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Vixens. Bertrice SmallЧитать онлайн книгу.

Vixens - Bertrice Small


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memories they evoke.”

      “Ohh,” Cynara said, “may I have them?”

      “Lady, you are much too bold!” Toramalli scolded. She turned to Fancy. “Remember that your mama gave you your pearls, child. Keep them, and do not associate any other memories with them but your dear mama,” she advised.

      “Those who do not ask, do not get,” Cynara said sullenly.

      “Such common greed does not become a young lady of your family,” Toramalli said quietly. “Now, you have seen your grandmother’s apartment. Go along and show Mistress Fancy the rest of this wonderful house.”

      “You would think at her age she would be content to sit by the fire,” Cynara grumbled as they walked downstairs to the hall. “She really does get above herself.”

      “That isn’t fair,” Diana quickly said. “Toramalli and Rohana have been with Grandmother her whole life. They may be servants, but they are privileged servants. They are family actually more than servitors. And they miss their menfolk. Adali in particular.”

      “My mother told me about Adali,” Fancy said.

      “He is dead now,” Diana said, “and Toramalli’s husband, Fergus, and his cousin Red Hugh who always guarded Grandmama. All who have served our grandmother, but for Toramalli and Rohana, are gone.”

      “They should be gone, too,” Cynara muttered. “Despite their vast ages, they are as sharp-eyed as they ever were.”

      “And sharp of ear too it would seem,” Fancy teased her cousin.

      “Come on, and I’ll show you where everyone is buried,” Cynara said cheerfully.

      They followed her from the hall, and out through the gardens. Beyond on a hillside was the family burial ground. It was neatly kept, the green grass trimmed, the gravel paths nicely raked, and open borders filled with flowers. It wasn’t at all a terrible place. There were even marble benches upon which to sit.

      “Here is where they are buried,” Cynara said, pointing.

      “Who?” Fancy asked.

      “Our great-great-grandmother, Skye O’Malley, and her sixth husband, our great-great-grandfather, Adam de Marisco, the earl of Lundy. She was wed with him longer than any of the others. They grew old together, but it is said she was still beautiful to look upon even on the day she died. She had a smile on her face when she breathed her last, Grandmama says,” Diana explained.

      “Grandmama adored her,” Cynara added.

      In the hall that night Jasmine said to her three granddaughters, “Tomorrow we shall enter the storerooms, my dears. It is time to begin preparing your wardrobe for court. And I shall choose from among my jewelry suitable pieces for each of you.”

      “You will spoil them, Mama,” Charlie Stuart said to his mother, but the tone of his voice was affectionate.

      “Of course, I shall spoil them,” Jasmine said with a smile. “Grandchildren are for spoiling, Charlie, as you yourself know.”

      “I do not spoil Brie’s children a great deal,” he protested.

      “Only because they are at Lynmouth, and you do not see them as much as you should,” Jasmine teased him.

      “Who is Brie?” Fancy whispered to Cynara.

      “My older half sister, the countess of Lynmouth,” came the soft reply. “She was Papa’s eldest child by his first wife who was killed during the wars. I hardly know her myself for she lives in Devon and was grown by the time I came into the family.”

      “Oh.” This was such a huge family, Fancy considered. She wished now she had listened a bit more carefully when her mother had spoken of them. And where was Devon? She would have to ask or be considered a complete lackwit.

      In the morning the three girls came to their grandmother’s apartments, and Jasmine took them to the storage rooms, where they were faced with an enormous choice of materials from which to choose. Many of the bolts of fabric had been brought to England with Jasmine at the beginning of the century. The walls of the room were lined with cedar, and there were no windows that would allow sunlight to fade the rich colors of the materials. Cynara was openly, and greedily enthusiastic.

      “I have always wanted to visit this room,” she admitted. Her bright blue eyes swept about, trying to take in all the bounty before her. Finally she closed them for a moment. It was all too much.

      “I think,” Jasmine said quietly, “you should each choose a single color and its tones around which we will build you each a new wardrobe. It will make you unique amid all the others who will be at court this winter. Fancy, I think for you a rich turquoise blue to set off your beautiful eyes. There are many shades in the turquoise family, and you shall wear them all, dear girl. With diamonds, pearls, and Persian turquoise for your jewels. You may be a bit bolder as you are the oldest, and a widow. But I see you in teal blue as well.” She looked at Cynara. “And for you, my proud and greedy pet, shades of red. Scarlet, and claret, and burgundy and crimson with diamonds rubies and pearls. And for our sweet Diana, shades of rose, and green also, to match your eyes. You shall have my emeralds, diamonds, and pearls to wear. You are like a flower, and we shall present you as one.”

      “Should I not wear a less conspicuous color, Grandmama?” Fancy asked. “I am, after all, a widow.”

      “The less said about that unfortunate misalliance the better,” Jasmine said sanguinely. “You do not mourn Parker Randolph. Why be a hypocrite about it, my dear girl? He was a monster!”

      Seeing an opportunity, Cynara spoke up. “What did he do that made him such a monster?” she inquired innocently.

      “I do not choose to discuss the matter, Cyn,” Fancy told her cousin sharply. “Perhaps one day but not yet.”

      “Did I not warn you that you were not to discuss your cousin’s tragedy?” Jasmine said sternly to Cynara.

      “Well, you brought it up,” Cynara replied pertly.

      “Cyn!” Diana hissed at her cousin.

      “Nay, Diana, she is right. I did bring it up, but I have the advantage of age and authority, Cynara. You do not. You will obey me in the future, or you shall not have my rubies to wear to court, and I know how badly you want them.” Jasmine smiled wickedly at her granddaughter.

      Cynara laughed in reply. “I would do anything for those rubies, Grandmama,” she responded, “but you know that, of course.”

      “Then we understand each other, eh, my pet?”

      “That is precisely the problem, Grandmama. You have always understood me far too well,” Cynara complained with just a faint hint of irritation that she dared not to show.

      Jasmine laughed now. “There are times when you remind me of me when I was your age,” she said. “I, too, was very determined to have my own way; and my own grandmother was equally determined that I should not for my own sake, Cynara. Life does not always play fair, as I suspect you will eventually discover to your regret. You have been fortunate, so far, but your luck may not always hold.”

      “Yours did,” Cynara said.

      “Not always,” Jasmine responded quietly. “Now, let us choose the materials that we will have fashioned into wonderful gowns for you all. Fancy, my child, here is a marvelous brocade the color of Persian turquoise. It will make you a fine gown for your first visit to court. You shall be much admired. I always found the gentlemen attentive when I wore a gown the same color as my eyes.”

      “I am not certain I want to be admired,” Fancy said softly.

      “Fancy says she doesn’t want a husband,” Diana explained.

      “Of course she doesn’t,” Jasmine agreed. “At least not yet. But there will come a day when she meets the right gentleman and changes her mind. My first two husbands were murdered,


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