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  Spotting a familiar face, Jasmine drew her horse to a stop. "Bride Duffy!" She slid from her mount's back and hugged her old friend.

  "Cai milk failte! A thousand welcomes," Bride Duffy said, her honest face wreathed in a broad smile. "Welcome back to Maguire's Ford, my lady Jasmine!"

  The two women embraced again, and then Jasmine drew Fortune forward. "Here is your goddaughter, Bride Duffy. Make your curtsy, Fortune."

  Fortune curtsied before the red-cheeked country woman. "How d'ye do, Mistress Duffy?" Fortune said, and met the woman's gaze with her own. "I am pleased to meet you at long last."

  "Bless yer heart, m'lady," Bride replied, "and pleased I am to remake yer acquaintance for you were just a wee babe in nappies when I saw ye last." She hesitated just a brief moment, then hugged the young girl. "Now yer back to where you first saw the light of this harsh world, and come to marry, or so I am told."

  "Only if I like him," Fortune said quickly.

  Bride Duffy chuckled. "Just like her mam, she is."

  "Both my daughters have minds of their own," Jasmine said. "Come, Bride, and meet my husband, James Leslie." She drew her friend over to where the duke now stood, and introduced them.

  Finally Rory was able to draw Fortune and the Leslies away so they might see the castle. The coach carrying Adali and Rohana had already gone ahead. Erne Rock Castle was set upon a small headland and surrounded by water on three sides. It was almost three hundred years old. To gain entrance one crossed a drawbridge that lay over a moat, which was actually a part of the lough that had been dug out on the land side, and lined with large stones to keep it from collapsing. With its drawbridge raised, Erne Rock was an invincible fortress, small though it was.

  They walked their horses across the drawbridge, and upon entering the courtyard they were greeted by several stable lads who took their mounts. Fortune looked about her in order to get her bearings. There were the stables, and there a gatehouse. The courtyard was paved in large flat stones, and not particularly large. She followed her mother up a small flight of steps. There was a red rosebush at the foot of the stairs, growing up from an open flower bed. Fortune cupped one of the roses in her hand and sniffed appreciatively. Then she hurried after Jasmine.

  Inside, Erne Rock Castle was a warm and friendly place. There were stone floors on the main level and beautifully polished wooden floors on the upper level. The Great Hall had two fireplaces alight with bright fires this May afternoon. It was not a large room at all, being no bigger than the family's private hall at Glenkirk, Fortune noted. There was a tapestry depicting St. Patrick driving the snakes from Ireland on one wall. The furniture was of glowing golden oak. There was a paneled and well-stocked library on the main floor as well as a room that Rory used to conduct estate business. The kitchens were located behind and below the Great Hall. On the second floor of the castle there were several bedrooms, each with its own fireplace.

  Jasmine opened the door to the large bedchamber, and stepped back so her daughter might look inside. "Here is where you were born," she said softly. "Madame Skye's sister, the doctor nun, Eibhlin, delivered you into this world. You were the hardest of my babies, and were turned about the wrong way. I wagered Mam a gold piece that you were a boy."

  "Were you disappointed?" asked Fortune, who had never heard this story before.

  "Nay," Jasmine replied. "How could I be? You were a perfect little girl with your grandfather's mole just below your left nostril above your lip. But more important, you were your father's last gift to me, Fortune, and I loved him very much. You, India, and Henry were all I had left of Rowan Lindley, along with some sweet memories. It was the greatest legacy I have ever received."

  "What happened to my grand-aunt Eibhlin?" Fortune wondered. "Is she still alive? Could we go and see her?"

  Jasmine smiled. "Nay, poppet. Eibhlin O'Malley, God assoil her good soul, died almost two years after you were born." She wiped the tear that had come to her eye for thinking of Eibhlin made her think of her grandmother. Ireland, Jasmine decided, made her sad. Catching herself she said, "This will be your room now, poppet, for it is the chamber belonging to the head of the household."

  "I am not the mistress of Erne Rock Castle yet, Mama," Fortune responded. "You and Papa take this room. I want one that overlooks the lough. If I take William Devers for my husband, then after we are wed I shall move into this room, but not now, Mama."

