The Kadin - Bertrice Small [172]
Over the other fireplace hung her own portrait—the one her father had commissioned in San Lorenzo. It pictured her in her betrothal gown and had been finished just before she was kidnapped. She couldn’t help smiling at the innocent, haughty little face that stared out of the picture.
“Except that your hair is lighter, you look just the same, madame. You must tell me your secret.”
Janet descended the steps into the hall and saw on a long bench by the left fireplace a tiny blond woman with laughing gray-blue eyes.
“I am Jane Dundas Leslie, your nephew Ian’s wife. Forgive me for nae rising, but,” she patted her distended belly, “it would take too long.”
Janet laughed. “I was in the same position five times, child. Soon?”
“Last week according to the midwife; however, my son refuses to obey the midwife! Fiona was due after me, but she may birth her second afore I hae my first”
“Patience,” counseled Janet sitting down next to the girl. “How old are you, Jane?”
“Just seventeen. How old were you when you had yer first?”
“Almost fifteen.”
“Oh, Jane!” cried a disappointed voice. “You hae met her first.”
A slender girl flew down the steps and across the room to Janet. “Welcome home, madame belle mère. I am Fiona.” She chuckled as Janet’s startled eyes swept her figure. “I never show except the littlest bit.” She pulled her gown tight across her middle revealing a gentle swell of belly. “Awful, isn’t it? I am so proud of bearing Charles’ children, and no one ever knows it till I appear wi’ a bairn in my arms!”
“So, mother, ye’ve met my wench,” said Charles entering the hall.
“Barely. And I’ve met Jane too. I have been so very sad about leaving your brother and sister, and all their children behind; but I can now see I have a lovely family right here. Sit down, Fiona, and let me look at you.”
If she had picked the girl herself she could not have been more delighted. Masses of tumbling blue-black hair surrounded a rosy face. She had dark blue eyes, a straight little nose, and a rosebud mouth set with a sweet expression. It was an intelligent face, and a kind one.
Janet turned to look at her son. “You hae yer father’s eye for beauty, my son.”
“Aye,” he said, “I do. I also look as he did for loyalty, intelligence and spirit. Like you, Fiona has all of these qualities.”
For a moment her eyes filled with tears, but she held them back. “Where is my grandson?”
He laughed, “I thought you would be unable to contain yourself for very long, mother. Ah, here is his nurse now.”
A pink-cheeked young woman descended the steps into the hall She carried a plump, dark-haired baby boy with a serious expression in his bright eyes. Janet held out her arms, and without a murmur the child went to her. For a minute they looked at each other, then the child touched her cheek with his tiny hand, and said, “Mam!”
“Yes, Patrick. I am your grandmother. I am mam.”
Sitting down on the settle, she placed the baby on the floor and handed him a gold bracelet from her arm, which he began to chew on vigorously.
“I do not believe it,” said Fiona. “Patrick never goes to anyone but his father, nurse or me. Even Uncle Adam cannot thaw him, and the Lady Anne sets him to scream-mg.
“But I am his grandmother,” replied Janet with aggravating logic.
And for the next hour the little group sat talking, reminding Janet very much of the evenings she, Selim, and the Lady Refet had made a family party. Then Ruth came to escort her to her apartments.
Marian, Ruth, Hannah, and several maids had worked quickly. They had swept the entire tower apartment which consisted of three floors. The first contained an anteroom and