A Woman of Passion (37 page)

“But the treasury needs money, you said so yourself!”

“Your Majesty, Bess Hardwick is our friend. Cavendish not only left her a widow with six children, he left her in financial ruin. Her back is against the wall. Reduce her debt to a thousand pounds and I'll pay for your bloody fancy coronation.” He knew Elizabeth down to her fingertips. He was quite aware that she would add the four thousand to the coronation bill, and that suited him well enough. Bess would never accept the money from him.

During the next two weeks, Bess was much relieved that Lord Talbot did not pursue her openly. Even in the Privy Chamber, where only intimates were allowed, he did not flirt with Bess or engage in titillating banter. He always addressed her as Lady Cavendish and showed her every respect.

But if he was masked at a ball or if he came upon her alone in a distant part of Westminster Palace, he behaved quite differently with her. His manner became intimate and intense. He closed the distance between them swiftly and took possession of her hand. Once he even touched her hair. Whenever she was poised for flight, he held her fast. “Bess, stop ignoring me; I don't dismiss so easily.”

“What is it you want, Lord Talbot?” she demanded in
desperation. It was the third time he had caught her in an empty chamber in as many days.

“I want to make love to you.”

His words were so direct, they shocked her. His fierce blue eyes darkened with desire, and Bess felt her knees turn to water as she gazed up into his dark, handsome face. And then his mouth came down on hers in a kiss that was so demanding, she reeled from its impact and yielded her lips until he drank from them. She slowly came to her senses. “No!” she said against his mouth and brought her fists up to beat against his chest. It was so hard, she might have been pounding the stone walls of the palace. He was all male, rugged and virile—like Cavendish, Bess told herself wildly; that was the only reason she responded to him!

“Have you any idea of the violence of my feelings for you? Bess, you are like a fever in my blood!”

She was panting for breath, and his hot glance licked over her lush breasts as they rose and fell. She feared that any moment he would have her naked. “You are treating me like a whore!” she gasped in outrage.

He stared at her with disbelief; he was definitely not treating her like a whore. He had felt only indifference the rare times he had taken one. “Bess, I hold you in the highest regard.… My feelings for you are above reproach.” He saw the look of panic and fear in her eyes and reluctantly released her. “Bess, the last thing I want is to make you afraid.”

As he strode from the chamber, Bess knew she was afraid, all right. But it wasn't of the devastating Lord Talbot. Bess was afraid of herself, afraid of her blatant response to his virility, afraid of her own passionate nature!

After that incident Bess found that Talbot was no
longer stalking her, but whenever they were thrown together in the same company, his dark gaze never left her, and when their eyes met he looked as if he would devour her. And even though he kept his distance, Bess found that she was not free of him. To her dismay she began to dream about him, and the dreams were blatantly erotic!

The frenzied nightly celebrations went on until dawn right up to the coronation. Then, on January 14, Elizabeth made a triumphant progress through the streets of London. It was an impressive cavalcade, with her guards, household officers, and peers of the realm all mounted on horseback, with Elizabeth herself riding in a canopied chariot. She wore a mantle of gold and silver tissue edged in ermine. Her ladies-in-waiting and ladies-of-the-bedchamber followed her, gowned in crimson velvet with gold-lined sleeves.

Along the route, upon platforms specially built for the occasion, magnificently costumed figures formed tableaux. Each had a crier who stepped forward as the queen approached and with rhymed couplets explained the significance of the scenes. It was cleverly planned to endear Elizabeth to the people. All along the way she received nosegays and flowers from the children and spoke to them sweetly, amid tumultuous cheers of “Long Live the Queen!”

The next day Elizabeth's coronation took place in Westminster Abbey. She sat before the high altar for a grueling five-hour ceremony where she was anointed, crowned, and given the ring that bound her to the people. Brass trumpets sounded as she was declared Queen of England. She then received homage from her lords of the realm, and finally Mass was celebrated.

Then Queen Elizabeth, carrying her scepter and orb, walked from the abbey down the long corridors to Westminster Hall for the coronation banquet. Elizabeth did not leave the hall until after midnight. Every man and woman at Court was literally exhausted. The queen, however, had made herself ill.

