by Jackie Ivie
CHAPTER ONE
AD 1592
“You must tell me your secret.”
“What secret?”
“Why, how you kill all of your husbands. Don’t be a fool. It is not seemly.”
Bessie’s lips twitched though the gesture was not seen through her veil. “You have listened to the gossips again, Belle.”
“Gossips, my limb! Please, you must tell me. You must! I’ve got to know before I’m sent home. You don’t understand how my husband is. The last time I saw him, he nearly had me whipped. He threatened me with more of the same if I fail to gain favor this time.”
“What a horrid man.”
“Oh, please, tell me. I thought you were my friend.”
Bessie narrowed her eyes. If Lady Bryant could be said to have a friend, Bessie supposed the description fit her best. None of the others at court paid the smallest attention to Lady Bryant.
“Oh, very well, Mirabelle. I shall tell you my secret. You will need to promise not to let it out, however.”
“Never from my lips. I swear.”
Bessie considered the woman sitting beside her. Queen Elizabeth hadn’t much use for wits among her female attendants. Lady Bryant was an apt example. The queen surrounded herself with light-wits. Perhaps she needed to look the most intelligent, in comparison.
Her Majesty had less use of beauty. It was probably for the same reason.
“Before I tell you my darkest secret, can I ask you something?” Bessie began.
“Anything.”
“You don’t suppose the demise of my spouses could be related to advanced age?”
“That may explain the Earl of Stansbury, but you have been widowed three times. Three! Why, the thought gives me vapors.”
Bessie should be used to this. She rolled her eyes again. Mirabelle Bryant wouldn’t be able to spot it through the widow’s weeds Bessie wore. The sarcastic bent of her words was probably lost on the other woman, too.
“Very well, Stansbury was the lone one afflicted with age. What of Lord Crump? Did you ever chance to meet my second husband? If so, you had to note his size. I vow, he was corpulent enough to suffer a fatal attack of the heart long before we met. In faith, he didn’t even make it through the betrothal party. I cannot call him husband in all truth.”
“You gained his lands and treasury. ’Twas binding enough for that.”
“His misfortune for leaving no heirs.” Bessie shrugged.
“What of Bargerelle, then? He was fit. I did meet up with him. He had a cruel streak as wide as my husband does, but no illnesses you could exploit.”
Bessie caught the tremor before it spread to her hands. “Aye. He was the cruel sort, especially to his horses. I was in luck that his mistress found him a horrid enough lover to murder.”
“He was murdered? How did you accomplish that?”
“His mistress did the deed. I wasn’t even there. I was but eleven at the time.”
“Why have I never heard of it?”
“It was hushed up for the sake of her family.”
“Even if that is true, I’ve no need of a history lesson, especially yours. Everyone at court knows who your husbands were. What I need to know, is how you rid yourself of them!”
Lady Mirabelle Bryant was getting exasperated. It showed in the way she was wringing her handkerchief and the frown between her perfectly arched brows. Bessie sighed. If she had any talent, maybe she could get Belle to see the truth. It would be a wasted effort. She might as well save her breath. The entire court saw only what it wanted to, and her status as The Widow was well known.
“I’m serious, yet you think I tease. I am sorry I’ve upset you.”
“I am not upset.”
“So you say, but you’ll need to spare your linen if you intend anyone to believe it.”
“Oh.”
Lady Bryant stopped fussing with her handkerchief and placed it atop her lap. Her actions were studied, as if they weren’t discussing anything of importance. Bessie smiled behind her veils, and then lowered her voice for a dramatic effect.
“I’m actually descended from the Druids. I vow, my husbands have but to glance at me and they expire. It’s a curse, I tell you.”
“You lie!”
Several heads turned their way as Belle grabbed Bessie’s arm and shook her slightly. Bess realized then how desperate the woman was, and there could be but one reason. The Lord Bryant must have heard of his wife’s dalliances with the current favorite.
