“Really? I wonder how she could ever bear to leave such lovely countryside.” Bess sighed and leaned back against him. “This is such a perfect house; I am quite envious of whoever owns it. Why is it vacant?”
“The Abbey of St. Albans leased it out, but the rent wasn't paid, so the lease is in dispute at the moment.”
“What a pity; a house like this should be lived in and cherished,” she said wistfully.
He turned her to face him and ran his fingertip along her cheekbone. “Bess, could you be happy here?”
She drew in a swift breath, and he saw her eyes fill with eager questions. Before she could voice any of them, he covered her mouth with his in a kiss that marked her as belonging to him alone. He captured her hand again, laughing down at her as he saw her eyes dart possessively about the chamber. “Come with me and listen quietly while I secure Northaw as our country manor.”
At the abbey Bess met the abbot, and Sir William did not correct the churchman when he welcomed her as Lady Cavendish. With amused eyes William watched her blush. Over lunch Bess sat quietly sipping her malmsey as William and his secretary, Robert Bestnay, conducted business with a swiftness that took her breath away.
“As you know, Sir Abbot, I am commissioned by the Crown for the dissolution and surrender of religious houses. When I came last week, I was prepared to do just that. I surveyed the lands and took an inventory of the contents of the abbey and its properties, and technically all that remains to be done is transfer the property to the Crown.”
When the abbot threw him a desperate look, William commiserated with him. “Religion is the overriding problem of our times, my friend, but the Throne and the Court are staunchly Protestant, and as a result the Catholic cause must suffer.”
“Can we at least try to recover the rents owed to us on our leases?”
“I'm afraid you owe that money to the Crown also. It amounts to quite a considerable sum.” Cavendish signaled Robert Bestnay, who showed the abbot the tally. The look on the abbot's face turned from desperate to hopeless.
“Somehow this doesn't seem fair,” Cavendish said gravely. “Since I am given considerable leeway in these matters, I could give you a year's grace while you try to recuperate some of your losses”—William paused until hope returned to the abbot's face, then he continued— “though I am well aware how seldom these debts are ever collected.” The abbot looked hopeless once more.
William gave the impression that he was wrestling with his conscience. “I'll tell you what. Write out new leases renting all of St. Alban's lands and properties to the Crown for one year. I shall see that those rents are paid to you personally. When the leases expire after one year, St. Albans will revert to the Crown.”
“The rents will be paid to me personally?” the abbot repeated, not quite believing his good fortune.
“You have my guarantee, Sir Abbot.” William turned to his secretary. “How much is owed on the Northaw manor house, Bestnay?”
“Sixty pounds, Sir William.”
“If you give me the deed to the Northaw property so its ownership can be transferred immediately, I will give you the money owed on it this very day.”
The abbot broke out in a relieved sweat. “Sir William, how can I ever thank you?”
“There is no need for that, my good man. I just want you to feel that the Crown has dealt fairly with you.”
On the ride back to London, the afternoon shadows lengthened and Bess drew her silver-fox cloak more closely about her. “Rogue, explain to me exactly what you did back there and exactly how such a thing can be legal.”
“You look chilled, sweetheart. Come ride with me and I'll warm you.”
Bess gave the reins of her horse to Robert Bestnay, and Rogue lifted her before him. He slipped his arm possessively about her, and she snuggled back against the warmth of his broad chest. His wide shoulders, clad in black leathers, blocked the cool wind, and he put his lips against her ear. “Whether the means I used are legal troubles neither myself nor Henry Tudor.”
“You don't intend to register the deed for Northaw in your own name?” Bess whispered the question. Surely he would not dare do such a thing.
“It will be my fee for annexing the Abbey of St. Albans to the Crown, with the abbot's full agreement.”
“Rogue, will Northaw truly be yours?” she asked in awe.
He slipped his hand inside her fur to cup her breast. “I'll register it in my name, but it will be ours.”
An intense thrill shot through her, and he felt her nipple harden through the fabric of her riding habit.
