Bess - A Novel

by Georgina Lee

  His eyes flicker and he taps his stick a few times on the floor, realising that he has gone too far.

  “Yes, well, perhaps I spoke hastily about your husbands. I regret those words to you.”

  She cannot trust herself to respond and gazes unseeing at all her papers, which are now in disarray.

  “I have told the workmen they may not stay and that is an end to it,” he says dismissively.

  “So you have countermanded my instructions?”

  “I have, madam.”

  “You had no right to do so! You have made me look foolish in front of everyone!”

  “I think you can manage that without any help from me.” He turns to go and looks over his shoulder at her. “Do not interfere again or I shall have to take the appropriate action. I shall use all my powers and the law against you. It is time you realised I shall not stand for your wickedness. I rue the day we got married, for you have brought me nothing but misery and debt!”

  Bess stares after him as he goes through the door. No one has ever spoken like that to her before.

  After this argument, Bess cannot concentrate on her work and after finding Joseph and William sitting on a bench outside, she tells them she is going for a long walk. They watch as she strides out towards the river path within the Shrewsbury land, her head down, clearly deep in thought. After the initial shock of George’s outburst, she begins to think through what has caused him to be so critical of her. There is no doubt that his behaviour has changed over recent months. Usually he would have left such matters for her to deal with as she saw fit, but it seems that his complaints about her have been festering in his mind for a long time. Gilbert remarked to her recently that he thought his father’s behaviour was irrational at times, and that he was becoming very irritable. Lord Burghley had said much the same. It was true that he found looking after the Scots Queen very costly, and there was the constant worry of her escape, which if it ever happened, would inevitably mean his downfall with Queen Elizabeth; he would be stripped of his positions and banished from court, possibly forever.

  Bess knows he would move heaven and earth to prevent this from happening. But he has other problems that contribute to his mood. He has been asked by the Privy Council to intervene in a quarrel between two local landowners, and it seems to be a never-ending feud. Then there is his physical health; this is harder for Bess to understand, as she has never had a day’s illness in her life. Eventually she is ready to return to the house and find George to reconcile, for she loathes being on bad terms with him. Making her way past the stables, she notices that his horse is missing.

  “Where is his grace’s horse?” she asks the groom.

  He doffs his cap. “The earl left an hour since.”

  “Did he say where he was going?”

  “He mentioned Bolsover, your grace.”

  Bess nods, and hides her surprise. So George has left in high dudgeon, without saying goodbye, something that has not happened before. She continues inside and finds a letter on the hall table with Lord Burghley’s seal, which she quickly opens and takes to her study to read in private.

  Palace of Whitehall

  London

  Countess,

  I write to inform you and your husband of the Scots Queen’s latest methods of communicating with her supporters. Your own discovery of writing on bolts of cloth and inside the heels of shoes worn by her ladies-in-waiting, has been very useful. We have also found invisible writing in between the lines of books sent to her. Our agents have intercepted these books, copied the contents, and replaced them, so that the Scots Queen is none the wiser. Although the writing is in code, our agents are able to decipher their meaning with accuracy over a period of time.

  The recent report of the theft of the Scots Queens’ jewels has caused us a great deal of concern, and her majesty is most displeased to hear of it. Although likely that the Scots Queen herself has sold them to fund another escape attempt, the fact remains that somehow they are no longer in her possession. Her majesty has commanded me to emphasis to both of you again, the vital importance of vigilance and through searching of items arriving and leaving the apartments where the Scots Queen resides.

  Please thank your husband, the Earl of Shrewsbury, for his kind invitation to stay with you when I come to Buxton next week. I had hoped to see the Scots Queen on this visit, but Her Gracious Majesty Queen Elizabeth has not granted permission for this meeting to take place.

  I trust this letter finds you in good health.

  Written this day 28 July 1577,

  William Cecil, Lord Burghley.

  Bess now wishes that George had not left so abruptly. Apart from what the servants might think of his departure immediately after their argument, she needs to make him aware of the contents of Lord Burghley’s letter. Despondently, she puts it away and prepares to spend the hot and humid evening alone.

  August 1577

  Early preparations for Lord Burghley’s visit are just as intense as they had been for the Earl of Leicester. Extra supplies of food and drink are brought in by waggons to be unloaded by burly men, puffing and panting with the exertion as they make their way to the Chatsworth kitchen. Bess has hired help from nearby villages and ordered cleaning of the house from top to bottom. New tapestries for the remaining bare walls arrive and are hastily put into place. Wood and silver are polished until they gleam and the larder is full of joints of beef, mutton and pork. Servants spend hours plucking chickens, turkeys, geese and pigeons. Freshly killed haunches of venison add to the list of meat waiting to be prepared. The Chatsworth fishponds yield a good supply of carp, pike, sturgeon and tench with oysters and anchovies arriving in barrels from the coast.

  A team of laundry maids work all day and into the night, washing linen and ruffs, while carpets and rugs are taken outside and well beaten for dust. The dairymaids are kept busy making extra butter and cheese, and the brewery dispatches kegs of ale to sit in a cool corner of the basement. Some early apples are picked from the orchard and made into pies, sitting alongside elaborate sweetmeats and marchpane. Joseph hurries from one room to another, supervising and giving orders.

