Bess awoke, terrified. The room was empty, stripped bare. She ran downstairs and found the bailiffs carrying off everything she possessed in the world. Bess begged and pleaded and cried, all to no avail. Outside, all her lovely possessions were being piled on a cart. She had been put out of her beautiful house and had nowhere to go. Fear washed over her in great waves. Panic choked her. When she turned around, the cart was gone, her family was gone, and even Chatsworth had vanished. Bess had lost everything she had in the world. The suffocating terror mounted until it engulfed her, the waves of fear almost drowning her. The hollow, empty feeling inside her belly was like ravenous hunger, only worse: Shrewsbury was gone! She was overwhelmed with helplessness, hopelessness.
Bess awoke and heard herself crying his name, “Shrew … Shrew.” As she lay trembling, recovering from the nightmare, she knew that she never wanted to be alone again. She had done this to herself. She had been too pushy and had tried to dominate him. Shrewsbury was a man who would not be controlled by a woman, and therein lay his great attraction. And the only thing that was keeping them apart was her pride. She had always accused Shrewsbury of being too blood proud, but she suddenly realized her own towering pride was every bit as great as his. We are a good match—nay, we are a perfect match! she told herself.
By the time dawn arrived, Bess knew what she must do. “Cecily, what happened to that outfit I designed especially for my first entrance to Sheffield Castle as Countess of Shrewsbury?”
Cecily hid a smile. Bess spoke of her “entrance” as if she were the queen. “I'll speak to your sewing women, my lady; it must be finished by now.”
As she stepped in front of her mirror to inspect her appearance, Bess knew she looked spectacular. The tight-fitting cream velvet jacket showed off her high breasts to perfection, and the brilliant peacock velvet she had chosen for the full skirt contrasted dramatically. Beneath it, her three petticoats were in varying shades of the same color, while her gloves and riding boots were made of soft kid leather, dyed peacock color to match her skirt exactly. The outfit was sewn all over with seed pearls, as if they had been scattered by a careless hand.
The pièce de résistance, however, was the saucy hat with its sweeping ostrich feather that curved down one side of her flaming tresses and tucked beneath her chin. Bess adored the hat; it made both the outfit and her look absolutely ravishing. She carried her hat and gloves downstairs and was just about to send orders to the stable to have Raven saddled, when a footman announced that the Earl of Shrewsbury had arrived.
Bess drew in a swift breath, and her pulses began to race madly. She watched the tall, dark figure stride into the room and felt his presence dominate it. “You came,” she murmured in wonder.
His eyes swept her from head to foot. “I came to bring you to heel, Vixen.”
Her eyes flashed and her chin went up as a defiant phrase sprang to her lips. Bite your tongue, Bess, he's baiting you, her inner voice whispered. “Say what you have come to say, my lord, I will listen,” she said evenly.
“I've come to take you back to Sheffield with me, where you belong. From now on you will be an obedient wife.” He paused to give his ultimatum emphasis. “If you refuse, the marriage is over, here and now. I won't ask you again, Bess.”
You are not asking me now, you black devil, she thought wryly but bit down on her wayward tongue. “Since you give me no leeway, it seems I must obey you, my lord husband.” She quickly pushed away thoughts of all she intended to take with her. Just go; don't keep him waiting. Bess pinned on her hat and picked up her gloves. “I'm ready, my lord.” Though her words were soft, there was nothing meek about her demeanor as she sailed through Chatsworth's front door, like a ship proudly flying her colors.
When she saw the carriage, she bit her lip. Damn, he wants me to arrive like a lady. I was looking forward to a wild gallop. “How thoughtful of you to bring the carriage for me,” she said softly. She did not see the look of amusement Shrewsbury quickly masked as he climbed into the saddle. It's just as well we are not riding together. I couldn't keep this charade up for ten miles!
Bess made a triumphant entrance into Sheffield Castle just as she had planned, with her husband, the earl, at her side. He was extremely proud of this beautiful, vibrant woman as she stood in the Great Hall before hundreds of Talbot attendants and servants. “Ladies and gentlemen, I have the great honor of presenting my wife, Elizabeth, Countess of Shrewsbury.”
Bess thanked every single person who welcomed her, and it was two hours before Shrewsbury could maneuver her up to the library and shut the doors so they could be private. She unpinned her hat, and he took it from her and set it aside. Then he opened the desk drawer, took out a document, and placed it in her hands. She read it quickly, breathlessly, hardly daring to believe it espoused her daughter Mary to Gilbert Talbot, and his daughter Grace to her son Henry Cavendish. Her fingers traced his signature and his seal.
As her eyes sought his, her heart was singing. “Shrew, why did you do this?”
“It is a reward for your obedience,” he said solemnly.
“You arrogant swine!” She flew at him, ready to rake his face.
With a whoop of laughter, he pinned her arms behind her and gathered her close. His demanding mouth descended on hers, mastering her, then his lips softened in a kiss that was perfect. He lifted her and sat her on the edge of the desk to explain his reasoning. “That night at Rufford, when my anger cooled, I began to see the advantages of what you proposed. I saw that it would keep our wealth in our own family and benefit not just our children but our grandchildren and their children for generations.