His teeth nipped her ear. “It will be our country home when we are married.”
It was the first time he had said the words. Finally, he had promised to wed her! Bess wanted to fling her arms about him and kiss him until they were both senseless, but they were not alone. Instead, she rubbed her bottom against his groin and felt him swell inside the leather riding pants.
“You are torturing me, and well you know it.”
Her sultry laugh rang out.
When they arrived at Suffolk House, it was after dark. Cavendish dismounted and lifted Bess from the saddle. During the last few miles his desire to make love to her had mounted like a rising tide. “I need to bathe and change, but then I'm coming back.” He was not asking her permission. He was warning her of his resolute intent.
More than anything in the world, Bess wanted to be alone with him. They had been in the company of others all day. Whitehall, where he had rooms, was practically next door, and she knew they would be able to be together in the privacy of her chambers within the hour. She lifted her face, wanting his kiss yet knowing it was impossible. “Hurry!” she whispered.
By the time William returned, she was bathed, scented, and wearing a simple morning dress of pale green. She had ordered them a late supper, which the footman brought up just as Cavendish arrived.
The moment the footman left, Bess went into William's arms. They kissed and whispered, then kissed again, inseparable now that they were at last alone. Both were insatiable for the kisses they had been denied all day.
He lifted her against his heart and carried her to the love seat before the fire. “Bess, I'm so much in love with you. I swear I've never felt this way before.”
She needed him to pledge his love to her. She lifted her arms about his neck and melted against him, feeling completely secure for the first time since she had lost her father.
His kisses deepened and grew rough with his mounting desire, until Bess was weak with longing. His strong fingers splayed through her hair and held her captive for his mouth's ravishing. His lips traced a hot trail, seeking the pulse points on her temple, behind her ear, and at the base of her throat. Her scent filled his nostrils, making them flare with carnal desire, and his insistent hands slid her dress from her shoulders, freeing her breasts for his mouth's pleasure. Heat leapt between them, arousing a smoldering need that cried out to be quenched.
The food lay forgotten as William, refusing to be denied any longer, picked her up and carried her purposefully into the bedchamber. He sat her on the high bed and with sure hands removed her gown. When he saw she wore nothing beneath it, he knew she had anticipated that he would make love to her tonight.
As Bess lay before him in naked splendor, the breath caught in his throat. He stood gazing down at her. Nature had fashioned her for lovemaking, and at last she was ready to yield. He was so hard, his arousal so fierce, that he ached. His possessive gaze touched her everywhere, and his fingertips followed, stroking the sleek, satiny flesh that curved and swelled so enticingly.
Bess felt consumed by desire and was impatient for William to remove his clothes so that at last they could lie naked together. Quivering with need, she came up from the bed to offer him her mouth. When she felt his tongue delve deeply into her mouth, she couldn't keep from moaning at the intense pang of sensual need that flooded through her body. As her lips trailed down his corded throat, her fingers unfastened his shirt so
that her mouth could trail kisses down his chest. When her lips found the pelt of auburn hair, she longed to feel its crispness brush against her naked breasts. She pressed her lips and tongue against his belly and cupped his arousal, wanting to free it so she could see it, and touch it, and learn its mysteries.
“Take off your clothes for me; I want to see you naked and feel you against me. Are you as hot as I am?” she panted. “Feel how I burn!” She took his hand and stroked it down her body from her breast to the inside of her thigh.
“You will be even hotter inside. Let me show you.” His hand took her fingers and he pressed one into her scalding sheath.
Bess moaned. “I am in a fever for you.”
Her words inflamed him. He could feel his blood surging and pounding; his own heartbeat was deafening inside his ears. Then slowly, unbelievably, he realized that someone was knocking on the outer door.
Bess came up from the bed. “What was that?”
William cursed. “How dare they disturb us.”
Bess covered her nakedness with the bedcover as William strode angrily to the door and, without unlocking it, demanded, “Who is it?”
