A Woman of Passion (33 page)

“Black devil!” Bess wanted to fly at him and scratch his eyes out. It was difficult to control the emotion he aroused in her, but she spun on her heel and ran from the rose garden before they had an open brawl.

Bess had so many other guests that it didn't take long for her anger to cool. She laughed at her reaction to George Talbot. He'd done nothing, really, except act like a typical male. She should have been flattered.

When the last carriage had left, the children were all put to bed, and the house restored to order, Bess and William ascended the grand staircase hand in hand. “It was a great triumph for you today, Bess. I'm so proud of you.”

She leaned her head against him in an affectionate gesture. “I owe it all to you, William.” When they reached the top of the staircase, Bess turned to survey her magnificent home. “It was absolutely perfect. Today I achieved everything I ever set out to do.” She looked into his eyes. “You made all my dreams come true.”

Cavendish knew she was completely happy tonight. He could not bring himself to destroy one small part of that happiness. Tomorrow would be soon enough. He waited until she was in bed before he gave her the present. She gasped with delight. “It's so precious. … I'll treasure it always.”

William held her in his arms all night, savoring her love, dreading that on the morrow she would hate him.

Early the next morning, when William went into his office, he found all Bess's account books on his desk awaiting his signature of approval. Sick at heart he pushed them away, wishing his treasury accounts were as honest. He massaged the tightness in his chest and called Bess into his office. He made her sit down, then propped himself against the carved desk.

“Bess, I'm in trouble. The queen has ordered an audit of her treasury.”

“That bitch! She is doing this because she hates me! How much time do you have?”

“It is over and done. They have been at it for months, scrutinizing every piece of paper my office has collected in the last thirteen years.”

“You've been keeping this to yourself instead of sharing it with me,” she accused. “No wonder you are so worn out!” She jumped to her feet, but with gentle hands he pressed her back down.

“There was no need to alarm you.”

“But now there is?” The blood drained from her face.

“The auditor's final report claims there is a discrepancy in my accounts of over five thousand pounds.”

“Five thousand pounds?” she repeated incredulously.

“Paulet seemed satisfied with my explanations, but I doubt the queen will be.”

“Have you been charged yet?”

“No, but I fully expect to be. The queen wants to be rid of me. She is determined to replace all those about her in office. This is the means she will use.”

Bess clenched her fists. “We'll fight her!”

“I contacted the lawyers, and I must now prepare my defense.”

“I'll help you, William. I'm going back to London with you. This is no time for you to be alone.”

Cavendish wanted to be sure she fully understood. “Bess, if I am not cleared of the charge and have to pay the five thousand, we will have to sell everything—Chats-worth, the London house.”

“William, I don't care about Chatsworth, I care about you! My God, if you are not cleared of the charge, they could send you to prison!” She jumped up and wrapped her arms about him.

“You've not asked me if I'm guilty.”

Bess laughed through her tears. “I don't need to ask, you are such a damned rogue!”

“Do you hate me?”

“Hate you? I am far more guilty than you. You merely diverted the funds; I am the one who spent them!”

Bess and William traveled to London the first week of September. They trusted each other implicitly and decided
they were in this together. They had always had friends in the highest places, who would willingly have used their influence for them, but the friends they had cultivated were all staunch Protestants and were themselves in Catholic Mary's disfavor.

Bess accompanied William on his frequent visits to the lawyers, and she had her say. “Do you realize how much of our income is paid to you in lawyers' fees each year? It is more than we spend on building! And we have never begrudged you a penny of it.”

“Lady Cavendish, we pledge to do our utmost.”

“That is all I ask, gentlemen.”

The formal charges were laid against Sir William Cavendish on October 1. One week later he went before the queen's judges in the Star Chamber with his secretary, Robert Bestnay, and his lawyers to answer the charges. He put forth his own defense, and then his lawyers asked for leniency because of his past loyalty and service to the Crown. They hoped to get the debt reduced to one thousand pounds.

The Queen's council owed their loyalty to Mary. Suffolk, Warwick, Somerset, and Seymour had all gone to the block, and the Earl of Shrewsbury was too old to be in London. It took fifteen long days before Cavendish was called to Court again. The waiting seemed endless, the pressure intolerable.

Finally, on October 23 he was called back. Cavendish was told that his defense was unacceptable to the queen. A quick consultation with his lawyers did him little good. They told him it was pointless to deny the charges and that his only recourse was to beg for mercy. He argued with them, but in the end he was forced into the humiliation of pleading guilty and throwing himself on the mercy of the court. His lawyers pleaded his case, saying
that if Sir William was forced to repay the full amount, he would be ruined financially and he and his children would end their days in penury.

When he arrived home that night, William was in a rage. He cursed his lawyers for fools. He told Bess, “I was forced into a humiliating theatrical performance that got me absolutely nowhere.”

Bess saved her curses for the queen, and William joined her, ranting and raving for hours. “After all the service I've given to the Crown, all the royal coffers I've filled, doing their dirty work for them, this is the thanks I get!”

“William, I don't care about the debt; I care about you!” It was inevitable that the Crown would recover the debt, but they had not handed down their punishment yet. Bess feared that William would be sent to prison.
He could even be sent to the block.
Bess pushed the terrifying thought away.

She did not fall asleep until the early hours of the morning.

Bess awoke, terrified. The room was empty, stripped bare. She ran downstairs and found the bailiffs carrying off everything she possessed in the world. Bess begged and pleaded and cried, all to no avail. Outside, her beautiful possessions were being piled on a cart. They had been put out of their house and had nowhere to go. Fear washed over her in great waves. Panic choked her. When she turned around, the cart was gone, her family was gone, and even Chatsworth had vanished. Bess had lost everything she had in the world. The suffocating terror mounted until it engulfed her, the waves of fear almost drowning her.

