“For better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; to love, cherish, and obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.” Bess's voice rang out in the Queen's Chapel.
Sir William slipped the wedding ring on her third finger. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee honor, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”
The officiating priest intoned, “I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
From the moment Bess was wed, she noticed that Lady St. Loe was treated differently than Lady Cavendish had been. Her status was suddenly elevated, and everyone at the wedding banquet treated her with a greater deference and respect, which secretly amused her.
Bess was inwardly dreading the moment when she would come face to face with Lord Talbot. How on earth would she be able to eat with his icy eyes upon her? What would she do when he insisted on dancing with the bride? And how in God's precious name would she be able to bestow a bridal kiss upon him before the assembly?
An hour into the reception, Bess heard the queen remark, “It is too bad Lord Talbot could not be with us this evening. He was called north; the Earl of Shrewsbury has been taken ill.”
Bess felt suddenly weak with relief. She wondered if Talbot had withdrawn from the Court because he refused to acknowledge her marriage. Perhaps he was using his father's health as an excuse. She had a tender regard for the old earl and said a silent prayer that he was not really ill.
Finally, Bess knew she could relax a little and enjoy herself. However, because of her elevated status as Lady St. Loe, she felt she must be a little more reserved than she had been in the past. She cautioned herself not to drink too much wine and not to swear. She was beginning a new life, and she wanted her new husband to be proud of her.
It seemed the playful object of the guests was to keep the bride and groom apart, so William and Bess danced with everyone except each other until late into the night. When they were finally allowed to speak, Bess murmured with mischief brimming in her dark eyes, “Do you think they'll give us a bedding?”
Sir William turned beet red and said repressively, “I should hope they will do nothing so vulgar.”
Bess sought out the Dudley brothers. “I need your help. I don't want a bedding; my lord thinks them vulgar.”
“And so they are,” Robin said, laughing. “That's the point!”
Ambrose Dudley winked at her. “Don't you think I should come upstairs with you and show him how to go about the business?”
Robin drawled, “He's her third husband, for Christ's sake; Bess will show him how to go about the business!”
In the end it was Elizabeth who spared the newlyweds the indignity of a bedding. She allowed the couple to depart alone, and none of the other courtiers could leave the festivities until the queen decided to retire.
When Sir William St. Loe had been elevated to chief butler of England, he had exchanged his guard chambers for a luxuriously appointed apartment on the second floor of the palace, in the same exclusive wing as Cecil. Bess was delighted with their new accommodations, for most courtiers did not live in such comfort.
The door of the apartment was opened by Sir William's manservant, but when Bess did not step inside, her new husband looked at her uncertainly. Bess smiled and murmured, “It is customary for the groom to carry the bride over the threshold.”
Syntlo laughed and lifted her up into his arms, and Bess felt his manhood rise and brush against her bottom cheeks. She put her lips against his ear and whispered, “Dismiss your man.” Bess was not fearful or shy of what was to come, only wildly curious.
He set her feet to the carpet and inquired politely, “Did Lady St. Loe's things arrive, Greves?”
“Yes, my lord.” Greves indicated her things were in the bedroom.
“Splendid. We won't need you again tonight; thank you, Greves.”
Even when the servant withdrew, Bess thought Syntlo excessively staid and polite. He made her a bow and said gravely, “You will need a little time.”
Bess was mildly surprised that he did not want to undress her. Or perhaps he was so polite he would not do such an intimate thing without being invited. Bess gave him a radiant smile and went into the bedchamber. She disrobed slowly and freshened herself with the scented rose water, hoping he would come in and find her undressed. When he did not, she donned a cream silk night rail embroidered with damask roses and climbed into bed. When he still did not come, she decided to call him. To her dismay she found she could not call him William. Instead, she called out, “You may come in, Will; I'm ready.”
He came to the foot of the bed and gazed at her with adoring eyes. “You are so very beautiful.” He reached out his hand as if he wanted to touch her hair but dropped it as if he did not dare touch her. Then he blew out the candles and undressed in the dark.