  "You are sure?"

  "Aye," Fortune replied, and then her look grew distressed. "Will it upset you, Mama, to share a room with Papa that you once shared with my father? Would you prefer to be in another chamber?"

  "Nay, poppet," Jasmine told her daughter. "I have happy memories of your father here, but sad ones as well. Perhaps being with my Jemmie will erase those unhappy recollections, and I will come to recall Erne Rock only as a happy place, for you were born here, and will be wed here as well. My grandchildren will be born at Erne Rock."

  "Perhaps," Fortune said.

  Jasmine took her daughter by the hand, and together they sat upon the chamber's large bed. "Poppet, I have sensed a reluctance in you from the beginning regarding this marriage. It is natural for a maiden to be hesitant when facing her wedding, but I feel it is more than that with you, Fortune. What bothers you, my daughter?"

  "You and Papa keep saying that I don't have to wed this William Devers if I do not like him. Yet at the same time you speak as if it is just a matter of time before we meet and are married. I am not you, Mama. I do not want my husband chosen for me. I want to choose my own husband! You have brought me from my home to a strange place, and you expect me to marry a stranger. What if I really don't want to marry William Devers? What will happen to me then?" Fortune's blue-green eyes were troubled.

  "If you really do not like this young man," Jasmine answered her, "then that will be the end of it, but what makes you think you won't like him? Is it only because you do not know him? Fortune, it is true that my father, the Mughal, chose my first husband for me. I did not not see Prince Jamal Khan until the hour in which we were wed. My parents chose wisely, however, and I was happy, with him. My grandmother chose your father, although I did know him beforehand; and old King James chose your stepfather, whom I also knew. Sometimes your elders know better, Fortune, but if you truly dislike this young man, you do not have to marry him. Neither Jemmie nor I want you unhappy."

  "None of us knows this William Devers," Fortune said darkly.

  "My cousin, Father Cullen Butler, knows of him. The Reverend Mr. Steen knows him. They feel he is a most suitable and eligible candidate for your hand, poppet. Perhaps he is, and perhaps he isn't. Only time will tell. We shall see what we shall see," Jasmine told her daughter. "However, since his family has been approached, it is only proper that we give this young man a fair hearing."

  "Aye," Fortune agreed, although not enthusiastically.

  Jasmine stood up. "Come, and let us join the gentlemen down in the hall. I imagine that my cousin has arrived by now."

  Together mother and daughter descended, coming into the hall arm in arm. Rory Maguire and James Leslie stood speaking with a white-haired priest in his black robes. Jasmine broke from her daughter's side, and hurried forth.

  "Cullen Butler! Ohh, I am so happy to see you again! And looking so well, too. Thank you for helping to keep the peace at Maguire's Ford." Putting her arms about her cousin, Jasmine kissed him on both cheeks.

  "And look at you, Yasamin Kama Begum," he said. "Yer as beautiful as ever, and you the mother of a houseful of children," he told her, hugging her back, his blue eyes sparkling with pleasure.

  "And a grandmother too, Cullen. A little boy named after Rowan, and a baby girl, Adrianna," Jasmine said, smiling.

  The priest's eyes went to Fortune, his heart leaping at the sight of her flaming red hair. His face, however, was a mask of calm and welcome. "And this must be Lady Fortune Mary, whom I baptized myself all those years ago. Welcome back to Ireland, my child."

  Fortune curtsied, smilin
g at Cullen Butler. In him she sensed a friend, and an ally. "Thank you, Father."

  He raised her up, and kissed her soundly on her cheeks. "Cousin Cullen when we are en famille, my child. Well, you surely have grown since last I saw you. And hair like your great-great-grandmother O'Malley, a Scots lass from the Isle of Skye, you have. I never knew her for she died before I was born, but she had hair like a flame, they said."

  He is yet quick and clever, Adali thought, standing at the edge of the hall. Madame Skye would be pleased, but then she chose him herself all those years ago, and sent him out to India to watch over my mistress. Still he has put it into their heads that Lady Fortune's hair is a family trait even though none of her siblings, or cousins, have tresses of such an outrageous color. He smiled to himself, satisfied.

