Bess - A Novel

by Georgina Lee

  “Why?”

  “She should not be kept locked up. She has done nothing wrong.”

  “Do any of the other servants feel the same as you? Do you talk to them about her?”

  “No. They would not understand. I am closer to her than anyone else.”

  “Have you done anything to bring this closeness and favouritism about?”

  “I am not sure of your meaning.”

  “It is a simple enough question. What have you done above and beyond the usual service for Queen Mary?”

  He does not reply and Bess gives a sigh. “I advise you to tell me the truth. I will find out soon enough.”

  “She has sworn me to secrecy.”

  “Do you not realise that your friendship with Queen Mary could cost you your head! Is that what you want?”

  “I am only trying to help. I see no harm in it.”

  But he shifts nervously and a look of alarm comes across his face. He cannot meet Bess’ unrelenting glare and stares at the floor.

  “Queen Mary has given me a gold ring,” he mumbles.

  “Why?”

  “I am to give it to the Duke of Norfolk as a token.”

  “Go on.”

  “She said … she said if I helped her to escape, then she would make me a lord.”

  Bess raises an eyebrow.

  “Then I would be of higher status than you.”

  “You think that is likely do you?”

  “I do not see why not.”

  “Then you have made a grave mistake. You will never become a lord through the favour of a captive queen. I shall have to dismiss you.”

  “When Queen Mary escapes, as she soon will, then you will be proved wrong and I shall laugh in your face.”

  “You will do no such thing!”

  Bess slams her hand on the desk and he jumps nervously.

  “You are a conceited and brainless oaf who has been flattered by the attentions of the Scottish Queen! The game you play is a dangerous one.”

  A thin line of perspiration has broken out on Lassells’ forehead and he begins to bluster.

  “I … I have the assurance of Queen Mary that she will protect me. She has promised me …”

  “Then you are a bigger fool than I thought. You have been duped and led astray by someone who has used their charm for their own ends. The Scottish Queen has no power to grant you anything.”

  “What will happen to me?”

  “As I said, you are dismissed and you may think yourself lucky that I am not sending you to London for questioning by Sir Francis Walsingham.”

  “I beg your grace not to send me there. I have done nothing, I swear.” He produces a gold signet ring and places it on the desk.

  “Here, I still have the ring in my safekeeping. You take it and do as you will with it. I want no further dealings with the Scots Queen, as God is my witness. I realise now that I was wrong.”

  She sees that his hands are shaking.

  “You have been lucky this time,” she replies as she picks up the ring.

  “If you wish to live long enough to see your children and grandchildren, you would do well to stay out of trouble from now on. Pack your bags and leave at once. Someone will escort you out of the grounds. Forget about the Scottish Queen. Get as far away as possible. Find a wife and live simply in the country.”

  He nods miserably.

  “Yes, your grace. Thank you.”

  She instructs the guard outside the door and watches the two of them until they are out of sight before turning to see George approaching.

  “Who was that?”

  Bess explains briefly and he becomes anxious at once.

  “You have dismissed him! How do you know he will not continue these plans? I should have been told about it.”

  “You may rest easy, George. He does not have the wits to be any threat. Mary will deny it all of course. As soon as I mentioned Sir Francis to him, he nearly fainted with fright.”

  “Where has he gone now?”

  “I neither know nor care.”

  George sits down heavily and mops his brow. “Sometimes I feel that we spend our whole time waiting for something to happen. It is all very vexing.”

  “Yes, I do not think people realise it is a great strain for us.”

  “But more of a strain for the Scottish Queen. She does not look well since her freedom was curtailed even more. I hear the Pope has declared our queen a heretic,” he says gloomily. “Thus making Mary a figurehead for Catholic rebellion.”

  Bess shakes her head. “There will be more trouble to come.”

  They look at one another in silent agreement. It is a depressing thought.