The queen favored few of her courtiers anymore. Where once the court had been populated with the best-looking men in the country, now they were few and far between. Bessie didn’t fault Queen Elizabeth’s selection this time. Sir Devon Francis Hildebrand was enough to make any woman’s heart beat faster, even if said woman was the reigning monarch and well past any youthful flush.
Bessie had known enough to stay away from him.
That hadn’t been true of the other ladies. Why, he had only to smile at a particular woman to be offered her favor. It wasn’t a surprise to find out Lady Bryant had succumbed to his blandishment, although Hildebrand should have been advised against it.
Not only was Queen Elizabeth the last woman he should be cuckolding, but Lady Bryant’s husband was an ugly, bullying sort. Although Hildebrand appeared to have a large, muscular physique, he’d not find it an easy contest should Lord Bryant toss a gauntlet his direction.
“Cease that, Belle. You wrinkle my gown. You know I haven’t many at court. Look there, you’ve destroyed the drape of my sleeve.”
Bessie toyed with the brown satin that puffed between the slashes of her sleeve. As Queen Elizabeth’s god-child, and the owner of four keeps, Bessie wore correct and costly court fashion. Her skirts flared out fashionably after leaving the tightness about her bodice, the pleats in her collar were stiffened with bone, and her sleeves were slashed in no less than eight places.
It was a shame she was overwhelmed in the dark, somber colors ordered especially for her. But that was exactly as her benefactress, Queen Elizabeth, wished it. Bessie had no illusions on that score.
Mirabelle Bryant’s perfectly arched brows rose. “Messing with the slash won’t make that gown any uglier, and well you know it. Why, if I wore such clothing, Devon would never have looked at me.”
“Devon?”
“We passed beyond the title-calling stage.”
“Have you lost your senses? You know he’s the favorite.”
“I couldn’t help myself. Why, you should read the notes he pens to me. I shall die if my husband takes me away. I swear it!”
Bessie felt the dread hitting her stomach as Mirabelle whispered. She knew the feeling. It was the same as whenever she’d met a bridegroom. “The fool puts his thoughts on paper, with as many spies as Her Majesty pays?” she asked.
“He is not a fool! What do you know of it, anyway?”
“More than I would like to. Feel free to sit elsewhere, Belle. I’d not take the loss of your presence to heart.”
“There is no one else I can ask for help! You don’t know what it feels like or you’d understand!”
“I don’t know how it feels to receive letters from young pups that should know better? I’m amazed he doesn’t know enough to keep his affairs de cours secret. I’ve yet to reach the advanced age of twenty-and-one, and I know that much.”
“You don’t know what it feels like to be in love!”
Mirabelle clutched at her breast. The rustle of paper was distinct.
“You didn’t...keep his letter, did you?”
“I keep all his letters.”
Bessie’s heart dropped. She looked at her companion with an expression of pity, although it wouldn’t be seen. Belle wasn’t bright, but she would be punished, just the same. Bessie knew exactly what Quee
n Elizabeth was capable of.
“Oh, Belle. I only wish there was a magic potion I knew of to stay your punishment. Make no mistake about it. You are being punished. She has sent for your husband. Unless I miss my guess, he knows everything.”
“He couldn’t. No. We have been most secretive. Why, Devon doesn’t even look my way when we are in the same room.”
“You’re blind, then. If that is what love does to one, I am well rid of it. He may not look your way, but you have eyes for no one else. Everyone has noticed...although I am rather surprised to hear he feels the same.”
“He loves me! He told me so. Why...you are nothing but a jealous, old widow to think otherwise.”
“Oh. My. Your regard warms my heart.”
“What does that mean?”
Bessie wasn’t surprised the sarcasm failed. Lady Bryant wouldn’t notice any such subtlety. “I didn’t mean it the way you think. Of course Hildebrand should notice you. You are fair of face and your clothing drips with jewels. It’s just he’d be unwise to look anywhere but at her.”
“But...she’s old.”
“You just called me that and she is nearing seventy. You had best amend your judgments if I’m to be lumped with her.”
