Bess - A Novel

by Georgina Lee

  Within the week the lawyer waits in the Hall at Wingfield for Bess to receive him. He carries a bag with documents, which are so heavy; they have made his shoulder ache. Standing in front of the roaring fire, he rearranges his cloak and sees he has mud splattered on his boots, but it is too late to clean them now. Already he is impressed with the air of efficiency that the house seems to have. There is a quiet and purposeful atmosphere, the servants are all neat and tidy, bustling about their work unobtrusively; everywhere is clean and the rays of sunlight falling through the windows show no trace of dust. This is obviously a well run household and quite different from the late earl’s love nest. He smiles to himself at the memory of it, but quickly composes his face when the servant beckons for him to enter Bess’ chamber. He is intensely curious to meet the woman about whom his client has spoken with such rancour and hatred.

  He walks before her desk and bows, looking up to see a woman in her early sixties, her shrewd eyes gazing at him with authority. She is dressed in black and exudes a confidence he has not seen before on any woman. Her faded red hair is kept neatly under a black velvet headdress, dotted with silver pearls of the finest quality. Her hands rest lightly on the desk, the fingers wearing several rings of gold and he can see ruby stones, some as big as cats’ eyes. All around her there are stacks of papers and ledgers in neat piles, wall maps positioned around the room. On her desk he notices what he assumes, are likenesses of her family, but not one of her late husband. There is a steeliness in her manner; he can see it before she even speaks.

  “Good day to you, Master McLean. This is my son, Sir William Cavendish and my steward, Timothy Pusey.” She gestures to her right where William and Timothy are working at their desks and they nod their heads in acknowledgement, barely pausing.

  “Please be seated.”

  He is grateful for the few moments it takes him to extract the papers from his bag while she watches him. All fingers and thumbs, he drops a few of them and hurriedly picks them up before apologising. Bess gives the barest of smiles.

  “Thank you for coming to see me so promptly. I realise that it is a little unusual to see me as you are the earl’s lawyer, but as I wrote to you, I am anxious to hear the contents of my late husband’s will. Of course you are aware that we have been estranged over recent years, and I believe he has changed his wishes. I would obviously like to know if this is the case.”

  “Yes, your grace, your pre-marriage agreement is unaffected and still stands, of course. But I have to tell you, not is all as it should be with the late earl’s estate.”

  “Yes, so I understand.”

  “The new earl has already met with me. My initial enquiries have found the Shrewsbury Estates to have been poorly managed over a number of years. This has lead to a considerable fall in revenue resulting in the late earl’s estate now being much lower than expected. The late earl embarked on costly building works, as you know and made some unprofitable investments. There are also some missing items taken by …” He looks at the floor, too embarrassed to meet her eye.

  “… his mistress, Eleanor Britton. My stepson has told me about it.”

  “I have advised him to try and re-claim these articles from Mistress Britton, but she is now countersuing and claiming the property was given to her by the late earl. At present we have no evidence that this was the case.”

  Bess raises one eyebrow and glances at William, who pauses mid-air in his writing, his face a picture of disgust. Master Maclean‘s voice becomes more positive.

  “However your own financial position is much healthier, your grace. The land and income from your previous husbands’ estates now revert back to you, and as the late earl’s widow, you are entitled to a third of his estate.”

  “That is correct,” she says with a nod.

  “Indeed, Bolsover Castle, this present property Wingfield Manor, Shrewsbury House in Chelsea, the extensive properties in Derbyshire and Yorkshire as well as the lucrative coal and lead mines, the glass works and forges are all yours. The new earl owes you a substantial sum in loans, lead and cattle as you are aware.”

  “I have always enjoyed a good relationship with my son-in-law, but his attitude towards me has changed since the death of his father.”

  “May I ask the reason?”

  “He thinks I should help him at considerable cost to myself. The large debts he has incurred over the years were offset by his expectations, which have come to little. When I made it plain to him I was not going to forgo my widow’s rights, he will no longer speak to me.”

  “Well, it is not as if you need the Shrewsbury funds.”

  As soon as he says it, Master Maclean realises it is a mistake. Had Gilbert not already moaned about this matter to him? Had he not said that his stepmother is unyielding and stubborn? Bess looks at him coldly and for a few moments there is silence. When she speaks, he hears the hint of a Derbyshire accent in her voice, which comes to the surface when she is angry.

  “You forget yourself Master Maclean! It is not for you to tell me what I need and do not need! My need is immaterial, it is what I am entitled to receive as the earl’s widow that matters.”

  “I meant no disrespect, your grace. I apologise if I have caused offence,” he says quickly. “It is highly unusual to find myself dealing directly with a woman in such legal matters. It is a pity the late earl did not have your flair for business.”

  “If you mean I am quick to see where some profit is to be made through loans or the purchase of property, then yes, I am not ashamed of it. I am a woman of business through necessity, and the future of my family depends on it. I will not allow anyone or anything to stand in my way.”

  “Such sentiments have brought you to this position today, your grace. As Dowager Countess of Shrewsbury, it seems you are now the wealthiest woman in England, after the queen herself.”