Bess smiled into the darkness, thinking him excessively shy. Perhaps she would have to make the first advance. She felt the bed dip as he slipped between the covers, and she cautioned herself to be ladylike with him.
The moment Syntlo was in the bed with her, his staidness disappeared. His hands roamed her body, and she had never known a man to become this excited this quickly. She reached out and learned that he was naked. The moment she touched him, he groaned, and gasped, and cried out incoherently, bucking against her soft thigh. To aid his haste Bess tried to remove her nightgown.
“Elizabeth, I can't wait,” he gasped, pulling up the silk garment and mounting her. He thrust wildly, and Bess was stunned by his need. She opened her thighs and yielded to him generously, trying to adjust her body's timing to his. She hadn't experienced the sex act for two years and would have preferred he go a little slower this first time.
“Elizabeth … ohmigod … Elizabeth!” He arched and spent just as Bess felt her first flutter of arousal.
His arms went around her, and he buried his face in her breasts. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, my dearest. Forgive me, Elizabeth?”
At first Bess thought he was apologizing for coming too fast and leaving her unsatisfied. She stroked his hair gently.
“I didn't mean to hurt you—forgive me for being such an animal!” he begged.
Bess realized he was apologizing for forcing sex on her. “Will, you didn't hurt me, and you're certainly not an animal.” She sat up and lit the bedside candles.
“I love you so much; how could I have done that to you?” The look of shame and agony on his face was hard for her to fathom.
“It's all right; you didn't hurt me.”
“Really? Oh, God, you have no notion how much I enjoyed it. You excite me beyond anything I've ever experienced. Bess, you're so understanding about a man's pleasure.”
“Will, making love can give a woman pleasure too.”
He laughed and shook his head. “You don't know the excitement or the pleasure I felt. It's different for a man. A lady could never experience anything so … carnal.”
Bess wanted to laugh. No, she wanted to cry. What she really wanted was to be brought to climax. She deliberately licked her lips and lay back down. When he blew out the candles and moved against her, Bess knew she'd be ready this time. He kissed her tenderly, and she arched against him invitingly. Her thigh brushed against his groin, and she felt him flaccid and soft. He kissed her again, and she thrust the tip of her tongue to tease him.
“Good night, Elizabeth … thank you.”
Bess lay staring up at the bed canopy long after she heard his breathing slow into sleep. All men are not created equal! She realized that she had deliberately chosen St. Loe because he was the antithesis of Cavendish. Bess simply did not want to love another. She told herself that she did not want all that passion and pain ever again. St. Loe was a good man; it would be a good marriage. She did not regret it!
As Bess lay beside her new husband, the hollow, empty feeling inside her belly was like ravenous hunge
r, only worse. “William,” she whispered two hours later as she slipped into blessed sleep. But it was not William who filled her dreams that night, nor was it the new husband she had wed.
A voice like black velvet whispered in her ear. “You've never been loved by a man of your own age—a man in his prime.” Bess turned and gave herself up to his arms. “Sable bedgown … black stallion … impale you … naked for a week … peak of your arousal … sheathe myself to the hilt … second coupling … writhe for an hour.” The third time he made real love to her, cherishing and worshiping her with his body until she dissolved in liquid tremors and yielded everything he ever wanted from her.
The following day, when Bess and Syntlo arrived at Brentford, they enjoyed a private celebration with her family. The newlyweds had been excused from Court, and Bess decided to use this time to move her family back to Chatsworth. She couldn't wait to show Sir William the magnificent house she was building and, in turn, show off her new husband to her noble friends in Derbyshire.
Jane and Marcella totally approved of Bess's marriage to St. Loe and treated him with almost reverential respect. Her daughter Francie seemed a little reserved in her welcome to her new stepfather, but Bess's sons, now nine, eight, and seven, vied with each other for Syntlo's attention. Little Elizabeth and Mary, who were four and three respectively, showed no fear of the gentle man with the close-clipped gray beard, and both climbed onto his knee as they had on his previous visits.
