“I don't want them counting on their fingers and whispering behind their hands about me,” she cried passionately. “I want no scandal attached to the name of Cavendish. We'll leave the scandal to the bloody Tudors!”
“But, my darling, they will know when you go into labor,” he pointed out gently.
“No, they will not!” she insisted stubbornly. “Next month I shall go into seclusion at Northaw, and no one in London will know what date I am delivered.”
His eyes brimmed with amusement. “You are so willful and stubborn.”
“Qualities that arouse you, I see.”
“I'm sorry, sweetheart, I can't help it—you're so ripe and luscious.”
“Don't be sorry; I want you to make love to me!” She slipped down between his muscled thighs and touched her lips to his arousal, then took him into her mouth.
“Don't, you know I'll spill, then what will you do?”
“But you are too careful—you are afraid to put your weight on me.”
“Come on, you know there are other ways to take your pleasure.” He pulled the red silk curtains about them and stretched out supine upon the bed. “You enjoy being on top sometimes. Mount me and ride me. This way you will be able to take as much of me or as little of me as you can. You will be in control.”
“You don't like to give up control.” Bess straddled him.
“Tonight I will. I'll be putty in your hands.”
“Marble in my hands.” Her voice was sultry as she reached out to toy with him. Then she sank down upon him slowly, sheathing him inch by delicious inch until he was seated to the hilt. She splayed her hands against his hips and slowly lifted until he was almost fully withdrawn, then she sank down upon him, making him groan with a hunger of his own.
He could feel the brush of her thighs and her bottom against his groin. When she bent her head to look down at him, her flaming hair cascaded down, whispering across the muscles of his chest and his rib cage. His hands came up to caress her body, and her luscious breasts spilled into his palms.
She eased into a tantalizing rhythm that inflamed him. As she slid sleekly around him, he wanted to thrust hard and deep but held himself in check, allowing her to lead the way.
“Watch this,” she whispered.
As Bess began to increase her speed and her undulations became intensely erotic, the red silk walls about them began to flutter and ripple in the breeze she created with her gyrations. Then she began to ride him like a stallion, and the crimson silk flew like victory banners streaming past them as she galloped to her goal.
He was reeling with need as fire snaked through his groin, and he thrust wildly until they exploded together, shuddering out their release.
Bess finally wrote home to tell her family that she and William were expecting a child, and her favorite sister, Jane, came to be with her. The moment Jane arrived, Bess moved her household to Northaw, and William took Jane aside the following day.
“Bess will never admit it, but the baby was conceived before we were married. She could go into labor at any time now. Mistress Bagshaw's sister is a midwife and she's already here.” He ran his fingers through his hair distractedly. “Jane, I'm worried to death about her.”
Jane was only momentarily shocked. Bess did everything her own way. “I'll get her to bed. Don't worry, William, when Bess does something, she invariably does it well.”
Jane's prophesy turned out to be true. The following afternoon Bess delivered a baby girl. Her daughter had not red hair, but the same shade of dark auburn as her father. The very next morning the proud mother was sitting up in bed, feeding her daughter, and looking radiantly beautiful. She told William her plans for the christening. “I want Frances and Henry Grey to be her godparents, but we won't ask them until June.”
“But, darling, that is two months away. Babies are baptized within days, not months.”
“There is no law about the time of baptism of which I'm aware!”
Again William took Jane aside. “Can you talk to her and persuade her she is being silly about this?”
Jane looked at him in surprise. “William, Bess isn't like other people, you must know that by now. When she makes up her mind about something, nothing and no one can persuade her otherwise.”
As Bess decreed, little Frances Cavendish was christened in June with Henry Grey, Duke of Suffolk, standing as godfather. Frances Grey, Duchess of Suffolk, and her close friend Nan Dudley, Countess of Warwick, were the two exalted godmothers. This was a far-reaching choice since the Dudleys were politically powerful. A huge christening party followed at Northaw, where no one seemed to know or care that baby Frances was over two months old.