  “You would do well to remember it. If I am so wealthy, then I am also powerful.”

  “Indeed. I am honoured to have such a worthy adversary, your grace. No doubt we shall meet again before the judges in due course. But I warn you, the new earl is in no mood for compromise.”

  “I had wished to settle these differences out of court, but if my stepson thinks otherwise, then so be it.”

  Master Maclean stands up; keen to get back to his office.

  “If that is all, your grace, I will take my leave. Good day to you.” He bows and Bess merely nods curtly. As soon as he has gone, William puts his quill down and stretches his arms above his head.

  “What did you make of him, lady mother?”

  “Like all lawyers, he will doubtless charge too much, but that is Gilbert’s problem. It is good to know my finances are in such a healthy state.”

  “Thanks to your management,” he replies.

  “But you and Timothy must take some credit too,” she says and smiles as Timothy gets up to replace a book on the shelf. “We are a team are we not? What do you say, Timothy?”

  He turns round; the book still in his ink splattered hand and regards her with familiar cheerfulness.

  “Modesty forbids me to answer that question, your grace”

  “I thought you would say so. But I value your work and the contribution you make.”

  “Thank you,” he responds simply and she can tell that he is pleased.

  “Why not take a walk to the laundry, where I believe your latest sweetheart is pining for you?”

  William gives a chuckle and takes the book from him.

  “I will finish this,” he tells him.

  Timothy pretends to be reluctant and starts to bluster with excuses, but Bess and William shoo him out and he disappears. Since the death of Joseph a few years previously, Timothy has proved himself to be a worthy replacement. Although very different in character from his predecessor, he has the same dedication and loyalty; these are qualities which Bess rewards generously as she knows the importance of reliable servants. Somehow he has reached the age of thirty-five and avoided marriage, but William beli
eves time is running out and teases him that the laundry maid could be the one to snare him. As he is boyishly handsome with curly fair hair and a warm grin, there is no shortage of female admirers.

  “I think a special drink is called for,” Bess tells William and she goes over to a cupboard and produces two silver goblets and a flagon.

  “I have been saving this finest claret for a special occasion.” She pours them both a generous portion and they toast to the future.

  “Hmmm, that is excellent” he savours the taste appreciatively. “How clever of you to have these agreements with the earl before you married.”

  “Was I clever? Or just practical?”

  “You are both, lady mother, and much more besides.”

  “Stop this flattery, William! I just do my best.”

  “If father could see you now, he would be very proud.”

  “But we still have a long way to go.”

  “Do you mean with Arbella?” He frowns. “How old is she now?”

  “Fifteen, nearly of marriageable age.”

  “I wonder the queen does not send for her. She is more than old enough.”

  “Her majesty will, in due course.”

  “It is very dull for her living here, she would much rather be at Court.”

  “I expect she would; no doubt she complains to everyone about it. I can do nothing except wait for the summons.”

  “She seems to think you could hurry matters if you wanted to.”

  “That is nonsense, of course I cannot influence the queen! Arbella will have to be patient, I keep telling her. The letter will arrive one of these days and we shall be ready for it.”

  William lowers his voice. “That tantrum she had the other evening …”

  “Yes, it was the worse one yet. Such behaviour will not be tolerated at Court. I do wish she would try and control her emotions; it is most unseemly for someone of her status to shout and cry. She did not inherit that from your sister Elizabeth.”

  “It must be a Stuart trait.”

  “The Scots Queen used to be dramatic on occasions too. Crying and wailing to get her own way.”

  She shakes her head as if trying to erase the memory. “Now who is waiting to see me?” He picks up a list from his desk and reads from it.

  “Three bailiffs to discuss the cattle figures and next month’s sheep sales, a foreign sailor wanting to raise capital for some private ships and two local landowners hoping for loans.”

  “You can deal with the bailiffs, take them into the other chamber; show me the conclusions when you have finished. I will see the foreign sailor myself, then I want to go through the latest building costs with you and Timothy”

  She straightens her headdress; it is time to get back to work.

  1590 – 1591

  Nearly two months later, George is given a funeral that is fitting for his status, and Gilbert spares no expense, despite his lack of funds. He tells friends he wants it to be remembered for many years to come. Thousands of onlookers brave the chilly January morning and although Bess is not involved with the arrangements, both she and Arbella are seated in prominent positions inside the church. Gilbert’s relationship with not only Bess, but also his brothers and some of his friends, deteriorates over the next year, as there are disagreements over legal matters arising from the will. Bess attempts an out-of-court settlement with Gilbert, but he does not uphold it. Mary now has little contact with Bess, preferring to maintain a relationship with Arbella instead. Bess continues to increase her property portfolio, acquiring land at Edensor and Little Longstone, from owners who have defaulted on loans she had made to them. Building is well under way of a grand new house at Hardwick, adjacent to the old one, from plans drawn by Robert Smythson, the architect. But at last, the queen sends for Arbella on her birthday, and it looks as if her life is about to change for the better.