While Bess busied herself packing up the entire household, St. Loe purchased spices, artichokes, olives, wine, and anything else he could think of that was plentiful in London but might be in short supply in Derbyshire.
Before she left, Bess gathered a good supply of dragonwort to be certain she avoided conception. She may have taken another husband, but Cavendish was the only man who would ever father children on her. It was quite a cavalcade that set off on the Great North Road, for both of them took their personal servants, and Bess took most of her household staff, including her children's tutors and nursemaids.
On the journey the newlyweds were never alone until their bedchamber door closed each night. The bridegroom was so profoundly affected by sharing his bed with his bride that his excitement seemed to increase rather than diminish. When he fell asleep each night, he was the most sexually sated, replete man in the realm, who had no notion that his beloved Elizabeth lay awake beside him, aching and unsatisfied.
When Chatsworth came into view, Bess felt almost dizzy with happiness. She had come within a hairbreadth of losing it, and she vowed never to put it in jeopardy again. She had courageously taken the reckless chance that if she postponed selling it to pay the crippling debt to the Crown, fate would intervene on her behalf. Standing before her dream home, Bess knew she had done the right thing. She had gambled and she had won!
Sir William was suitably impressed with Chatsworth, whose pleasure gardens alone covered five miles.
“Chatsworth is my great passion,” she told him, with tears of happiness in her eyes.
“As you are mine, my dearest. I want you to start building again. I want you to finish it.”
“Thank you, Will, that is the best wedding present you could ever give me.”
Bess lost no time. She immediately hired men to dig limestone to make plaster, and others to mine coal from her estate's shallow pits to fire up the lime kilns. With the aid of her stewards, Francis Whitfield and Timothy Pusey, Bess hired masons, joiners, slaters, and glaziers. She sat down and penned a letter to her dear friend Sir John Thynne at Longleat, asking him to let her have the services of his artistic plasterer. She signed the letter Elizabeth Cavendish, saw her mistake immediately, and, crossing out Cavendish, substituted her new name, St. Loe.
Sir William was in his glory. Domesticity was new to him, and he delighted in playing father to his ready-made family. He was exceptionally generous, unfailingly kind, endlessly patient, and tirelessly supportive of anything Bess wished to do. His father had left him a large inheritance, which he was happy to spend on his new wife and children.
Syntlo had been at Chatsworth only a fortnight when he received a dispatch from the queen, requesting his immediate return. Elizabeth wished to move her Court to Windsor for the rest of the summer and could not manage without her captain of the guard and chief butler of England. Bess hid her disappointment and told him she would pack immediately.
“My dearest, there is no need for you to return. I want you to stay here and enjoy your summer with the children. The queen may order me about, but she may not order my wife. As soon as I get back to Court, I shall pay off your debt. That will put Her Majesty in a sweet temper. I shall miss you terribly, but you love it here, and your happiness is all I desire.”
“Oh, Will, I shall miss you too. You are so kind and generous.” And after he had gone, Bess found that, indeed, she did miss him. He had indulged her every whim, and she could do no wrong in his adoring eyes. She soon busied herself in building the third story of Chatsworth and also took on a new project so that her every waking hour was filled. Since the law stated that she could claim any land that she improved, Bess enclosed an additional twenty-five acres at Ashford with hedge and ditch and called it Lark Meadow.
Sir William faithfully sent a wagonload of supplies up to Chatsworth every week, including books and candies for the children, and along with cloves, ginger, dates, and figs, he sent Spanish embroidery silks for Bess. His letters were touchingly affectionate and always began, My own, more dear than I am to myself.
Toward the end of summer, Frances Grey arrived from Bradgate for a visit, and Bess was appalled to see how much weight her friend had gained. Frances had to be helped in and out of a chair, and once she sat down she preferred to remain there all day gossiping.
