by Georgina Lee
Hardwick Hall – August 1592
“Welcome home, your grace.” The greeting that Timothy gives Bess as she makes her way through the front door makes Bess feel good to be back at last.
“I trust your visits were enjoyable?” A servant helps Bess off with her cloak and disappears to tell the kitchen that the mistress has arrived.
“Most enjoyable, thank you Timothy.”
“There is a long list of matters needing a decision from you, but you already know about the most urgent.”
“Yes, we shall sit down together with Sir William at first light tomorrow and make a start on the work. I would like to review the materials used for the building and the costs of wages for the last three months. Please have the figures ready for me in the morning.”
“The books are already on the desk for you.”
Bess smiles at him. “That is why I rely on you so much, Timothy.”
He gives a brief bow and goes back to work.
Bess looks up to see William’s wife, Anne, descending the stairs with care, as she is expecting their third child next year.
“Lady mother, you have made good time. We were not expecting you until this afternoon.”
“Travel is always quicker in the summer.” They kiss cheeks and Bess looks at her appraisingly. “Are you still feeling sick in the mornings?”
“Yes, it was especially tiresome yesterday. I do not want to eat breakfast for fear of making it worse.”
“I was lucky, it was something I never suffered from with my own pregnancies, but you should try and eat to keep your strength up. The children are well since I left you last week?”
“Wylkyn has been fretting over a toy we left in London and little Gilbert has settled here again after the journey.”
“I shall go up to the nursery later and see my little jewels.”
They are interrupted by William who has appeared at the door of his study.
“You are back lady mother, how were all your visits? Any gossip?” He comes and kisses her hand as she laughs fondly at him.
“You know I do not indulge in idle gossip.”
“Well, any news then?”
“I will tell you later, nothing of great importance. Where is Arbella?”
“She was here a minute ago, she must have gone upstairs.”
“You have been escorting her when she goes in the grounds have you not?”
“Of course, we have been following your instructions and not leaving her alone outside.”
“Is the building work progressing as it should?”
“Oh, very much so! You will be pleased when you see what they have achieved in your absence.”
“I shall see the supervisor after I have washed and change, is Agnes upstairs?”
Anne and William exchange a look. “Agnes has not been well these last few days. I think the London visit has tired her out,” Anne says.
Bess sent Agnes ahead with the others and is concerned to hear about her ill heath.
“I shall see her at once.” Bess starts to climb the stairs. “Anne, will you tell the servants to serve some light food in an hour?”
“Of course”
The brief period that Anne has had in charge is now over, and she follows William back to his study before closing the door.
“How much longer will we be living with your mother, William?”
He has sat down and is already looking through papers. Outside there is the noise of hammering where the workmen are building and she pulls the window latch to try and deaden the sound.
“I do not know, why?” he replies, only half listening.
“This house is not big enough for us all. And your mother is …” she hesitates, aware that his mother can do no wrong in his eyes.
“Is what …?”
“You know what I am trying to say. She is a very strong character; it is never easy with two women in one house. Sometimes I feel she takes over our whole lives.”
There is a catch in her throat as she says it, and William immediately looks up at her in concern.“I know she is not the easiest person to live with, but I would have thought in your condition, you would welcome having someone to run the house and servants. This is her home after all,” he adds gently.
“I know, it is just that, she is such a presence everywhere. I feel nothing is my own.”
“You must not think that!” He gets up and puts his arms round her. “As soon as the New Hall is finished, she will move in with Arbella.”
“But where will we live? I do not want to be here, so close to the New Hall.”
“Neither do I, my love. A new house will be built for us within a reasonable distance. Not too close, but not too far away; you need have no fear. The Old Hall will just be used for guests.”
“What a pity we cannot have Chatsworth, I would so love to call it my home. Henry does not deserve it; and anyway he cannot afford to live there.”
“He may not always have Chatsworth, Anne.”
“What do you mean? It is entailed on him.”
“He may want to sell it one day.”
“Could we buy it?” she asks, excited at the idea.
“We shall wait and see. Now why not go and rest before we eat?”
He turns back to his papers and she realises he is not interested in further discussion. The banging and hammering seems to be getting worse, and she silently curses it under her breath as she goes to the kitchens to give Bess’ instructions. The house feels very different now she is back.
Upstairs, Bess finds Agnes lying on her bed, clutching her stomach.
“What is it, my dear?” she crouches beside her and reaches for her hand.
Agnes can only look at her with wide eyes that are full of pain.
“Is it very bad?”
“I fear I cannot serve you ever again.”
The effort of speaking causes her face to distort, and Bess is horrified at the rapid change since she saw her only a week ago.
“This is my fault, you were not well enough to visit London. I should never have let you come. You should have stayed here and rested.”
Agnes shakes her head. “Ruby is not ready yet to take over from me.”
“But she soon will be.” A local girl, Ruby, has been with the household for the past year and has recently started to help Agnes with her duties.
