After dinner, when they moved to one of the ballrooms and Bess was immediately approached by William Parr for a dance, she cast an inquiring glance at her husband.
“Go and enjoy yourself, my dearest. I'm not up to dancing these days, but I know how much you love it.”
With a pang Bess watched him join a group of older men who did not dance and knew he would be happier talking with William Herbert than partnering her on the ballroom floor. As the hours flew by, Bess danced every dance, partnered by all the earls and lords who had ever made her acquaintance and some who hadn't until tonight. Finally, she found herself being swept into Shrewsbury's arms in a lively galliard.
Beneath her tiny cream ruff, the huge sapphire sparkled in the cleft between her breasts, and she saw his eyes on it.
“Magnificent,” he murmured.
“Thank you; 'twas a gift from Syntlo.”
“I wasn't referring to the sapphire.”
When she ignored the innuendo, he bent close. “You could be wearing diamonds and emeralds, my beauty, if you'd let me buy them for you.”
She glanced up at him with a challenge in her black eyes. “How about the infamous Talbot pearls?”
Shrewsbury threw back his dark head and laughed. “You are the most audacious woman I've ever known, and it attracts me like a lodestone.”
“Men always want what they cannot have,” she said lightly.
“Apparently women are the same, or why would you covet the pearls?”
Bess was well aware that the only way a woman could get the pearls was by becoming the Countess of Shrewsbury, yet when he alluded to the fact that she could never have them, it rankled her. “Shrew, you keep your pearls and I'll keep my virtue.”
She felt the muscles in his arms bulge, hard as iron, as he lifted her high in the galliard, and she felt weak with longing. She watched his pupils turn black with desire as her jade silk undergarments were revealed, and in that moment she knew she wanted him desperately. To talk and touch in the crowded room was sheer torture.
He whispered intensely, “You're starving for it. Why do you deny me, deny yourself?”
She looked up into his eyes. “Do you want the truth? It's because we are both married; that's the only reason I deny you.”
“Syntlo cannot possibly satisfy you. He was an old man when you married him, but now he's a frail shadow of his former self.”
“All the more reason why I cannot betray him.”
“So you'll live like a nun just to honor an empty marriage vow you should never have made in the first place.”
“You once thought me rather fetching in a nun's habit.”
They were level with the ballroom doors, and he pulled her through them before she knew what he intended. “No, Shrew!” She tried to release her hand from his, but his powerful grip tightened and he almost dragged her along the gallery that led out to the gardens. “Christ, I won't ravish you!” he growled.
Damn, if only you would, how simple it would make everything.
They ran through the night-scented gardens, across manicured lawns, passing a fountain of dancing waters, to the seclusion of a giant yew walk that had sheltered lovers and their secrets for over a century. Bess made no outcry, knowing the scandal would be horrendous with the nobility for witness.
He took hold of her other hand and looked down at her face outlined by moonlight. “You've invited everyone to Chatsworth save me,” he accused.
“I'm entertaining Her Majesty, for God's sake. I can't be distracted by you.”
“Then you admit I distract you?” His arms closed about her and he pulled her close against his long, hard body.
“You are well-aware of what you do to me, you black devil. You are like Lucifer, tempting me to sin.”
“Loving is no sin, Bess.”
“Damn you, it isn't love, it's lust!”
“We are two passionate soulmates who have found each other.”
“We are two oversexed people who can't keep their hands off each other!”
“You don't seem to have any trouble resisting me.”
“Shrew, if I dared to let down my defenses, I'd devour you!”
He groaned, and his mouth came down on hers with a hunger he had never known before. With his lips still against hers, he demanded, “Do you know what it did to me, watching you dance with all those other men, knowing their hot hands were on you, their eyes devouring your luscious breasts, hoping for a glimpse of nipple?”
“Shrew, for God's sake, don't kiss me again. You know we can't stop.” For answer his mouth took hers and ravaged it.
Bess pulled away from him angrily. “This is insanity. We cannot carry on like this. It's your son and your daughter's wedding! 'Fore God, if you don't control yourself, we'll be coupling under the hedge like a pair of gypsies!”
