A Woman of Passion (7 page)

“Who the devil are you?” Elizabeth demanded.

“I am Mistress Elizabeth Hardwick. Who the devil are
you
?”

“I am the Lady Elizabeth.”

“Your Grace,”
Bess gasped, sinking into a curtsy.

“Nay, I have no such title these days.”

“I cannot call you
lady
when you are a
royal princess.
”

“Ha! Behind my back they call me the little bastard.”

“They will regret it someday, when you are queen.”

Elizabeth's amber eyes turned to glittering gold.
They will indeed.
“Why have I never seen you before?”

“I am from Derbyshire, Your Grace. Lady Zouche found me a place in her household as companion to her daughters.”

Elizabeth stared at her. Mistress Elizabeth Hardwick was a farmer's daughter, while she was the daughter of a king. How was it possible they were so alike? “We even have the same name.” She walked a circle around Bess, examining her closely. “Look at our hands—’tis uncanny.” They had the same graceful hands, with long, delicate fingers, though the Lady Elizabeth's were adorned with many rings. “I'm not old enough to have breasts yet, but when I am, I hope and pray to God they resemble yours, mistress.”

“Please call me Bess, Your Grace.”

The girl is so easy to talk with, as if we have known each other for years.
“We could be sisters, Bess. In fact, I wish you were my sister; we have far more in common than the one with whom I have been saddled.” Elizabeth watched closely for Bess's reaction to her slur against her Catholic half-sister, Mary. When Bess seemed amused rather than shocked, Elizabeth took a cautious liking to her. “What are you reading?”

“Oh, Your Grace, it isn't my book; it belongs to Lady Jane Grey. I was sent to retrieve it from the barge, but I have become hopelessly lost. The rooms at Hampton have no imaginable order.”

Elizabeth almost choked with glee. “ 'Tis my father's pride and joy. None has ever dared criticize it before. How refreshing to know someone who speaks her mind.”

“I am cursed with an impulsive tongue.”

Elizabeth nodded her understanding. “Retorts spring quickly to my lips also, but I have learned a measure of caution. What is Lady Jane reading?”

Bess showed her the book.

“Latin! The little dog turd carries it with her just to impress everyone. What the hell pleasure can a little girl derive from Latin?”

Bess burst into laughter, amused to hear the young princess swear.

Elizabeth joined in her laughter. “My uncle Tom Seymour taught me to swear. He's a sailor—they have very salty vocabularies. My father is going to make him admiral of the fleet.” Though the princess was younger than Bess, she was wise beyond her years. “Come into the gardens with me; I want to talk.”

Bess looked uncertain. “I'll be in trouble if I don't return with the book, Your Grace.”

“I'll take care of that,” Elizabeth said decisively. “Come.” It took only a few minutes for the Lady Elizabeth to lead them into the State Apartments and ferret out the whereabouts of Lady Frances Grey.

With a murmured apology Bess handed the book to Lady Jane and saw Lady Zouche gape at the resemblance between the two redheaded young women.

“Lady Elizabeth, how lovely to see you! May I present my friend, Lady Margaret Zouche?” Frances sounded genuinely happy that Elizabeth had been brought back to Court where she belonged.

“Lady Margaret,” Elizabeth acknowledged. “It is always a pleasure to see you, Frances. I would like Mistress Hardwick to attend me, if you can spare her for an hour.”

When Lady Zouche appeared to have been struck
dumb, Frances said, “By all means. Jane is here to visit with Prince Edward; we are presently awaiting an audience with your father.”

“Good morrow, Lady Elizabeth,” Lady Jane said gravely.

“Age quod agis—
attend to what you are about,” Elizabeth translated the Latin for her.
“Vivat rex!”

“Long live the king!” Lady Jane said piously.

The last thing Elizabeth wanted was to be present when her father arrived. His mood was so uncertain. Her earliest memories of him tossing her in the air were mixed up with the times he had pointed his all-powerful finger and raged at her. Both were terrifying. She had learned to hold her own in his presence, sensing that he despised cowardice in anyone but himself. People said she was so like him—there was no denying that she was Old Harry's daughter—but Elizabeth knew that when he saw her red hair and witnessed her temper, he could be either amused or enraged.

Elizabeth took Bess by the hand and swept her from the room. The two girls walked through the Privy Garden and into the Great Fountain Garden. Bess spotted a fat bumblebee struggling in the water and immediately scooped it out and set it on the stone ledge so it could dry off its wings.