“Well, Lady St. Loe, I'm very proud of you. The ladder of success is climbed one marriage at a time. How the devil did you catch him?”
Bess knew better than to take offense at anything Frances said. “Marcella insists it was my breasts.”
“Perhaps, darling, but I'd be more inclined to think it was the red hair and your resemblance to the queen. He's probably been in love with Elizabeth for years.”
Bess smiled. “I have all his affection now.”
“And all his money and lands, I should hope. Have you ever met his dissolute brother, Edward, the black sheep of the family?”
“No. It is difficult to imagine a dissolute St. Loe.”
“Edward is a vicious swine. That's why Sir William is a model of respectability, to silence the scandals of his brother. Edward married a rich widow after poisoning her old husband. Within a month she, too, was dead, and poison was again rumored. Then he turned his attention to the bride their father had selected for Sir William and married her himself. The family disowned him; that's why Sir William got all the Somerset and Gloucestershire lands when his father died.”
Bess felt disloyal gossiping about the St. Loes. She would ask Will about it. He would tell her the truth; he had too much honor to lie. Bess changed the subject. “How is Catherine liking it at Elizabeth's Court? I never get to see her, since she is always on duty during the day, and I am on duty at night.”
“Poor Catherine. Whatever will happen to her without a husband when I stick my spoon in the wall? I wrote to Queen Mary before she died, asking her to set aside her edict that Catherine not marry. Now I suppose I shall have to write Elizabeth. Bess, if aught should happen to me, will you ask the queen to find a suitable husband for Catherine?”
Bess felt alarm. “Frances, are you ill?”
Frances shrugged her shoulders. “It's the dropsy, I'm afraid. I never seem to pee much these days, no matter how much I drink.”
“Oh, my dear, I am so sorry. I'll get Marcella to brew you some agrimony; I'm sure it will help. Would you like to go to bed?”
Frances winked. “I've spent enough time in bed since I wed my young equerry. Never mind, Bess, at least I shall die with a smile on my face!”
Before Be
ss knew it, autumn was approaching and Sir William arrived to escort her back to Court at Windsor. He had paid the tuition for young Harry and William Cavendish to go to Eton College, which could be seen from the towers of Windsor Castle. The rest of the children would remain at Chatsworth with Bess's mother, Jane, and Marcella.
The reunion was like living her wedding night all over again, and Bess decided that, when they were back at Court, she would try to gently instruct Sir William to display less sexual excitement and learn more staying power.
The accommodations at Windsor Castle were extremely hospitable, not only for the queen and her attendants, but for Lord and Lady St. Loe. Their apartment was more spacious and luxurious than at Westminster Palace and even had two bedchambers. They often entertained their friends at Court, and once a week her sons visited from Eton College, which was directly across the river.
As the months went by, every hour that Elizabeth was not closeted with Cecil, she spent with Robin Dudley. Bess was mildly surprised that here at Windsor he had gradually gained complete and open access to Elizabeth's chambers. The secrecy had fallen away. The couple rode together every morning in Windsor Great Park; they hunted, hawked, shot at the archery butts, and strolled hand in hand along the grassy banks of the river.
When Bess questioned Mary Sidney about the progress of the queen's foreign marriage negotiations, Mary let her in on a secret. “My brother's wife, Amy, suffers from a malady of the breast. The doctors say she has less than a year to live. All these marriage negotiations with France, Spain, and Scotland are a sham to buy them time. Robin says Elizabeth will wed him when he is free.”
The following week, when neither Bess nor her husband were on duty and they could spend the night together in their own chambers, Bess brought up the subject of Elizabeth and Robin being lovers.
“Bess, you are quite wrong. The queen is a virgin.”
She looked at him in astonishment. He had been Elizabeth's captain of the guard when Tom Seymour was her lover. How could he delude himself?
“Men find her enchanting and gather about her like bees around a honeypot with their sexual fantasies. But she would never allow an intimacy of any kind.”
A Woman of Passion Page 31