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TWENTY-SEVEN
“For better, for worse; for richer, for poorer; in sickness and in health; to love, cherish, and obey, till death us do part, according to God's holy ordinance; and thereto I plight thee my troth.” Bess's voice rang out in the Queen's Chapel.
Sir William slipped the wedding ring on her third finger. “With this ring I thee wed, with my body I thee honor, and with all my worldly goods I thee endow.”
The officiating priest intoned, “I pronounce that they be man and wife together, in the name of the Father, and of the Son, and of the Holy Ghost. Amen.”
From the moment Bess was wed, she noticed that Lady St. Loe was treated differently than Lady Cavendish had been. Her status was suddenly elevated, and everyone at the wedding banquet treated her with a greater deference and respect, which secretly amused her.
Bess was inwardly dreading the moment when she would come face to face with Lord Talbot. How on earth would she be able to eat with his icy eyes upon her? What would she do when he insisted on dancing with the bride? And how in God's precious name would she be able to bestow a bridal kiss upon him before the assembly?
An hour into the reception, Bess heard the queen remark, “It is too bad Lord Talbot could not be with us this evening. He was called north; the Earl of Shrewsbury has been taken ill.”
Bess felt suddenly weak with relief. She wondered if Talbot had withdrawn from the Court because he refused to acknowledge her marriage. Perhaps he was using his father's health as an excuse. She had a tender regard for the old earl and said a silent prayer that he was not really ill.
Finally, Bess knew she could relax a little and enjoy herself. However, because of her elevated status as Lady St. Loe, she felt she must be a little more reserved than she had been in the past. She cautioned herself not to drink too much wine and not to swear. She was beginning a new life, and she wanted her new husband to be proud of her.
It seemed the playful object of the guests was to keep the bride and groom apart, so William and Bess danced with everyone except each other until late into the night. When they were finally allowed to speak, Bess murmured with mischief brimming in her dark eyes, “Do you think they'll give us a bedding?”
Sir William turned beet red and said repressively, “I should hope they will do nothing so vulgar.”
Bess sought out the Dudley brothers. “I need your help. I don't want a bedding; my lord thinks them vulgar.”
“And so they are,” Robin said, laughing. “That's the point!”
Ambrose Dudley winked at her. “Don't you think I should come upstairs with you and show him how to go about the business?”
Robin drawled, “He's her third husband, for Christ's sake; Bess will show him how to go about the business!”
In the end it was Elizabeth who spared the newlyweds the indignity of a bedding. She allowed the couple to depart alone, and none of the other courtiers could leave the festivities until the queen decided to retire.
When Sir William St. Loe had been elevated to chief butler of England, he had exchanged his guard chambers for a luxuriously appointed apartment on the second floor of the palace, in the same exclusive wing as Cecil. Bess was delighted with their new accommodations, for most courtiers did not live in such comfort.
The door of the apartment was opened by Sir William's manservant, but when Bess did not step inside, her new husband looked at her uncertainly. Bess smiled and murmured, “It is customary for the groom to carry the bride over the threshold.”
Syntlo laughed and lifted her up into his arms, and Bess felt his manhood rise and brush against her bottom cheeks. She put her lips against his ear and whispered, “Dismiss your man.” Bess was not fearful or shy of what was to come, only wildly curious.
He set her feet to the carpet and inquired politely, “Did Lady St. Loe's things arrive, Greves?”
“Yes, my lord.” Greves indicated her things were in the bedroom.
“Splendid. We won't need you again tonight; thank you, Greves.”
Even when the servant withdrew, Bess thought Syntlo excessively staid and polite. He made her a bow and said gravely, “You will need a little time.”
Bess was mildly surprised that he did not want to undress her. Or perhaps he was so polite he would not do such an intimate thing without being invited. Bess gave him a radiant smile and went into the bedchamber. She disrobed slowly and freshened herself with the scented rose water, hoping he would come in and find her undressed. When he did not, she donned a cream silk night rail embroidered with damask roses and climbed into bed. When he still did not come, she decided to call him. To her dismay she found she could not call him William. Instead, she called out, “You may come in, Will; I'm ready.”
He came to the foot of the bed and gazed at her with adoring eyes. “You are so very beautiful.” He reached out his hand as if he wanted to touch her hair but dropped it as if he did not dare touch her. Then he blew out the candles and undressed in the dark.
Bess smiled into the darkness, thinking him excessively shy. Perhaps she would have to make the first advance. She felt the bed dip as he slipped between the covers, and she cautioned herself to be ladylike with him.
The moment Syntlo was in the bed with her, his staidness disappeared. His hands roamed her body, and she had never known a man to become this excited this quickly. She reached out and learned that he was naked. The moment she touched him, he groaned, and gasped, and cried out incoherently, bucking against her soft thigh. To aid his haste Bess tried to remove her nightgown.
“Elizabeth, I can't wait,” he gasped, pulling up the silk garment and mounting her. He thrust wildly, and Bess was stunned by his need. She opened her thighs and yielded to him generously, trying to adjust her body's timing to his. She hadn't experienced the sex act for two years and would have preferred he go a little slower this first time.
“Elizabeth … ohmigod … Elizabeth!” He arched and spent just as Bess felt her first flutter of arousal.
His arms went around her, and he buried his face in her breasts. “I'm sorry, I'm so sorry, my dearest. Forgive me, Elizabeth?”