“God's death, you are impulsive. You acted without thinking.”

“Nay, I thought about it. I weighed the bee's life against my being stung and decided the risk was worth it.”

“Your thought processes work rapidly, as do mine, but I have learned to act with caution,” Elizabeth explained.

“Perhaps because you have been stung too many times.”

When they came to the maze, Elizabeth said decisively, “We'll go in here where we can be private.” At the center of the maze, the pair sat on a bench. “Tell me about yourself. I want to know your philosophy, your hopes and dreams. I want to know what is in here,” Elizabeth touched her forehead, “and in here,” she touched her heart. “No! On second thought, let me tell you.”

Bess nodded eagerly.

“You have a hot temper; you are vain; you have a thirst for knowledge and a passion for life. To top it all off, you are extremely ambitious.”

“You are describing yourself as well as me, Your Grace.”

Elizabeth laughed. “You are also clever, witty, and blunt.”

“Do you believe in destiny?” Bess asked eagerly.

“I do. I believe in my own destiny.”

“Do you believe you will be queen someday?”

Elizabeth pressed her lips together, caution coming to the fore.

Bess touched her hand. “You don't need to tell me, I know! I am so certain about what my future holds that I warrant you are too.”

“Tell me.”

“I shall make a great marriage and have many sons and daughters. I shall have a town house in London and a magnificent home in the country, where one day I shall entertain Queen Elizabeth the First of England!”

“It is dangerous to share secret dreams. I trust no one.”

“Let's swear a pledge to trust in ourselves and trust each other,” Bess said impulsively.

Elizabeth placed her hand over her heart. “No matter
what.” They smiled at each other. “Do you know any gossip?”

“Well …” Bess had heard gossip about King Henry but suddenly realized the impropriety of repeating it to his daughter.

“You
do
know some gossip! Tell me or I shall never forgive you!”

“Do you know a lady named Catherine Parr?”

“Certainly I do. She has become thick as thieves with my sister, Lady Mary. They go to Mass together.”

“I dare not say more, Your Grace; it involves your—”

“My father? God's death, how could I have been so blind? The woman has ambitions to become queen!”

“So I have heard.”

Elizabeth put her finger to her lips in warning as she heard male voices through the hedge. Two extremely dark youths came crashing through the maze. They looked inordinately pleased with themselves when they saw the females.

“Lady Elizabeth, how delightful. We were looking for a diversion.” The dark boy who was Elizabeth's age made a gallant bow.

“Robin Dudley, you intrude.”

The taller youth, who looked about sixteen, was even swarthier than his companion. His eyes widened as they gazed at Bess. Then he reached out a hand and touched her upthrust breast. “Are they real?” he demanded.

B
ess balled up her fist and thumped him hard in the middle of his chest. “You uncouth swine, your manners are abominable.”

The Lady Elizabeth's eyes took on an avid gleam. “You shouldn't have done that,
Old Man.”

“Why not? She's only a servant,” George Talbot drawled.

Bess's anger flared hotly. “You arrogant bastard! How dare you show such disrespect in the presence of Lady Elizabeth Tudor?”

“Ha! He is a
Talbot.
They think themselves far more aristocratic than the
Tudors.
They are descended from
Plantagenets
, don't you know?”

Bess's breasts rose and fell with her anger, and George Talbot found it impossible to tear his gaze away. “Descended from baboons, more likely,” she retorted.

“Is your arse blue, George?” Robin asked with a straight face.

“No, just my blood.”

Elizabeth laughed, thoroughly enjoying herself. “This is my
friend
, Bess Hardwick.”

“Your friend? I suppose you are going to give me a royal rebuke and jump to her defense,” Talbot challenged.

“No. That is why she is my friend. She's perfectly capable of defending herself. She's worth her weight in gold—she doesn't even know that you are heir to the earldom of Shrewsbury, the wealthiest in the land, and what's more, she doesn't give a pennyworth of piss!”

Bess felt the blood drain from her face when she learned he was Shrewsbury's son. His father was the premier earl, almost considered a monarch, north of the Trent. Not only was his father lord lieutenant of Yorkshire, Nottinghamshire, and Derbyshire, he owned magnificent Sheffield Castle, not a stone's throw from Bess's home of Hardwick.

