“All right, my lord, I wasn't being honest with you, but I am now. I won't allow my heart to rule my head. I refuse to be any man's mistress. I am worth more than that.”
“I am not any man, Bess. I am the wealthiest noble in the realm. I will give you anything, you only have to name it.”
“Will you give me a wedding ring? Will you give me your name? Will you divorce your wife and marry me?”
Talbot was aghast. “Bess, I don't want you for a wife! Marriage is anathema to me! I've been wed since I was twelve. Wives are the dullest, most stupid and boring creatures on earth. Marriage is a death knell to love and pleasure.”
“If that is how you feel about your wife, divorce shouldn't upset you overmuch. Many nobles have availed themselves of divorce—Edward Seymour, William Parr, even Henry Tudor.”
“I am not a Tudor, I am a Talbot, and Talbots do not divorce.” The air fairly crackled with his arrogance. “I would never disgrace my children.”
Bess realized that, even if he had no wife, he would never marry her. He was a member of the upper aristocracy, while to him she would always be Bess Hardwick, a farmer's daughter. “I will not become your mistress, Lord Talbot. I would never disgrace my children. Your hour is up, milord; you had better take me home.”
He bowed to her wishes. “All right, Vixen. Just remember, we always deeply regret the things we never do.”
TWENTY-SIX
When Bess arrived back at Court, she was surprised to learn that Elizabeth had given Robin Dudley apartments that adjoined the queen's. The conspirators were waiting for Bess to return before he moved in.
Elizabeth asked Bess and Mary Sidney, Robin's sister, to attend her in her private sitting room. “I trust the ankle is healed well enough to allow you to dance, Lady Cavendish?”
“Yes, Your Majesty. It was most kind of you to let me go home for a few days.”
“Perhaps you can go home more often if we work out a schedule that is mutually beneficial. I have so many ladies-in-waiting and ladies-of-the-bedchamber that I will not need you two in attendance through the day.”
Bess and Mary exchanged a puzzled glance.
“The nights are another matter entirely. I want one or the other of you on duty every night, except Sunday of course. None of my other ladies will do. Each week I would like Bess on duty for three nights, and then Mary for the other three. The rest of the time you are free to do whatever you wish.”
Bess thanked the queen profusely. It meant that for four days each week she would be able to be with her family at Brentford.
Elizabeth eyed her pale green gown with approval. “I am pleased to see you are no longer in mourning, Bess. It is time to start thinking about marriage. Mary here is wed, and I am being pressed on all sides to take a husband, so why should you be spared?”
“I am in no haste, Your Majesty,” Bess said dryly.
The first night that Bess was on duty, the dancing ended early, just after midnight. The queen bade her courtiers good night in the Presence Chamber and withdrew with her ladies to the Privy Chamber, where only her intimates were allowed. Bess went through the anteroom to Elizabeth's private apartments and continued on into the queen's bedchamber. She drew the heavy drapes across the window and checked to make sure the queen had a supply of her favorite Alicante wine and water. She checked the supply of scented candles, then moved to the wardrobe to take out a furred bedgown. Bess opened a drawer and selected a nightdress of delicate white lawn embroidered with gold thread.
Suddenly, a man's arm slipped about Bess's waist, and the night rail was plucked from her fingers. “I'll do that, my sweet.” She looked up into Robin Dudley's dark eyes, and he gave her a bold wink. “We need you on guard in the anteroom, Bess. We have very few friends we can trust.”
She swept into a curtsy before the man and the woman in the shadows behind him, then, as if moving in a trance, she walked through the apartment to the anteroom. It suddenly became clear why Elizabeth had insisted on either herself or Robin's sister attending her at night.
How naive she was to be surprised. Elizabeth allowed Robin to kiss her in full view of the Court, and their sexual attraction for each other was obvious. Why had she not guessed they were lovers? Bess sank into a chair and closed her ears to the whispering laughter that floated to her from within. If Elizabeth was being pressured to take a foreign husband for political purposes, why shouldn't she take what pleasure Robin could give her?
