by Georgina Lee
William’s calm voice belies his fear. The earl’s men also attacked some of Charles’ tenants last night at his manor house in Stoke; but when William told his brother earlier, they agreed not to tell their mother for the moment. A servant helps her to put on her cloak, and she looks at her sons with pride.
“I wish your dear father could see you.” They smile briefly before ushering her and Agnes through the door.
“You must not return until you hear from us that it is safe to do so,” William tells her as she kisses them both goodbye, before mounting the steps to her coach.
“Send word as soon as you are able. I shall pray for you this night,” she replies.
As the driver sets off at a brisk pace, William and Charles watch it leave and turn to look at one another.
“Are you ready for this?” Charles asks him.
“As ready as I will ever be,” he replies with more confidence than he feels, and they hasten inside to order the securing of the doors. Now all they have to do is wait.
The atmosphere in the house has become even more tense. John and the men he has brought, sit around talking in low voices. Four men have been posted as lookouts on each of the towers, and even some of the women servants have decided to help by keeping watch. In the kitchen, the cook is enthusiastically kneading bread to take his mind off everything, while the kitchen maids are torn between being excited and terrified. The evening drags on and nothing happens. Joseph has forbidden the men to play cards and the only alcohol they are allowed is the weak small beer. He wants them to be alert and ready for whatever happens. The female servants sit about, too nervous to go to bed, but some of them fall asleep on their chairs or on the steps of the stairs. The bolder ones flirt with the men as they take the refreshments round, ignoring Joseph’s disapproving look. William and Charles wait by the main door, pacing up and down restlessly. They have discussed their plan of defence, such as it is.
“I will reason with them first of all,” William tells him. “Then if it does not work, we shall try to hold the door for as long as possible.”
Charles does not look optimistic. He saw for himself last night how threatening the mob were, and he does not rate their chances very highly. They do not say much to each other now, the tension is too great, and in any case, everyone is listening for any noise, which might herald the arrival of the earl’s men.
“Our lady mother should have arrived by now,” Charles says.
“I pray God she is safe,” William replies.
Just then they hear a shout from the lookout in the west tower, who has run into the hall.
“They are coming, Sir William, I can see many torches!”
“How far away?”
“I cannot say for sure, I think by the bend in the river.”
“That will only give us a few minutes,” Charles estimates. William checks his pistol again and the men stand to attention.
“Resist as best you can, men. Have courage!”
The next few minutes seem like hours and the noise of the men’s boots gradually becomes louder as they approach the house. Another man comes down from one of the other towers and tells William he thinks there are about forty men.
“Four times the number that tried to attack me,” murmurs Charles.
Then there is the most tremendous hammering on the door, resonating round the whole house, the like of which it has never heard before. The women have been told by William to go upstairs, and they watch the proceedings with terrified faces from the relative safety of the gallery.
Suddenly it all goes quiet and they hear a lone voice shouting. William pulls back the small grill on the door to look through, and sees his stepfather standing in front of a mob of his men. By the light of their torches, he can see that they are holding makeshift clubs.
“They are well armed,” he tells the others.
“Open up at once! ” George commands.
“Who is there and what do you mean by disturbing us at this hour?”
“Is that you, William? It is your stepfather, the Earl of Shrewsbury. Where is my wife? I demand lodging for the night.”
The two brothers look at one another in dismay. “This is madness, he has lost his wits,” whispers Charles.
“The countess, my lady mother is not at home, your grace. Please take your men and go away. There is nothing here for you,” William reasons unhopefully.
“Do not think to deceive me as your wicked mother has done! I will claim what is mine by law; it is my right as your mother’s husband. I will give you one last chance to open the door or we shall break it down!”
“I repeat, please take your men and go.”
He closes the grill and there is silence for a few moments.
“Maybe he will go away,” William says to Charles who says nothing.
They hear the earl’s voice again, muffled this time through the door, and there is some scuffling before the sound of footsteps retreating and a pause. Then, with a tremendous thud, the door is battered with massive force, causing the horizontal beam to quiver and shake. At the same time, the boards over the windows are hammered, shattering the glass to hundreds of shards. The women scream in terror and cling to one another. Some of them are on their knees in prayer. William orders the men to hold the door against the force and they are pushed back time and again by the battering, but they do not give up. Then the wood on the horizontal beam starts to splinter with a loud crack.
“It is giving way, sir!” one of men shouts above all the noise.
Within only half a minute it is clear the door is not going to hold.
“Stand back everyone!” commands William.