“Do not worry about it. You must get into bed and rest. I shall send for Dr. Hunton right away, and he will give you something for the pain.”
Agnes begins to cry, which Bess has never seen in all the time they have been together. She is full of concern for the woman who has been so loyal to her for more years than either of them care to remember.
“Come, I will help you to get into bed.”
“No, you cannot, it would not be right, your grace”
“Nonsense! Of course I can help you.”
Agnes does not have the energy to argue and allows Bess to undress her. The swelling of her stomach is all too obvious, and Bess sees it with a sinking heart. She pulls the covers up and tucks her in as if she was a small child.
“I will send to the kitchen for some broth, could you manage a little?”
Agnes nods, her eyes closed.
Bess draws the curtains with a final sad look before hurrying to give the orders for Agnes’ comfort and dispatch a rider for the doctor. She decides to look at the building work now, and hoisting up her skirts, she makes her way upwards to what will be the Great High Chamber on the top floor. The overseer is checking the plans with one of the hundreds of workmen. They see her picking her way through the assortment of materials that are strewn across the floor; the noise of sawing, hammering and banging is deafening.
“On guard now, lad, here is the countess,” mutters the overseer, and they stand up at once.
“Your grace,” they say in unison and remove their caps, bowing deferentially.
“I have come to see the progress you have made in the eight months I have been away.”
&n
bsp; They begin to show her round the last part of the building work, pointing out areas of difficulty or particular importance. She spends several minutes intensely studying the plaster and stone work where intricate designs have been crafted to her own exact specifications. It shows the Cavendish and Hardwick heraldic devices over the fireplace, and as Bess still had not given up hope of the queen visiting, there are even royal devices entwined in her own. Stone for the walls has been brought from Bess’ own local quarries, lead boarding for the roof from her mines and timber for the joists and beams from her forests; thus keeping costs to a minimum. The men wait with some trepidation, knowing her standards are very high.
“Have there been any more problems with supplies?” she asks, having in mind the problem they had with glass, which came from Gilbert’s glazier.
“No, your grace, since you set up your own, they are able to keep up with demand. Would you like to see the most recent work of the carpenters and painters?”
“I would like to see it all,” Bess replies firmly and waits for them to lead the way.
As they go round, she stops to talk to a few of the workmen, some of whom she knows by name, as they have worked for many years on her building projects. After nearly an hour, she is satisfied and finally goes back to the Old Hall to change. Ruby is waiting for her, her manner subdued.
“How is Agnes, your grace? She will not allow anyone to look after her.”
“I am afraid she has not got long to live. I have seen such growths before and the result is always the same. I have sent for Dr. Hunton and he will be here very soon. Do not fret yourself about her, I shall make sure she is made as comfortable as possible for her last days on earth.”
Ruby nods, fighting back tears. She washes Bess’ face and hands with rosewater and helps her into a clean black gown and ruff. Bess becomes slightly impatient with her slowness, as Ruby fumbles to dress her.
“Leave my headdress for now, I am at home with the family,” Bess tells her. “Unpack all my gowns, check them for any sewing needed before you send the soiled ones to the laundry, together with the ruffs. I remember there was a slight tear in the gown with the silver edging. Brush out the furs from the winter wardrobe and hang to air, clean all my jewellery and replace in caskets. I have my undergarments washed by Agnes, not the laundry, so you must do so too. My shoes will need to be cleaned and tell the boys who carry the water, I shall be bathing tonight. Do you have any questions?”
“No, your grace.” Ruby hides her dismay at the thought of having to do these tasks without Agnes.
“I do not want Agnes disturbed and I wish to be told when Dr. Hunton has seen her.”
Ruby curtseys and Bess returns downstairs again to join William and Anne who are waiting to eat.
“Arbella says she is not hungry,” Anne tells Bess. “I have left her reading on the bed.”
Bess does not reply, but it is clear she is unimpressed that her granddaughter has not appeared to welcome her, but her mood quickly changes when she looks at the food set out for them. Today there is boiled beef, cheese, manchet bread, venison pasties, roast chicken, a spiced custard pie, apple fritters and oranges. Several flagons of the best wine and ale complete the meal.
“I must go through the accounts with you and Timothy as soon as possible,” she says as they sit down at the dining table and begin to help themselves to the dishes.
“Of course lady mother, it would not be the same without your signature on every page of the accounts book,” William jokes and Bess shakes her finger at him in mock indignation.
“If I did not check every last entry, I would not be able to sleep at night.”
Anne is not asked or encouraged to play any part in the running of Bess’ many business ventures or even the household accounts, so she remains silent. Bess notices Anne looking left out of this banter and changes the subject.
“Have you told Anne about the land at Owlcotes?” she asks William.
“Not yet, I did not know if the purchase had gone through,” he replies and Anne looks curiously at both of them as she tries to eat some cheese to stave off the nausea.
