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“James, you have horseshit for brains. Don't you realize I could buy the place cheap from your creditors?”
He knew she spoke the truth and agreed to let her fix up the house and loan him money for livestock. But Bess had no idea that the moment she made the improvements, James intended to sell the accursed place and move to London.
On the day of the double wedding, Bess decided they needed two carriages to take them to Sheffield, since she did not want her sapphire taffeta crushed and creased. Her mother, wearing blush pink, and her two young daughters, in identical white dresses with pink sashes, went in the first coach with her, and her three sons went in the second coach with Marcella and Jane.
Syntlo was not with them. He was escorting Queen Elizabeth from Haddon Hall and had ridden over to Chatsworth last night to spend a few hours with his family. Bess had been appalled at his frail appearance. Not only was he stooped and gray, he was thin as a rail. All the women had fussed over him, feeding him and mixing him possets to increase his appetite, but he had assured them he was feeling quite well. Bess, however, decided to speak with him about taking a break from his duties, once this wedding was over.
Bess's coach and the queen's arrived at precisely the same moment. Robin Dudley accompanied the queen on horseback. Bess took this opportunity to introduce her two younger daughters to the queen.
Elizabeth looked down at the elder. “I am your godmother, and you are my namesake.”
Young Elizabeth, almost eight, sank into a graceful curtsy and murmured, “Your Majesty, I am honored.”
The queen looked at Bess. “This one is a Cavendish, all right.” The queen's eyes slid to the smaller of the pair with the bright red curls, who stuck out her tongue. “This one's a Hardwick, may God help her.”
Bess rolled her eyes at Robin, who couldn't hide his amusement. Bess envied Queen Elizabeth her gown. It was white satin, embroidered all over in a diamond-shape pattern with jet beads. On the bodice, interspersed with the jet beads, were real diamonds. “You look magnificent, Your Majesty.”
“But you are wearing the latest style, I see. That framed collar does glorious things for your hair. I shall adopt the fashion immediately.”
Bess waited for the queen to precede her, but Elizabeth spoke up. “We shall go forward together to greet our hostess and see what the mother of the bride is wearing.”
“I wager she'll be wearing Tudor green to honor you, Your Majesty,” Robin guessed.
As Gertrude Talbot rushed down the castle steps to greet her queen, Elizabeth murmured, “Good God, that's not Tudor green! Whatever shade is it?”
“Goose turd, I'd say,” Bess murmured behind her fan.
The queen gave a great bark of laughter. “I miss your wit, Lady St. Loe, when you are absent from Court.”
Gertrude Talbot shot Bess a look of loathing. She was a short, plump woman who would not have been attractive no matter what she wore. Making matters worse, her features were set in a condescending look that was permanent. “You honor us, Your gracious Majesty.”
“I do indeed,” Elizabeth said rather caustically. “Why isn't the Old Man here to greet me?”
Shrewsbury seemed to materialize from nowhere, his tall, dark figure casting its powerful shadow over them all in the brilliant morning sunlight. He sketched an elegant bow. “The two loveliest ladies in the realm; welcome to Sheffield.”
“I refuse to share that honor with Mistress Tits,” Elizabeth said crudely, and the four of them were transported back to the day they met at Hampton Court.
Dudley laughed so hard, he choked, and the queen wiped tears of mirth from her eyes. Bess and Talbot joined in the laughter, but their amusement was a private thing, apart from the others. They had an intimacy that was secret and could never be shared.
The Earl and Countess of Pembroke joined them, and all made their way to Sts. Peter and Paul's Church, which was on the grounds belonging to Sheffield.
Syntlo joined Bess in the church, which bulged at its consecrated seams with noble guests. The child brides brought a lump to Bess's throat, and she offered up a quick prayer that the young girls were making happy marriages.
The religious ceremony seemed to be over in the blinking of an eye, and the guests thronged from the church to partake of Sheffield Castle's hospitality. Large families were the fashion, and the nobility had brought all their children. Bess's sons and daughters immediately went off with Talbot's brood, together with the offspring of the Herberts, the Howards, and the Stuarts.
The reception was on a lavish scale, comparable with anything the queen's Court ever put on. The banqueting chamber held a formal dining table that accommodated all sixty adult guests, while the young people sat at smaller tables. A liveried footman stood ready to serve behind every second chair.
Bess had never seen so much silver plate all at one time. The price of the heavy sterling cutlery alone would have fed an entire town for a year. The paintings and the tapestries on the walls were of course priceless and had been handed down through generations of Talbots since medieval times. Bess tried not to stare, but to own such riches was almost beyond comprehension.
After dinner, when they moved to one of the ballrooms and Bess was immediately approached by William Parr for a dance, she cast an inquiring glance at her husband.
“Go and enjoy yourself, my dearest. I'm not up to dancing these days, but I know how much you love it.”
With a pang Bess watched him join a group of older men who did not dance and knew he would be happier talking with William Herbert than partnering her on the ballroom floor. As the hours flew by, Bess danced every dance, partnered by all the earls and lords who had ever made her acquaintance and some who hadn't until tonight. Finally, she found herself being swept into Shrewsbury's arms in a lively galliard.
Beneath her tiny cream ruff, the huge sapphire sparkled in the cleft between her breasts, and she saw his eyes on it.
“Magnificent,” he murmured.