“I did not mean it that way. I mean, she is truly old. Why...Devon says he has to envision my white skin just to bring her wrinkled hand to his lips.”
“He said that? Oh, dearest God.”Bessie choked. Her eyes flitted about the crowded antechamber. Any hint of what they whispered was enough to get both of them sent to the Tower.
“Of course not. We might be overheard. He says so in his latest letter.”
“Good Lord above! The man worries about being overheard? He should worry more about being read. Never put anything in writing. That is the first rule of life at court. He should have been taught better.”
“His letters are read only by me. I guarantee it.”
“You have been here too long for such naiveté. If he’s put it to parchment, she’s read it. After hearing this, I would be surprised if he still has his head.”
Mirabelle Bryant visibly blanched. “No one can read them. I swear it.”
“Your own worry gives that lie away. She has spies everywhere. Your own maid has probably added to her coffers at your expense.”
“She has no access to them. No one does.”
“The queen has access to everything. If she wanted, she could find out what I drank with my sup last eve.”
“She does not have access to my tart chest. What do you take me for, the village idiot?”
“I don’t suppose you checked the seals?”
“Of course. They have all been intact, although the crest is difficult to read. Devon may pen exquisite words, but he is a bit lazy with the wax. That is one of the things I love about him.”
“Oh. Belle. Dear Belle. She’s read them. She had them resealed. That should have occurred to you.”
“She has not read them! You are trying to frighten me, and it will not work. If she read them—Oh! I can’t finish the thought. My poor Devon!”
“Poor Devon? Hildebrand doesn’t deserve pity. He was the favorite. He knew what he was doing. He also knew how old she is. I am surprised to hear of his dim wits.”
“He’s not a dimwit, either!”
“Your emotion blinds you. He knew the price of being the queen’s favorite. Oh, he enjoyed the power. I’ve seen him. He loved the attention, the clothes, and let’s not forget the funds she has showered him with. The ministers have even commented on it. His family is poor yet Hildebrand is sporting rare gems. Stay your arguments. Sir Hildebrand is obviously dim-witted. I am told many a handsome face hides such.”
“Perhaps...I’ve overreacted. There’s no reason to think the worst. Devon may have simply left to visit his new estate. He was recently lorded. She gifted him with more land than he has overseers for, too. Besides, he has only been gone one day. I must learn patience. He could have said something and saved me worry, though.”
“Stop fooling yourself. Your husband has been sent for, hasn’t he?”
“She dislikes me because I made a rash comment over her love of pearls.”
“Your own tongue betrays you, too?”
“She wears too many of them. Don’t tell me you haven’t noticed it, for I do not believe it. You must also guess she wears them to hide the wrinkles on her neck, too.”
Bessie couldn’t stop the exclamation. Several heads turned their way at the sound. “Your rash words will see us both sent to the Tower. You’d best sit elsewhere whilst we await your summons.”
“Not until you tell me your secret! My lord husband arrives soon. I’m desperate, I tell you!”
Mirabelle grabbed at Bessie’s arm again. There wasn’t a way to escape without causing more comment. It may already be too late. Bessie checked about them. She and Mirabelle Bryant were arousing interest. Whispering could be heard from behind hands. It made her answer in a harsher tone than she meant it.
“There is no secret. She dislikes the sight of me, is all. If I am too long underfoot, she finds a husband for me. I think sometimes, they are being punished more by the alliance than I am.”
“Oh, dear. I am out of time.”
All the ladies looked up as a royal messenger was announced. Those still whispering stopped as the man walked through them. Bessie hoped her proximity to Lady Bryant wouldn’t be gossiped over. The queen might learn of it.
He stopped before Bessie and bowed.
“My lady Elizabeth, late of Stansbury? The queen commands your presence.”
Bessie went weak-kneed and all-over frightened. She probably paled, but her mourning veil disguised that weakness from anyone. “My presence?”
“This moment.”