They take up safer positions further away and watch in dreaded anticipation as the mighty oak double door groans before their eyes. Splinters of wood fly out in all directions and the metal locks, so carefully put in place, crack into pieces onto the stone floor. Then the middle of the door gives way, a whole plank shearing off like a knife through butter. The faces of the earl’s men are now visible, mean and determined, red faced and puffing from their exertions. With one last thrust of their ram, the door gives way entirely and they scramble through, breaking more wood carelessly as they do so. They stand slightly dazzled by the many candles from the wall sconces; their weapons raised, and look menacingly at the Chatsworth men. No one speaks as the earl is helped to climb over the pieces of broken wood. William and Charles regard him stony-faced. They think he looks unwell as he stands leaning on his stick in the middle of the Hall. He brushes himself down as if he has all the time in the world. William fires his pistol into the air.
“You have no right to be here! How dare you break into this house?”
“Take their weapons!” George commands.” I thought to find you both here. No doubt on your mother’s orders. I have a surprise for you.”
He turns to look outside and a figure steps forward from the darkness.
“Henry!” Charles exclaims in disgust.
William moves towards his brother, but one of the earl’s men blocks his path.
Henry appears slightly discomforted and not his usual carefree self. William and Charles look at him with contempt.
“You should have opened up,” says Henry. “Now you are going to have to pay for a new door.”
“Is that all you can say?” William is shocked to find his own brother on the side of the earl. “Do you realise the stress all this has put our lady mother through? And what about all the innocent tenants?”
“This can be done the easy way or the hard way. Our men outnumber yours and we have more weapons. Be sensible, brother, and let the earl take what he wants. Although I expect our lady mother has already creamed off the best of it. She is never one to miss a trick.”
“Take that back, you scoundrel, or I will …”
“You will what?” interrupts Henry.
Four men are now restraining both William and Charles on either side, but they long to silence Henry with a few well-aimed punches.
&
nbsp; George looks triumphant as he barks his orders. “Take whatever you can out to the carts! If anyone tries to stop you, use whatever force is necessary!”
Some of his men start to move the broken wood to make a clear walkway while others, carrying empty crates, go to search around the house. The servants eye them nervously as they stand with their backs to the walls. Joseph has kept silent until now, but he steps forward hesitantly.
“Your grace, is this really necessary? You are causing much distress by these actions.”
“Ah yes, Joseph, the faithful servant! You have been very quiet in the corner there have you not? I wondered when you would give us your opinion. Do you think I wanted to do this? Do you think it gives me pleasure? No, it most certainly does not. Your mistress has forced this upon me, I had no choice.”
“But to gain entry by force like this …”
George shakes his stick in annoyance.
“You would do well to remain silent, as you were before. You are only a servant. If I had my way you would be out on the street.”
Joseph bows his head and steps back into the shadows; he knows when he is beaten. The Chatsworth men have been rounded up into a corner and are surrounded, they do not want to risk fatal injury. William watches the theft of his mother’s belongings with seething rage.
“For shame sir! This is my mother’s house, left to her by my own father, who was twice the man you are. These are not the actions of a gentleman.”
“You are in breech of contract by this dishonourable behaviour!” shouts Charles.
“You Cavendish men and your wicked mother have brought this on yourselves by your malicious gossiping,” George replies.
“What are you talking about?” Bewildered, they both speak at once
George moves closer to them and lowers his voice.
“The outrageous rumour concerning myself and the Scots Queen is all your doing. Do not attempt to deny it! You think to discredit me in society but I shall make you pay for your actions. I am more powerful and my friends more influential than yours. I shall make you appear before the Queen’s Council to answer for yourselves, yes, even your lying mother will be shown for what she is.”
“You bastard! My mother is a good and loyal wife to you. She would never make any slanderous comment or repeat such gossip, and neither would my brothers or myself. I thank God she is not here to see this spectacle.”
George loses patience. “Hold your tongue boy! How dare you use such language to me?”
He addresses two of his men standing nearby. “Take them both to the kitchens and tie them up. I do not have to listen to this nonsense!”
Struggling and kicking, William and Charles are led away, their arms behind their backs. They have failed to stop him and feel very frustrated. The kitchen is empty, the cook having hurried away to hide. William and Charles are handled roughly and bound with rope by their hands and feet to kitchen chairs. Linen gags are placed over their mouths as a final insult, and with much laughing from the mob, they are left alone.
Meanwhile upstairs, George goes from chamber to chamber muttering to himself and cursing under his breath. He sees the blank walls and dressers where the silver should be and the empty floor space in Bess’ bedchamber where her money and jewellery is kept. He peers into a coffer being carried out by one of the men, and lifts out a worthless pewter jug in disgust.
“She has taken anything of value, damn her. Damn her to hell!”
In his rage he throws it across the chamber and it lands in the corner with a clatter. Descending the stairs in slow movements, he vows to have revenge on Bess if it is the last thing he does.
“We have taken everything we can find here, your grace,” Nicholas Booth tells him.
“It has been a waste of time! All the valuables have gone. Where are those two Cavendish boys? I want a few words with them before we go.” The two of them make their way to the kitchens, where William and Charles are trying to wriggle out of their restraints. “You have not heard the last of this! Tell your mother I will have my revenge, and this is just a taste of what is to come if she does not give me back what is rightfully mine.”