  1572

  After Queen Elizabeth’s excommunication from the Church of Rome in 1571, Sir William Cecil discovered the most serious plot so far involving the Duke of Norfolk, the Pope, King Philip of Spain and possibly Mary herself. It is named the Ridolfi Plot, and news has come from Court that the Scottish barons betrayed the Earl of Norfolk, who still languishes in the Tower, awaiting trial for high treason. Mary has been moved many times between various properties owned by the Shrewsburys and more plots continue to come to light, but all of them have been thwarted. As a senior figure, George has been summoned as a judge for Norfolk’s trial in London, so Bess now waits for his temporary replacement.

  The January morning is bright, but cold, as Bess stands to welcome her visitor riding towards the gates of Sheffield Castle. Her spirits are unusually low, having recently heard of the sudden death of her mother; although they did not see much of each other in recent years, Bess will miss her. She has just come from the Scots Queen’s apartments where the mood is tense as Mary has been on her knees praying since dawn for the Duke of Norfolk, as he faces trial. George left the previous day with a great deal of fuss and constant reminders to Bess about Mary’s care. He had hoped to see the man sent to replace him, but time has run out and he could not delay any longer. Bess is pleased he is having a respite from his duty and although he grumbled as usual, he is secretly relieved.

  Nearby on the banks of the Rivers Don and Sheaf, groups of people are buying and selling their wares at the daily market. Live chickens squawk in cages, bloodied cuts of meat hang from hooks; women with baskets of onions and fresh bread call out over the general melee. The stallholders are also shouting to attract the attention of passers-by, offering eggs, cheese and cooked pies. Small boats come and go, some carrying passengers, others with more commodities such as leather purses and tools. A handful of hungry beggars stand as close as they dare to the suckling pig that is being roasted on a spit over an open fire, while some ragged urchins crack an icy puddle with a stone. From her apartments, Mary cannot see any of this activity as her high windows face into the courtyard, but she can hear the voices and she longs to be in the fresh air with them. Through all this mayhem, her visitor steers his horse cautiously and looks about while the drawbridge is lowered for him. The guards salute, as they are expecting him, and he continues into the courtyard to find Bess outside the main door. She watches as he dismounts stiffly from his grey mare and stretches, before walking over to greet her with a formal bow, removing his hat with a practised flourish. He is a short, wiry man of advancing years, a diplomat, Member of Parliament and administrator. Having accepted this task with reluctance, he would far rather be at home in his manor house at Stanton, some thirty miles north of London; but Lord Burghley trusts him implicitly and the two of them have known each other well over many years. Although Bess has never met him until now, she has heard of his somewhat unusual marital arrangements and his distaste for life at Court. More importantly, he played a key role in meetings with the Scottish delegates over the future of the Scots Queen and has met her on several occasions.

  “I assume I have the honour to address the Countess of Shrewsbury? I am Sir Ralph Sadler. Good day to you.”

  “Sir Ralph, you are very welcome. I’m afraid my husband has already left for London and you have missed him. I am to bri
ef you on the security arrangements, but first, please come this way.”

  Bess leads him into the Hall and beckons for a servant to serve their guest a silver goblet of warm mead. He looks around at the surroundings with appreciation. “This is a most comfortable dwelling; quite unlike Tutbury I believe?”

  “You have heard about it?”

  “Oh yes, Huntingdon was damming in his description.”

  “I imagine he would find nothing of good to say about his stay with us.”

  “Believe me, I have spent much time in draughty Scottish castles. I doubt Tutbury would be any worse.”

  “Despite the respite it will give him from the care of his prisoner, my husband did not wish to take part in the trial. Up until this treason was discovered, he was a great admirer of the duke. But he knows his duty.”

  “Quite so,” he drains his goblet and sets it down on the table.” I would like to go to the Scottish Queen at once. Then I can see my quarters. My manservant will arrive shortly, he can sleep on a truckle bed if necessary.”

  “Of course. Please follow me, Sir Ralph.”

  Bess leads the way along stone flagged passages and up curving stairs, unlocking sturdy oak doors until they reach the entrance of Mary’s chambers. The guards stand to attention and Bess unlocks the final door with the largest key that hangs from her waist. They find Mary still on her knees in front of a large crucifix, a rosary in her hands, with her ladies praying behind her. Bess and Sir Ralph pause and wait for Mary to finish. Then she makes the sign of the cross and her ladies help her to stand.

