"You are both wise," Jasmine said, "to have delayed Fortune's going. With first babies one can never be certain when they will come. It is better that Fortune remain here with us. Charlie will be off for court shortly, and we will have Queen's Malvern all to ourselves."

Charles Frederick Stuart celebrated his twentieth birthday. His brother, Henry Lindley, marquess of Westleigh, his older sister, India, countess of Oxton, and her husband, Deveral Leigh, came from their homes to help the not-so-royal Stuart commemorate the occasion. Jasmine looked about the hall that night. Here were her four eldest children. Once they had been so close. Now they were all grown, and making a great fuss over Autumn Leslie, the youngest of them all.

She looked at her Stuart son. "You are your father's image," she told Charlie. "He was twenty when he died. Thank God you have a stronger constitution. When he was born in Scotland they treated him like some Indian idol in my native land. He was carried about by his servants until he was four. He told me once that when they left him alone for the night he would creep from his bed, and run up and down his room. If he had not done so his poor legs would have been as weak as his baby brother's. Your poor Uncle Charles was less venturesome, and had a terrible time learning to walk. You may notice, Charlie, that even today he strides with an odd gait."

"I wondered where that had come from," Charlie replied. "You were older than my father, Mama, weren't you?"

"By three and a half years," Jasmine said, "but no one thought a great deal about it. I think they were relieved he had finally taken a mistress, thus proving his manhood. You know the rumors that always swirled about your grandfather, King James." She smiled, and patted his hand. "And you, my son? Has any lady yet stolen your heart?"

Charlie flushed. "I am the king's nephew. No matter I was born on the wrong side of the blanket, I am still his nephew, and the ladies are always most kind," the not-so-royal Stuart replied, a twinkle in his eye.

"Too bad Mama wasn't married to Prince Henry," Henry Lindley observed. "You'd be king now, and a better king, I think, than poor old royal Charles. If there is one thing he's certain of, 'tis his stature, but he cannot make any decision having to do with governance without mulling it to death. And do not dare to disagree with him. He takes neither suggestion, nor criticism, lightly."

"He is not a bad king," Jasmine defended the monarch.

"Aye, he is," the marquess of Westleigh said, "even if he does mean well, Mama. Still, at least our Charlie is spared Henrietta Marie as a wife," he chuckled. "An overproud, and pious little Catholic. Her very existence causes difficulties."

"Henry! Remember that your brother-in-law is a Catholic. I did not raise you to voice, or even consider, such prejudice," Jasmine admonished her oldest son.

"Mama, I am not anti-Catholic. I am practical, and speak the truth," the marquess said. "I would say the same if she were a pious little Puritan. Extremism is not healthy for a country, or its government. England is changing, and I am not certain I like the change."

"The English have shown a one-sidedness in religion for centuries," Kieran spoke up. "Perhaps not the people, but its rulers."

"The people too," Henry Lindley said fatalistically.

"I thought you had all come to celebrate my natal day," Charlie said with a grin. "I don't want to discuss politics, or religion. We are together as we will never be again. Soon our sister will leave us for this new world of hers. I want to eat, and drink, and reminisce tonight. Do you remember when we all fled to France because my grandfather, King James, and my grandmother, Queen Anne, decided that Jemmie Leslie was the perfect husband for Mama?"

"And it took him two years to find us because no one would tell him where we were," India laughed.

"Until Madame Skye hinted so broadly that he would have had to be a dunce not to find us, and he did," Charlie chuckled.

"He only found us because he followed our great-grandmother to France when she came to tell Mama our great-grandfather had died. But," Fortune said, "Papa was just the right husband for Mama, and the perfect father for us!"

"Except when he is so bull-headed that he cannot be reasoned with at all," India said.

"God's blood, India," Henry Lindley said to his eldest sister, "you're not still holding a grudge against poor Glenkirk? I thought you had forgiven him long ago. He did what he thought right."

"Oh, I've forgiven him," India replied, "but I was just remembering how he almost cost Dev and me our firstborn."

"I'd rather think of our childhoods," Fortune said. "What times we had when Mama was at court, and we got to stay with Madame Skye and Grandfather Adam. Remember the black pony he got you, India?"

India giggled. "I had been begging for that pony since you were born," she said. "In fact I remember telling him I should rather have a black pony than a baby sister. Do you remember when you were three, Fortune, and you managed, although to this day we don't know how, to clamber on that pony's back? Then you backed him from his stall, and rode out into the stableyard crowing with your accomplishment."