Suddenly, they both heard someone shouting. They stopped talking and listened. There seemed to be a general outcry from the castle. “Obviously something's wrong; go quickly,” she urged.
Bess waited a few minutes, then, keeping to the shadows, made her way across the gardens and back to the castle. She was in time to watch George Talbot, Earl of Shrewsbury, gently pick up his countess, Gertrude, from where she lay on the floor and carry her up the great ornate staircase to her private apartments. Gertrude's three ladies-in-waiting followed, wringing their hands.
Bess joined Syntlo, who was standing with the queen and Dudley. “What happened?”
“Some sort of seizure. Fortunately, Shrewsbury has his own physicians at Sheffield. Too much excitement, I warrant,” Elizabeth declared.
Anne Herbert spoke from behind her fan, although it did little to muffle her words. “Gertrude was arguing with her son Francis, my new son-in-law. He and his bride wanted to retire from the reception, and Gertrude wouldn't hear of their being alone. Apparently, she's a termagant with the children, likes to exercise complete control over them. Her girls are frightened to death of her.”
Elizabeth raised her plucked eyebrows. “I knew we could rely on you to give us a full accounting, Lady Herbert.”
Anne Herbert's skin was so thick, the pointed barb did not penetrate. “Now that Francis is a married man, he decided to challenge Gertrude's authority, and suddenly she turned red as a turkey wattle and fell to the floor.”
“She probably just fainted and needs to rest,” Bess murmured.
“Mmm,” Anne Herbert pressed her lips together before she pronounced her diagnosis. “Gertrude's left side was completely paralyzed—couldn't speak, couldn't get up. Looks serious to me!”
“I hope not,” Bess murmured fervently, suffused with guilt.
Her Majesty looked at the Countess of Pembroke. “How fortunate that you are here to take over as our hostess, Anne.”
“Oh, I suppose as the other mother of the bride and groom, that is true.” Anne Herbert lifted her fan and raised her voice. “Everyone, do carry on; the Countess of Shrewsbury simply fainted from the heat. All she needs is a little rest. William, do have the musicians play the grand march so the newlyweds can circle the ballroom before taking their leave.”
“We are in competent hands now,” Elizabeth said with a straight face, while those about the queen were biting their lips to keep from shouting with laughter.
“Syntlo, I think perhaps you'd better order up the carriages. We'll return to Haddon Hall rather than stay overnight at Sheffield. Robin, give our excuses to Shrewsbury and tell him to let us know how poor Gertrude fares tomorrow.”
Sir William St. Loe took leave of his wife and murmured , “Her Majesty has a horror of sickness. Good night, my dearest. I shall ride over to Chatsworth tomorrow, duty permitting.”
Shrewsbury returned with Dudley to bid Elizabeth and her entourage farewell, then he assured the remaining guests that Gertrude was resting comfortably.
When Bess decided to round up her family, she found her three sons enjoying a wrestling match with Gilbert Talbot, an affable youth who had inherited his father's dark looks. Her
eyes turned speculative immediately and a seed of ambition was sown. It is high time I started thinking about the future of my children. She turned and saw Shrewsbury watching her from the doorway.
“Bid Lord Talbot good night and thank him for his hospitality,” she bade her sons as they reluctantly stopped their horseplay. She watched them make their bows and leave the room with Gilbert following them. Bess approached Shrewsbury and laid her hand on his sleeve. “Anne Herbert says she cannot talk or walk.”
He nodded. “Her doctor assures me she'll recover, but I don't have much faith in the damned quack.”
“I'm so sorry.” She searched his face. “See how guilty you feel now!”
He covered her hand with his. “You are wrong, Bess. I am incapable of feeling guilt over anything I've said to you or done with you. However, you look racked with guilt, my beauty, so I shall desist in my unseemly behavior toward you while Gertrude suffers this indignity. I promise.”
He sounded absolutely sincere. Could she believe him? Bess lowered her lashes. “Good night, my lord. Please send me word on how she fares.”
