by Georgina Lee
“The earl and I were as shocked as yourselves by the news that the Duke of Norfolk was hoping to marry the Scots Queen. It would be unthinkable without the permission of your gracious majesty. I believe both of them are deluding themselves to imagine it could ever happen.”
“Indeed.” The queen looks tired today, which no amount of white complexion paste or lavish costume can disguise. “We have heard of it in good time. They both continue to be a thorn in our side. Norfolk is a constant nuisance. I know full well that he coverts my crown and that he considers a mere woman as myself quite incapable of ruling well,” she says.
“But you constantly prove him wrong, your majesty.” Sir William and Sir Francis nod in agreement, murmuring assent. Bess continues, warming to her theme with words she has been rehearsing on the journey.
“We would never allow such a union to happen whilst we were responsible for her safe-keeping. We would rather die than surrender the Scots Queen to anyone who would plot or harm your gracious majesty. All our household, the guards, the servants, from the highest to the lowest, are of one mind and that is to guard our charge with the utmost care and determination. All her letters and those of her ladies are intercepted and passed on to Sir Francis. Everything that comes into and out of her apartments is thoroughly searched, she is constantly watched whenever she goes outdoors to take the air and never left alone. I can assure you all in the strongest terms that my husband and I remain proud to be of service in this most important matter, and we will continue to be vigilant for as long as your majesty desires.”
This speech, delivered so eloquently, seems to satisfy them all and the queen rewards her with a smile. “I know it to be so, Bess; the news did not come as a complete shock. I have long suspected Norfolk of such deceit and arrogance. Obviously they can never been allowed to marry for I would not be able to sleep soundly in my bed.” Then she turns to Sir William. “Do you have the Scots Queen’s letter?” He produces a parchment from his sleeve and, with his eyes on Bess; he gazes at her with foreboding.
“I have received a letter from the Scottish Queen about you, countess,” he says.
“Really? And what does this letter say?”
“It says that I am not to listen to your schemes and accusations about her.”
Bess is genuinely surprised, which quickly gives way to incredulity.
“Why should I have any schemes or accusations about the Scottish Queen? It makes no sense to me!”
“It does not surprise me,” Sir Francis says drily. “She is full of schemes and plots. And she is obviously worried about what you may say to us about her.”
For once, Bess is at a loss for words and the queen sees her distress.
“We take no heed of the letter, do not be alarmed.”
Her reassurance goes some way to calming Bess, who is struggling to stay in control of her emotions. “Tell us Bess, I have long wondered, what do you talk about?”
The queen echoes the thoughts that have been on everyone’s’ lips at Court. Bess thinks quickly. “We speak of very trivial matters. I would not presume to ask her any questions of a personal nature. Our time is spent sewing and working on our embroideries and tapestries.”
“But you must speak of something!”
“So my husband tells me,” Bess smiles.
“Nonetheless we should wish to know.”
This time is an edge to the queen’s remark.
“Naturally we discuss the colours of our threads and the designs we are going to use. We talk of nature, the weather and of fashion …”
“So you are two women together and you do not gossip!” Sir Francis is skeptical and the two men exchange a look of knowing disbelief.
“It is not beyond the realms of possibility. Do you gossip with her, Bess?” persists the queen.
“I am most careful in my speech to the Scottish Queen. I know that I must always be on my guard with her, as I am sure that she is likewise. If I am to spend time with her, as you so graciously commanded, then the hours cannot be spent in silence. There is our sewing as I have said, and we play cards. She also reads with her ladies and spends many hours on her knees in prayer. Under supervision, she is allowed some fresh air each day. She knows that I have the ear of my queen and that I report to you. I think that she does not trust me. After all, it is my word against hers is it not?”
“Of the two of you, Bess, I would believe your word against hers.”
Bess is relieved, in that at least she is vindicated. Then the queen’s voice becomes strident.
“But the security of the Scottish Queen still remains of the greatest importance. We have given Huntingdon absolute charge of her for the moment. I know this will be difficult for you and the earl, but we must consider what is the best course in this matter.”
No one speaks for a few moments. Sir Francis has fixed his gaze on the wood pattern of the table in front of him. Sir William gives Bess a warning look as the queen stands up. The audience is over. They all rise then, and Bess curtseys while the men bow.
“Sir Francis, come, I have some questions for you.” She sweeps out, her gown rustling and Bess is left alone with Sir William. He closes the door firmly. “Have you a few minutes, Bess?”
“Of course.”
They sit down again and she waits for him to speak.
“You must let these matters run their course.”
“My husband will be very upset. He does not deserve such treatment.”
“Huntingdon will not stay long at Tutbury.”
“How can you be so sure?”
“It is not his style. He likes to be seen as someone who gets results quickly. You will soon be left alone again to continue your duty. I should have thought your husband would welcome the chance to share the burden with someone else.”
