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“Not another petitioner? Have Baldwin attend her,” the earl directed.
“He is with her now, but as a favor to me, Father, I ask that you see her personally.”
The earl's eyebrows elevated and bristled as he laid down his quill and gave his heir a piercing look. “The only possible interest you could have in a young woman is a prurient one!”
George Talbot ignored his father's accusation. “She's a young widow from Hardwick, close-by in Derbyshire. Her family are farmers, the salt of the earth, as you are fond of saying. She's being cheated out of her jointure.”
“Then she needs a lawyer,” the earl said dismissively.
“Of course she needs a bloody lawyer, but she's a penniless young widow who has come to you for help.”
“Why me? Is it because you're bedding her? Is this some sort of blackmail?”
“No, sir, it isn't. I met her in London. Her reputation is above reproach; she's an acquaintance of Princess Elizabeth.”
“Why the devil didn't you say so?” Although the king's youngest daughter was a distant third in the line of succession and sometimes referred to as illegitimate, the remote possibility existed that someday she could rule England. The earl scribbled a note to Thomas Baldwin and summoned a footman to deliver it.
“Thank you, Father. All it will cost you is five minutes of your time.”
When the footman presented the silver salver to Baldwin, he took up the note upon it and bade Mistress Barlow to follow him. As she walked through the passageways of Sheffield Castle and ascended the great staircase, Bess stared in awe at the magnificent furnishings. The Talbots were the wealthiest peers in the realm, and they lived in splendor.
When Baldwin ushered her into the vast library and she realized she was in the presence of the great Earl of Shrewsbury, she sank into a graceful curtsy.
“My lord, this is Mistress Elizabeth Barlow, who has been recently widowed. Her marriage portion is being considered by the Court of Wards, and I've tried to explain there is naught to be done but wait for their decision. There really is no need to trouble yourself with this matter.”
“Thank you, Baldwin. I'd prefer that Mistress Barlow tell me all in her own words.” Francis Talbot, Fifth Earl of Shrewsbury, was captivated by the beautiful young woman before him. No wonder his son had lost his head over her. Shrewsbury listened, mesmerized, as she told her story. She spoke passionately, her flaming hair crackling about her shoulders and her gray taffeta rustling seductively with her every movement. As the curves of her firm young breasts rose from the square neckline of her gown, Shrewsbury sighed, wishing he were twenty years younger. She was that rare creature: a true man's woman.
The earl examined her documents and, when they appeared legal, realized it would cost him nothing to help her. A simple letter to a Derbyshire man of law, eager to gain the patronage of the Earl of Shrewsbury, would do the trick.
Bess arrived home, flush with her victory. She hadn't the least notion that she had the hated George Talbot to thank for her interview with the lord lieutenant of Derbyshire.
Within a fortnight Bess was summoned to the chambers of Messrs. Fulk and Entwistle, the county's most prominent lawyers. Within a month they petitioned the Court of Wards, and within four months they had a monetary settlement for her.
“Ten pounds?” Bess repeated the amount of money they had for her with amazement.
Messrs. Fulk and Entwistle, thinking she was indignant, hastened to reassure her. “That is only a partial settlement, but we agreed to accept it until the true amount can be tallied, and of course the value of your jointure will go up each and every year.”
Bess was overjoyed. She had never really expected the Court of Wards to concede her anything. Rogue Cavendish had been right; the side with the better lawyer would always win!
“My dear sirs, you are truly amazing, and I thank you from the bottom of my heart.” Her thoughts were darting about like quicksilver. “Since you have dealt so well with the Court of Wards and achieved such favorable results, I would like you to handle another matter for me. My brother, James, is heir to Hardwick Manor, which has been held in wardship for nearly a dozen years. James is almost twenty, only a year from coming of age. Now that I have money, why can't I buy his wardship for the final year, so that our family can take back ownership of Hardwick's lands and manor?”
Fulk and Entwistle were impressed with the young woman's determination, and since the lord lieutenant of Derbyshire had asked them to aid her, they would do what she asked. “We will look into the matter immediately, Mistress Barlow. It seems a sensible course to pursue, 'though we must warn you that these wardship cases often take months.”
***
Eight months later Bess stood in front of the half-timbered house where she had been born. She spoke to it, never doubting that Hardwick Manor could hear and understand every word. “I told you I would be back to claim you. We'll never let you go again; you will belong to the Hardwicks forever. Mother is back with my little sisters, and Aunt Marcy is going to lay out a herb garden. My brother, James, has a new bride, Elizabeth Draycott. From now on all your rooms will be filled with love and, soon, the laughter of children once again. I'm returning to London today, but this isn't good-bye. I'll be back … I promise you!”