TWENTY
London, September 10, 1548
Dear Mother and Marcella:
I know you will have heard rumors about the explosive situation at Court, so I will bring you up to date. Protector Edward Seymour refused to hand over to Catherine Parr the jewels that King Henry left her, claiming they belonged to the new king. As a result Thomas Seymour made threats against his brother and suggested that he should be lord protector. As lord high admiral, Thomas has hired ten thousand men into the navy, and Edward Seymour is so fearful, he put Tom under surveillance.
Bess paused. She could not bring herself to tell them of the scandal that had exploded at Chelsea when Catherine Parr had caught her husband, Thomas Seymour, and Princess Elizabeth in the act, on the floor of Elizabeth's bedchamber!
Bess continued her letter on a sad note. I am so sorry to tell you that four days after Catherine Parr was delivered of a baby girl, she died of childbed fever. Bess lifted her pen once more, as her thoughts flew about like wild birds trapped in a cage. Had Seymour had a hand in his wife's death? Would the ambitious devil find a way to make Elizabeth his next wife?
It is rumored that the admiral is abusing his position by extorting bribes from vessels sailing to Ireland and that he condones piracy for a share of the loot. Though Bess dare not put it in her letter, she knew Marcella would conclude that Seymour needed cash to mount a rebellion.
Princess Elizabeth has moved her household to her own palace of Hatfield, and Frances Grey has reclaimed Chelsea Palace as her daughter Lady Jane's official residence, since Jane will be queen when she marries young King Edward.
We will celebrate Christmas at Northaw and only wish you could be with us. I miss you sorely and promise to come for a visit in late spring when the weather permits.
All my love, Bess.
Events at Court moved forward so rapidly that Bess wrote home often, informing them of the political intrigue as it unfolded.
London, March 21, 1549
Dear Mother and Marcella:
By now you will know that in January Thomas Seymour was arrested. There was evidence that he obtained ten thousand pounds from the mint by corrupt means. As well, the protector swore that Thomas had plotted a secret marriage with Elizabeth and attempted to seize the king's majesty and dispose of the privy council.
Within days Mistress Cat Ashley and Master Parry, Elizabeth's cofferer, were taken to the Tower for questioning, and the princess was placed under house arrest at Hatfield, where she was relentlessly interrogated for over two months. In the end Elizabeth could save only herself and her loyal servants. The protector persuaded the king to sign a bill of attainder against the admiral, and yesterday Thomas Seymour was sent to the block.
Bess paused, remembering the horrendous quarrel she and William had had. Because he was a member of the privy council, he knew that the protector was just waiting for his brother Thomas Seymour to lift one finger toward the king or his royal sister so he could arrest him for treason. Bess had promised William she would not breathe a word of what he told her, then had ridden hell-for-leather to Hatfield to warn Elizabeth. Cavendish had been livid that she had betrayed his trust, but when she begged him to forgive her, their reunion was so fierce, Bess conceived again.
Bess continued her letter. On a happier note, I am delighted to tell you t
hat I am going to have another child. William and I are both hoping for a son, and after he is born we will come north for a visit.
All my love, Bess
There were those on the council and at Court who found what Edward Seymour had done to his brother abhorrent. Discontent over the protector's rule spread into the populace of England, and by autumn there was outright rebellion. John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, rode into Norfolk at the head of the army to subdue the revolt. He quelled the uprisings with little bloodshed, and when he returned to London, the council switched their allegiance to him. Edward Seymour was arrested, stripped of his power, and taken to the Tower.
The Cavendishes went to Northaw for the autumn hunting, where they entertained all their friends from Court. Bess learned that the young king did not enjoy robust health but was delicate and often sickly since his bout with smallpox. When she learned that Elizabeth had fallen into a decline over the death of Thomas Seymour, Bess resolved to try to pull her out of it.