THIRTY-THREE
The next sennight was the busiest time Bess had ever known in her life. She entertained Her Majesty Queen Elizabeth and the courtiers who had accompanied her north. Chatsworth was a raging success and the envy of every single one of her guests. She took this opportunity to ask the queen to excuse her from her Court duties for at least a year and heaved a sigh of relief when Elizabeth gave her permission.
Before Syntlo returned to London with the queen, Bess spoke to him about her two eldest sons. “Will, this is Henry's last term at Eton, and of course his future is set. He will inherit all my Cavendish holdings, so I needn't worry about him, other than finding a suitable heiress for him to wed. It's William's future I'm concerned with. I'd like him to go into the law; it's the most lucrative profession in England. I should know—a great deal of my income has gone into their coffers over the years.”
“I think that's an excellent idea. William will have to attend Cambridge, of course. The tuition will be no problem, but I believe it's devilish hard to get in there.”
“Will you make inquiries, my dear?”
“Of course I shall, and let me know the moment you set a date for Francie's wedding.”
“And what if Her Gracious Majesty has conflicting plans?” Bess asked archly.
“I shall be at Holme Pierrepont for Francie's wedding, come hell or high water, I promise you.”
Bess knew he was the most devoted stepfather in the world and thanked God for it. She bade him a tender farewell and begged him not to make himself ill with overwork.
“Don't worry about me, my dearest. Marcella has packed me a year's supply of everything from calf's jelly to syrup of figs.”
Bess rolled her eyes. Marcella believed if the bowels were kept open, the rest of the body would be right as a trivet.
With all her company gone, Bess retired early. She did her best thinking in bed these days, where—unfortunately—there were no distractions. She thought about the notes she had received from Shrewsbury telling her that Gertrude's speech had returned somewhat, and with bed rest her doctors hoped she would soon be walking. There was nothing improper about the letters, except for the greeting. Both had begun My Dear Nun.
The corners of Bess's mouth lifted with irony. She was, indeed, living a nun's life, and Shrewsbury's reminder told her clearly that this need not be so. Bess put carnal longings aside and thought about her children. An idea had been bubbling in the back of her mind and she decided this was the perfect time to examine it closely. If the Herberts had married two of their offspring to Talbots, why couldn't she do the same? Bess had five children who were unespoused and Shrewsbury had four.
Of course, blood-proud Talbot, descended from Plantagenets, would likely die of apoplexy if she suggested such a thing. Her children were all Cavendishes and none of them titled. But her daughters could become titled through marriage, if she reached high enough and played her cards right. Bess pictured young Gilbert Talbot. He could very well become Earl of Shrewsbury someday, making whomever he married a countess. Then there was Charles Stuart, the Countess of Lennox's son, whom her daughter Elizabeth had sat with at the wedding banquet. He was cousin to the queen and in line of succession to the throne! Bess tucked these ambitious thoughts away for the present and sighed. If wishes were horses, beggars would ride! The first order of business was setting a wedding date for her daughter Frances and getting the newlyweds settled close by at Meadowpleck on the River Dove.
The wedding of Frances Cavendish and Henry Pierrepont took place at Holme Pierrepont the first day of September. It was not a large wedding, because the groom's father, Sir George, was in ill health. When Sir William St. Loe, the bride's stepfather, arrived from London, it was obvious to all that he, too, was a sick man.
With a heavy heart Bess took her husband home to Chatsworth. Both of them knew he would never return to Court. All that autumn she nursed him and mothered him, knowing full well that his days were numbered.
Whenever Syntlo was strong enough, he sat in Chatsworth 's magnificent library, wrapped in a lap robe, occupying himself with correspondence. Bess sat with him doing her accounts at her carved oak desk.
He looked up from a letter he had just reread, which he had received a week ago from Cambridge University. “I'm sorry, my dearest, it looks hopeless for getting young William into Cambridge. This is the second time I've applied and the second time they've turned him down. It seems all the places are filled.”
Bess threw down her quill and took a turn about the room. “It's not your fault, Will. 'Tis the bloody class system. If he were a young lord or heir to an earldom, they'd be standing on their bloody heads to find a place for him, but plain Master William Cavendish doesn't stand a chance!”