"And you were furious that I had dared to ride your pony, and so the next day Grandfather Adam bought me a dappled-gray pony with dark spots on his rump. I called him Freckles."

"How did you get up on my pony?" India asked her sister.

"Henry helped me," came the mischievous reply.

"Henry?" India was astounded, and looked to her brother.

The marquess of Westleigh laughed, chagrined. "I didn't expect Fortune to go out into the yard," he said, "and she was so eager to be on that pony's back. I was terrified that Mama would find out. So I slipped from the stables through the rear entrance, and pretended to be just as surprised as everyone else when she rode out. Fortune never told on me, for which, sister, I am to this day thankful."

Surprisingly their mother laughed at the tale. "How lucky you all were to have one another. My poor wee Autumn will grow up like an only child. The youngest of her Leslie brothers is twelve years older than she is. There is no one left at Glenkirk now but Patrick, and at sixteen he is more interested in lasses he can bed than in a baby sister." She smiled at her four eldest.

The next day Henry Lindley returned to his home, Cadby, even as his sister, India, and her husband left for Oxton, and Charlie was off to join the court. By evening only Jasmine, her two daughters, and Kieran remained at Queen's Malvern. There was a melancholy about the wonderful old brick mansion. Fortune and Kieran were keeping to themselves, and Jasmine understood. Too soon they would be parted. Then came word that the Mary's Land expedition would be sailing from Gravesend in mid-October.

"It's ridiculous to go all the way to London when the Cardiff Rose is berthed in Liverpool. You will travel there, Kieran," Fortune said, and her mother nodded in agreement. "The ship will sail to Dundalk to pick up the colonists, and you can meet Leonard Calvert's ships off of…" She looked puzzled. "Where, Mama?"

"Cape Clear, off Ireland," Jasmine said quietly. "The Mary's Land expedition will pass that way as they cross the Saint George's Channel going out to sea."

"We'll have to send a messenger off in the morning to Lord Baltimore," Fortune said, "to confirm these arrangements. And one to Maguire's Ford so that our men will be in Dundalk at the proper time. And the messenger has to return from Lord Baltimore so that you will have time to ride to Liverpool. I will go with you."

"Nay," Jasmine said firmly to her daughter. "I will go, but you must say your goodbyes to Kieran here. We cannot be bothered with a coach to convey you, and you should not make such a long journey a-horse. It is far too dangerous, Fortune, and you want a healthy child who will be able to make the long and dangerous trip to Mary's Land next summer."

"I agree, madame," Kieran Devers said quietly, and looked to his wife. "Fortune?"

For once Fortune saw the wisdom of her mother's argument without disagreement. She nodded, reluctantly. "I cannot argue with either of you, but oh, I wish I were going with you, Kieran."

The following day all the messengers were dispatched, and for the next few weeks the couriers came and went. Rory Maguire sent word that he would have the Irish colonists in Dundalk at the appointed time. The time grew nearer for Kieran Devers to leave his wife, and Fortune began to feel a dread such as she had never known.

"Are we mad?" she asked him. "It is such a long and dangerous journey across a vast ocean. What if the ship encounters a storm? What if it sinks? I will never see you again!" she wailed, and burst into tears, clinging to him, and soaking his nightshirt with her weeping.

"What other choice do we have?" he said quietly. "We have been over this a hundred times, Fortune. The New World is our destiny. There is nothing for us in this old world, darling." He stroked her disheveled red hair soothingly.

"I can become a Catholic," Fortune said. "I was baptized one. Then we can go to France, or Spain to live. We could live at Belle Fleurs, Mama's chateau. Grandfather Adam has family nearby at Archambault, Kieran. We could be happy there!" She looked up hopefully at him.

He sighed. "Perhaps you could be happy, Fortune, but I could not. I have my pride, and it has been difficult enough for me to swallow it these past months. I know that there are those who think I wed you because you are a great heiress, and not because I love you. Aye, I have a small inheritance thanks to my father, but my small wealth is nowhere near yours. In the New World I will build us a life, and a great estate. Perhaps not as great as the one we gave up, but I will do it myself, and no one will look askance at me. I never before considered what anyone thought of me, but then I married you, my love. I will not be a husband who lives off his wife's wealth! Nor will I have anyone think it of me, or of you. We will make our way together, Fortune, and we can only make it in the New World. Not here. Not in England. Not in Ireland. Not in Spain, or France. In Mary's Land! Do you understand now, my love, why I must go?"