A Woman of Passion (30 page)

Bess paused, remembering the horrendous quarrel she and William had had. Because he was a member of the privy council, he knew that the protector was just waiting for his brother Thomas Seymour to lift one finger toward the king or his royal sister so he could arrest him for treason. Bess had promised William she would not breathe a word of what he told her, then had ridden hell-for-leather to Hatfield to warn Elizabeth. Cavendish had been livid that she had betrayed his trust, but when she begged him to forgive her, their reunion was so fierce, Bess conceived again.

Bess continued her letter.
On a happier note, I am delighted to tell you that I am going to have another child. William and I are both hoping for a son, and after he is born we will come north for a visit.

All my love, Bess

   There were those on the council and at Court who found what Edward Seymour had done to his brother abhorrent. Discontent over the protector's rule spread into the populace of England, and by autumn there was outright rebellion. John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, rode into Norfolk at the head of the army to subdue the revolt. He quelled the uprisings with little bloodshed, and when he returned to London, the council switched their allegiance to him. Edward Seymour was arrested, stripped of his power, and taken to the Tower.

The Cavendishes went to Northaw for the autumn hunting, where they entertained all their friends from
Court. Bess learned that the young king did not enjoy robust health but was delicate and often sickly since his bout with smallpox. When she learned that Elizabeth had fallen into a decline over the death of Thomas Seymour, Bess resolved to try to pull her out of it.

When Bess arrived she was amazed to see that Hatfield was still shrouded in deepest mourning. When she saw Elizabeth lying silent in her bed, waxy as a corpse, Bess realized she was ill in her heart and soul. Fury rose up in Bess.

“This is an act that has gotten out of hand. You meant to punish everyone for taking the admiral, but you've gone too far and are punishing only yourself!”

Elizabeth leaned forward and put her head in her hands hopelessly. “Go away.”

“He wasn't worth it!” Bess said vehemently. “Tom Seymour was Catherine Parr's lover, long before she ever wed your father. He urged her to the royal marriage.”

“Liar,” Elizabeth whispered.

“He wanted the power that a royal female could give him—any royal female would do. He asked the council for permission to wed you
or your sister Mary.
Ask anyone on the council.” Bess let her cloak fall open to reveal that she was blooming with a child. “I am fulfilling my destiny, but you are throwing yours away! Someday you will be Her Royal Majesty, Queen Elizabeth of England.”

“It can never be. They called me bastard and, now, whore.”

“Go to Court and prove them wrong! John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, is in charge now. He will see that your brother welcomes you, and all will accord you the title, honor, and respect your position demands.”

Elizabeth arose from her bed to pace the chamber.
When she flung a book across the room, Bess knew Elizabeth had taken the first steps toward fulfilling her destiny.

Bess presented her husband with a son and heir, whom they named Henry. Their friends the Earl and Countess of Warwick were his godparents. In the spring William bought a bigger house on the river for his growing family, and while it was being made ready, they went to Derbyshire to show off the children to Bess's family.

At week's end they left the children with her mother and Aunt Marcella and rode out to look at Chatsworth. When they reached the top of the fell, Bess reined in to enjoy the view, but William didn't stop. He rode straight to the house and dismounted on the lawn. He leered at her wickedly. “Come and feel what I've got for you.”

She never refused a dare—not one Cavendish threw at her. She dismounted, tossed back her flaming hair, and swaggered toward him with bravado. Her arms went up about his neck and she lifted her mouth to his. Halfway through the fierce kiss, she slipped her hands inside his doublet. When her fingers closed over metal, she pulled her mouth away. “What the devil is this?” She pulled out a heavy iron ring of keys.

“The keys to Chatsworth, my darling. I hope it gives you more pleasure than you've ever had before.”

Bess stared at him blankly, not comprehending.

“I bought Chatsworth for you—it's yours.”

“Splendor of God, Rogue Cavendish, you didn't!” Bess was stunned. He had just paid out a generous marriage settlement on his daughter and bought Bess a new house on the river. Where had the money come from to buy Chatsworth? Bess burst into tears.

