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TWELVE
The night of the dinner party, Bess chose a purple velvet gown with a low décolletage to show off her amethysts. The billowing bishop sleeves were slashed with rose-colored silk, and she knew she had never looked so splendid in her life.
“Undo these bloody corset strings and fasten them up looser, Bess,” Lady Frances begged.
Bess obliged and helped her into a gown of deep crimson. As Frances opened a jewel coffer and selected rubies, Bess looked through the tall windows, excited as a small child who was attending her first party. The river was congested with the grand barges of their guests. She identified the Shrewsbury barge by its device: the great white Talbot hound. She also recognized Thomas Seymour's barge because it flew the flag of admiral of the fleet. Then she gasped as she recognized the royal barge.
“You didn't invite the king, did you?” Bess cried.
“Of course not. All attention must focus on Cavendish tonight.”
“But there is no mistaking the green and white Tudor barge.”
“I invited the Lady Elizabeth, my dearest cousin.”
“Really? I wonder if the princess will remember me.”
“Elizabeth Tudor forgets nothing. I love her dearly, but never slight her, Bess, or she will hold the grudge to her dying day.” Frances applied bright red lip rouge, then stood up and shook out her petticoats. “Now, remember, tonight Sir William and I are the host and hostess, while Henry will be your escort until you are seated at dinner. He's an expert at putting the proper name and title to a face, so be guided by Henry if you are unsure. We'll stand at the doors of the grand salon to greet the first guests, but I have learned it's best not to have a formal receiving line as they do at Court functions. The pecking order changes constantly, and tonight I wish to offend no one.”
Henry Grey strolled in from his dressing room. “Dearest Frances, you cannot resist offending people. It's your only vice.”
Frances rolled her eyes at Bess. “Little he knows!”
Henry smiled good-naturedly at Bess. “See what I mean? She doesn't even know when she's doing it. Are you lovely ladies ready to go down?”
When Cavendish saw Bess, the look of appreciation that warmed his eyes told her not only how beautiful she looked but how special she was to him. Apprehension made her mouth dry. More than anything in the world she wanted to acquit herself well tonight. She longed to be an asset, rather than a liability to him, but she was only a farmer's daughter out of her depth in a room awash with nobility.
She lifted her chin. You are Bess of Hardwick—just as good, if not better, than any in the land! She straightened to her full height of five foot three inches and forced a brilliant smile to her lips. Then Henry Grey was introducing her to people, and she somehow found her tongue and acknowledged them. The names seemed to go in one ear and straight out the other, until Bess took a firm grip on herself and focused her attention.
“I'd like you to meet William Parr, Marquess of Northampton, and his bride-to-be, Lady Elizabeth Brooke.”
Lud, there are so many Williams and Elizabeths that I shall never keep them straight.Then she realized this was the queen's brother and therefore one of the most important men in the land.
William Parr cocked an eyebrow at his friend Henry Grey. “So this is she? Splendor of God, she's spectacular! No wonder Rogue has kept her under wraps until tonight.”
Bess blinked rapidly as she realized the queen's brother was extolling her beauty. That she had no rank mattered little to him. She was a desirable woman; he was a man. His response was immediate, and so was hers: They liked each other on sight.
Behind them came Lord and Lady Cobham. “I have you and Sir William on the guest list for the wedding; do say you'll come,” Lady Cobham urged Bess, who then realized these were the parents of Elizabeth Brooke. She was annoyed that Cavendish's friends thought of them as a couple. Has the damned rogue told them I'm his mistress? From the corner of her eye, Bess caught sight of a beautiful dark-haired girl who was kissing Cavendish. She stiffened immediately and stared hard at her rival, preparing to do battle. The young woman laughed up at William with worshipful eyes, and Bess ground her teeth when he laughed back in a most familiar fashion. As the female made her curtsy to Henry Grey, Bess was shocked at how young she appeared.
“May I present Catherine Cavendish, Sir William's daughter, and her espoused husband, Thomas Brooke?”
“I've been longing to meet you,” the young woman said to Bess. “Father has told me how special you are to him.”
A tender smile suffused Bess's face, and a wave of relief swept over her as she realized that the lovely laughing girl was William's daughter. Catherine was the spitting image of him.
“I'm so nervous,” Cathy confided. “This is my first formal dinner party.”
Bess's heart went out to her. “Don't be nervous, darling. You look so grown up. I know your father is very proud of you. As well he should be.” Bess suddenly felt very mature, and her confidence soared.
There was a flurry of attention as all eyes were drawn to a tall, slim figure gowned in white. The Lady Elizabeth Tudor with two attendants came forward regally. She acknowledged Cavendish with a cool nod but gave Lady Frances a kiss of greeting, and Bess heard the princess say, “Thank you, Frances, for inviting me. I shall not forget your kindness.” Then her eyes were on Bess, eagerly acknowledging their friendship before all those present.
Bess sank into a curtsy, and Elizabeth immediately raised her and swept her aside so they could speak privately. “Is there somewhere we can talk? After dinner?”
“Of course. I have my own suite of rooms, Your Grace.” Bess was amazed at how tall Elizabeth was. Slim as a reed, she still had no breasts to speak of, but she carried herself like a queen, and her mass of fine-spun, red-gold hair was like a cloak of light about her narrow shoulders. Though Bess knew that the princess was very young, her demeanor and poise were that of a sophisticated court lady, worldly-wise beyond her years. Only the excitement glittering in her amber eyes, which she could not suppress, betrayed her tender years.
The Lady Elizabeth, who was accompanied by a lady-in-waiting and Sir William St. Loe, her own personal captain of the guard, spoke softly to Bess before she rejoined them. “When I give you the signal, we'll give my attendants the slip and go upstairs to your private chambers.” The princess then moved off to greet the Dudleys and the Herberts, who stood high in the Tudor pecking order.
The guests were now arriving en masse, and Frances Grey decided she had stood at the entrance long enough and it was time for everyone to mingle. She took Cavendish by the arm and signaled the liveried footmen to offer the guests wine before they went in to dinner.
