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Bess nodded. “It's a deal. Draw up the papers, Master Entwistle; get the deed, James.” Bess turned to her secretary. “Bestnay, you have those bills for the repair work on the manor. What is the final tally?”
“New roof and gutters, replacing the beams throughout, rebuilding a chimney, and repairing two walls and wainscoting comes to a round figure of a hundred pounds. Another fifty pounds was spent on outbuildings for a new cattle barn and sheep pens, making a tally of a hundred fifty pounds, my lady.”
“Cromp, what did you pay for the new livestock?”
“A hundred pounds, my lady.”
James turned purple in the face. “God damn you, Bess, that leaves me with only two hundred fifty pounds!”
“Oh James, didn't I tell you? I purchased your mortgage. Master Entwistle, what is the amount of the mortgage on Hardwick?”
Entwistle cleared his throat. “Two hundred fifty pounds, Lady St. Loe.”
“You bitch! You greedy, grasping jade! You've buried three husbands and taken their land; now you are trying to get mine!”
“Yours? I have the papers to prove that Hardwick is now mine.”
“You clever bitch! You are just laughing at me on the inside!”
“No, James, on the inside I am crying.” A great lump welled up in her throat, preventing her from speaking for a moment. She arose from the table and looked through the window at the ancient oak tree. It took only a minute or two to compose herself, then she walked back to the table. “Master Entwistle, be good enough to burn the mortgage on Hardwick and draw up an agreement of sale for five hundred pounds. As my brother said, Hardwick is worth every penny—at least to me.”
The papers were drawn up, signed, and duly witnessed on the spot, and Bess left with the deed to Hardwick in her hand. “Would you register this for me immediately, Master Entwistle?”
“Yes indeed, Lady St. Loe.” He tucked the deed into his leather portfolio. “Such dreadful news about the Countess of Shrewsbury.”
“What news?”
James Cromp broke it to her. “The countess passed away last night. It was the talk of Derby this morning.”
“And Shrewsbury away at Court, poor man. So sudden; it will be such a shock to him.”
“Yes … a shock indeed,” she managed, rendered almost speechless by the unexpected news. Bess rode back to Chatsworth in complete silence. For once she allowed her steward and secretary to take the lead, while she followed at a slower pace, lost in deep thought. The moment she arrived at Chatsworth, she sought out her mother and aunt and blurted, “Gertrude Talbot is dead!”
“When?” Bess's mother asked with disbelief.
“Apparently, it happened last night. Shrewsbury's at Court. It'll take him two or three days to get home. I don't know what to do. Should I go or stay away?”
Her mother looked at her oddly. “Of course you must go.”
Marcella fixed Bess with a knowing look. “As a good neighbor and dear friend, the natural thing for you to do is go immediately. You must take our condolences and see if there is anything you can do to help until Shrewsbury can get home.”
“Yes, of course. I'll ask Francie to ride with me; she's known young Anne Herbert all her life.”