The hollow, empty feeling inside her belly was like a ravenous hunger, only worse: William was gone! She was overwhelmed with helplessness, hopelessness.

Bess shot up in bed, knowing she had had the old nightmare. William was not beside her, and the panic of the dream was all too real. Then she saw him across the room and knew immediately that something was wrong. He was clutching his chest and trying to pour himself some wine.

Bess sprang from the bed and ran to him. “William!” By the time she reached him, the pain had driven him to his knees. The goblet fell from his hand and the red wine spread across the carpet like blood. Bess cried out for James Cromp, who came running. “Help me get him to bed, James.”

“It's easing,” William gasped as he lay back against the pillows. “I'll be fine.”

Bess threw on her bedgown and went to summon Robert Bestnay. “Get William's doctor as fast as you can.”

When Dr. Turner arrived and examined his patient, he determined that Sir William had suffered a heart seizure. He gave him an opiate for the pain and warned him severely that he must rest.

Bess went downstairs with Turner. “Will he be all right?” she demanded frantically.

“Lady Cavendish, he must be kept quiet. This has been brought about by work and worry. If he does not have complete bed rest, he could suffer another heart seizure. I'll come again tomorrow.”

Bess was thoroughly alarmed, but she was also determined to follow the doctor's orders. She called the staff of the London house together and gave them their orders.

William slept heavily through the entire day and into the night. He awoke about midnight and asked Bess to come into bed with him. She got up from the chair beside
the bed and slipped beneath the covers. She put her arms about him and held him close. She did not want to transfer her panic to him.

Finally, he spoke to her in a calm voice. “Bess … my Bessie, I love and adore you. I am so very sorry to leave you in such a mess.”

“William, you are not going to leave me, I won't let you!”

He smiled. How very like Bess to think she could order things the way she wanted. He knew he had been blessed the day he found her. He had taught her everything he knew about business. She had always had courage, but now she had confidence in herself as well. She was only twenty-nine years old—she had her whole life before her.

The next day Bess bathed him and fed him and forbade him to speak of their difficulties. By late afternoon she began to have a glimmer of hope that he would recover. In the evening he even teased her about being too bossy.

She went down to the kitchen to prepare him some soup laced with cream and wine. When she came back upstairs, she was furious to find him out of bed. Suddenly, William grabbed his chest and lurched forward. Bess screamed and ran to him. She knelt on the floor beside him and enfolded him in her arms. She held him until his body turned cold.

“No, William, no,” she whispered with trembling lips. She shivered over and over, then her whole body began to shake uncontrollably, as she was convulsed by racking dry sobs. Bess stared at him in disbelief. “Don't leave me, William … I cannot go on without you.”

B
ess was numb. She was as stunned as if a stone wall had collapsed on her. She could not feel, she could not think, she could not function in any way. This time, fate had dealt her a blow from which she would never recover.

Robert Bestnay and James Cromp joined ranks and did what needed to be done. They dispatched messages to Lady Cavendish's family immediately and gently coaxed her to tell them what funeral arrangements she wanted made.

Her mother, Marcella, and Jane arrived with all the children and their attendant nursemaids. They were alarmed when they saw Bess. She was silent and remote as if she were in a trance.

Sir William Cavendish was buried on Allhallows, the last day of October, at St. Botolph's, Aldgate. Bess thought it would please him to be laid to rest beside his mother and father and all the Cavendishes who had gone before him. She stood at the grave, veiled in black, holding the hand of her daughter Francie, who was so much
like her father. His other children stood in a row beside them as his coffin was lowered into the cold ground, and the noble mourners who had come to pay their respects could not remember such a sad sight.

Sir John Thynne was the first to approach Bess. Though he was now past forty, his tight brown curls still gave him a youthful appearance. As he looked at her, his green eyes filled with compassion. “Lady Cavendish— Bess, please accept my heartfelt condolences. If there is anything I can do to help you in any way whatsoever, I beg that you send word to me.”

Bess stared at him as if she hadn't heard a word.

Frances Grey and Nan Dudley tried to comfort Bess. All three women were united in their hatred of Mary. Bess remained silent, rigid, and dry-eyed, and her friends were deeply concerned for her. As they gathered close about her, Bess stared at the two women and murmured, “I curse her.”

During the next two weeks Bess did not speak, did not eat, and did not sleep. She had withdrawn to a place where no one could touch her, no one could hurt her again. Her heart had died with William, and she could not face the world without him. He was her bastion, her rock, her strength. William was more than her love, he was her very life. With him beside her she had conquered the world; without him she felt that she could not exist. Whenever her mother or Jane spoke to her, she did not answer, so they left her in peace and did their best to keep the children quiet.

Finally, Marcella went up to the master bedchamber to confront her. She found Bess lying on the great bed, carved with the Cavendish stags, staring up at the red silk canopy. “This nonsense cannot go on. You have abdicated
your responsibilities, and it is time you came to grips with it all.”

“You do not understand,” Bess whispered.

“No, we do not. So you will have to get up off that bed, come downstairs, and talk to us.”

Bess did not respond, but half an hour later she came quietly downstairs and joined the Hardwick women in the parlor. Wearily, she told them what William had gone through during the last months. Listlessly, she told them that the queen had ruined his career and that he owed the Crown over five thousand pounds. As she quietly told them of his insurmountable problems, her mother and Jane were shocked into silence by the amount of money owed.