  “Sir Ralph Sadler, your jailor in my husband’s absence, your majesty,” announces Bess.

  Mary looks him coolly up and down before sitting on her chair beneath the canopy. Sir Ralph bows and she acknowledges it with a curt nod.

  “We meet again under less happy circumstances, Sir Ralph. And what sort of jailor will you be, I wonder?”

  “I shall be a fair one, I hope, your majesty.”

  “Given that my very captivity here is unjust, that is hard to believe. You must excuse my cynicism. I have suffered at the hands of some of my jailors since I fled my native Scotland. Look well upon my face, does it not already show the signs of old age? So would anyone who was kept under guard day and night. I was once considered a beauty …” her voice trails off and she looks at Sir Ralph under her lashes.

  “Sir Ralph is here as your jailor, not to comment on such trivial matters,” Bess tuts in disapproval.

  “My queen has asked me to send you her best wishes and thanks you for the gift you sent her,” he says.

  “I am pleased that she liked it. I would have preferred to give it to her myself, but my requests are always refused. Am I such a danger to the crown that my cousin will not be in the same chamber as me?”

  “I cannot answer that question. But you must realise with plots to kidnap you coming to our ears all the time, my queen is very reluctant to give you much freedom.”

  Mary gives a light laugh.

  “I do not think that is the whole reason. I think your queen is jealous of me, of my many accomplishments and my beauty, which is universally acknowledged.”

  “I can assure you that is not the case,” Bess interrupts.

  “No indeed,” Sir Ralph agrees quickly. “Our queen has no woman to equal her.”

  “Ah! Loyal subjects I see. Of course it is not only your queen who keeps me here. Her spymaster Walsingham and her other lap dog, Cecil, oh, I beg your pardon, Lord Burghley, as we must now call him, are also to blame. It is amazing what people will do to advance themselves,” Mary replies waspishly.

  “Rather like Hersey Lassells,” Bess reminds her.

  “I do not know this man. Is he a member of your household?” Mary’s voice is all innocence.

  “Not any more. I have dismissed him. I would be obliged if you would refrain from trying to involve my servants in your escape plans.”

  “Me? Nothing could be further from my mind.”

  “Please, ladies, there is no need for discord.” Sir Ralph places himself between them.

  “You may wish to know that I shall not be requiring any food on certain days of the week as I intend to fast and pray for the Duke of Norfolk,” announces Mary.

  Sir Ralph looks perturbed at this announcement but Bess is matter-of-fact. She is determined that Mary’s histrionics shall not be allowed to have centre stage.

  “Sir Ralph, I suggest we leave the prisoner for now and return in the morning, when she is in a more co-operative frame of mind.”

  Mary looks at them sharply. She has never been called the prisoner before now. Bess feels she has the upper hand and jangles her keys for good effect. Sir Ralph realises he is fighting a lost cause between the two women and after bowing again, makes a hasty retreat from the chamber. Bess gives Mary one final withering look before following him, locking the door behind them. Sir Ralph stops in the corridor.

  “I must ask you for the keys now, countess.”

  “Of course, they are all here, the outer doors as well as this one.”

  He examines them carefully before peering through a nearby window.

  “My primary aim is to keep her safe from any more attempts to release her. Can we talk somewhere more private?”

  “This way, Sir Ralph”

  As soon as Bess has shut the door to the chamber, he wastes no time in telling her his news.

  “The latest escape plot has come to light. It seems it was hatched by two local squires, Francis and George Rolleston …”

  Bess interrupts him impatiently. “It was I who first heard of this plan.” He looks surprised.

  “Oh, then you will know that Mary’s major-domo, Beaton, was also involved.”

  “He met the two brothers one early morning on the moors; they were seen by the guards. The plan was for Mary to escape down a rope, and hence to the Isle of Man. This is old news, Sir Ralph.”

  Bess cannot not help but feel a little smug. “Evidently,” he replies shortly. “Beaton – has he been questioned?”