  "I should like to meet the Reverend Mr. Steen," Jasmine said.

  "I invited him to come with me and greet you," the priest replied, "but he felt we should be allowed a small time for a family reunion. He will come tomorrow."

  "And the Deverses? When are we to meet them?" Jasmine continued.

  "Next week. They have been invited to come and stay for three days so the young people may see if they like one another," Cullen Butler said. Then he turned to Fortune. "Are you anxious to meet yer intended, my child? He's a handsome fellow, I can tell you," he chuckled.

  "He is not my intended until I decide if we like one another, and will suit," Fortune responded. "I won't marry a man I can't love."

  "Nor should you, lassie," the priest said. "Marriage is a wonderful sacrament, and should be treated with respect, Fortune Mary. Still, I like what I hear of young Master Devers, and I believe you will too."

  "Poppet, go with Adali. He will show you the rest of the castle," Jasmine said. "If it becomes yours, then you should know everything you can about it." She waved her daughter off with her faithful servant.

  "She's hesitant, and 'tis natural, of course," the priest noted. "How old is she now?"

  "Twenty this summer," Jasmine told him.

  "A bit long in the tooth to be playing the reluctant virgin," muttered the duke of Glenkirk. "She should hae been wed several years ago, and would hae been but for her obstinate older sister."

  "Now, Jemmie, you promised us you would not fuss with Fortune. If you do you will only make her dig her heels in harder. If she and William Devers do not suit it will be unfortunate, but hardly the end of the world, my darling." Jasmine laughed. "There is a man out there in the world who is just right for Fortune, and she will find him in her good time. Of that I am certain."

  "Yer beginning to sound more like yer grandmother every day," James Leslie grumbled. "In this day and age a maid must have a husband. We've found her a perfectly respectable young man from a good family, who, I am told, is handsome and well formed; and who is to have a respectable inheritance one day. She's lucky the lad will consider someone as old as she is. Twenty is practically past time to wed."

  "Bridal nerves," Cullen Butler assured the duke. "Once she meets with young William she will be reassured, my lord. I guarantee it."

  "Rory?" James Leslie looked to the estate manager for some sort of confirmation and reassurance.

  "I've heard nothing bad about him, my lord. His mother rules the roost up in Lisnaskea, I'm told, but the young couple will be living here at Erne Rock. He's a fine lad, they say, although I prefer his elder brother myself," Rory Maguire told the duke.

  "Elder brother? I was told this William Devers is his father's heir. If he has an elder brother, how can this be?"

  "The older brother has been disinherited, my lord," Rory said.

  "Why?"

  "He is a Catholic, my lord," came the explanation.

  "How awful!" Jasmine exclaimed.

  " 'Tis the world in which we live," the duke said darkly. "That such a thing should be allowed in our time, and yet it is."

  "Even here in Ireland, and especially here in Ulster," the priest said quietly, "we are discriminated against and hounded. The penalties are the same here as in England. Catholics cannot hold public office except in the House of Lords."

  "But that is because they cannot in good conscience take the oath of supremacy to the king for they cannot acknowledge him as head of the church in England," Jasmine put in.

  "Mass cannot be heard in public, nor can anyone harbor priests," Cullen Butler quickly countered. "Do you not pay the fines to the crown for us here in Maguire's Ford? We would be driven away otherwise. I make certain my people attend Reverend Steen's services several times a month to ease suspicions that we are a nest of traitors here. Failure to take communion on important feast days is subject to a fine of twenty pounds. Three such offences are considered treason."

  "You know the reason for that," Jasmine spoke up. "Grandmama, herself, was in Paris with Grandfather Adam in 1572 when the St. Bartholomew's massacre occured. Pope Gregory XIII openly rejoiced in Rome when he learned of it, and held a public procession of priests and cardinals to celebrate the death of those poor Protestants. Why he publicly encouraged the murder of good Queen Bess. He even offered absolution in advance to anyone who would assassinate her. Then in 1605 a group of foolish English Catholics plotted to blow up the Houses of Parliament while old King James was speaking. Still, I do not believe that the Catholics should be so penalized and persecuted for the sins of a few fanatics," Jasmine concluded.

