A Woman of Passion (43 page)

“Oh, Bess, I am cursed with impulsiveness. I have done something that seemed so exciting and romantic at the time, but now I am afraid that I acted foolishly.”

“Oh, darling, your mother was often impulsive; we cannot help the traits we inherit.”

“You know that Teddy Seymour and I have known each other since we were children. I'm afraid I've been indiscreet with him.”

Bess laughed. “Well, I'm amazed you've kept your virginity this long. When you were no bigger than pissants, you couldn't keep your hands off each other!”

Catherine blushed profusely. “Bess, we were secretly married when the queen moved the Court to Greenwich.”

“By God's precious blood, Catherine, it's tantamount to treason to have wed without Elizabeth's permission!
Oh, you foolish child, I could shake you till your teeth rattle!”

“But we are in love, Bess,” Catherine declared, as if this made it acceptable.

“Elizabeth is jealous of anyone who loves. Who was your witness at this secret marriage?”

“Edward's sister; it was before she died so suddenly.” Tears flooded Catherine's eyes.

“Tragic though that was, it is extremely fortunate for you that your witness cannot carry tales.”

“Dear heaven, don't you think the queen will forgive me?”

“Poppet, don't be so naive; she never forgives anyone anything, not where her crown is concerned.”

“Bess, whatever shall I do?”

“Destroy the legal document immediately. Get Edward to France and deny everything, as I shall certainly do if I am ever questioned about this reckless affair!”

Bess told no one of her conversation with Lady Catherine Grey, not even her husband. Though the time for her to leave for Chatsworth for the summer months was fast approaching, Bess was loath to leave St. Loe. He looked far from robust, and he had never regained his sexual ability. As a result they now slept in separate bedchambers.

Syntlo could not bear the humiliation, even though Bess would have preferred to share a bed for companionship and warm affection. She did thoroughly understand how sensitive Will was about his impotence, but in actual fact Bess had not felt sexually satisfied since Cavendish had died.

Bess now found herself torn between her children and Chatsworth and her duty to her aging husband. Whenever she criticized Elizabeth for working him too hard,
however, Syntlo sprang to the queen's defense, and Bess realized Elizabeth Tudor could do no wrong in her husband's eyes.

Bess put off leaving until the end of July, when suddenly she learned something she did not want to know. Lady Catherine Grey came to her in secret late one night and burst into pitiful sobs. “Oh, Bess, whatever shall I do? I am with child!”

Bess stared in horror at Catherine's belly. The girl was corseted so tightly, it was a wonder she hadn't killed herself and the child she carried. “You knew you were pregnant when you confessed the marriage to me!” Bess accused.

“I refused to believe it. Edward is in France, and I have no one to turn to, Bess.”

Bess relented and put her arms about Catherine, wishing with all her heart that her dear friend Frances were still alive. “There, there, poppet, don't cry. Babies won't be ignored. Once you are impregnated, childbirth is inevitable, I'm afraid. You must throw yourself on the queen's mercy, confess all, and beg her forgiveness. It is your only hope, Catherine.”

“I cannot, I cannot,” she sobbed. “You must tell her for me.”

Bess vividly recalled Elizabeth's words about Catherine Grey marrying:
I will hear no more from you on this subject! Do I make myself clear, Lady St. Loe?

“Dry your tears, darling. I'll do the next best thing. I'll ask Robin Dudley to beg Elizabeth to treat you with mercy, Catherine. The queen refuses him very little these days. I'm sure he will do me this favor.” Bess fervently hoped she was not giving her false hope. Once again Bess put off leaving for Chatsworth, feeling that she could not desert Catherine in her plight.

In a couple of days, Bess found an opportunity to speak in private with Dudley. “Robin, young Catherine Grey has done something that will anger the queen, and I will take it as a personal favor to me if you will approach Elizabeth and pour soothing oil on the turbulent waters it will stir up.”

“Bess, my dear, you know I would do anything for you.”

“Lady Catherine is almost seven months pregnant.”

Dudley laughed. “How ironic that Elizabeth appointed Catherine Grey because of her virtue.”