He enfolded her in powerful arms, and in that moment Bess felt she needed his support more than ever before. “Now you can build your palace.”

“Me?” Bess asked in a small voice, completely overwhelmed.

“It was your dream; now you can turn it into reality.” He looked down at her and saw that her great dark eyes were filled with apprehension. “Sweetheart, what's wrong?”

“I'm afraid,” she whispered. “Oh, William, I liked the dream. … It was so safe, so unreachable, forever in the distant future. But it's no longer in the future, it's here and now. It's too much, too soon. The reality of it strikes terror in my heart.”

His big hand smoothed the fiery tendrils from her brow. “Come on,” he said, untethering her horse and lifting her into the saddle. “Follow me.”

Slowly, silently, they trekked back up the side of the steep fell until they gained the summit, then he held up his arms and lifted her down. He kept one arm about her as they gazed down at Chatsworth. “The very first time I met you, I asked if you'd like three houses. Your reply was so direct, so sure. ‘Certainly, I would,’ you said. You chided me for laughing at you and vowed you would have your own vast household. That very first day I knew I wanted you. I immediately sensed that your ambition matched mine.”

Bess's mind flew back to her first year in London, and she relived her strong feelings. She had been determined to become a great success and share in the world's riches. She had sworn it, vowed it, pledged it like an oath. Her future had lain before her with clarity. She wanted it all!

William hugged her close. “Since that day I have come to know just how much strength, courage, and determination
you have. Your uncertainty is just foolish fancy—I have no doubts. You have the will and the energy to turn the dream of your ‘palace of the peaks' into reality.”

“William, what about the money it will take?”

“Money is the least of your worries; I can always get you money.” He spoke with such authority, her fear was laid to rest.

“The house will go over there,” she pointed. “Built entirely of stone, with great square turrets at each corner. I want an inner courtyard and another over there by the stables.”

“It will be the most impressive house in Derbyshire.”

“Of course it will! The servants will wear blue and silver livery.”

William began to laugh.

Bess looked up at him shrewdly. “I know why you brought me up here. It all looks so much smaller and less intimidating from up here. Everything falls into perspective. I lived all my dreams and made all my plans from way up here. You brought me back so I would lose all my fear.”

“Of course I didn't. I brought you up here to make love to you. Now, where exactly was that spot again?”

“Oh, William, my heart is overflowing with love for you. This truly is one of the happiest days of my life.”

Bess now divided her time between Chatsworth and London. They sold Northaw and the annexed Church lands. William also had acquired Church lands in Wales, which were too far away to properly administer, and a small holding in Shropshire. Through his high position in the augmentation office, he exchanged these lands for
a large property in Doveridge on the River Dove, close to Chatsworth. Bess leased out its manor house, called Meadowpleck, and they poured the money into building the new house at Chatsworth.

Their new land was valuable; it had both lead mines and great shallow seams of coal. Bess kept a meticulous accounting of earnings and expenditures, and Francis Whitfield, whom she appointed as her agent, took them to William in London.

Bess was an economical builder. The wood, stone, bricks, and mortar, as well as the lead for the windows and the roofs, were all provided from her own estates. Laborers worked for a pittance, and even craftsmen such as carpenters, plasterers, and stonemasons could be hired cheaply. As William had taught her to do at Northaw, she enclosed common land across the moors for sheep runs and marketed the wool.

The more that Bess accomplished, the more her energy and her confidence increased. She allowed William to keep his own servants in London and moved the rest of the household to Derbyshire. They lived in the old Chatsworth Manor while the new Chatsworth was being built. Her sister Jane came to live with her to help with the children; her aunt Marcy also came, and Bess immediately put her in charge of laying out a plan for the elaborate gardens she wanted.

Cavendish traveled north regularly, and whenever he came it was as if he and Bess were newlyweds. She presented him with another son, named William, exactly nine months to the day after he had given her the keys to Chatsworth.