For the next fortnight Robin Dudley, Cecil, Talbot, St. Loe, Cat Ashley, and all her ladies hovered anxiously about Elizabeth's apartments and the Privy Chamber. Bess was convinced that all Elizabeth needed was rest. For an entire month she had insatiably pursued pleasure, greedily snatching all that life now offered, like one who had been starved since childhood.

The queen's illness postponed the opening of Parliament, for which Bess was profoundly grateful. Until Parliament convened, the bill to recover the Cavendish debt could not be passed. Bess knew it would be only a short reprieve, but anything that lightened her heavy burden of worry was welcome.

On the first day of February, the queen arose from her bed with renewed vitality and determination. Her ladies knew Elizabeth was recovered when she treated them to a savage burst of profanity.

“By Christ's precious blood, I never closed my eyes last night. Some whoreson was crashing about directly above my apartments. I want his name so I can string him up by the balls.” She waved an imperious hand. “Go and learn the dirty dog's name—he deserves to be housed in a kennel!”

Young Lettice Knollys blanched. “Me, Your Majesty?”

“No, not you, for Christ's sake! Lady Cavendish knows how to handle men; she has a temper that matches my own. Bess, I want you to rip up one side of the
noisome bastard and down the other for the mad racket I was forced to endure.”

Bess smiled her secret smile and picked up her skirts so she could hurry with ease to do the queen's bidding. When she arrived on the floor above, she bit her lip with amusement when she learned who occupied the chambers. Mary Sidney's husband, Henry, was housed up here, as well as Ambrose Dudley. His sister Kitty and the rest of the Dudley menagerie had been visiting last night. There was no way Bess was going to antagonize the favorite's family; Robin would have to lay down the law to his own unruly clan. Bess was headed toward the stairs when suddenly, out of nowhere, Talbot's tall shadow fell across her path.

“Bess, we have to talk.”

“No! We have nothing to say to each other.” Bess made a dash for the stairs. Her heart raced in panic. Dear Lord, it was like being stalked by a black panther. As she ran Bess turned her head to see if he followed and missed a step. She went tumbling down the staircase in a tangle of skirts and petticoats. She cried out as her ankle twisted painfully.

Talbot descended the steps three at a time. “God damn it, Bess, why did you run?” His arms were about her immediately, tenderly lifting her into his lap as he sat down on a step, his face filled with alarm, his heart filled with dread. “Are you all right?” he demanded, his voice roughened with apprehension.

“Splendor of God, I'll be far from all right if anyone sees me being cradled in a married man's lap. I'll have more than my ankle to worry about—my reputation will be blackened! Let me up.”

Gently, he helped her to her feet and saw that she could not bear her own weight. “I'll have to carry you.”

“You'll do no such wicked thing, you lecherous swine; you've done enough! I am perfectly all right.”

“Be silent,” he ordered with authority. Lord Talbot was used to deference from everyone, and he certainly wasn't going to allow a woman to argue with him, especially not this maddening beauty he'd marked as his own. He swung her easily into his powerful arms and descended the rest of the stairs.

Bess sought refuge in anger. It was her only hope against his overwhelming masculinity. She dug her nails into the back of his hand cruelly. “You aren't just a devil,” she panted furiously, “you are Lucifer himself!”

When Lord Talbot strode into the Privy Chamber carrying his pretty burden, the queen's eyes narrowed. “What the devil happened? Have you accosted her?”

Bess bit her lip. She was tempted to say,
Yes, he flung me down the stairs
, but she felt his hands tighten on her body in warning, and she did not dare. “No, Your Majesty, I twisted my ankle and Lord Talbot came to my rescue.”

The queen studied the pair for a moment. This was the second time Talbot had cast himself in the role of knight errant to Lady Cavendish. Bess was certainly a tempting jade, a true man's woman. Even Robin wasn't immune to her allure. Perhaps it was time to get her safely married.

“She fell down the stairs, and her ankle is badly swollen. She won't be any good to you for at least a week. I suggest you send her home to recuperate,” Talbot advised.

