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Bess pirouetted for them all, displaying the elegant gray gown she had been given by Lady Margaret. Her mother handed her a mug of hot mutton broth and made a place for her beside the hearth. In that moment Bess was overjoyed to be at home. “Where are James and Ralph?” Bess immediately saw a look pass between Jane and her mother and saw, too, Aunt Marcy's mouth harden in disapproval.
“Ralph's gone to fetch James from Edensor.”
“From the alehouse in Edensor,” Aunt Marcy interjected.
“Let's not speak of it tonight, Marcella. Let's not spoil Bess's homecoming.”
“It seems to me that now is the perfect time to speak of it, while the men are out.”
“Tell me,” Bess insisted, searching their faces.
Elizabeth Hardwick shooed her three younger daughters upstairs to bed, then said, “James has a tendency to drink too much. It's all because Hardwick won't be his for another three years yet. It's hard working for wages when someone else reaps the profits from James's own five hundred acres.”
“In two years he'll be a drunken sot, unable to make a go of Hardwick, if he keeps it up,” Marcella said bluntly.
“Does he not help Ralph farm the Barlow lands?”
“Yes, but the crops were so poor this year, there have been no profits,” Elizabeth declared.
“Profits?” Marcella scoffed. “Ralph is so far behind in his rent, the Barlows are threatening him with imprisonment in the Fleet!”
“Oh, no,” Bess cried. “I had no idea you were in such dire straits.” She brightened. “I have some money I won at cards with Lady Frances Grey. Tomorrow I'll take it over to Mistress Barlow. She is in a terrible mess herself at the moment with both her husband and son ill.”
“Arthur Barlow is dying,” Marcella said baldly. No one in the room doubted her word; Aunt Marcy treated many sick people with her herbal medicines and knew the unmistakable signs of death.
“How much money do you have, Bess?” her mother asked doubtfully.
“Almost two pounds; I spent a shilling at the inn.”
“That's amazing,” Elizabeth said faintly, exchanging another look with Marcella.
“So, Jane, you're to be married. I'm so happy for you,” Bess said warmly, giving her sister a hug. “When is the wedding?”
“The first of December. Oh, Bess, I'm so glad you'll be here for the ceremony,” Jane cried.
“Oh, I cannot stay until December. I'd love to see you wed, Jane, but Lady Zouche needs me back for the Christmas preparations.”
Jane looked down at her hands, and again Elizabeth and Marcella exchanged a glance. Before any more could be said, Ralph and James arrived, and for the rest of the evening Bess had the impression that the women of her family hadn't quite said all that they wanted to say before the men came home.
At bedtime Jane shared her bed with Bess, and the two sisters whispered and laughed together as they had done all the years they were growing up.
“Your clothes are so elegant, Bess. I've never seen anything so fine as the gown you are wearing.”
“You must have it—or better yet, choose whichever one you like best.” She threw open the lid of her trunk to reveal the other two dresses she had brought.
Jane sat on the bed, mesmerized. “You would really give me one?”
“Of course.”
When Jane stroked the green velvet, Bess held her breath. That particular gown evoked thrilling memories of the hunt with Cavendish.
“I won't take the green—it's your color—but I'd love the purple.”
Bess picked it up and shook out the folds. “I wore this when I went to Hampton Court Palace and met Princess Elizabeth. We were both in purple, and the resemblance between us was uncanny. The only difference was that I had breasts, while she was flat as a board, but she's young yet.”
Jane's eyes flooded with tears. “Oh, Bess, your life was so exciting, you shouldn't have come back.”
“What rubbish! I wouldn't give up this chance to be here for anything.”