“I'm Robin Dudley.” The other youth stuck out his hand to Bess. “Any friend of Lady Elizabeth's is a friend of mine. Has she given you a nickname yet?”

Bess finally realized that this young man was the Earl of Warwick's son. He was affable and good-natured, and Bess liked him immediately.

“Vixen
would suit her temper, I think.”

“Who the devil asked you?” Bess spat at Talbot, giving a fine display of that temper.

Elizabeth smiled her approval.
“Vixen
is good with your coloring, Bess. I call Robin
the Gypsy
because he's so dark.”

Bess found Talbot far darker than Robin Dudley. His face was dark-complexioned; his light blue eyes were a startling contrast to his swarthy skin. His long hair was so black that the sunlight gave it a blue sheen. The tall youth was extremely lithe, with long legs and wide shoulders.
He held his head high with a natural pride that hinted at arrogance, and he seemed to take it as his due that everyone would treat him with deference.

“I call Talbot
the Old Man
because he's been married since he was twelve. Poor George had no say in the matter. They shackled him to the Earl of Rutland's daughter, Gertrude, to safeguard the Talbot wealth.”

“I pity the lady.” Bess had taken an instant dislike to him and could not help goading him.

“Oh, they don't live together as man and wife yet. Gertrude isn't old enough to be bedded,” Elizabeth explained.

“He'll be an old man by the time he gets some!” Dudley said coarsely, and Talbot cuffed him across the ear.

Bess was appalled at the sexual content of their conversation. It was extremely inappropriate to speak of such matters in front of the young princess, yet the Lady Elizabeth didn't seem shocked in the least.

“Lewd talk is disrespectful to ladies,” Bess said primly. “Hell's teeth, she must be up from the country, with such prudish ideas,” Talbot jibed.

“She's from Derbyshire, the same place as you,
Old Man.”

His eyes narrowed. “Hardwick, did you say?”

“Well, I think you are charming, Mistress Hardwick,” Robin Dudley said frankly.

“And I think you are unique,” Elizabeth added.

“Well, at least her name is apt,” Talbot drawled. “She certainly makes my wick hard.”

Bess gasped and raised her hand to slap his insolent face.

“Go ahead, Vixen. I'd like an excuse to give you a lesson in manners.”

Dudley guffawed, “Christ, we know what you'd like to give her. We can see the sparks flying between you!”

Bess spun on her heel and began to march from the maze.

“Doesn't she know she can't leave without your permission?” Robin was choking with laughter.

“Doesn't know and doesn't give a damn—she's absolutely priceless,” Elizabeth declared.

Bess prayed fervently that she was going in the right direction. If she took a wrong turn in this infernal maze and made a bloody fool of herself, she would simply die!

On the short barge ride back to Chelsea Palace, the talk was all of the king and the young Prince Edward. Bess sat apart, thinking of the Lady Elizabeth. The king's daughter had every advantage, while she was just a servant—as she had been so rudely reminded—and yet Bess realized she would not change places with her. Though the princess had palaces and jewels and servants untold, Elizabeth's future was no less uncertain than her own. If she was to realize her ambition, she would have to hold her own against great odds. But she believes in herself, just as I do, thought Bess, and if you believe something with all your mind and all your heart and soul, someday it shall come to be.

Bess thought of William Cavendish, and her heart skipped a beat. How she wished he were still at Chelsea so she could tell him all about her encounter with Elizabeth Tudor. How exceedingly fortunate she was to have met such a man and how lucky to have caught his fancy. He had warned her that his business in Dover would take some time, and she wondered how he would see her when he returned. Bess heaved a great sigh. She would
leave it up to him to contrive something. Rogue Cavendish was a man of the world and would find a way to get what he wanted. How exciting that he wanted her!

Bess went over his words again for the hundredth time:
Sweetheart, when I return I'll have a question to ask you regarding a more permanent relationship.
William was going to ask her to be his wife, Bess hoped and prayed. She was certain she wanted no other husband but him. With resolution she pushed away a nagging doubt. Surely the question wouldn't involve becoming his mistress? Not when she had made it plain that she would not allow him to seduce her and that she wanted a respectable marriage? No, though he was nicknamed Rogue, he had not pressed her for more than kisses.
Mistress Elizabeth Cavendish!
It sounded so right, and deep in her bones Bess honestly believed she was destined to become the wife of William Cavendish.