  November 1591

  Preparations for this visit are the most lavish and costly yet. Twelve wagons are needed to transport the family, together with furniture, bedding, linen and plate, as well as Bess’ important business documents to London. A large flock of sheep and some oxen have already been sent ahead of the party to provide food in the coming weeks. The servants at the house in Chelsea have been told to prepare for an extended visit by the family, so chambers must be cleaned and aired, as well as extra food and fuel ordered. Bess brings her own cooks, butlers and kitchen servants to provide the standard of entertaining that is required. Forty servants are chosen to accompany the family, some ride on horseback, whilst other more senior ladies are in horse drawn litters. At Wingfield, all the family chambers will be closed up and remaining furniture covered with sheets, leaving Timothy in overall charge.

  Weather permitting; he will be in daily contact with Bess through letters, so that she will not be out of touch with her many business interests. She rides in her cumbersome coach, with Arbella of course, chests of coins under their seats and with armed guards riding alongside. William and Charles with their respective wives and families have their own coaches, so the complete convoy is an impressive sight as they ride south, with Bess giving money to the poor in every town. She makes sure people know she is coming, by sending ahead a servant lad dressed in the blue Cavendish livery to warn the bell ringer.

  For the visit, they are all to reside at Shrewsbury House, in the cleaner countryside air of Chelsea. Bess has extended it to provide extra accommodation and it provides easy access to Court, via the river. But before Bess can start to see, and be seen with the cream of Tudor society, she must have new garments made for herself and Arbella, as well as the important gift for the queen, which this year is to be an exclusively designed, heavily embroidered and beaded coat. Tailors work round the clock with Bess’ own seamstresses to produce these clothes as quickly as possible. In the meantime, Arbella, now aged seventeen, poses impatiently for her latest portrait, which will show her standing and finely dressed in a cream gown with black detail, her hair flowing loosely down her back. After some arguments, she agrees to borrow a pearl necklace from Bess, but insists most of it is tucked inside her gown, as a gesture of defiance. Bess has bought her some new jewels because she still has not received the Lennox jewels from Scotland, left to her by her other grandmother. The artist suggests including some books in the portrait, as a reference to her education and intelligence, an idea to which Bess readily agrees. At one of the masque balls at Court one evening, they eventually see the queen, who seems to have forgotten Arbella’s faux pas a few years earlier. She smiles as they both curtsey.

  “We are growing old together, Bess,” she tells her and searches her face keenly, for the two women are only a handful of years apart in age.

  Of the pair of them, it is Bess who looks healthier, thanks in part to her strong constitution and common sense approach to life.

  “It is I who am growing old, your majesty. You have not changed at all, and will never do so.”

  This is blatantly untrue and they both know it. Bess is secretly appalled to see the deterioration in her appearance, but her outward show of admiration never falters. The queen has lost more teeth, causing her cheeks to collapse. Those teeth that remain are blackened and unsightly. Her skin is heavily pitted from smallpox and damaged by the powered arsenic that she has painted onto it every day, when she appears in public. Sometimes she reveals her decollete with it’s very wrinkled skin on her neck and breasts, much to the embarrassment of others. The usual array of fine jewels, sparkling stones and lavish costumes cannot disguise her aging body. But she carries on as she always has done, and everyone still treats her with the adoration and deference she demands and expects.

  “So Lady Arbella, you have grown since you were last here.” The queen looks her up and down, not unkindly, and seems pleased. “We are glad of your company now and there are some other young people at Court for you.”

  “I am fortunate, your majesty, and honoured to be here.”

  “We have not forgotten to find you a husband, the neg
otiations are continuing.”

  Arbella is all smiles as Bess watches approvingly. Then the queen moves on to someone else; Lord Burghley, his hair and beard now snowy white, follows slowly behind, nodding at Bess as they pass.

  “I thought the queen would speak longer with us,” Arbella observes.

  “Her majesty is very busy, we shall have more opportunities in the coming weeks. I shall request a private audience.”

  “I do hope I shall not have to wait much longer for a husband to be found for me.”

  Bess can only agree with this wish, it has been her fervent desire since the hour of Arbella’s birth. Also, in truth, at sixty years old, she is finding the constant supervision of a young woman, especially one who is very different in temperament from her mother, to be a strain.

  “I have promised to dance, I beg you would excuse me, lady grandmother.”

  Arbella hurries through the crowd, leaving Bess to find a place to sit. She reflects that her daughter Elizabeth would never have flirted with Sir Walter Raleigh as Arbella is so boldly doing now. Looking at the two of them as they dance, Bess strokes the lengthy five-string rope of pearls she wears round her neck for these occasions. She has commissioned a portrait of herself wearing them, for they are quite spectacular in quality, size and quantity. These beautiful pearls attract the attention, admiration and envy of almost everyone, which is the reaction she is hoping to achieve. The queen herself has some similar pearls, which Bess was so taken with, she bought her own. As they are so heavy, she is only able to wear them in all their glory for short periods. Above them she wears a large, delicately made white lace ruff, which together with the pearls, provides a contrast from the severe black gowns she now wears all the time. On her head she has a small gold edged black cap that drapes behind her neck, hiding her hair.