Bess had never been happier in her life. Whenever she came to London, she went home with wagonloads of furnishings for the new house, which was gradually beginning
to take shape. According to her plan she intended to finish one magnificent story completely, then, when money permitted, begin the second story. Sometimes Bess accompanied William when he went on official business to a northern priory or monastery. Since his job was to confiscate their hoarded treasures, Bess offered to buy for hard cash anything that took her fancy and that she could someday showcase at Chatsworth. She felt no guilt—the heads of these religious houses were glad to slip the money into their own pockets and keep their mouths shut.

In London, the young king developed a contagion of the lungs, and it became obvious to those close to him that he was wasting away. John Dudley, Earl of Warwick, and most of the council, who were staunchly Protestant, began to panic. Princess Mary, the dreaded Catholic, was next in line to the throne, and none of the men in power wanted her there.

In a desperate move Dudley banished Elizabeth to Hatfield, then had the dying king make out his will proclaiming Lady Jane Grey his successor and declaring his sisters Mary and Elizabeth illegitimate. The entire council knew that Dudley planned to wed his son Guildford to Lady Jane to keep the power in his hands.

Cavendish was appalled that his friends, Henry and Frances Grey, were willing to go along with this, and in early July they brought their fifteen-year-old daughter from Chelsea to the stronghold of the Tower, where she and Guildford were married in a hasty ceremony.

Bess was blissfully unaware of the tense situation in London, and that was exactly how Cavendish wanted it. Up in Derbyshire she could never be accused of being a
party to the unlawful and disastrous plans that were being carried out.

Though the Earl of Warwick bound the council to secrecy, somehow word was sent to Princess Mary, and by the time young King Edward took his last breath and Lady Jane Grey was proclaimed queen, Mary Tudor was rallying an army. Cavendish suspected it was his boss, Paulet, who had warned Mary, for he was the only Catholic on the council.

John Dudley once more rode out at the head of his army to capture Mary and defeat her forces. He met with no success, and it immediately became apparent that the people of England supported Princess Mary Tudor. To a man, the privy councillors knew they would be sent to the block if they did not immediately declare their support for Mary. On July 19, 1553, John Dudley was arrested and Mary Tudor was proclaimed Queen of England.

Events had taken place so swiftly that Lady Cavendish in Derbyshire learned all at once that the king was dead, Lady Jane Grey had been proclaimed queen for nine days, then Mary Tudor was proclaimed the rightful queen.

B
ess packed immediately and set out for London, and it seemed to her that half the populace was also making its way to the capital for the crowning of England's new queen. By the time she arrived, the momentous month of July was drawing to a close, and when Cavendish saw that she had rushed to London, his heart sank.

In her usual forthright manner, Bess took the offensive immediately. “Why on earth did you keep me in the dark about the calamitous events that were occurring? You must have suspected for months what was in the wind!”

“Bess, I've hardly been to bed this month; the council has been in session day and night. Even if I'd had time to write, I wouldn't have dared commit anything to paper.”

“The real reason is you didn't want me here meddling!”

“I didn't want you putting yourself in danger,” he countered.

“I must go to Frances immediately.”

“You will not,” he said implacably. “Frances and Lady
Catherine are safe at Suffolk House. Henry and Lady Jane are safe in the Tower.”

“Safe for how long, with that dried-up religious fanatic on the throne?” Bess felt so frustrated, she burst into tears. “Dear God, I am so worried for them.”

He took her shoulders in strong hands and forced her to listen. “It is Dudley who will have to pay the price. Frances is a royal Tudor, cousin to Queen Mary. She will keep her husband and daughter safe.”

Bess wiped away her tears with a grimy hand. “I need a bath; the dust on the road nearly choked me. Oh, God, poor Nan Dudley.”

“Order your bath,” Cavendish said, coming to a decision. “Bess, we need to talk.”

As his wife lay in the warm scented water, William sat on the edge of the wooden tub. “It is our own position we must worry about. The council realized if we didn't proclaim Mary the rightful queen, we would all be sent to the block for treason.”

Bess paled. “Oh, William, you could lose your position because of me. Mary dislikes me intensely.”

“Bess, I could lose my position, but it won't be because of a petty personality conflict. Mary won't take kindly to a man who has dismantled the monasteries and religious houses across the country. She will no doubt start handing back all Church lands.”