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FIFTEEN
At Chelsea, Lady Frances and her daughters were in the gallery, surrounded by sewing women. Bess sat in an arched bay window making sketches of the costumes being considered for the New Year's masque at Hampton Court.
“I need something to cover my bulk, and let me warn you I wouldn't be caught dead dressed as a shepherdess,” Frances said.
“What about a medieval lady?” Bess made a quick design of a wimple.
“Well that's certainly better than Botticelli's Venus, though that would be perfect for you, Bess, with your red hair.”
Bess looked uncertain. “I believe masks and disguises lend themselves to licentious behavior. The flimsy dress of a goddess might invite unwanted advances.”
“I've got it! Oh, my idea is so sly, you will love it. I shall wear the black habit of a mother superior, and you can be my novitiate in white.”
“That is deliciously, wickedly sly.” It will send a messageto all that I am chaste and to William that I intend to remain so!
“I want to be a butterfly,” Catherine piped up.
“Then so you shall.” Bess sketched a costume whose sleeves were delicate, fluttering wings.
“I think Jane should be a bookworm,” Catherine whispered.
“You have inherited your mother's sly wit, my poppet.”
The Greys went by carriage from Chelsea to Hampton. Long-suffering Henry, going along with his wife's religious theme, had agreed to be a friar.
“When Rogue learned you'd browbeaten me into being Friar Tuck, I suggested he be Robin Hood. He told me where I could go, rather rudely. Said he'd wear his black riding leathers.”
“Well I think Robin Hood was a clever suggestion, since Cavendish steals from the poor to give to the rich! Bess, where is my eye mask? I don't wish to be recognized.”
“Then you will have to keep your mouth shut, Frances, my dear,” Henry warned. “Your caustic tongue will be your undoing.”
“I'll be defrocked … God willing!”
Hampton Court had been turned into a fairy-tale palace. Hundreds of torches and thousands of candles illuminated the chambers decorated with holly, mistletoe, gilded cherubs, and archangels. The crush of revelers filled the rooms and galleries to overflowing. Frances elbowed her way through musicians, liveried servants carrying trays of wine and marchpane, and merrymakers disguised in elaborate costumes.
There was a huge dais set up at the end of the Long Gallery for the king and queen and the royal family. Frances had Bess bent double with laughter at her witticisms. “I can't believe how bloody apt these costumes are. Look at that turban! The king thinks he's the Sultan of Baghdad, and if any man had a harem, it's Harry!”
“Isn't that the admiral dressed as a pirate?” Bess asked, unable to contain her amusement.
“You'd think he'd have more brains than to advertise his piracy. He's the biggest looter on the high seas.”
Bess looked in vain for the Lady Elizabeth and concluded that she was too well-disguised to be recognized. She accepted an invitation to dance with a crusader and learned that it was Lord Thomas Darcy, a rich and noble bachelor who was much sought after. When an antlered stag turned out to be Guildford Dudley, Robin's brother, Bess couldn't stop laughing.
“I'm devastated,” he murmured. “You're covered from your temples to your toes. I'd hoped for something much more revealing.”
“How did you recognize me?” Bess demanded. “I undressed you with my eyes, of course.” “Knave!” Bess jabbed him with the cross that hung about her neck.
“Stop acting like an animal,” Robin Dudley admonished his brother. Costumed as the king of beasts, Robin wore a magnificent lion's mane, topped by a crown. His brother Ambrose was a wolf.
“Where is the Lady Elizabeth?” Bess asked.
“Still upstairs, trying to raise her courage.”
“Surely her costume cannot be that outrageous?”
“Wait and see,” Robin said, laughing.
“What disguise did Father decide on?” Ambrose asked.