Elizabeth saw the merit in his suggestion. If Bess remained at Court, the ladies would be running to wait on her instead of their queen. “Mary, pack her bag. Bess, I
shall send for Syntlo and have him give you safe escort. But I want you back in a sennight.”

An hour later, when Sir William St. Loe lifted Bess up in his arms to carry her to her barge, Lord Talbot fought the urge to smash the captain of the queen's guard in the face.

At Brentford, Syntlo set Lady Cavendish on the couch, and Aunt Marcy elevated Bess's ankle on a cushion. When Bess introduced Sir William to her children, her two eldest sons inundated him with questions about his office of captain of the queen's guard. They dragged him off to the stables to show him their horses and dogs, and when Syntlo asked them about their studies, they took him to the schoolroom and eagerly answered all his questions regarding the subjects their tutors were teaching them.

Sir William lingered all afternoon, and when Bess thanked him for bringing her safely home, he asked her if he could come again. “I envy you your sons, Lady Cavendish. They have such keen minds. Are you considering them for Eton?”

“Alas, there is no money for that, Syntlo, much to my sorrow.”

“I beg your pardon, my lady, that was clumsy of me.”

“Nonsense. I have no secrets from you, Sir William. I don't feel uncomfortable discussing my circumstances.”

After he departed, Marcella brought her a posset of herbs to ease her discomfort. “William and Henry took to him like ducks to water. Instead of running about like wild men, they actually carried on an intelligent conversation. Those boys need a father, and it is your duty to provide them with one!”

*   *   *

All that week, away from the frenzied activities of Court, Bess had ample time to think. Her grief had undergone many stages. At first she had suffered total shock and isolation as she withdrew from the world. Then came sleeplessness, loss of appetite, guilt, and finally anger, all followed by acute anxiety over the ruinous debt she owed. It had been a powerless time, filled with such hopelessness, she felt she would go out of her mind.

Finally, when her intense sadness brought the torrent of tears every night, Bess experienced a dramatic emotional release. Her Court appointment had come at the right time. It had been a good and positive experience, and Bess knew she had no choice but to let go of her death hold on the past and focus on the future.

Her week at home was almost up, and because she had kept off her ankle, only a slight tenderness remained. Spring had come early, and the February sunshine slanting through the latticed windows lured Bess outdoors. The gardens were awash with crocus, tulips, and a sea of yellow daffodils. Francie and Jane carried cushions out to a garden lounge chair where Bess could look down the grassy bank and watch the swans gliding on the calm water of the river.

Bess could not afford to be completely idle. She had brought her account books outside and worked diligently bringing them up to date. Francie soon grew bored and begged Jane to come and pick strawberries for supper. Left alone, Bess soon tallied the accounts and made a list of food supplies that must be ordered.

There was no breeze, and the afternoon was warm. Bess looked down at her black velvet and decided that when she returned to Court, she would put away her
mourning clothes. She fingered the gown; it was one of her very favorites, whose soft black sleeves were embroidered with bright golden leaves and acorns. Bess closed her eyes, feeling a measure of contentment steal over her.

When she lifted her lashes, she saw a wooden skiff gliding across the water to the bottom of her garden. She watched the man in it idly, and when he stepped from the boat and came up the grassy bank toward her, she was not the least bit surprised to see that it was Lord Talbot. Shrewsbury House was not a great distance from Brentford, and Bess realized that she had been half-expecting him.

“How are you feeling?”

“Rested.” Bess recalled vividly another time when they had been in a garden by the river. Talbot had stood before her naked, proudly displaying himself. With a smile Bess remembered her outrage at his blatant arrogance. She also recalled every detail of his lithe sixteen-year-old body. He had stood six feet tall even in his youth, and his muscular torso had been covered by black hair. His compelling image, so virile and magnetic, had come to her when she had been married to young Rob Barlow, and lately it had come again in her dreams.

“Come for a row on the river.” He neither asked nor ordered, he simply invited. “You'll be safe with me.”

Bess knew she would not be safe, she would be in the gravest danger, but the moment had come for her to face up to his devilish attraction and her fear of it. She would never dispel it otherwise. “Why not? You'll have to carry me, though.” She saw his body tense up and the desire flare in his eyes. She knew she was playing with fire.