The palfrey flicked its beribboned tail as two of her father's youngest and most handsome pages led Bess slowly toward Tewkesbury Abbey, followed by a horde of wedding guests. Bess was relieved that the recent birth of a son to Queen Philippa had kept the king and queen from putting in an appearance, although if they had it would have given the people standing alongside the well-worn path to the abbey something to stare at besides the bride. There were plenty of them standing there, for aside from the frantic cooking for the wedding feast to be held later that day, only the most essential work of the manor was being done. Everyone, even those too lowly to attend the wedding mass, had been invited to the feast.
A woman cackled to her companion, “Pretty little chick, but not ready for our lord to bed, I’ll wager!” Bess, whose mouth had been fixed into a smile, forgot herself and glared daggers at the woman. She sat up straighter and thrust her chest forward a bit, trying to create the illusion of a bosom.
Hugh had already arrived at the abbey door when Bess appeared. As he was merely the groom, and a familiar sight in Tewkesbury, his progress had not excited much interest beyond a few cheers, though he had been followed by a half dozen knights and cut an impressive figure in his new reddish robes, which set off to good effect his auburn hair and beard, dark brown eyes, and lean body. He smiled at Bess as she was assisted off her horse and led by her father to stand at Hugh's left side. “You’re lovely,” he said, so softly that no one but the immediate bystanders could hear.
Bess listened as Hugh's chaplain, William Beste, asked the bystanders if they knew of any reason why she and Hugh should not be joined together in matrimony. No one obliged her by saying yes. As the chaplain dutifully recited the terms of the dispensation the couple had received, Bess, looking at the chaplain without seeing him, began to consider whether she would have to keep her hair covered from now on. She’d not covered hers after her first marriage, as there could have been no pretense that she was anything but a virgin, but now that she was old enough to bed Hugh in theory if not in fact, she would probably be expected to conceal it. This was a pity, she thought, as her hair had always been considered her greatest beauty. Perhaps—
“I will,” Hugh said firmly.
Bess jumped as Beste began asking her if she would obey, serve, love, honor, and keep Hugh. Weakly, she agreed with that, and everything else that was asked of her, until Hugh's small nephews, conscripted into the ceremony at the last minute, swaggered up with a pillow on which lay a gold ring set with sapphires. Hugh took the ring, and little Edward and little Thomas beamed as the chaplain blessed it. Evidently, the most important part of the ceremony had been accomplished, in their eyes at least.
“With this ring I thee wed,” Hugh said, and smiled again at Bess. He slid the ring onto her finger. Bess felt the tears sting at her eyes. There would be more blessings to follow, and a mass to be said inside the abbey, but she was now irrevocably Lady Despenser.
Hours later, the wedding and the wedding feast over, Bess and Hugh knelt by the bed that was to be hers while Hugh's chaplain blessed it. As it was known that she and Hugh would not yet be lying together, she did not have to put up with the indignity of being put into the bed with him while the guests made bawdy jokes. Instead, the crowd quietly departed, followed by Hugh himself.
Her maid had undressed her and was drawing the bed curtains when a knock sounded. “Me, Bess.”
“Hugh?” Though Bess was wearing a shift, she drew the covers up to her chin as if she were stark naked. “You are not—”
“I’ve not come to bed you, sweetheart. But it seemed odd to leave you on our wedding night without a private word or two.” He grinned. “And I wanted to check on your feet. I trod on them several times while dancing, just like I did at your brother's wedding, I’m afraid.”
“They are fine.”
“I never was much of a dancer. Perhaps you will improve me.” Hugh sat down on the bed. Bess had heard tales of grooms who became so drunk on their wedding night that they were barely conscious come bedtime, but Hugh had drank sparingly, a point Bess had to concede in his favor, especially since a number of the guests had not been so prudent and had been staggering about during the blessing of the bed. “Do you think it went well?”
“Did you think it would not?”
He shrugged. “I was worried a bit. Some of the people there tonight hadn’t spoken to anyone in my family for years. My aunt Margaret, for instance, and her husband the Earl of Gloucester.”
“The tipsy lady?”
Hugh grinned. “Aye. I confess I had my men fill her cup more often than necessary, to see if it would mellow her a bit. It worked; I actually got a smile from her at the end of the evening, did you see? But it could have had the opposite effect, so that was luck in itself. And I was worried about my aunt Aline—the older lady in black you saw—because she has hardly spoken to anyone outside our family for years. I thought she would be miserable, but my brother Gilbert had her dancing! So everyone seemed to get along, that I could tell. Do you think so?”
Realizing that Hugh was anxious for her opinion softened Bess a bit. “Yes, Hugh.”
“I’m glad.” Hugh yawned. “You must be tired, sweetheart, and so am I, I confess. I won’t keep you up any longer. But would you let me hold you while you fall asleep? It will help us get used to each other.”
