a moment all her lovely memories came flooding back. Belle Fleurs had sheltered her and her four oldest children from James Leslie; and then Jemmie had come, and Belle Fleurs had become a place of idyllic love. It would never again be that way for her, Jasmine thought, but it very well could be for Autumn. Reaching out, she took her daughter’s hand and gave it a little squeeze.
“Aye, ma bébé, that is Belle Fleurs,” she said.
Chapter 4
The chateau was set on a tiny peninsula of land, surrounded by the waters of its lake on three sides. On the fourth side a large, beautiful garden was enclosed with a low stone wall. Built in the year 1415, Belle Fleurs was now 235 years old, but its original construction had been sound, and considered quite modern for its day. Constructed of flattened, rough-hewn blocks of reddish-gray schist, Belle Fleurs had four polygonal towers, with dark slate roofs that were shaped like witches’ hats, set at each corner of the building. The coach’s access to the courtyard was over a heavily constructed bridge through a tall, well-fortified chatelet flanked by rounded and corbeled towers rising high on either side of the entry arch.
As their vehicle came to a stop, a man of middle years hurried forward even before Fergus might come down from the box. Opening the coach’s door, he lowered its steps and offered a hand to Jasmine first, and then her daughter. “Welcome, madame la duchesse!” he said. “I am Guillaume. I hope your trip was a pleasant one.” He bowed neatly.
“Very pleasant,” she answered him, impressed by his air of assurance. “The house is ready to receive us?”
“Oui, madame, but I took the liberty of waiting until you arrived to hire more servants. My wife, Pascaline, and I can serve you and your daughter for the next few days. I see you have your own personal staff as well.”
“We will need gardeners to trim the trees and bushes along the entrance way,” Jasmine said, “and the road needs to be raked smooth. It is far too rutted.” She let him lead her into the chateau, followed by the others. They went up a small flight of stone steps past a covered stone porch and found themselves in a wide foyer. “Ahh,” she said with a smile, “it is good to be back.” Then she turned to her caretaker. “I remember my grandmother telling me that there once was another Guillaume here at Belle Fleurs. Are you related to him?”
“My great-grandparents, Guillaume and Mignon, had the pleasure of serving your grandparents, madame la duchesse. It was the lord de Marisco who bought the chateau from a Huguenot gentleman after the St. Bartholomew’s Massacre in Paris following Henri of Navarre’s wedding to the Princess Margot. The previous owner thought it advisable to retire to La Rochelle. Ah, here is my good wife. Come, Pascaline, and meet our mistress and the young mistress. You will show them and their maidservants to their chambers.”
Adali stepped forward. Age had shrunk him somewhat, but he still possessed an air of command about him. “I am madame la duchesse’s majordomo,” he said. “I have been to Belle Fleurs before. Fergus”—he beckoned the man forward—“and his wife, Toramalli, will want quarters together, and such are available, I know. Madame la duchesse’s personal captain will also sleep in the house.” He turned and favored the plump Pascaline with a brief smile. “Madame and the demoiselle will eat in the Great Hall tonight. You are prepared, bonne femme?”
“Oui, M’sieu Adali,” Pascaline said with a curtsey. She recognized authority when she saw it. “The meal is a simple one, but nourishing.”
“Excellent!” Adali said. “Now, mes amies, let us get the baggage unloaded as quickly as possible. I smell rain in the air.”
“Adali is in his glory again,” Autumn chuckled to her mother. “He is really lost without a house to run, isn’t he?”
“This is not Glenkirk,” Jasmine said to her daughter. “This is a small chateau as chateaux go. The kitchens are below us, as are the servants’ quarters. In addition to the Great Hall, there is a small library on this level, and upstairs only six bedchambers. Not apartments with several rooms, but simple bedchambers. Outside you will, when you have time to explore, find stables, a kennel, a falconry, and a dovecote.”
“It is pretty,” Autumn said, “but not very grand.”
“Nay, it is not grand. It is a chateau for lovers, or for a small family. My cousins’ chateau, Archambault, is grand, and eventually I shall take you to see it,” Jasmine promised.
They settled themselves in, and during the next few days Autumn was kept busy arranging her chamber to suit herself and unpacking. Her room overlooked the lake, and the single window had a seat built into it where Autumn found she liked to sit looking out through the leaded panes, sometimes unfastening the window to familiarize herself with the scent of the fertile French countryside. The furnishings were simple, of ancient but well-polished golden oak.
There was a large bedstead with a seven-foot oak headboard carved with flowers and vines, a solid canopy of oak overhead that was held up by the headboard, and the two carved wooden posts at the foot of the bed. It was certainly not as big as the one in Mama’s room, which was enormous. She had a tall oak cupboard called an armoire in which Lily hung her gowns, and a fine oak chest for the rest of her possessions. There was a single little table on one side of the bed that was set opposite a fireplace flanked with carved stone angels.
The bed hangings, which were hung from tarnished brass rings, were made of a faded rose-colored velvet. The cushion in the window seat was a natural colored linen with rose velvet flowers embroidered onto it. The window had a large shutter that could be closed to keep out the cold air, along with linen and velvet drapes. Beneath the bed was a trundle with a thick mattress for Lily to sleep upon, and on the little nightstand a silver taperstick with its own snuffer attached by a delicate silver link. On each end of the narrow fireplace mantel sat small, square porcelain bowls of potpourri that perfumed the chamber. Despite her reservations regarding the social disadvantages of living in such an isolated and small chateau, Autumn liked her bedchamber, and she liked Belle Fleurs.
Adali, with the aid of Guillaume, hired servants for the chateau. Pascaline would be their cook, but she needed two girls to help her, as well as a boy to scrub the pots and sharpen the knives. A laundress and her helper were employed, as well as three housemaids and three footmen. Two men were hired for work in the stables. A head gardener and half a dozen men would work on the grounds, seeing that the gardens were properly kept and the driveway cleared of brush and tree limbs. Guillaume would oversee all who worked outside, and Adali would manage the inside of the chateau. Red Hugh and Fergus were responsible for gamekeeping, and would protect the duchess and her daughter. Within two weeks the household was running smoothly and Autumn and her mother had settled in quite comfortably.
Then one afternoon in early December, a distinguished gentleman rode up to the chateau. Dismounting in the courtyard, he gave his horse to the attending stableman and entered the house. Adali hurried forward.
“Monsieur le Comte, you are most welcome to Belle Fleurs. I shall tell my mistress you are here. Come into the hall. Marc, wine for monsieur le comte!” Ushering the guest into the Great Hall, he hurried off to fetch Jasmine.
“Philippe!” She came into the hall, hands outstretched, a welcoming smile upon her lips.
“Cousine, you have not changed a bit in all the years that have separated us,” he said gallantly, kissing her on both cheeks.
“Liar!” she laughed.
“I was sorry to hear of your husband’s death,” he told her.
“And I of Marie Louise’s passing,” she returned. “Come, Philippe, and sit by the fire. ’Tis a cold day, and you must be chilled from your ride.”
They sat together, and he said, “You have come to France to escape Cromwell and his Puritans, I have no doubt.”
“You cannot imagine how dreadful it is, Philippe,” she told him, and went on to describe the bleak England of Protector Cromwell. “I could bear it for myself, but not for Autumn. There is no society as we once knew it any longer,