  After a heavy thunderstorm, the summer weather is cooler and by the time Lord Burghley has been to Buxton with George, the temperature is more comfortable for everyone. On the morning of his expected arrival, Bess orders fresh flowers to be cut from the gardens and brought into the house. There are bunches of fragrant roses, lilies and wild flowers from the hedgerow, providing the finishing touches to the chambers. Bess is satisfied as she surveys the work before hurrying upstairs to change. She is slightly apprehensive about seeing George for the first time since their latest row, but in front of Lord Burghley, he is all smiles for such an honoured guest.

  Everything does not go according to plan however, when a letter arrives later that afternoon with news of another escape attempt by Mary. George has to rush back to Sheffield, leaving Bess and the family to entertain Lord Burghley. Unlike the Earl of Leicester, he does not wish to hunt or fish, so Bess has to find other, more sedate amusements for him. They spend some of the two days by walking gently around the gardens or watching the others playing bowls. Bess also shows him her latest building work and some horses she has recently acquired. But work follows him wherever he goes, so a certain amount of time is spent answering correspondence from the queen and the Court. There have also been brief visits from neighbours, the Manners family from nearby Haddon Hall, and Sir John Zouche and his family from Wingfield. Lord Burghley leaves feeling well fed and rested, with promises to Bess that he will do all to encourage the queen to visit as soon as possible. With much bowing, curtseying and waving, everyone watches him depart with his small retinue, and the family make their way to the Hall with Bess to relax and reflect on the event. There is a general feeling of relief that their important guest has gone on his way after a successful visit, for such visitors from London are rare.

  It is not often now that the family are all gathered with her and she has enj
oyed these last few days with them. Her gaze scans their faces, one by one. There is Henry, now twenty-seven, his hair already receding and his face showing signs of burning the candle at both ends. Frances and Mary are talking animatedly together, as sisters do. William, Charles and Gilbert are standing at the window, laughing over some joke with Frances’ husband. Elizabeth, who by now seems a little better, has managed to join them for short periods over the last week, although she is still quiet and withdrawn. Grace, Henry’s wife, sits apart, her thin lips pinched in a line; she finds the Cavendish family en masse noisy and overwhelming. She has always been in absolute awe of her mother-in-law, only responding meekly when Bess speaks directly to her. At times like this, she is acutely aware that she has not produced any heirs from the marriage, and she looks wistfully at the five grandchildren as they are taken back to the nursery. There is Bessie, Robert and Grace (children of Frances and Henry), little George (son of Mary and Gilbert) and Arbella, all having being presented to his lordship with great pride by Bess.

  Mary is the daughter who is most like her mother, strong willed and outspoken, although she does not have Bess’ striking hair colour, or her business acumen. She turns away from Frances now and they both smile.

  “Are you pleased with the visit, lady mother?” asks Mary after a few moments, knowing by the look on her mother’s face, that she is delighted.

  “Very much so, Chatsworth is looking at its best, and Lord Burghley will return to London and tell the queen what a wonderful time he spent with us. It should tempt her to visit; that is my dearest wish. Yes, I am very pleased; it could not have gone better. You all played your part, as I would have expected. Apart from Henry of course, who could not help but drink too much of my good wine.” She regards him without pleasure.

  “Come, lady mother, I am here am I not? I could have been listening to musicians or looking at my horses, which I would have much preferred, but I chose to be a dutiful son and spend two boring days fawning over Lord Burghley.”

  “It was the least you could have done! Why can you not be more like your brothers? Why must you always be a disappointment to me?”

  “Not always, lady mother, remember he did become MP for Derbyshire five years ago,” Frances reminds her.

  “How long did that last?” she replies bitterly. “He never sticks at anything, no ambition, no thought for me or his family.” The company exchange resigned looks, once Bess starts to complain about Henry, it usually ends badly. “To think that Chatsworth is entailed to you and there is nothing I can do about it. And you always take my husband’s side against me; do not think I am unaware of it. Such disloyalty is despicable. Perhaps you forget that it is I who pays your debts, not him.”

  “Your husband, the earl, at least has a better opinion of me.” Henry drains his glass of wine and sets it down on the table before getting to his feet. “You expect too much, you always have. I am only flesh and blood. The truth is that I will never be good enough for you, so I have given up trying.”

  Charles and William both speak at once.

  “Henry…”

  “You never even started to try!”

  Bess sounds resigned when she speaks to him again. “I have given you many chances, but you have thrown them back in my face. You are the talk of the county, an embarrassment to us all. I am ashamed of you. I am only glad your poor father is not here to witness it. And still you have no legitimate heir, although plenty of bastards around the county and beyond!”

  There is an uncomfortable silence and Grace blushes with shame.

  “Come wife, we shall leave this merry gathering and return to the comfort of our own home.” He holds out his hand and she duly stands up, unable to look at anyone. Bess gets up and walks over to her.