More and more Bess found herself in the company of the captain of the queen's guard. She was flattered that St. Loe seemed so fascinated by her and knew he was becoming enamored. He was the complete opposite of Cavendish, who had been a rugged, self-made man. The captain was a polished gentleman from an ancient and landed family of wealth.
One day in early summer, the queen asked her captain of the guard to attend her. Elizabeth did not beat about the bush, but came to her point directly. “My dear Syntlo, you are much in the company of Lady Cavendish these days.”
Sir William flushed. “Your Majesty, if I have offended—”
She cut him off. “That depends upon whether your intentions are honorable or not.”
“I hope I am an honorable man in all things, Your Majesty.”
“I would not look unfavorably upon such a match. Since you are comtemplating marriage, I've decided to appoint you chief butler of England.” If he wasn't contemplating marriage, her tone indicated that he should.
“Your gracious Majesty, I am honored by your trust in me.”
Elizabeth said dryly, “You will need the money. Brides are expensive.”
Sir William, on the horns of a dilemma, flushed again. Was the queen suggesting he wed Lady Cavendish so that he would pay off her massive debt to the Crown? He cleared his throat. “Your Majesty, the lady's debts are crippling—”
Elizabeth waved her hand imperiously. “I have decided to reduce her debt to one thousand pounds. Her services are indispensable.”
St. Loe almost sagged with relief. Bess would be overjoyed at the news. She filled his every waking thought. He couldn't believe his good fortune. Not only had the queen appointed him to the highest post regarding her daily life and ritual, Elizabeth had given him leave to pursue his heart's desire.
“Would you be good enough to summon Lady Cavendish for me, Syntlo?”
Sir William found Bess on her way out of the palace. She had been on duty the last three nights and was on her way to Brentford. “Lady Cavendish, Her Majesty requests your presence.”
Bess bit back a curse. She never swore in Sir William's presence; it was far too unladylike.
“After your audience it would give me great pleasure to escort you home, my lady. There is something I would like to ask you.”
Bess felt a measure of panic begin to rise. She knew instinctively he was going to propose marriage, and her thoughts darted about, trying to think of some kind way to refuse him. Although she was fond of him and enjoyed his attention, Bess knew she would never love him, and he could never, ever replace Cavendish in her heart. “I welcome your safe escort, my lord.” She would find the right words on the way to Brentford.
Bess went in to Elizabeth. Robin Dudley had not left the queen's chambers until four that morning, and after Bess had escorted him from the anteroom, Elizabeth had gone to bed for four hours. “Are you feeling well, Your Majesty?”
“I am feeling very well and extremely generous today, Bess. I believe I have found you the perfect husband.”
“Your Majesty, I don't want a husband!” Bess blurted out.
“You may not want one, but you certainly need one. A respectable marriage to the right gentleman would raise your standing at Court. I have given Syntlo permission to court you.”
“Your Majesty, I could never love another man after Cavendish.”
“Piffle! What does love have to do with marriage? A woman takes a husband for financial security and prestige. I have just appointed Syntlo chief butler of England. Surely you are ambitious, Bess. If not for your
self, then for your children?”
“Your Majesty, I would be lying if I told you I was not ambitious, but no man would be fool enough to take on a widow with six children, whose crippling debts are common knowledge.”
“Ah, yes, Syntlo and I were just discussing your debt to the Crown.” Elizabeth's eyes glittered.
Bess flushed darkly with shame.
“I have decided to reduce your debt to one thousand pounds. I told you I was feeling extremely generous today.”
Bess felt the blood drain from her face. Had she heard right? She was dizzy with relief. After twenty long months of worry and anguish, the crushing burden of debt would be lifted. And obviously she had Sir William St. Loe to thank for it! Bess sank down before Elizabeth and kissed her beautiful beringed fingers. “Thank you from the bottom of my heart, Your Majesty.”