  “He is too ill I am afraid; I do not think he will live much longer.”

  “Why was I not told more of this plan before I left London?”

  “I can only think letters have gone astray. Events can happen very quickly here.”

  He produces a document and places in on Bess’ desk.

  “Are you aware that two of your servants are implicated?”

  “Surely not!”

  “John Hall and Hersey Lassells were definitely part of it. Did you have any prior knowledge of their intentions?”

  “No, I had no idea that they were part of a serious plot; I am shocked to hear it. Lassells was a dim-witted, arrogant young man and I questioned him over a period of time. I did not think he was any threat.”

  With a pounding heart, she picks up the parchment and reads it quickly while he waits.

  “And John Hall?” he asks when she has finished, her expression anxious.

  She tries to keep her voice steady.

  “I believe he was in the service of my husband for a number of years. He was a troublemaker and voiced his disapproval when the earl and I were married. He was dismissed, as was Lassells.”

  “Well, there are those who suspect you of conspiring with the Scottish Queen.”

  “Then they are wrong!” she retorts angrily. “I would never side with her against our own queen. I am a loyal and faithful subject. Lassells was duped by Mary. It is one thing to talk about an escape, but quite another to carry it out. It seems I gave him the benefit of the doubt when I should not have done so.” She frowns, embarrassed by her misjudgement of the situation.

  Sir Ralph picks up the letter and regards her with sympathy. “Then you would do well to write to London and explain yourself.”

  “I will do so at once.” Bess pulls parchment, quill and ink out of a drawer and begins feverishly to compose her defence. Sir Ralph watches in silence, his face thoughtful.

  1574

  The
weeks and months pass into years. Bess and George realise that they are playing a waiting game and the wait so far has been five years. Mary and her entourage have to be moved to different locations time and time again, if not for sweetening of the privies, then because there is a greater risk of an escape attempt. When this happens, the seaports are told to be on high alert, and there is increased tension where she is residing at the time. The guards, usually bored with their routine, become nervous and edgy, sometimes fights break out and George has to restore order quickly.

  Mary’s health is unpredictable. Sometimes she cannot leave her bed because she complains of severe headaches, stomach pains and vomiting, then she recovers quickly, and is granted permission to ride or take the waters at Buxton. It is now two years ago that the Duke of Norfolk was found guilty of High Treason and sent to the block, which was more cause for Mary to lament and bemoan her situation. But George has recently heard a rumour that she will soon be returned to Scotland, an idea that he clings to as he goes about his duties each day.

  Sir Francis believes that Mary is constantly plotting to kill the queen and seize the throne of England for herself. He monitors her correspondence with ruthless efficiency, but as yet can find no evidence against her. He paces back and forward impatiently, as the bespectacled code breaker works for hours deciphering the many letters that pass through Mary’s hands. Sir Francis knows Elizabeth will not act precipitously in this matter, but he believes there will be no rest until Mary is dead. So the waiting and watching continues.

  Bess begins to spend more time away from this task. She misses her home and family, together with her businesses. People stopped envying them long ago, and now there is an element of pity that the duty has continued for so long. George catches sight of himself in the looking glass and does not like what he sees, for the last few years have prematurely aged him. The pain from his arthritis and gout has etched itself as deep, downward lines around his mouth. He sleeps badly, worrying about money and Mary escaping. Unable to walk far without leaning heavily on a stick, he is torn between doing his duty and accepting that he is not well enough. He is not pleased to discover that Bess has invited her friend Margaret, Countess of Lennox and her son, Charles Stuart, to visit Bess at Rufford Abbey, Nottinghamshire, in the spring. He reminds her that the countess is the mother of the murdered Lord Darnley, Queen Mary’s husband, as well as the granddaughter of Henry VII. But this invitation will not be well received at Court for the queen dislikes Margaret and is suspicious of her loyalty. Once Bess has made up her mind to do something though, she will not be stopped, and after some heated discussions with him, she takes her unmarried daughter Elizabeth, to Rufford with her.