“I wrote to Shrewsbury a couple of days ago, asking if he could help.”
Bess's hand flew to her throat. “Ohmigod, Will, you shouldn't have done that!”
“Why not, my dear? He's the best fellow in the world, and his influence is so far-reaching that if anyone can help it's Lord Talbot.”
“I don't want to be obligated to him,” Bess tried to explain.
“Don't be upset, my dearest. He is lord lieutenant of Derbyshire, as well as chamberlain of the royal exchequer. He's also a close personal friend of yours. I don't think he will mind in the least using his influence on our son's behalf.”
Bess's cheeks flushed, and she moved over to one of the tall windows to keep him from seeing the agitation on her face. Suddenly her pulse began to race as she watched the tall, unmistakable figure of Shrewsbury ride in. She turned from the window. “He's here now! Are you sure you're up to this, Will?” Bess wasn't at all sure she was.
Shrewsbury removed his heavy riding cape and gloves and handed them to the butler. “I'm here to see Sir William.”
“Yes, Lord Talbot, they are expecting you. Would you follow me to the library, my lord?”
Shrewsbury felt his heart skip a beat at the thought of seeing Bess. So far it had been the longest, dreariest winter he could ever remember, and he hadn't seen her once. A hundred times he had looked for her when riding over the acres of their adjoining property, and scores of times he had almost ridden to Chatsworth to visit her. So when he received the note from Syntlo, he rejoiced because he finally had a legitimate reason to go.
The moment he crossed the threshold of the library, his senses were filled with her. As she came across the room to greet him, he saw that her pale gray velvet gown was embroidered with pearls. Her sleeves were slashed with jonquil silk, making her look like spring sunshine. He imagined her brilliant yellow undergarments, and his body reacted immediately. His eyes fastened on her beautiful face and he knew why his life was dreary. He had been starving for the sight of her.
She held out her hand. “Lord Talbot, it is more than kind of you to come.”
He took her long, slim fingers to his lips, then, before he r
eleased them, rubbed the ink stain on her index finger with his thumb. She wore a fragrance of verbena, and he thought he had never smelled anything so intoxicating.
“Forgive me for not rising, Lord Talbot.”
For the first time Shrewsbury realized Bess's husband was in the room. He felt himself staring in shock at the shriveled man beneath the lap robe and gave himself a mental shake. “Sir William, I came as soon as I had your note.” He could not bring himself to ask after Syntlo's health. He could see with his own eyes the man was dying.
“Bess is upset with me because I asked for your help.”
“I could never be upset with you, Will; it just seems such an imposition to expect Lord Talbot to solve our family problems.”
“It is no imposition at all, Lady St. Loe. I've already written to the dean of Cambridge, recommending William Cavendish be admitted to Clare Hall next Michaelmas when the term starts.”
“There, Bess, you see? I told you he was the best fellow in the world.”
“How will I ever thank you, Lord Talbot?” Bess asked stiffly.
Damn it, Bess, don't look at me that way! I am no whore-master ordering you to pay with your body. He cursed himself. He knew he couldn't even look at her without revealing how much he wanted her.
Bess lowered her lashes. “Would you care for some brandy, my lord, or some hot cider perhaps?”
“No, nothing at all.”
“Oh, please, stay a little while and tell Will how things are at Court.” Her dark eyes implored him, and he suddenly realized Syntlo would have few visitors. His face softened. “All right, I suppose hot cider will keep out the cold on my ride back to Sheffield.”
With a pang he saw the grateful look she threw him before she left the room. He cleared his throat and sat down beside Syntlo. “I was at Court only a month before I was called home. My wife's condition has steadily deteriorated.” Shrewsbury was an intensely private man who could never reveal the shouting matches that went on between Gertrude and the children. She blamed them for her affliction, and a day did not go by that did not end in her loud recriminations. He knew she was her own worst enemy, and her carping had brought on several small seizures. The young Talbots now avoided their mother whenever they could, and though he would like to do the same, he spent time with Gertrude to take the brunt of her behavior upon himself. He put it down to a mental affliction and tried to treat her with kindness.
A Woman of Passion Page 37