William looks at him, wide eyed and tries to speak, but can only grunt in frustration. Charles regards him with hostility, as every fibre of his body yearns to throw his stepfather outside, and all his henchmen with him.
“Your mother uses you, just as she uses everyone else for her own ends, and one day you will realise I am right. I curse the lot of you!”
William shakes his head and the earl suddenly seems to crumble. He realises he is exhausted and leans on the kitchen table for a moment. His face is ashen.
“Help me out of here,” he mutters.
Nicholas Booth offers his arm, and William and Charles watch their retreating backs with relief as eventually all goes quiet in the house, and they wait for someone to untie them.
At first light a rider is dispatched to Hardwick with a letter for Bess, detailing the events of the night, including the damage to Chatsworth. As William writes to his mother, he spares her none of the details. Several of their men have suffered bruises, cuts and black eyes in the scuffles and one has a broken nose, but it could have been much worse. The front doors are in a sorry state and will need completely replacing, as will the glass and frames in the downstairs windows. William and Charles survey the scene after George and his mob have left, and are filled with a sense of failure.
“We gave in too easily,” says Charles. “We should have held out for longer.”
“It would not have made any difference,” William replies as they watch the servants sweeping up the broken glass and wood from the floor. “I was not prepared to lose any lives over it. How could Henry take his side?”
Charles shakes his head. “I know, it beggars belief. Have you been hurt?”
“No, only my pride.”
“We will have a few bruises tomorrow.”
“Where do you think he took it all?”
“Sheffield Castle I imagine.”
“Now that he has what he wanted, his men will be sent back to their homes.”
The two brothers look at one another.
“Are you thinking what I am thinking?” Charles’ eyes light up at the idea.
“That we take it all back?” replies William slowly.
“Yes. Ride to Sheffield within the week, they won’t be expecting us and we shall have surprise on our side. The earl will be busy with his duties as jailor. We could send word to our men to meet us outside the city with their carts, if we come from different directions, it will not attract attention. Then under cover of darkness, we can gain entry and bring it all here, where it belongs.”
“You make it sound very simple.”
“It is. I warrant the earl has put it all in a large chamber somewhere, until he can find time to allocate the different items to wherever he thinks to place them. Will it not be a jape for him to find the chamber empty when he goes to look?”
They both laugh. “Our men will be keen for revenge. They will need no persuading for this job.”
“What will our lady mother think about it?”
“We shall not tell her until the deed is done.”
“Then we need to start thinking about it at once.”
William nods and in a quiet corner they begin planning their own offensive.
Over the next few days the house is repaired; the front doors are replaced with finest oak from the estate, and the windows are made as good as new. True to their word, William and Charles organise a counter raid to return the stolen items, which is surprisingly easy and they meet no resistance. But Bess is still too afraid to return home and decides to remain at Hardwick with Arbella for the time being. She has gathered all the Chatsworth men involved and personally thanked them, ordering John to hand out some coins to each one in recognition of their loyalty. They were not expecting any money and are pleasantly surprised.
Not to be cowed, Bess celebrates her fifty-seventh birthday i
n style and invites all her family to a lavish party, where they are joined by friends and neighbours nearby. There is the usual entertainment of dancing, music and a play, together with a particularly fine supper. Henry is conspicuously absent, and Bess is still so enraged with him, that to simply mention his name in her presence is enough to suffer a frightening glare from her.
The day after the party, she is sitting at her desk when a letter from Lord Burghley arrives. He writes that George has accused William of being insolent to him when he stormed Chatsworth. William has been arrested and is now in prison; also that George tried unsuccessfully to block a knighthood for Charles. Bess is furious and picks up her quill at once, dashing off a reply in which she says she will leave for London at first light tomorrow to come to her son’s aid. She is hurrying along the passage to give the letter to a servant, when she almost collides with Arbella, now nine, who immediately curtseys, and gives her grandmother a broad smile.
“Arbella my love, should you not be at your lessons? You know how important they are.”
“My tutor has the toothache and has gone to see the surgeon in Derby.”
“So what are you doing with yourself?”
“I am reading in the garden and learning my Spanish verbs.”
“Good. You may need to speak Spanish if you marry a Spanish Prince. And your music, have you been practising each day?”
“Yes, I set aside time for the lute and the virginals, as you ordered. My tutor is pleased with me.”
Bess smiles down at her, but Arbella frowns and she is immediately concerned.
“What is it? Does something trouble you?”
“I thought you had ordered all the servants to call me highness.”
“Yes, I have, in keeping with your royal status.”
“Some of them forget.”
“Who are they? Give me their names.”
“I only know their faces,” she replies. “One of them was making my bed yesterday.”
“I will find out who is responsible and punish them. My orders are clear enough and everyone knows how to address you at all times. I will not have you spoken to without deference and your correct title.”