Bess - A Novel

by Georgina Lee

  “Is your head giving you pain, child?”

  “Yes,” her reply is muffled.

  “Then come and lie down, I will get you a warm posset to help you get back to sleep.”

  Bess guides her over to the bed, murmuring soft reassurances all the time and Arbella seems calmer, lying down quietly. Once her eyes are closed, Bess makes her way to the kitchen and waits while a lowly kitchen maid, already up and stoking the ovens, prepares a posset. But by the time Bess returns, the bed is empty and Arbella has gone.

  “Arbella! Arbella! Where are you?” she shouts and runs into the passage. William appears again and they search together, opening doors and calling for the servants to help. Within half an hour the whole house has been checked and Bess is getting frantic.

  “Where can she be? Surely she has not left the grounds!”

  “Could she have taken a horse?”

  “The stables are locked, the gatekeeper would never have let her go.”

  “She is playing a jape on us!”

  “If it is, I do not find it funny. We must find her and quickly!”

  Several of the servants are sent to search the outbuildings and grounds, returning with dejected faces.

  “She cannot have gone far; she is not dressed,” Bess tries to reason and looks at William for inspiration.

  They are standing in deep thought in the Hall when Bess notices a movement out of the corner of her eye, Arbella has appeared from the direction of the kitchen. She is carrying what looks like a chicken leg, and has obviously been eating, as the remnants of food are down the front of her nightclothes.

  “Where on earth have you been hiding? We have searched the whole house!” Bess is furious and desperate to shake some sense into her. “The servants have better things to do than spend their time looking for you, as do the rest of us. Whatever were you thinking of?”

  Arbella is unperturbed. “I was hungry,” she announces and continues gnawing at the meat. “I have been in the game larder. I saw someone looking for me but I hid. Was that not clever of me?”

  Bess and William can only look at her in disbelief. “Tell the other servants she has been found,” Bess says to William. “After breakfast we must have an urgent meeting, and I will write back to Lord Burghley.”

  Beckoning to the chief steward, she quietly tells him to lock all the external doors so that Arbella cannot go outside. The windows too, must have the handles removed for the time being. She is not taking any chances, given Arbella’s current state of mind. It will be inconvenient for everyone else, but it cannot be helped.

  “If you have had enough to eat now, perhaps you had better go back to bed,” Bess tells her.

  “Yes,” she replies dreamily. “I will do as you say.”

  She ceremoniously hands the chicken bone to the nearest servant and wipes the grease down her nightdress, before walking past everyone to go upstairs, humming a tune as she does so. The servants melt way and Bess is left to follow her, unsure of what her granddaughter will do next.

  Hardwick Old Hall, Derbyshire

  My good Lord Burghley,

  Your letter arrived at dawn this morning and has troubled me greatly. The thought of wicked people attempting to capture my dear Arbella for their own ends is truly shocking, but we must admit to ourselves that such plots are no less than we expected. My diligence in protecting Arbella continues to be of the highest level. I never permit unknown or suspect persons entry to the house, and Arbella is not permitted to walk outside alone at any time. I do not allow her to go to anyone’s house, although she would wish it. She is with me almost every hour of the day, or at least very nearby. Do not think that she lacks company though; my house has enough to keep her occupied. At night, she shares my bedchamber and when I wake she is the first person I see and the last before I close my eyes.

  I plan a visit to Chatsworth with Arbella shortly, where the arrangements will be just as stringent at all times. Please reassure Her Gracious Majesty of my continued devotion to this task, and of my continued humble desire to serve her at all times. This letter has been written for me by my son William, as I have a great pain on one side of my head and I am unable to write this morning. Written this day xv September 1592

  Elizabeth Shrewsbury

  Hardwick Hall – March 1593

  “I forbid it Charles! It is absolute madness!”

  “You will not stop me, lady mother, I mean to show my friendship for Gilbert.”

  Bess looks at him in annoyance as they face each other across her desk. Timothy has been sent from the chamber and William stands behind his mother, where he has positioned himself.

  “Why should you get involved with Gilbert’s problems? He would not rush to defend you I am sure.”

  Charles had been reluctant to visit Bess, as he knew she would try and stop him from going through with a duel against his old friend John Stanhope, in two days time.

  “I do not understand what this is all about,” says William. “It seems to be a lot of fuss over a weir, which Gilbert has no rights over anyway.”

  “You are both acting like spoilt children,” says Bess. “I know that Gilbert holds a grudge because he was not granted the posts of Earl Marshall of England and Lord Lieutenant of Nottinghamshire. He expected it on the death of his father, but we cannot be sure that John spoke in favour of his own brother for the posts, and not Gilbert.”

  “John promised to speak in his favour and clearly reneged on his word. I do not blame Gilbert for being angry.”

  “But they have been friends for so many years!” exclaims Bess.

  “You should not have become involved in this dispute,” William scolds.

  Charles gives him a withering look. “Why does William have to be here, lady mother? This is none of his business. He is always at your side these days, it is very tedious for the rest of us.”