Elizabeth looked down at her and experienced a stab of jealousy for Bess's lush beauty. Had Talbot enjoyed her body? Was that the reason he had blackmailed his queen into forgiving most of the debt? It was high time Bess was respectably married.
By the time Bess took her leave of Elizabeth, her mood was absolutely euphoric. She put the problem of the thousand pounds she still owed out of her mind. She would find some way to pay it off. Bess sought out Sir William immediately to thank him for the immense service he had just rendered her.
St. Loe laughed happily when he saw her glorious smile.
Bess could not restrain herself; she flung her arms about him. “Oh, thank you, thank you, Syntlo, you have saved my life!”
He flushed with pleasure. “Bess, I did nothing.”
“I know better, my dear lord. The queen told me that you discussed my debt to the Crown with her.”
“All I did was remind her that your debt was crippling,” he assured her.
“It took such great courage to broach the subject and beard the lioness in her den. She has reduced it to one thousand pounds. I shall be in your debt forever, my lord. Oh, I can't wait to tell my family!”
“Come, it will give me the greatest pleasure in the world to take you home to them.”
Aboard the barge, St. Loe sat beside her and took her hand. “Bess, I've never seen you look so radiant. The queen has given me leave to pay my addresses to you. If you would do me the honor of becoming my wife, I would consider it a privilege to take care of you.”
She studied him openly. Had he really needed the queen's permission before he dare propose? Did Elizabeth dominate his life to such an extent? “You do me great honor, my lord. I swore I would never marry again. Will you give me a little time to consider your proposal, and can we still be good friends, no matter my answer?”
“Take all the time you need, my dearest heart.”
When Bess told Jane and Marcella that her debt had been reduced, they knew their prayers had been answered, for there were times they had feared Bess would worry herself into an early grave. When Bess also told them that Sir William St. Loe had proposed to her, Jane was speechless. Marcella said bluntly, “I never believed you would bring such a refined nobleman up to scratch. It's the breasts—it's got to be the breasts—there is no other answer!”
“I'm going to tell him no,” Bess said firmly.
“You must be mad, girl! He'll pay off your debts, he'll pay for the boys to go to Eton, he'll provide a dowry for Francie. The children need a father, even if you don't need a husband.”
“It wouldn't be fair to him; my heart died with Rogue Cavendish.”
“If Cavendish were here he would tell you to seize the moment, Bess. I wouldn't be surprised if Cavendish hadn't chosen St. Loe for you. It will be a giant step up in the world for your Cavendish children, and to top it all off, you will be able to start building at Chatsworth again. You know that a marriage should be a sound business arrangement. You've always used your head over your heart, and it's never let you down yet!”
For four days Bess seriously considered the marriage. It had so many advantages, and only one drawback: She was not in love; she could not make Syntlo happy. Then she remembered Rogue telling her once, Bess, in almost every relationship one loves more than the other, and the one who loves is the lucky one, the happy one.
Bess sighed. She owed Sir William St. Loe so much. He had made her almost debt-free and certainly worry-free. And the queen had made it plain that she wanted Bess to remarry, insisting that Syntlo was the perfect husband. Bess sighed again and made her decision. No one would be pleased with her answer—not her family, nor the queen, nor Sir William—but it was the only answer she could give.
When Bess returned to Court, she learned there was to be a masque that night. The theme was “The Forest,” and Mary Sidney helped her with a costume. “With your red hair you will make a perfect vixen. I have a wonderful mask with pointed black ears, and I have a real foxtail too. You will make all the ladies mad with envy, for I warrant most of the men will be hunters.”
When Bess arrived in the ballroom, she was not really in the mood for hijinks, because she knew she would have to face Syntlo and give him her answer. As she exchanged barbs with the Dudleys and the Parrs, she felt quite melancholy. Everywhere there were couples, and Bess seemed to be the only exception. Even the queen kept her possessive hand on Robin Dudley tonight.
Bess helped herself to a third cup of wine from a liveried footman and wandered along the gallery away from the dancers. Suddenly a man in a hunter's mask blocked her path. She knew who it was the moment his tall shadow fell across her.