There were tiles beneath her fabric shoes, but it could have been wet bog as well. Her legs didn’t feel like hers as she stood, swaying as if on unstable ground. She hoped she wouldn’t shame herself by fainting. She reached for the man’s arm.
“Give Her Highness my regards,” Mirabelle remarked.
Bessie kept her head high as she left the dark antechambers reserved for the gentle-bred ladies of Queen Elizabeth’s court. She was being silly. She had nothing to show such fright over. All she’d done was whisper about Hildebrand’s indiscretions. Where was her courage?
The queen did wear too many pearls.
Bessie stopped the thought the instant it occurred. In her current state of mind, she might blurt it out. She kept her eyes on the highly polished floor as she curtsied.
“Step closer, dear. Goodness, look at you. Widowed again? I have been remiss.”
“I—” Bessie’s voice stopped.
“Of course you are properly grateful, Elizabeth. I expect nothing less. But I digress. I have had you fetched because I have decided to remedy your station in life.”
Bessie’s eyes widened at the use of her proper name. She hadn’t been called that by the queen since she was three. It was the first thing her new guardian had decreed. The lack of anyone to love and care about her was probably the second.
“My...queen?”
“I am seeing to your future once again, Elizabeth. I have arranged a marriage that brings gladness to this old heart. Bring him in.”
Bessie’s eyes closed as her bridegroom was fetched. She knew who it would be. She should have known the moment Lady Mirabelle Bryant opened her mouth.
“Lord Devon Francis Hildebrand requested a union with you. I had no idea he held you in such high regard. Of course I consented. I have even decided, as my wedding gift to you, to attend the ceremony, which will take place forthwith. The journey to Whitehall is too long, so you may both join me in my private chapel...”
There was more said, but Bessie didn’t hear it. She was incapable of listening anymore without screaming. And that, she refused to do.
CHAPTER TWO
They were well into the open country outside London before Bessie said anything. She’d opened her mouth twice before to
do so, but something about him silenced her. It wasn’t his physical stature, although that was intimidating. Lord Hildebrand was above six feet in height and well-developed, besides.
The reason she shied away from conversing with him was his attitude.
Not once had he looked her way. Not when they’d been hurried into this carriage. Nor when she’d nervously reattached her face veil when it had slipped. He hadn’t even looked her way when she’d had her hand placed in his to be pronounced his lawfully wedded wife.
The queen had left before the ceremony was finished. Bessie hadn’t questioned it. The woman had avenged Hildebrand’s betrayal. The man at Bessie’s side had noted when his monarch left, however. He had probably wondered why his soulful glances hadn’t swayed the queen. Bessie couldn’t give him an answer. If he’d looked at her with modicum of the expression, she’d have given him anything he wished.
Hildebrand hadn’t said a word when he was escorted to his new traveling chaise and assisted in. He hadn’t spoken, nor had he looked to see if his new lady accompanied him, either. It would have taken a braver woman to speak to him at that time, too.
He hadn’t acted interested in talking to his new wife. He didn’t appear to want to admit to her presence, at all. It didn’t take a fool to see he wasn’t taking well to his new lot in life.
Neither was she, although the longer they traveled, the more she began to wonder.
She traced a button near her ear, matching her movement to the carriage sway. It was amazing Hildebrand had been gifted with this new carriage. The blue satin lining the walls still had creases from where it had been rolled on bolts. There were new folds from where heavy silver buttons riveted the padded material to the walls.
Bessie twisted her lips as she considered it.
Lord Hildebrand might be poor, but the accouterments of his carriage would see him through many a lean year, if he had to make use of it. Of course, he could claim his new wife’s wealth...if she allowed him knowledge of it. But, perhaps he already knew. Perhaps he knew the woman known as The Widow possessed four castles, land that paid for itself, and more servants than her secretaries could count. That had been the bride price for wedding with the queen’s ward. The terms had been specified in no uncertain words. If there were no issue of each marriage, all the property converted to Bess.