“When I awoke and found you gone, I couldn't believe it. I was ready to murder you. I was incensed that you would put anything before our love, even the welfare and interests of your own children. And then it began to dawn on me that you were fighting for a principle, and you were ready to sacrifice everything for what you believed in your heart was the right thing for them. You were not only willing to risk the wealth and title, you were ready to sacrifice your own happiness. I thought that was rather a noble gesture, Bess, and I was proud of you.”
Bess was speechless. He thinks I'm noble! Thank God he doesn't know I was on my way here to beg him to take me back!
He cupped her face and lifted it for a kiss. Then his glance was drawn lower. “You look ravishing, Vixen.” The backs of his fingers stroked down her cheek and over the curve of her throat and over the swell of her breasts. Thank God she came with me. I almost had heart failure when I saw her all dressed up for London. His fingers unfastened the tiny pearl buttons, and her lush breasts spilled into his possessive hands. Their desire flared up instantly, threatening to consume them.
Bess glanced down at the wide polished surface of the desk, assessing its possibilities. How many titled ladies had lain naked across this massive desk in the Sheffield library? None, she'd be willing to bet. “Shrew, as Countess of Shrewsbury, I'd like to set a precedent!”
EPILOGUE
Summer 1567
The Earl of Shrewsbury had taken his mining engineer to Hardwick to find out if the land held any more valuable coal deposits. Bess lingered in front of her beloved old home, which was now empty. As her husband rode up the dusty path, his eyes were drawn to her. She was almost forty, but in her pale green muslin, she still looked like a young girl. He knew he loved her more every day.
“Who are you talking to, my beauty?”
“I'm talking to Hardwick Manor.”
“Do you suppose it can hear you?” he asked quizzically.
“Of course. I'm telling it all the fine plans I have for it.”
Laughing, Shrewsbury bent down and lifted her before him in the saddle. “Suppose you tell me,” he suggested indulgently, slipping possessive arms about her.
“I'm going to make Hardwick the most beautiful house in all England. It will be the envy of all who see it!”
“What about Chatsworth?”
Bess laughed. “Oh, I just bui
lt that for practice. Hardwick Hall will eclipse it in every way.”
“Hardwick Hall, is it?” he teased. “What about poor old Hardwick Manor?”
“Oh, I shan't pull it down. It will be the heart of the new house. I want Hardwick to be a glorious celebration of light and happiness. I intend to build a fairy-tale palace of glass, with its towers touching the clouds!”
“Towers?” Shrewsbury was bemused.
“Yes … six of them! I was six when my family was evicted from Hardwick.”
Shrewsbury suddenly realized the motive that was driving her to transmute the shabby manor into an elegant palace that would be beyond compare. It was the same passionate ambition that had transformed a farmer's daughter into a countess. His arms tightened about her. She was vibrant, self-confident, invincible almost, and yet the seeds of insecurity still lay buried within. Suddenly, more than anything in the world, he wanted to make her laugh. “Of course, you intend to emblazon your noble monogram across this great mansion?”
“Oh, Shrew, what a marvelous idea! On top of each tower I shall have my initials in six-foot-high solid stone.”
Shrewsbury laughed. “My darling, I was jesting!”
“Don't you dare laugh at me. The queen puts her bloody Elizabeth Regina on everything in sight. I'm a Talbot now, and everyone knows the Talbots are far more noble than the Tudors—we are descended from Plantagenets, don't you know?”
Her husband shook with laughter, but Bess blithely ignored him. “I see nothing amusing about letting future generations know that Hardwick Hall was built by Elizabeth, Countess of Shrewsbury.”
He nuzzled her neck, and his thumbs moved up to stroke beneath the swell of her breasts. “I am reputed to be the wealthiest man in England, but I can see you are determined to beggar me before you are done.”
Her sultry laugh rang out happily. “I shall certainly try my very best, you black devil!”
AUTHOR'S NOTE
Bess Hardwick lived to be over eighty years old. The two magnificent houses that she built, Chatsworth, “The Palace of the Peaks,” and Hardwick Hall, “More Glass than Wall,” are among the finest examples of Britain's stately homes, which can still be visited today.
Through her Cavendish children, Bess founded a dynasty that included her granddaughter, Arbella Stuart, the earls and dukes of Devonshire, the dukes of Portland, the duke of Newcastle, the earls of Burlington, and the marquess of Hartington, who married Kathleen Kennedy, sister of President John F. Kennedy.
Don't miss Virginia Henley's new hardcover romantic novel
THE MARRIAGE PRIZE
The third book in the medieval Plantagenet trilogy which began with
THE FALCON AND THE FLOWER
and continued in
THE DRAGON AND THE JEWEL.
COMING IN JULY 2000
from Delacorte Press
ISLAND BOOKS
Published by
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This novel is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places, and incidents either are the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.
Hand lettering by David Gath
Insert art by Lynn Sanders
Copyright © 1999 by Virginia Henley
All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without the written permission of the Publisher, except where permitted by law. For information address: Delacorte Press, New York, New York.
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eISBN: 978-0-307-56855-7
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Virginia Henley, A Woman of Passion
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