When Bess arrived she was amazed to see that Hatfield was still shrouded in deepest mourning. When she saw Elizabeth lying silent in her bed, waxy as a corpse, Bess realized she was ill in her heart and soul. Fury rose up in Bess.
“This is an act that has gotten out of hand. You meant to punish everyone for taking the admiral, but you've gone too far and are punishing only yourself!”
Elizabeth leaned forward and put her head in her hands hopelessly. “Go away.”
“He wasn't worth it!” Bess said vehemently. “Tom Seymour was Catherine Parr's lover, long before she ever wed your father. He urged her to the royal marriage.”
“Liar,” Elizabeth whispered.
“He wanted the power that a royal female could give him—any royal female would do. He asked the council for permission to wed you or your sister Mary. Ask anyone on the council.” Bess let her cloak fall open to reveal that she was blooming with a child. “I am fulfilling my destiny, but you are throwing yours away! Someday you will be Her Royal Majesty, Queen Elizabeth of England.”
“It can never be. They called me bastard and, now, whore.”
“Go to Court and prove them wrong! John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, is in charge now. He will see that your brother welcomes you, and all will accord you the title, honor, and respect your position demands.”
Elizabeth arose from her bed to pace the chamber. When she flung a book across the room, Bess knew Elizabeth had taken the first steps toward fulfilling her destiny.
Bess presented her husband with a son and heir, whom they named Henry. Their friends the Earl and Countess of Warwick were his godparents. In the spring William bought a bigger house on the river for his growing family, and while it was being made ready, they went to Derbyshire to show off the children to Bess's family.
At week's end they left the children with her mother and Aunt Marcella and rode out to look at Chatsworth. When they reached the top of the fell, Bess reined in to enjoy the view, but William didn't stop. He rode straight to the house and dismounted on the lawn. He leered at her wickedly. “Come and feel what I've got for you.”
She never refused a dare—not one Cavendish threw at her. She dismounted, tossed back her flaming hair, and swaggered toward him with bravado. Her arms went up about his neck and she lifted her mouth to his. Halfway through the fierce kiss, she slipped her hands inside his doublet. When her fingers closed over metal, she pulled her mouth away. “What the devil is this?” She pulled out a heavy iron ring of keys.
“The keys to Chatsworth, my darling. I hope it gives you more pleasure than you've ever had before.”
Bess stared at him blankly, not comprehending.
“I bought Chatsworth for you—it's yours.”
“Splendor of God, Rogue Cavendish, you didn't!” Bess was stunned. He had just paid out a generous marriage settlement on his daughter and bought Bess a new house on the river. Where had the money come from to buy Chatsworth? Bess burst into tears.
He enfolded her in powerful arms, and in that moment Bess felt she needed his support more than ever before. “Now you can build your palace.”
“Me?” Bess asked in a small voice, completely overwhelmed.
“It was your dream; now you can turn it into reality.” He looked down at her and saw that her great dark eyes were filled with apprehension. “Sweetheart, what's wrong?”
“I'm afraid,” she whispered. “Oh, William, I liked the dream. … It was so safe, so unreachable, forever in the distant future. But it's no longer in the future, it's here and now. It's too much, too soon. The reality of it strikes terror in my heart.”
His big hand smoothed the fiery tendrils from her brow. “Come on,” he said, untethering her horse and lifting her into the saddle. “Follow me.”
Slowly, silently, they trekked back up the side of the steep fell until they gained the summit, then he held up his arms and lifted her down. He kept one arm about her as they gazed down at Chatsworth. “The very first time I met you, I asked if you'd like three houses. Your reply was so direct, so sure. ‘Certainly, I would,’ you said. You chided me for laughing at you and vowed you would have your own vast household. That very first day I knew I wanted you. I immediately sensed that your ambition matched mine.”
Bess's mind flew back to her first year in London, and she relived her strong feelings. She had been determined to become a great success and share in the world's riches. She had sworn it, vowed it, pledged it like an oath. Her future had lain before her with clarity. She wanted it all!