“On the contrary, he sees this interference as an insult to his loyalty and integrity. Huntingdon was rude and brash in his dealings with the Scottish Queen and spoke to her very disrespectfully.”
“Have you grown to like her?”
“She can be very charming when she wishes. So far, I have found little to dislike about her. But after the letter she sent you, I can see I shall have to be more careful.”
“And the earl, your husband? How is his relationship with her?”
“He finds her emotional and demanding. Her episodes of crying are certainly very exhausting, for all of us who have to deal with her.”
“Yes, he writes of it often.”
“But all this is known to you already, my friend. What do you really wish to find out?”
Sir William strokes his beard slowly. “It is vital that we have knowledge of Mary’s intentions. We are keeping a close eye on certain northern lords who support the Duke of Norfolk, and are sympathetic to Mary’s Catholic cause. Anything that might be relevant must be reported to us at once. You and the earl are our eyes and ears.”
“We do our best, Sir William. It is not an easy task and to be frank, one that is costing a lot more than first thought.”
“Ah yes, I wondered when you would mention the cost.”
“It is a sore point with my husband. Would you please mention these costs to the queen for us? I am afraid his requests are ignored.”
“Of course, but do not expect too much.” He gathers his papers and staff before getting up.
“The queen knows that you both had nothing to do with the Duke of Norfolk’s wish to marry Mary, but such incidents make us nervous. We have no doubt the duke will try again, we must be ready for him.”
“When will her captivity end?”
“If you mean when will the queen decide what is to become of her cousin, I cannot tell you. Be patient, you will not have to wait much longer and Huntingdon will be gone.”
She stands up too and they begin to walk into the corridor.
“Have a care when dealing with the Scottish Queen. I would advise you not to become too familiar.”
“I think you are right, I see her in quite a different wa
y now.”
They part outside Sir William’s study and Bess hurries back to her chamber to prepare for the journey back to Tutbury. She has yet to understand how she is going to distance herself from Mary while at the same time, try to find out her plans and schemes. The numerous invitations that Bess has received from friends at Court, who are keen to find out about Mary, will have to be declined for the time being.
As 1569, the first year of Mary’s imprisonment draws to a close, Bess and George have become resigned to the Earl of Huntingdon’s presence and an uneasy truce descends on Tutbury. The building itself seems to cast a spell of doom over everyone with its dark, dingy corners and musty chambers that no amount of airing with roaring fires can remove. The servants hate it here too, and there is much grumbling in their quarters at the end of most days. Mary receives and sends letters almost daily, all of which have to be checked by George and the Earl of Huntingdon. She writes to friends in Scotland and France, as well as priests and foreign ambassadors, telling them she has been upset to hear that the Duke of Norfolk was sent to the Tower in October. But she denies knowledge of the attempt to free her in a rebellion called The Northern Uprising, one of many failed plots, and no evidence is found to implicate her.
Meanwhile Bess feels increasingly frustrated with their continued role as jailor. Her sewing times with the Scottish Queen continue, but there is a wariness now on both sides, which makes the atmosphere strained. One afternoon, Bess asks to see Mary’s latest work. This time Mary seems reluctant, but passes her the hanging, which consists of two branches of a tree, one with fruit and one without.
“This is very unusual, your majesty.” Bess looks at it carefully.
“I may as well tell you, countess, it was intended as a gift for the Duke of Norfolk.”
“Really? Could you explain the meaning to me, although I have a fair idea of its implication?”
“Oh, it has no real meaning. It is merely a pretty design.”
“I think not. Look at the motto you have placed here.” She points at the Latin wording, unable to trust herself to pronounce it: Virescit Vulnere Virtus. Mary pretends to peer at it.
“Oh that – I do not remember sewing it. I probably saw it in one of my books and copied it.”
“Would you translate it for me, please?”
“Virtue flourishes by wounding, is the meaning,” she replies after a pause.
Frowning, Bess picks it up and spends a few moments studying it intently.
“I see now what you have done here. The unfruitful branch represents our queen and the fruitful one predicts the result of the union between yourself and the Duke of Norfolk. What a pity that such exquisite work has such a dangerous message.”
Bess puts the hanging down as if it is contaminated.
“Are you going to confiscate it from me?”asks Mary.
“Not at all. It is yours to do with as you will.”
“I do not expect you to understand.”
“It is not my place to understand.”
“But you will report to your queen will you not?”
Bess does not reply. Mary sighs and starts to put away her needle and thread. “My sewing is a way for me to express myself, my feelings and hopes. You may make of it what you will. I suppose I shall be stopped now.”
“I will not prevent you from sewing, your majesty, but I would advise you not to let my husband see this particular work, or any others of a similar nature.”
“Your husband is more sympathetic than you think. We understand one another and have grown very close these last few months. When you are away, he seeks my company, it is only natural. Men have always been attracted to me, I cannot help it. Your husband is lonely without you, but we have a warm friendship that is based on mutual respect.”