“Her virtue is not ruined—she is
wed
to the father.”

“She's secretly wed?” Robin was surprised; there were few secrets at Court to which he was not privy.

“She's married to young Edward Seymour,” Bess said quietly.

“What? She must be mad; the pair of them must be mad! You want me to tell Elizabeth that the heir presumptive to her throne is about to give birth to her own heir? And, even worse, that the father is royally connected to the late King Edward the Sixth's mother, Jane Seymour?”

“Dear God, to me they are just two youngsters in love. Now, I clearly see this strengthens her right to the succession and could be interpreted as deliberate treason, but, Robin, her entire family is dead—Catherine has no one to plead her case.”

“Aye, and her father and sister were executed for
treason.
Elizabeth won't be merely angry, she'll be incensed!”

Bess anxiously waited for news regarding the queen's reaction to Catherine's delicate situation, but she heard nothing until August 16, when she learned that Lady
Catherine Grey was in the Tower of London. Bess immediately sought audience with the queen but was refused. Next she looked for Robin Dudley, but he seemed to be avoiding her.

Bess voiced her indignation to her husband, who, as captain of the queen's guard, had been responsible for arresting Catherine and escorting her to the Tower. “Elizabeth is being unfair. 'Tis too sharp a punishment for a girl who is seven months gone with child!”

“The young Earl of Hertford is being brought back from France. He'll likely bear the brunt of the queen's anger,” St. Loe soothed.

“Will, in my experience Elizabeth treats men far more leniently than she does females; there are very few women she likes.”

“She likes you, my dear.”

Bess hoped and prayed that St. Loe was right.

Four days later, on August 20—Bess's fateful day on which she had been evicted from Hardwick and married Cavendish—Sir William St. Loe's second-in-command knocked on the door of their Windsor apartment and handed his commanding officer a warrant. The queen was placing Lady Elizabeth St. Loe under arrest and ordering her to the Tower. St. Loe, visibly upset, began to wring his hands. He could hardly speak for the lump in his throat.

Bess herself was staggered. She resorted to anger, which had always served her well in times of trouble. “How dare she do this to me? She has had all my loyalty since she was twelve! We pledged our undying friendship to each other. The redheaded daughter of Satan cannot do this!”

“She is the queen, Bess; she can do anything.”

“She can bloody well rot!”

“Bess, please stop. You must obey this warrant; you have no choice, my dearest. I swear to you it will be for a few days only, while you are questioned about what you know of Lady Catherine Grey's unlawful marriage. Pack some things, dearest. I shall send food and wine and whatever else you need every single day.”

“I need my freedom, Will. I don't think I can bear to be incarcerated.”

“You are a strong woman, Bess; you can bear anything you have to and bear it with grace and dignity.”

Lord God, how little you know me, Syntlo. I
can
bear anything, but not with bloody grace and dignity!

Bess decided to take her maid Cecily with her, and the guard waited patiently while she and Bess packed an overnight bag. She refused to allow her husband to accompany her, knowing how it would upset him, so Syntlo gave his second-in-command money to give to Edward Warner, the lieutenant of the Tower, in order to secure the best possible accommodation for Lady St. Loe.

Bess swept into the Tower of London wearing her best gown, refusing to be cowed by this ridiculous false arrest. But underneath her bravado she was secretly relieved that she had not been taken into the Tower through Traitor's Gate.

She was housed in the Bell Tower, the same one where Elizabeth had been imprisoned, though not in the same chamber. Through the small window she could see the Beauchamp Tower and what had become known as “Elizabeth's Walk,” where the young princess had been allowed on the tiles between the two towers. Bess suppressed her anger for three days, and when at the end of that time she had neither been questioned nor received any word from the Queen's Court, her anger erupted into fury. “Go back to Windsor, Cecily. I don't
need you here, doing everything for me. If I don't at least tend to my own needs, make my own bed, and stoke my own fires, I shall run mad. You will visit me each day and fetch what I need. Today I want pen and paper, lots of it. None shall be spared my scathing letters!” It was extremely galling to Bess, adding insult to injury, that she was imprisoned in one tower while Hugh Draper, the man who had poisoned Syntlo and herself, was housed across the courtyard in the Salt Tower.

