"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.


***

On the morning that the Deverses were due to arrive, Fortune bathed with the help of her new maidservant, Rois, who was Bride Duffy's youngest granddaughter. She was a slender girl of eighteen with dark braids, large blue eyes, and porcelain skin lightly sprinkled with several freckles across the bridge of her nose. Rois was soft-spoken and diffident towards her mistress. Her grandmother had been training her for several months for this coveted position in what was to become Lady Fortune's household.

"Have you ever had a suitor, Rois?" Fortune asked as she stepped from her tub to be enfolded within a soft, warm towel.

Rois blushed prettily. "Kevin Hennessey and I would like to walk out, my lady, but grandmother says we must keep our attention on our positions. In a year, or two, we may be allowed to court."

"What does your Kevin do?" Fortune was fascinated. It would seem that her servant had no more freedom than she had.

"Kevin helps Master Maguire with the horses," Rois said.

"Does he like what he does? Is he good at it?" Fortune probed further. God's bones! Getting information from Rois was like pulling teeth.

"Aye, he loves the beasties, as he calls them," Rois said, warming now to her subject. "And he is very good with them. They say that one day he may take Master Maguire's place, but that, of course, is a very long way off, my lady."

"Have you ever kissed him?"

Rois blushed again, this time a far deeper hue than previously. "Ohh, my lady," she squeaked. "You shouldn't ask me such a thing."

"That means you have!" Fortune pounced. "Good! What is it like to be kissed? I never have, except by my relations. It is far different with a suitor, I expect, isn't it?"

Rois nodded her head, working furiously to dry her mistress. She wasn't quite certain what to say. "When Kevin kisses me," she said, and then quickly amended, "if he did kiss me, my heart beats a tattoo like a drum, and my whole being feels filled with light. It's hard to describe, but it is wonderful. If, indeed, it actually happened."

Fortune giggled mischievously. "That doesn't tell me a whole lot, Rois," she said frankly. "I guess you have to experience a kiss to know what it's like. I wonder how long before William Devers tries to kiss me. I wonder if I will like this kissing."

"Women usually do," Rois replied. Then she slipped a clean chemise over her mistress's head.

"My mother certainly does," Fortune remarked, straightening the lace edging about the chemise's low-cut neckline, and on the balloon sleeves that came just below her elbow.

Rois rolled a pair of cream-colored silk stockings up Fortune's slim legs, gartering them with gold rosettes. Then she helped the girl into several silk petticoats. Next came the outer skirt of heavy deep green silk, the skirt falling in simple folds with its fullness toward the back, and open in the front to display the skirt petticoat of cream and gold brocade.