“Is it true?” he demanded. His blue eyes glittered like ice through the slits in the mask.
Bess stared at him wide-eyed, wondering wildly how he knew.
Talbot's powerful hands took hold of her shoulders and he shook her. “Is it true?” he repeated. He did not even try to hide the fury he felt. “Did St. Loe propose marriage?”
Bess's anger flared hotly. How dare he stalk her continually, making it his business to know everything about her? “Do you find it so difficult to believe that a man wants me for his wife, rather than his mistress?”
“You set a high price on yourself! No bedding without a wedding!”
“Some men are willing to pay it.”
“God damn you, Bess, you are doing this to spite me!”
“I am not—”
“I forbid it! Do you hear me, Vixen, I forbid it!”
“Forbid?” she cried passionately. “You black beast, you think you are God all-bloody-mighty, ordering the world and everyone in it!” The wine bloomed like a dark red rose in her breast.
“Be silent and listen to me!” he thundered.
“You autocratic swine—you love to be the all-powerful master! Well, let me tell you this much, sir, you won't master me. I shall marry whomever I please!”
“He's another old man! What the hell is the matter with you, Bess, that makes you wed these father figures?”
Bess gasped. She was about to fly at his face when she became aware of the attention they were attracting. She lowered her voice, trying to cloak herself in dignity. “St. Loe is a gentleman, something you will never be.”
“You think marrying a gentleman will make you a lady?”
Her eyes blazed with triumph. “Yes, it will make me Lady Elizabeth St. Loe.”
His voice lowered and he said with quiet resignation, “You will live to regret it, Vixen.”
Bess walked briskly back to the ballroom, hoping no one had recognized her in the ridiculous mask. She slipped into an alcove, unpinned the foxtail from her derriere, and removed the face mask. When she emerged, the first person she saw was St. Loe. “William, I've been looking everywhere for you,” she lied.
He smiled at her tenderly, hope shining in his eyes. “Does that mean your answer is yes?”
“Of course it is yes. Did you ever doubt it for a moment?”
“Oh, Bess … you've made me the happiest man on earth.”
“Are congratulations in order?” an arch voice asked coyly.
Bess's mouth went dry an
d her heartbeat drummed in her ears as Syntlo answered the queen. “Your Majesty, the lady has just consented to be my wife.”
As Lord Robert Dudley offered hearty congratulations , the queen announced to the room at large, “My dearest friend Lady Cavendish is about to be wed to my captain of the guard, Sir William St. Loe. The wedding shall be here at Court!”
Bess did not get off-duty until three in the morning. Back in her own chamber, she lay in bed, wishing for the oblivion of sleep to overtake her, but of course it proved elusive. At what point had she lost control of the situation? It was as if fate had taken her by the hand and snatched the decision away from her.
“Damn you to hellfire, Talbot!” she whispered, knowing if they hadn't had their near-brawl, she would have given St. Loe a very different answer. Bess shivered, still feeling his hands on her, reliving the intensity of his emotions. They had such passionate, clashing personalities, it was a wonder they hadn't murdered each other.
He had accused her of marrying father figures. Was there any truth to the charge? Bess, always brutally honest with herself, admitted that she had certainly looked up to Sir William Cavendish, and during the early years of their marriage, she had hung on his every word as he taught her how to buy land, how to run an estate, how to build Chatsworth and become a hardheaded business-woman. And there was no way to deny that he had been more than twenty years her senior. But there had been a strong sexual attraction between them, and she had loved him with all her heart.
Bess examined her relationship with Sir William St. Loe. She was not in love with him, but her affection for him was genuine. It was her children who needed a father; she certainly did not. She was a competent woman, with intelligence, courage, and confidence. Talbot was wrong; she needed no father figure!
It would be a good marriage because she would make it so. Above all she vowed that she must never, ever regret it. She would not allow Talbot's prophecy to come true. Bess had made her decision for better or for worse.
TWENTY-SEVEN
A Woman of Passion Page 30