  “Grace, I am sorry for my harsh words, I sometimes speak when I should remain silent. I know you are a good wife to him, you deserve better.”

  They embrace and Bess kisses her softly on the cheek.

  “Write to me,” she whispers. Grace nods and sketches a curtsey to the family. Henry is impatient to go now; this was only what he expected. With no further exchange, they both leave and Bess returns to her seat, shaking her head.

  “What a shame father could not join us,” says Gilbert, trying to defuse the situation.

  “Yes, he felt guilty enough at having a few days at Buxton, then having to hurry back to his charge. A rest from his duties would have done him some good,” Bess replies.

  There is a brief silence, then Frances stands up. “Who will join me for a game of cards?”

  Everyone goes to the table except Bess and Gilbert. A servant refills their glasses and Bess indicates for Gilbert to move his chair nearer to her, as the cards are dealt amidst some noisy repartee between the siblings. “Has your father spoken any further to you about our argument the other day?”

  “He has been much troubled about it.”

  Bess regards Gilbert as a friend, and they are quite close. In appearance, he is like a younger version of his father, with a long face and deep set, inquisitive eyes, which look back at Bess with disarming honesty.

  “As I have myself,” she replies.

  “I told him of your offer to dismiss the groom he so disapproved of the other week.”

  “And what was his reply?”

  “He said that he doubted you would agree to a man of his choosing.”

  “I would try – I still think he is happier when he is not with me.”

  “No, that is not true.”

  “I am sure that he prefers the Scots Queen’s company to my own.”

  “What makes you think it?”

  “He feels sorry for her. They have grown close over these years of captivity and she is an attractive woman who knows how to appeal to a man.”

  “Do you not think her attractiveness has waned in recent years? Her health is not good and I hear she wears a wig.”

  She gives the semblance of a smile. “That just makes her more vulnerable to your father. I have thought about it a lot, Gilbert. The Scots Queen has no power over anyone anymore, yet she is an anointed queen, an unusual combination. She is still entitled to our respect and to be treated with dignity. The relationship between them is more complicated than you might think.”

  “I do not see how, she is a prisoner and he is her jailor. That seems simple enough to me.”

  “That is because you do not know her determination to escape and be crowned Queen of England. Your father‘s constant denial of any impropriety between them, smacks to me of a guilty conscience.”

  Gilbert looks shocked. “Are you serious? Do you really think he has fallen in love with her?”

  “I believe he has formed an attachment to her, which goes beyond what their relationship should be. I have my spies wherever she is being held. They report to me of lengthy talks late at night, of laughing together, of his laxness in her captivity and his pleasure in her company.”

  “Can you not spend more time with him?”

  “He does not wish it, Gilbert. We seem to argue all the time now and I have much work to keep me here, which I cannot neglect.

  “Is that all?”

  She hesitates and reaches for her glass to give herself time to reply.

  “Truth be told, I prefer to be here at Chatsworth, it is my home and more comfortable in every respect. When I am staying wherever Mary is being kept, whether it be Sheffield or anywhere she is housed, I am restricted so much. I am not allowed any visitors to cheer me, so I cannot see you all. I am constantly having to attend to the Scots Queen, for she is always complaining of some trifle …”

  “… but it is the same for my father.”

  “Yes, I know, but he does not seem to miss home and family so much. He could ask to be relieved of this task, which I know it is having a bad effect on his health and his purse, but he does not ask the queen because his pride will not allow him.” On the other side of the Hall comes the sound of laughter from the card players. Bess lowers her voice. “But I have hea
rd rumours of a very serious nature against your father.”

  “Do you mean the child he is supposed to have fathered by her?”

  “You know about it?”

  “There have been rumours at Court to that effect for some while. I am sure there is no truth in them.”

  “How can you be so sure?”

  “You yourself have told me that her ladies never leave her side. My father may be many things, but I do not believe he would take advantage of her in that manner.”

  “Is there much gossip at Court about it?”

  “A little, I think there is bound to be.”

  Bess is suddenly weary of the discussion.

  “Let us join the others, I am feeling lucky tonight.”

  They walk over to the card players and are soon enjoying the game, the conversation forgotten. It is to be the last time they are all happy for a while.

  3 Days later (10 August 1577)

  As the time approaches midnight, the house is quiet and everyone has retired to bed. The servants, scattered around the house and stables, fall asleep quickly, exhausted by their labours from the day. Moonlight casts its shadows over the wooden floors and the house creaks as it too settles for the night. In her comfortable bedchamber, Bess sits as Agnes attends to her toilette; it has been another long day of spending time with the family, and they are both tired. Finally, Agnes helps her mistress into bed and curtseys, leaving Bess alone. Tomorrow everyone will be leaving, except William, Elizabeth and Arbella; the house will quieten down as houses always do, after visitors. Yawning, she blows out the candle before listening to the familiar sounds of her home through the open window. The soft gurgle of running water from the river nearby, a dog’s isolated bark, a couple of owls hooting – content and relaxed on the deep feather mattress, she eventually falls asleep.