Bess wrote to Elizabeth, to Cecil, to Robin Dudley, and to Syntlo. Her husband was the only one who replied.

Bess threw the letter on the fire. “You cannot appease a tyrant!” She lit one of the scented candles Cecily had brought, hung up her fresh clothes, and handed her serving woman the linen that needed to be laundered. “Would you bring me a mirror tomorrow, Cecily?”

Bess's nature did not adapt well to being confined; she had far too much energy. She loved to embroider, but after three solid hours of peering at a tapestry she was working on, she was ready to throw it on the fire. She had no option but to play a waiting game with the queen
and at times felt more sorry for Syntlo than she did for herself. No doubt Elizabeth had forbidden him to visit his wife, and he did not have the guts to disobey his queen. The dear man was now impotent in every way.

At the end of September Catherine Grey gave birth to a son. Though she was confined to the Tower along with her young husband, the lieutenant of that fortress, Warner, was kind enough to allow the new father to visit his son, and all gave thanks that the mother and child were healthy.

As October slowly evolved into November, a hope kindled in Bess's heart that Elizabeth would release her for Christmas. It would be unthinkable to spend the Holy Days imprisoned in the Tower. She wrote letters to her mother, her sister Jane, and her aunt Marcella. She advised Sir William about the New Year's gifts for her children and occupied herself with Chatsworth's accounts, which were brought to her every month by James Cromp, who was in charge in her absence.

Bess also wrote to Sir George and Lady Pierrepont to negotiate the espousal of their son and her beloved daughter Frances, but she received no reply.

Sir William's daily letters described his duties to the queen regarding her festive plans for Christmas and New Year's and for an upcoming progress Elizabeth planned early in the year. He told her that he beseeched the queen daily for her release and encouraged Bess to write to Her Majesty and beg her forgiveness. Bess was livid; she'd be damned if she'd
beg
for forgiveness when she had done nothing wrong!

Bess's hope of being released before Christmas was dashed as December came and went without any word of a reprieve. Bess became depressed when she realized she had been in the Tower for four long months and there
seemed to be no light at the end of the tunnel. More and more Bess had the feeling that she was very much
alone
and felt as if she had been abandoned. Wrapped in solitude, she had far too much time for reflection and introspection.

She had no patience for Will's letters with the pathetic dried teardrops on the paper.
If only he were stronger; if only he would command the queen, instead of beseeching her. I don't need a man who will go on his knees; I need a man who will go and pull Elizabeth through a bloody knothole!
Bess knew Cavendish would have done it, but William St. Loe was not William Cavendish. Bess sighed. She could not ask pears of an elm tree. Finally, Bess admitted to herself that in times like this, she did regret marrying Syntlo, as the Earl of Shrewsbury had predicted.

By the end of January, Bess began to experience disturbing dreams, then she had her old recurring nightmare, where she lost everything. Was it possible that she could really lose everything? Even her life? Her anger was gradually being replaced by apprehension, which slowly but surely grew into full-blown fear.

It began to dawn upon Bess that perhaps she was not here because of anything Catherine Grey had done. Perhaps she was here because she knew too much about Elizabeth! Not many people knew that Thomas Seymour had been her lover; even fewer knew that she had possibly been carrying his child. How many had known that when Seymour married Catherine Parr, Elizabeth had lived with them at Chelsea in a ménage à trois? All who knew for certain—besides herself—were now dead!

Bess realized she also knew more about the queen's intimacy with Robin Dudley than any other living, breathing person. She had even witnessed their conversation when Elizabeth had taken it for granted that Robin
had poisoned Amy so he could wed her. This imprisonment was a warning for Bess to keep her mouth shut. She fervently hoped it was only a warning, because there was a more permanent way of ensuring her silence! She could not confide her fears to her husband. She would never make him privy to the secrets she knew, and St. Loe would never believe Elizabeth capable of wickedness.