  "In that, Cousin," the priest chuckled, "I concur, and I know I speak for my whole flock when I say, thank you."

  ***

  The next few days were quiet ones as Jasmine, James, and Fortune recovered from their journey from Scotland. Fortune explored the estate alone and with Rory Maguire. There would be no changes, she quickly decided, at Maguire's Ford for she liked the Irishman and the way he managed the estate. They seemed to have a great deal in common, particularly their love of the horses. It seemed to her as if they had known each other their whole lives.

  On Monday morning the Reverend Mr. Samuel Steen arrived at Erne Rock to greet its mistress, and the bride-to-be. He was a tall man with fine gray eyes. His deep brown hair was peppered with bits of gray as was his imperial, a small tuft of beard that grew from his round chin. His voice was deep and resonant. "Good day, my lady," he said, bowing to Jasmine.

  "I am pleased to finally meet with you, Reverend Steen," Jasmine told him. "Steen. It is an odd name, sir, although I certainly mean no offense to you. Please, sit with me by the fire on this damp day."

  Samuel Steen accepted her gracious invitation. "The name Steen is from Hainault, my lady. My family, who were master weavers by trade, came to England over three hundred years ago as part of Queen Philippa's dowry. There were several families of weavers who came. It was our task to set up a commercial weaving industry for England so its wool would not have to be sent abroad to be woven into cloth. We left England some years ago, and went to Holland because we were being persecuted for our religion. Ten years ago we were offered the opportunity to go to England's colonies in the New World, but alas, our ship, the Speedwell, sprang a leak. We had to put into an English port. We were then offered the chance to come to Ireland, or be returned to Holland. We chose Ireland. By God's good fortune Master Maguire was on the docks the day we landed. He offered us shelter here at Maguire's Ford if we would but keep the peace with our Catholic neighbors. How could we not agree? We know persecution far too well. Some of our people, however, could not manage to restrain their prejudice, so we left them behind. We have never regretted the day we came here, my lady."

  "Nor have I. My cousin, Cullen Butler, has written to me of how you have begun a small weaving industry here in the village, and that you have taught your Catholic neighbors this trade as well. I am very pleased by your initiative, Reverend Steen. And tomorrow I shall see if you are a good judge of bridegrooms," Jasmine smiled.

  "I have seen the young lady riding with Master Maguire. She is a pretty child. Young William will make her a fine husband," he responded, returning the smile.

 
"If they suit," Jasmine replied. "I am a modern parent, and will not force my daughter into an unhappy alliance, Samuel Steen."

  He looked a trifle startled, but the Protestant minister said nothing. He was certain that the young couple would like each other. Besides, in the end all the parents would have their way, and the marriage would be celebrated. "Your daughter is a Protestant?" he inquired.

  "She was born here at Maguire's Ford, the posthumous child of my second husband, and she was baptized by my cousin. However, she has been raised in England's church," Jasmine explained.

  "Perhaps I should baptize her a Protestant," he suggested. "Sir Shane and his wife are very strict, and may be upset by this knowledge, my lady. I mean no offense, you understand."

  "One baptism is quite enough for any good Christian, Samuel Steen," Jasmine told him. "If the fact my daughter was baptized a Catholic distresses them then perhaps their son is not for Lady Fortune. My daughter is, after all, a great heiress. She can have her pick of husbands. It does not have to be William Devers. It is providential that Fortune considers him at all." She smiled sweetly at the minister.

  She was a strong-willed woman, the minister thought, but he was not in the least put off by it. He hoped her daughter was as strong, for Fortune Lindley's future mother-in-law, Lady Jane Anne Devers, was as tenacious as the duchess of Glenkirk. She was an uncompromising Protestant who had already spoken to him about removing the Catholics from Maguire's Ford when her son became its master. Young William, of course, was more flexible, and if the young couple made Erne Rock their permanent home, he would be under his wife's influence rather than that of his mother, which Samuel Steen suspected would be a better thing. He saw no reason to dispossess the Catholics of the village for their religion. Everyone got on well. If there was no one to interfere, they would continue to get on well.