Too tired to argue, Bess nodded. Hugh slid onto the bed, not getting under the covers, and lay next to her. The night had turned chilly, and to her surprise Bess found herself enjoying the warmth of her husband's body next to hers as she closed her eyes and waited for sleep. As her thoughts began to tumble against each other, she dreamily remembered her mother's talk of the day before. “Where will you spend the night?” she asked, only half aware of what she was saying. “With your mistress?”
She could not see her husband's face suddenly change, and was too near sleep to notice the awkward pause before he spoke. “No, sweetheart. You are my mistress.” Hugh kissed her on the cheek. “Good night, Bess.”
“Good night,” Bess mumbled.
August 1341 to July 1342
ALTHOUGH BESS HAD NOT YET WARMED TO BEING LADY Despenser, she soon came to enjoy being Lady of Glamorgan. While she was used to being treated with deference, especially since her father had gained his earldom, she naturally had always been overshadowed by her parents. Riding side by side with Hugh and being greeted by his tenants as their new lady as he and Bess traveled through his estates with his retainers in tow was a far different thing from riding behind her parents, lost in the midst of their entourage, or staying in the children's chambers at some far-flung castle while her parents went to court.
Just as pleasurable was the novelty of having large sums to spend on herself. Bess had been stunned when she saw the amount Hugh had allocated to her, and even more stunned when she realized that provided that she did not overspend or neglect her almsgiving, Hugh would not question her as to what she did with it. Her parents had always been generous to her, but having her mother order that new robes be made for her at suitable times was very different from having her own ample household allowance to spend as she liked, with no interference from anyone. Bess was not extravagant, and she was careful to follow her mother's example and set aside a generous sum to be used for the needy, but as that still left her plenty of money for her own feminine wants, she had been quick to order herself an extensive wardrobe. Hugh was the sort of man who dressed in whatever his servants chose for him each morning, and all of his robes, though costly, looked fairly much alike in color and pattern, but he made a visible, if often unsuccessful, effort to notice and admire whenever Bess sported a new gown.
Bess's time was not occupied solely with such frivolities. Hugh's tenants went to him with their serious disputes and when justice had to be done, but soon it was to Bess they came when their babies were ailing or when a good word from their lady might clear the way for a betrothal or soothe a minor disagreement. Her mother's training, supplemented by that of Eli
zabeth de Burgh, had prepared Bess better for this than she thought, and she was pleased to see tangible results when a child felt better after taking some of the herbal remedies Bess had prepared or when two quarreling women went off in harmony. Hugh had also been only too glad to hand over the domestic details, such as planning of meals and the ordering of livery, to Bess, so she stayed busy and content after the excitement of the wedding festivities died off.
She had no complaints about Hugh. Although he came to her chamber each evening to kiss her good-night, he never touched her more intimately, and their relationship in most respects was more like that of brother and sister than husband and wife. Hugh's own affairs kept him busy, but he was careful to spend some time alone with Bess each day, usually on horseback, for Hugh's imprisonment had left him with a distaste for sitting indoors for long periods, and riding gave Bess a chance to become familiar with his estates. He’d also given Bess one of his own prize falcons, and though Bess was not as keen on the sport as her husband, she was sensible of the value of the gift and made an effort to take an interest in it.
For the times when Hugh was gone, she had the company of her damsels. Though she had been accompanied to her marriage by her old nurse, Mary, it had been understood that she would want more youthful companions and that for the sake of goodwill they should be chosen from families that had ties to Hugh. Bess was introduced to many young women as she and Hugh traveled through his estates after their marriage, but she had been slow in finding suitable candidates. A girl younger than she would be a nuisance, while one slightly older might tend to be patronizing and well enough developed to set Bess off at a disadvantage. A lady too much older would be little better than another mother, and Bess, though she loved her mother dearly, was rather enjoying not being under her watchful eye. A lady of Bess's own age could not impart the womanly wisdom Bess at times desired. A lady about Hugh's age or a little younger would be ideal, but most such ladies she encountered were married, bound to their own husband and children and not likely to be companions for more than sporadic periods.
Then the tenants around Hanley Castle came to pay their respects, and Bess met the widowed Lady Welles. Bess liked her immediately and invited her to visit the next day. Her impression of Emma only improved as the women sat making garments for the poor and chatting about the neighborhood. Lady Welles's manners were neither too formal nor too familiar; she laughed when Bess's puppy propelled itself into her lap; and she told Bess just what she needed to know about the other tenants without being malicious or mealy-mouthed.
The very next day, Bess sought out Hugh. “I wish to invite one of your tenants to be one of my damsels, Hugh. The young widow who visited here yesterday. Lady Welles.”
“Lady Welles?”
Bess had never seen her husband look so peculiar. Was he offended by her choice of Lady Welles? It was true that Bess had questioned some of Hugh's household about Emma, but had gotten the vaguest of answers. Finally, Hugh's laundress, when pressed, had acknowledged that Lady Welles tended to keep herself to herself, and for that reason might be regarded as a “little strange.” But she attended the village church at Hanley punctiliously, the laundress hastened to add, and was entirely respectable.