William hugged her close. “Since that day I have come to know just how much strength, courage, and determination you have. Your uncertainty is just foolish fancy—I have no doubts. You have the will and the energy to turn the dream of your ‘palace of the peaks' into reality.”
“William, what about the money it will take?”
“Money is the least of your worries; I can always get you money.” He spoke with such authority, her fear was laid to rest.
“The house will go over there,” she pointed. “Built entirely of stone, with great square turrets at each corner. I want an inner courtyard and another over there by the stables.”
“It will be the most impressive house in Derbyshire.”
“Of course it will! The servants will wear blue and silver livery.”
William began to laugh.
Bess looked up at him shrewdly. “I know why you brought me up here. It all looks so much smaller and less intimidating from up here. Everything falls into perspective. I lived all my dreams and made all my plans from way up here. You brought me back so I would lose all my fear.”
“Of course I didn't. I brought you up here to make love to you. Now, where exactly was that spot again?”
“Oh, William, my heart is overflowing with love for you. This truly is one of the happiest days of my life.”
Bess now divided her time between Chatsworth and London. They sold Northaw and the annexed Church lands. William also had acquired Church lands in Wales, which were too far away to properly administer, and a small holding in Shropshire. Through his high position in the augmentation office, he exchanged these lands for a large property in Doveridge on the River Dove, close to Chatsworth. Bess leased out its manor house, called Meadowpleck, and they poured the money into building the new house at Chatsworth.
Their new land was valuable; it had both lead mines and great shallow seams of coal. Bess kept a meticulous accounting of earnings and expenditures, and Francis Whitfield, whom she appointed as her agent, took them to William in London.
Bess was an economical builder. The wood, stone, bricks, and mortar, as well as the lead for the windows and the roofs, were all provided from her own estates. Laborers worked for a pittance, and even craftsmen such as carpenters, plasterers, and stonemasons could be hired cheaply. As William had taught her to do at Northaw, she enclosed common land across the moors for sheep runs and marketed the wool.
The more that Bess accomplished, the more her energy and her confidence increased. She
allowed William to keep his own servants in London and moved the rest of the household to Derbyshire. They lived in the old Chatsworth Manor while the new Chatsworth was being built. Her sister Jane came to live with her to help with the children; her aunt Marcy also came, and Bess immediately put her in charge of laying out a plan for the elaborate gardens she wanted.
Cavendish traveled north regularly, and whenever he came it was as if he and Bess were newlyweds. She presented him with another son, named William, exactly nine months to the day after he had given her the keys to Chatsworth.
Bess had never been happier in her life. Whenever she came to London, she went home with wagonloads of furnishings for the new house, which was gradually beginning to take shape. According to her plan she intended to finish one magnificent story completely, then, when money permitted, begin the second story. Sometimes Bess accompanied William when he went on official business to a northern priory or monastery. Since his job was to confiscate their hoarded treasures, Bess offered to buy for hard cash anything that took her fancy and that she could someday showcase at Chatsworth. She felt no guilt—the heads of these religious houses were glad to slip the money into their own pockets and keep their mouths shut.
In London, the young king developed a contagion of the lungs, and it became obvious to those close to him that he was wasting away. John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, and most of the council, who were staunchly Protestant, began to panic. Princess Mary, the dreaded Catholic, was next in line to the throne, and none of the men in power wanted her there.
In a desperate move Dudley banished Elizabeth to Hatfield, then had the dying king make out his will proclaiming Lady Jane Grey his successor and declaring his sisters Mary and Elizabeth illegitimate. The entire council knew that Dudley planned to wed his son Guildford to Lady Jane to keep the power in his hands.
Cavendish was appalled that his friends, Henry and Frances Grey, were willing to go along with this, and in early July they brought their fifteen-year-old daughter from Chelsea to the stronghold of the Tower, where she and Guildford were married in a hasty ceremony.
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