“It's Henry, I'm afraid.”
William reluctantly unlocked the door and opened it to his friend.
“The king is dead.”
“What?” Cavendish wondered if he had heard right.
“King Henry has just died at Hampton. We must go immediately.”
SIXTEEN
Cavendish went to Hampton alone, while Bess accompanied the Greys. Sir William's position immediately turned from rock solid to precarious, along with that of every other man at Court who wielded power. Frances and Henry were on firmer ground. She was a Tudor, and their daughter, Lady Jane, would marry Edward, who was now the King of England rather than simply the heir to the throne.
By the time they arrived, every noble in London, including Archbishop Cranmer and his churchmen, had gathered at the palace. A pall had already fallen over the entire place, making the atmosphere grave and hushed. The courtiers, both men and women, were shocked and caught unawares at the sudden turn of events. While the Greys went immediately to seek out their daughter and the nine-year-old boy who had just become King of England, Bess went straight to the Lady Elizabeth's apartments.
When she knocked, Bess had to give her name and was kept waiting for several minutes before she was admitted. She was escorted to Elizabeth's bedchamber, where her ladies were adorning her in black. Bess sank to the carpet. “Your Grace, I am so sorry for your terrible loss.”
Two of the ladies were weeping openly, while Elizabeth stood motionless, more deathly pale than Bess had ever seen her. “Are you faint?” she asked in alarm.
Elizabeth looked at her ladies. “Leave us.”
They obeyed her only because they had no choice. The moment they were alone, Bess closed the gap between them and took Elizabeth's hands.
“I can't believe it. I can't believe it,” Elizabeth whispered.
“Come and sit down,” Bess urged.
Elizabeth resisted stiffly. “I'm not faint, I'm giddy … with relief. I'm free at last, I can't believe it. I have an uncontrollable urge to laugh, but I know I must not,” she confessed. “I loved my father, but I hated him too!” she hissed. “Can you understand? He was the tyrant who murdered my mother, and yet I am proud that his Tudor blood flows through my veins.”
“I understand completely; love and hate are but two sides of the same coin. Can you compose yourself enough to face everyone, to receive condolences, to mourn your father, and make your obeisance to your brother, Edward?”
With head high and back as straight and stiff as a ramrod, she said, “I am Elizabeth Tudor. I can face anything. Call my ladies.”
The boy king was flanked by his Seymour uncles, Edward and Thomas. It appeared from the first moment of his reign that they were determined to set themselves up as a bulwark between the boy and the entire world.
Bess stood beside Lady Frances as they watched Elizabeth approach her young brother. It was the Seymours who gave her permission to draw close, and suddenly Bess felt afraid for Elizabeth. It wasn't little Edward who would now rule but the powerful Seymours. The very last appointment King Henry had bestowed was on Thomas Seymour when he became a member of the privy council, only four days past. Bess clenched her fists impotently. Who would keep the admiral's dalliance with Elizabeth in check, now that her all-powerful father was dead?
A few days later, when the late king's will was read, many people were amazed yet happy that he had restored his daughters to the succession. Bess was overjoyed that her friend was no longer the Lady Elizabeth. From now on she would be accorded her rightful title of Princess Elizabeth!
In the weeks that followed, Bess saw little of Cavendish. She fully understood that he had to remain at Court to secure his position in the new reign of King Edward the VI. The Greys stayed at Chelsea, bringing Lady Jane there from Hampton, during the long, drawn-out mourning for the late king.
The coronation for the boy-king was kept as simple as possible, with a short procession to Westminster Abbey, the usual interminable religious crowning ceremony, followed by a not overly lavish celebration, all supposedly in deference to the king's tender age, but which in reality had more to do with keeping the coffers filled.
Henry Grey brought messages from Cavendish to Bess, and it was Henry they relied on for news of what was happening at Court. As soon as his nephew was crowned, Lord Edward Seymour and his countess, Ann, moved into Hampton to be with the boy-king day and night, and by mid-February King Edward had given his uncle the dukedom of Somerset and appointed him lord protector. This put the privy council in an uproar, because they had expected to rule as a Council of Regency.