Bess does not rise to the bait and regards her impassively. Mary goes to sit under her canopy, where she always feels superior. “We pass the time amicably by playing chess or cards. Has he not mentioned it to you?” she asks innocently.
“He has not. Nor would I wish to hear it, if it were true, which I doubt.”
“Oh, it is true you may be sure, countess.”
“I do not believe you.”
“Why do you not ask him?”
“I do not need to ask him. He is your jailor and I trust him implicitly.”
“Can any man be trusted implicitly?”
“I speak of my husband, not yours.”
Mary flinches at this barb and Bess walks to the door.
“To embroider such tapestries is at best provocative, at worse, treason. You would do well to keep it out of sight. I shall say nothing for the moment.”
“Is that because you wish me to continue working on your own tapestries?”
“I am grateful for your help, but do not think to outwit me by filling my head with tales of my husband’s lack of propriety. I know him better than you do.”
At that moment, Mary’s ladies come into the chamber and the conversation is brought to an abrupt end. As Bess makes her way back to her apartments, she hopes that she will not regret her actions. If Queen Elizabeth was to even hear of this work, she would be furious, and with good reason. On the other hand, if Mary was to ever become Queen of England, such thoughts are never far from Bess’ mind. Later that evening, Bess and George are together in the dining room after supper. She sits at the table composing a letter to Charles at Eton; he seems homesick and she is thinking of how she can cheer him up. George is reading some letters. A knock on the door makes them both look up and the Earl of Huntingdon strides in, full of his own self-importance. “I have some news which may be of interest to you both.”
George puts down his letters with a sense of dread. “Well?”
“I am to be relieved of my duties here.”
“We have had no orders to that effect.”
“You will be told soon enough.”
George and Bess look at one another in disbelief. Huntingdon’s stance is even more arrogant than usual.
“How has this come about?” Bess asks.
“I have requested it. My work here is finished, now the situation is under control. You may carry on what I have started.”
George can barely contain his fury. “What you have started! You have done nothing that I could not have done myself.”
“But you did not.”
“It has been easy for you. You have come here for just a short while. You have not had to endure months of looking after the Scottish Queen as we have, or the expense of paying for her household.”
“You were glad to be given the task were you not? I heard how you preened about the Court and basked in the decision to make you a member of the Privy Council. Not so pleased now are you? I am well rid of this Godforsaken place, cut off from everyone and dancing attendance on that Scottish adulteress and murderess. You are welcome to her care!” He turns to go but Bess stands up, and when she speaks, her voice is low as she glares at him angrily.
“My husband was entrusted with the care of the Scottish Queen because he is one of Queen Elizabeth’s most loyal subjects. Your presence here has not been welcome and you might remember that one day, the Scottish adulteress and murderess of whom you speak, might be your sovereign queen.”
For the first time, Huntingdon looks uncomfortable.
“I cannot think that will ever happen.”
“It is a possibility. She will certainly not forget your treatment of her.”
“I have only been carrying out the orders of our queen.”
“With malicious pleasure, we are witness to that!” Bess snaps at him.
Huntingdon then approaches George and lowers his voice. “You would do well to keep that wife of yours under control. She will be the death of you.”
George is taken aback. He is not accustomed to being spoken to in such a manner.
“Your words are very offensive. I think you had better leave at once.”
“With pleasure.”
He gives a mock bow before leavin
g. Bess can hardly contain her anger.
“Who does he think he is? Has he forgotten who you are?”
“Let him go, Bess. We are well rid of him.”
“Are you going to let him get away with speaking to you like that?”
“You have already told him what we think.”
“So you believe I was wrong to speak my mind?”
“I think it would have been wiser to leave it to me.”
“But you said nothing.”
“You did not give me a chance.”
“It is all my fault is it? You have been far too easy with him from the beginning. If you had stamped your authority when he arrived, he would not have dared to be so rude.”
George starts to read his letters again. “I am not discussing this any more, Bess. I am tired, and if what he says is true then we shall soon be back to normal.”
She throws her quill down on the table.
“Normal? I have forgotten what ‘normal’ means. I am going to bed!”
He takes no notice and she gives a cry of frustration as she slams the heavy oak door shut before going upstairs, where not even Agnes’ devoted care can improve her mood.
A year later
The handsome young man is standing with apparent ease before Bess. A member of her household, his name is Hersey Lassells and his behaviour is causing concern because Mary has started to show him more attention than usual. He is tall with sparkling blue eyes and cuts a handsome figure in his breeches. Bess studies him closely for a few moments before she speaks.
“Master Lassells, this is the third time I have to question you about your relationship with the Scots Queen. You are still very friendly with her.”
“I am just being polite, your grace.”
“Your courtesy seems to extend beyond mere politeness. I have noticed that you try to see Queen Mary as often as you can. You frequently volunteer to carry out tasks and favours for her.”
“She likes me and tells me I am handsome.”
“Does she indeed?”
“I feel very sorry for her.”