Now Bess said, “Yes, Hugh, Lady Welles. Don’t you think her suitable?” It occurred to her that Hugh with all of his traveling might not know some of his tenants more than superficially. Unconsciously, she lifted one of her puppy's paws for emphasis. “You do know whom I mean, don’t you?”
“Yes, I know her.” His expression did not change.
“Well? Is there something against her character?”
“You mistake me, sweetheart. I think no ill of Lady Welles; quite the contrary. I have known her—that is, I know her—for a good woman. But she has been widowed for many years, and is very used to living by herself and running her own household. I am not sure she would adapt well to being at someone's beck and call, even yours. But you can certainly ask her if you wish. Just don’t be put out if she refuses graciously.”
“Oh, but she would not refuse! I have asked her already. She said she would be happy to join me here, if you consented. And now I am asking for your consent. Please, Hugh?”
Hugh hesitated and finally said, “Very well. I will have my steward speak to her about finding her someone suitable to watch over her manor for her while she is away. She’ll need someone reliable and trustworthy.”
“Thank you, Hugh.” Bess leaned over and kissed her husband on the cheek, the first time that she had done so, though the effect was a little spoiled when she followed the kiss up with one on her puppy's head. She hurried off, eager to relay the good news to Lady Welles.
“Are you mad? What were you thinking?”
Emma, assisted by her maidservant, was packing clothing into a coffer. “It was your lady wife's idea, not mine. How could I have offended her by refusing, Hugh?”
“You could have lied to her. Told her that you were prone to fits of melancholy madness, I don’t know. Told her that you were in the earliest stages of leprosy. Told her something, for God's sake. You’re clever.”
“I like your lady wife. She's a charming young girl, and I was pleased that she thought of me. She would have been suspicious, perhaps, if I had refused. It is an honor few widows in my position would turn down, after all.”
“Other widows weren’t my lover for nearly ten years, Emma.”
Emma shrugged. “I shall enjoy her company, more perhaps than you realize. It is lonelier here now than I thought it would be.” She ducked low over the coffer she was filling.
“If you’d marry as I have suggested, you wouldn’t be lonely.”
“Now you sound like your own mother.”
“Who was a sensible woman most of the time. Come. Let me find a good man for you.”
“I found one, Hugh. I do not wish to find another so soon.” She straightened. “You could have ended the business by withholding your consent.”
“With her staring at me with those big brown eyes of hers? And that puppy Isabel gave her staring at me too? I was outnumbered.” Hugh recalled the kiss she had given him and could not help but smile. Had she given him one at the outset, he would have found it difficult to hold out as long as he had. “Anyway, it's something on which she has her heart set. I would have to tell her the truth, and I would just as soon not. She likes you very much, and she was happy when I told her yes.”
“Then we must resign ourselves to this, mustn’t we? Don’t fear, Hugh. We shall be safe together; after all, there's no reason for us to ever be alone with each other.” She sighed. “It is true that I have had my temptations now and then, but I master them.”
“It's me mastering mine that I’m worried about.”
“You want her to be happy. You will not hurt her. I know you better than that.”
“Beste will probably think I’ve brought you in for my own debauched purposes.”
“He shall keep you in line too, Hugh. And soon your eyes will have no reason to stray. Your lady wife is a pretty little thing, and she is losing that coltish appearance girls of that age have and getting a shape to her.”
“I’ve noticed,” Hugh admitted. “Just as you got a shape,” he muttered.
Lady Welles joined the Despenser household the next day. Hugh's chaplain had indeed shaken his head over the arrangement, but Hugh and Emma gave him no basis for complaint. As Emma had predicted, they were never alone with each other, though as Hugh's household traveled into and through Wales during that summer and autumn, they were often only a horse's breadth apart, the horse in question being that of Bess, who rode happily in between the former lovers, smiling occasionally at her husband and chatting animatedly to Lady Welles. So fond had Bess become of Emma, in fact, that Hugh found himself feeling a bit jealous of her at times. Coming to say good night to Bess of an evening, Hugh would as often as not find them lying on Bess's bed chatting together while Bess's old nurse, Mary, who was increasingly afflicted with pains in her j
oints, sat smiling benevolently at them from her perch on a stool by the fire. The pair of them had even bought matching, inexpensive rings at a fair and made a point of wearing them constantly as a token of their friendship. Hugh had been unable to avoid rolling his eyes at the spectacle.
“What on earth do you ladies find to chat about all the time?” he asked when he found them in a particularly giggly mood one evening at Cardiff Castle, a locale that always put Hugh in a somewhat subdued mood anyway. The Despenser party had arrived there just that afternoon, and Bess and Emma had been no less animated on the journey to the castle.
“Your lady wife was imitating poor William Beste, my lord,” said Emma, who never failed to greet Hugh formally.
“I’m sorry,” sputtered Bess. “But he is so deadly serious.”
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