It was rumored that Thomas Seymour objected to his brother's outright manipulation of the little king, so at the direction of the lord protector, Thomas was elevated from admiral to lord high admiral and was created Baron Sudely to silence his objections.
Young King Edward was making new appointments almost daily. With the approval of the protector and the privy council, William Cecil, a brilliant young secretary of the Court, was appointed to the post of king's personal secretary. Then King Edward, at the prompting of Cecil and Edward Seymour, asked for an audit of the late king's treasury. Paulet and Cavendish and their treasury clerks worked diligently, sometimes feverishly, day and night over this accounting. It was a vast undertaking, and both knew the books must be in perfect order when they were presented for scrutiny.
At Chelsea, Lady Frances took personal offense at Seymour's insufferable high-handedness. “It is that bastard Edward Seymour who is demanding an accounting of the treasury. He had better not start investigating my bills! On top of that he has made his rabid bitch of a wife, Ann Seymour, a duchess! For Christ's sake, Henry, we must do something!”
“What can we do, my dear?” Henry asked doubtfully.
“If you think I'm going to sit here at Chelsea on my fat arse while Edward and Ann Seymour aggrandize themselves playing king and queen, you are sadly mistaken. At their own peril they are overlooking my God-given rights as a Tudor! Bess, pack immediately. Lady Jane goes back to Hampton this very day, and I shall camp in the king's bloody bedchamber until he makes me a duchess!”
At Hampton Court Palace, Catherine Parr was in full mourning. It was quickly brought home to her that she was no longer Queen of England, but a much less powerful queen dowager. Edward Seymour was already putting subtle pressure on her to move from Hampton because it now belonged to young King Edward. Seymour had been less subtle toward Princess Mary. Because she practiced the Catholic faith, he persecuted her unmercifully, insisting that everyone at Hampton must practice the Reformed Protestant faith. Deeply offended, Princess Mary haughtily removed her household to her own country estate of Beaulieu.
Lady Frances and little Lady Jane were dressed in identical black mourning when they arrived at Hampton. Bess wore a gray taffeta with tiny white ruffles at its hi
gh neck. They found the young king talking earnestly with his sister Elizabeth, but when he saw Lady Jane Grey, Edward's face lit up with happiness. Frances Grey missed nothing. Her daughter would have no difficulty at all persuading the king to make her parents a duke and duchess.
Princess Elizabeth, also gowned in gray, withdrew and beckoned Bess to follow her. As the two red-haired young women walked down the Long Gallery, Bess could see that Elizabeth was trying to suppress great excitement. “What is it, Your Grace? Has something happened?”
“Something is about to happen. I dare not say what; it is a secret,” Elizabeth whispered.
Bess guessed immediately that it concerned Thomas Seymour, for the princess was obsessed with him.
“Suffice it to say that shortly, everyone will be in for a great surprise.” Elizabeth looked at Bess coyly. “How does your own affair of the heart progress?”
“It doesn't,” Bess said flatly. “Sir William is completely occupied at Whitehall with treasury business.”
“We'll both have to be patient, something that doesn't sit well with either of us. And I absolutely hate these prim mourning dresses, but my brother won't hear of allowing me to wear anything save black and gray. Poor little devil has been brought up so straightly. He actually looked happy to see the little dog turd.”
“He seems to have much in common with Lady Jane, Your Grace.”
“They are like two peas from the same pod.” Elizabeth's eyes slid toward Bess. “Rather like us.”
At the end of May the audit of the treasury was complete, and early in June, Paulet was reconfirmed as lord high treasurer and Cavendish as treasurer of the king's chamber. They kept their posts not just because they handled the money of the realm, but because they did such an outstanding job collecting that money. Both were members of the privy council and received a vote of confidence from their fellow members.
A Woman of Passion Page 18