“I have bought some nearby manors so that I can build a house for you both at Owlcotes. The land is just right and I have found an ideal location to build.”
“It sounds wonderful,” responds Anne, hoping her voice sounds suitably grateful.
“Yes,” echoes William. “It is very exciting. A brand new house, built to our own specifications.”
“The manors were farmed by my father and grandfather before him, so they are special to me. I hope you will be pleased, the purchase was quite costly, but I believe it was worth it. Your happiness is very important to me.”
She reaches across the table to touch Anne’s hand.
“You are very generous, lady mother.”
Bess smiles at them both, it always give her much pleasure to help her family; if only Arbella’s future could be settled so well.
Old Hardwick Hall –
September 1592
Anne is asleep beside William, but in her dream the banging is getting worse. Louder and more insistent, it will not go away, as if there is a hammer inside her head. She hears it all day, and now at night, so it will surely drive her mad. But she knows it is night, so why are the workmen here?
With a start, she opens her eyes and realises it is not a dream; someone is hammering on the front door as if their life depends on it. Early morning light is edging in through the curtains and outside the birds are singing their hearts out. Is anyone going to open the door? It seems to have been going on for ages.
“William!” She nudges him. “The front door.”
“Let the servants answer it,” is his sleepy reply but she persists.
“They are not answering, you must go yourself.”
Cursing under his breath, he lights a candle and stumbles out of bed, pulling his nightshirt down in an attempt to be decent. He gets half way down the stairs, when a young lad finally appears by the door and struggles to unlock the great oak door. A rider stands outside holding his horse’s reins with one hand and a letter in the other. William strides forward to take it himself.
“Urgent letter from Lord Burghley, Sir William,” announces the messenger breathlessly.
William bids the man to wait in the kitchen. He hurries back upstairs to his mother’s bedchamber and knocks sharply.
“Come,” Bess shouts. As he expects when he opens the door, she is already up and wide-awake, with several candles already burning.
“Is it one of the family?” she says, fear in her voice.
“No, from Lord Burghley.” He hands the letter to her, his expression anxious.
Arbella, in her bed at the other end of the chamber, sits up in a daze, trying to focus and rubs her eyes. Sleepy servants emerge behind Anne as she waits by the open door, their candles flickering in the inky darkness. Letters that arrive at dawn are always important. They hear Wylkyn crying and his nurse trying to comfort him. Everyone waits as Bess holds the letter near the flames and reads it.
“He has discovered another plot to kidnap Arbella, convert her to Catholicism in Spain, where she will remain until the death of our queen, then return to claim the throne as rightful heir. There is a Jesuit priest involved who confessed under torture.” She looks up, her face pale.
“God’s bones! They are still trying to get her!” William says, clearly shocked.
Before anyone can blink, Arbella is swiftly out of bed and clinging onto Anne in desperation.
“Oh no, no! They will keep trying until they succeed! They know where I am, they will find me in my bed and kill you all!”
Then she swoons and collapses to the floor, almost pulling Anne down with her.
“There, there,” William says soothingly, going over to help her. “You must not be afraid, you are quite safe here with us.”
“I am never safe – I need a husband to protect me.”
“We can protect you,” Bess reassures her. “Y
ou must stay calm …”
“Calm!” shrieks Arbella. “You talk of calm, it is easy for you. It is not you they wish to kidnap! I must get away from here at once, far far away! I shall leave now.”
She shrugs off William’s help and gets to her feet, looking around in confusion. Anne puts out her hand to try and steady her, but Arbella pushes her away roughly.
“Careful, Anne is with child!” William says anxiously. “Go back to bed, my love, there is nothing you can do here,” he tells his wife and she disappears gratefully, not wanting to have any more to do with this latest scene of Arbella’s.
“Come here, child, and rest, you can share my bed tonight if you wish. Will that make you feel any better?”
Arbella looks at Bess as if she is insane and begins to laugh in a queer, high-pitched way.
“No, you old fool, that will not help me to feel better! I must think of what to do.”
“Arbella!” William is horrified at her language, but Bess holds up a hand to silence him.
“Everyone return to your beds. I will deal with this.”
“Are you sure lady mother? She is very unstable,” William whispers as they watch Arbella darting backwards and forwards at the window, her hair dishevelled and wringing her hands repeatedly.
“Yes, an audience makes her worse.”
He reluctantly leaves and closes the door on the inquisitive stares of the servants.
“You heard the countess, be about your work, the day is upon us.”
Bess goes over to open one of her chests and begins to look at her gowns, apparently ignoring her granddaughter. After some minutes Arbella stops pacing and stares at the view, her fingers scratching the glass. Bess watches surreptitiously and carefully judges the right time to speak. Lord Burghley’s letter has been hidden in one of the drawers, out of sight. Arbella begins to sigh and hold her head with two hands; Bess goes over to her quietly, she sees that her granddaughter’s fingernails are so bitten down that there is hardly any nail remaining.