  “He is here because I wish it.”

  “I would speak to you alone.” He folds him arms obstinately.

  “I will get to hear it all anyway, you might as well let me stay,” William mutters.

  “You may be our mother’s favourite, but my life is not your concern, so you can go back to your bookkeeping.”

  “I do not have favourites, Charles! For the sake of peace, leave us William.” Bess raise her eyes to heaven. “Are you boys never to grow up?”

  After he has gone, Bess asks Charles to pour them both some wine from the flagon on the table at the side. She studies his back with affection, broad shouldered and fit, he has recently remarried and it suits him, for he looks better than she has seen for a long time.

  “Well, what about this attack on the weir?” she asks as he hands her the glass.

  “Gilbert says the local people have been disadvantaged since the Stanhopes built it,” he replies.

  “How so?”

  “It creates a sediment which means they cannot wash their linen.”

  “I heard his men were breaking it up with pickaxes, how does that help the situation? I suspect Gilbert is not at all bothered by the weir, but used it as an excuse to cause trouble.”

  “You do not understand how very upset he was by being passed over for those posts, he saw it as an insult to the family name and a lack of confidence in his ability.”

  “This duel of yours will not solve the problem, it will only make matters worse. Can you not see that?”

  “I want to defend the good name of my friend. I know you disapprove of my friendship with him and you are not on speaking terms any more, but you must understand that our friendship means a lot to me. This feud will not go away…”

  “…so you think by getting yourself killed in a duel that will be the end of it.”

  Charles touches the hilt of his sword lightly. “It is not I who will be injured. I am a first rate swordsman, as you know. I have insisted on certain terms which he has agreed to, so it is all arranged.”

  Bess tries one more time. “If this matter is not settled quickly it will affect Arbella’s sta
nding at Court. For her uncle to be seen brawling with a man such as Stanhope will be very damaging. If it comes to it, the queen will take Stanhope’s side, as she knows him better than you. There is one thing that her majesty will not tolerate, and that is fighting courtiers. It is a big mistake Charles, to antagonise a man on the rise at Court, I learnt that from your grandfather.”

  “Yes, yes, I know it is flattery, favours and gifts that have more influence. I refuse to bow to such superficial means.”

  “It may be superficial, but it is how to survive. Had I not be able to play the game by their rules, how long do you think I would have lasted? I would be a nobody, married to some obscure squire in the country and living off a pittance.”

  He laughs at the very idea.

  “No lady mother, you know as well as I do that would never have happened. For once, you will not have your way, I will not be dissuaded. ” He gets up and drains his glass. “I must ride south at once, I am already behind time by calling in to see you.”

  “Where is this duel to take place?”

  “On Lambeth Bridge at dawn.”

  “I beg you to take care, Charles! Please think again about this foolish enterprise.”

  He pauses as he pulls on his gloves. “Do not fret lady mother, I shall return afterwards and we will toast my victory.”

  “Will you write word of the result as soon as it is over?”

  “I will do better, I shall come back to Derbyshire at once. I have my new wife Catherine to come back to now.”

  Charles kisses her cheek briefly and she watches him leave, fighting back the tears she does not want him to see. When William returns a few minutes later, he finds her sobbing quietly and he can say nothing to reassure her.

  Lambeth Bridge, London

  (Two days later, 6.55am)

  Charles has been up since 5am, unable to sleep. Bess has not been the only one to try and dissuade him from this course of action. His new wife Catherine, her pale face edged with anxiety, also begged him not to go through with it, but Charles has his mother’s stubbornness and will not be swayed. Sword fighting and fencing are sports which he has always enjoyed, winning prizes at Eton and becoming so good, that he would give informal lessons to other pupils. Gilbert is touched by his friend’s loyalty, not having the wish to engage in a duel himself, although his wife Mary has said she would happily take on the whole of the Stanhope family if she could. He knows she would too, for her strong and dominant personality is comparable to Bess’. She has the same determination, although she lacks her mother’s charisma, political awareness and business mind. Having heard that Charles, her favourite brother, is to fight this duel, she berates Gilbert and accuses him of “letting Charles do his dirty work.” Gilbert tells her that no one can persuade Charles not to go through with it, but she does not want to believe him.

  Charles is excited rather than nervous. He knows he is the more capable swordsman, but there is always the possibility that something could go wrong on the day. Jarvis Markham, his second, sensibly steered him away from the taverns last night, and made sure he was in bed by ten o’clock. The morning has dawned bright and dry, the sun casting sharp shadows on the water as it gently laps along the banks of the Thames. The two of them wait patiently on the bridge, talking quietly and scanning the road for Stanhope. A small crowd of early stallholders has gathered, realising that something is going to happen and do not want to miss it; a duel is especially exciting for them because such events are illegal. Already they are betting on a winner. Charles has made certain conditions, which Stanhope has agreed to honour; the main one is that the men will fight in their shirtsleeves. Just a few minutes after 7am, Stanhope and his second appear, there is a murmur of anticipation from the crowd.

