her master’s sons. She had sought sanctuary in the village church, but the nobleman’s sons had broken into the church and dragged the hysterical girl from her refuge at the feet of the shocked old priest. It had been at that moment that Père Jean-Paul had ridden by, and using the weight of his office he had managed to rescue the girl.
The noble father of the miscreants had complained to the bishop, to the cardinal, and finally to the king himself. Père Jean-Paul St. Justine had been relieved of his post and sent to England to act as family chaplain to his uncle Adam. He had arrived atQueen’s Malvernthe year Velvet had been six. Among all people in the rural region in whichQueen’s Malvernwas located, he was most beloved, for he had a strong sense of justice and used his own personal wealth to ease the sufferings of many, be they Catholic or Protestant. He was that rarest of men, a true Christian, and he possessed a wonderful sense of humor.
Father Jean-Paul took the two lovely hands presented to him and kissed them warmly. “You are absolutely radiant,ma petite,”he said. “I am pleased that you have come home to be married. I have already heard your betrothed’s confession, Velvet, and I am quite shocked.” The priest’s blue eyes danced with mischief. “I expect your confession shall shock me equally.”
Used to his teasing, she countered quickly, “But,mon cousin, what can I possibly have to confess, for was it not I who was wronged by this wild Scot my parents chose to husband me?”
“And you have not enjoyed one moment of your carnal encounters?” he said innocently.
“As a good daughter of the church,mon père, how could I?” she returned demurely. “Such things are but for the procreation of the faith only, I have been taught.”
“Strange,” he mused. “ ’Twas not what Lord Gordon believed. He was most contrite for having compromised your virtue without benefit of clergy, yet he soothed his conscience with the thought that he gave you pleasure.”
“Then he was mistaken, and most ungentlemanly to boot!” replied Velvet, but her lips were twitching with amusement.
The priest tucked Velvet’s hand through his arm. “I have never seen you look so beautiful,ma petite.I would not make you sad, but I truly regret that your parents cannot be here. Sometimes it is difficult to understand God’s will, eh?” He patted her hand. “Come,ma petite, and we will go to the chapel where I will listen to your confession. I have taught you that marriage is a sacrament, and you must purge yourself of your sins before a holy sacrament.”
“Oui, mon père,”Velvet said quietly, and she allowed him to lead her from her chamber.
The family chapel was a small, square room in the northeast corner of the house. Jean-Paul St. Justine had consecrated it upon his arrival from France. It was a beautiful room with a coffered oak ceiling and a polished oak floor. The small double doors were carved with twin archangels with outspread wings in raised relief, painted and gilded in bright colors and gold leaf. Facing the doors was a creamy marble altar with a lace cloth. Upon the altar sat a beautiful gold crucifix set with precious stones flanked by candlesticks. Above it was a small round window stained in rich shades of red, blue, gold, rose, and green. To the left of the altar were three tall arched windows, the first of which depicted the temptation of Eve, the second the baptism of Jesus, and the third the Resurrection. Only red, blue, and gold had been used in these windows.
The altar rail was carved round with grape vines, and upon either side of the single altar step were long red velvet cushions. At the back of the chapel, and to the right of the doors, was a small carved oak confessional. To the left of the entrance stood a marble baptismal font with a silver ewer. There were but four carved oak benches with high backs in the chapel, two on the right and two on the left side of the room. The chapel was not really large enough to contain the entire family of Lord and Lady de Marisco, but on the occasions when they all came together, they had somehow managed.
Velvet entered the confessional, and after offering her cousin the traditional salutation she began to speak. Her confession, however, consisted mostly of small wrongs and uncharitable thoughts she had had while she had served the queen at court. Jean-Paul St. Justine was amused when he realized that she felt not one moment of remorse for having tried to hold off Lord Gordon for so long. Her main concern seemed to be for her parents.
He offered her absolution and a mild penance, for her sins were small if, in fact they existed at all. Then he left her to say her prayers before the marriage ceremony and went to his own quarters to change into more splendid and festive priestly garments.
When Father Jean-Paul returned to the chapel a half an hour later, the gold-and-jeweled candlesticks flanking the matching crucifix had fresh beeswax tapers in them and were already alight. The young boy from the nearby village who served as his altar boy was dressed in his red cassock and embroidered white lace surplice.
“The earl says we’re ready to begin, Father,” the boy piped.
“Open the doors then, lad, and let the family come into God’s house,” the priest said quietly.
The altar boy hurried to do the cleric’s bidding and flung open the two doors to admit first Dame Cecily and Aiden St. Michael, and her children who were followed by Lord and Lady Blackthorn, Daisy, Pansy, and Dugald. Next came all the servants belonging toQueen’s Malvern, many of whom had been there ever since Skye and Adam de Marisco had first made the house their home. Velvet’s old nurse, Violet, sniffed audibly. They had all seen the young mistress grow from child to woman, and they felt a strong sense of personal attachment to Velvet, as if she had been one of their own. In fact most of the servants considered that she was. When the four pews were all filled to overflowing with the de Marisco retainers, the Earl of BrocCairn’s clansmen entered the chapel and lined the walls of the small room.