  “Cavendish,” says Stanhope curtly, by way of greeting. He is paunchy and does not look as ready as Charles.

  “Stanhope,” replies Charles, equally blunt, and begins to take off his cloak. The seconds mark out the area to be used and the weapons are examined. Then Charles notices that Stanhope has not taken off his doublet.

  “We agreed shirtsleeves, or have you forgotten?” he growls.

  “No, but I have a cold, I will have to keep it on,” replies Stanhope defiantly.

  Jarvis immediately approaches him and feels it. “This is a very thick doublet, you will have to remove it.”

  “I will not.”

  Charles feels it for himself and shakes his head in disbelief. “I am not fighting you with that on! Do not be ridiculous, take it off and let us continue. I want my breakfast.”

  He gives a few parries with his sword, eager to start the fight.

  “I will not remove it.” He stands looking at them and Charles gives a laugh of disbelief.

  “Well perhaps you should have my doublet too, if you have a cold.” He gestures for Jarvis to hand over his own. “We cannot have you suffering can we? I shall stay in my shirtsleeves, then at least one of us will be dressed honourably.”

  There is a ripple of laughter from the crowd, who can hear the conversation and begin jeering. Both Charles and Jarvis are now chuckling, but Stanhope is adamant that his doublet remains on.

  “If you will not remove it then we must call it an unequal match,” says Jarvis.

  “I agree, the fight cannot go ahead,” echoes Stanhope’s second.

  Charles is furious but there is nothing he can do.

  “Oh, I see this was all a deliberate ploy on your part to avoid the fight! I might have know you would resort to such a pathetic deception. I think that you have realised you would never win against a superior swordsman like myself.”

  “We shall take our leave.” Stanhope puts on his cloak again, and looks at Charles with as much dignity as he can manage after such a loss of face.

  “Your friend the Earl of Shrewsbury has not heard the last of this! Tell him we shall see him in the Courts,” he threatens.

  With this, they turn on their heels and disappear, the sound of jeering and sniggering from the crowd following them until they are out of sight. With the release of tension, Charles and Jarvis are now shaking with laughter and have to sit down to regain their composure. Applause breaks out from the crowd and they give a mock salute to them in acknowledgement.

  “Come on Charles, let us find some breakfast. I have worked up quite an appetite.”

  Linking arms, they make their way over the bridge and the crowd reluctantly disperse; there is to be no duel after all.

  It is only two months after this failed duel that Bess decides to move to Chatsworth until the New Hall is finished. Aware that Anne finds her presence awkward, she thinks it is best to distance herself, and visit regularly, instead to check on the progress of the building work. Arbella’s health has improved and she seems more settled for the time being, writing long letters in her neat hand to her Aunt Mary, Gilbert’s wife, as well as the Earl of Essex. Bess could prevent this communication, but is aware that Arbella will find a way of reaching them anyway. Also indirectly, it is a way for her to keep in touch with Mary and find out her news as her own contact with the Shrewsburys has been minimal since George’s death. It is therefore quite a surprise one morning, when a servant announces that Mary has arrived without warning, and is waiting in the Hall. She goes at once to greet her and they exchange the briefest of kisses.

  “Mary, how good it is to see you. I hope all is well with everyone; I do so miss your girls, Mary, Elizabeth and Alathea, I think of them often,” she says wistfully.

  “We are all well, lady mother. I hope you do not mind me coming to see you, I was passing and thought I would call in.”

  Bess knows this is a lie, but says nothing. She has a good idea of the reason for the visit and they sit by the fire as servants bring refreshments, Bess waving them away when they have finished.

  “Arbella seems in good spirits,” observes Mary. “You know she writes to me? Of course you do, you know everything.”

  Bess lets this comment pass and waits for Mary to get to the
point.

  “The weather does not get any better,” says Mary, sipping her wine and looking through the window.

  “No, we have had a lot of rain.” The two women both study the contents of the glasses and after half a minute, Bess takes the initiative.

  “I am delighted to see you after all this time, but I am wondering what has prompted you to visit me.”

  Mary gets up and walks about restlessly, clearly uncomfortable about it.

  “You have likely guessed the reason for my visit. I may as well come out with it. We are in debt, even worse than usual. Our expenses far outweigh our income.”

  “No changes there,” Bess cannot resist commenting.

  “Gilbert is alienating all his family, one by one. He has challenged his brother Edward to a duel over a silly lease, but Edward has more sense and refused to fight his own flesh and blood. Now he is claiming that Edward is trying to poison his gloves, of all things! You must have heard about the ambush of the Stanhopes in Fleet Street?”

  “Oh yes, I heard about it.”

  “That was so shameful.”

  “No more shameful than your message to Sir Thomas Stanhope.”

  “How do you know about that?”

  “My dear Mary, he has sent details of your comments to Lord Burghley. Apparently when her majesty found out, she was not very complimentary about you.”

  At this, Mary looks annoyed, but quickly recovers her composure. “What did she say?”