Page 127 of A Woman of Passion

THIRTY-FIVE

Lady St. Loe, accompanied by her daughter, was met by Gertrude Talbot's bereaved ladies-in-waiting. They were red-eyed and in a state of complete agitation. Bess realized they were fearful for their appointments once Shrewsbury returned when one of them blurted in distress, “He hates the very sight of us.”

One of the ladies said, “Would you care to see the countess, my lady? She is lying in the chapel.”

“No, no,” Bess demurred quickly. “We've come to see the children.”

“The wicked young devils are in dire disgrace. They are the cause of this.”

Bess was appalled at what they were saying. She looked about at the army of servants, who were busy draping the windows with black. “I'd like to see them, please.”

“The young ladies have their own governesses, and the gentlemen their tutors. We have nothing to do with the young Talbots.”

Bess put the woman in her place immediately. “That is a blessing for them. Inform whoever is in charge that I am here. Shrewsbury won't take it kindly that I've been kept in the entrance hall.” Bess dealt with a whole battery of Talbot servants before she was taken to an upstairs sitting room and allowed a private conversation with the three young Talbot girls, Catherine, Mary, and Grace.

Twelve-year-old Catherine burst into tears, and Bess gathered her in her arms. “There, there, darling, get it all out.”

“I want Father to come, but I'm afraid what he'll do to us.”

“Catherine, my dear, he won't do anything. He loves you.”

Grace, who was only nine, said, “We killed her; we're all going to burn in hell.”

Bess's heart went out to the child, and she picked her up and sat her on her knee. “Grace, someone has been filling your head with nonsense. You didn't kill your mother. She has been ill for a long time, and God has taken her to heaven to live with the angels.”

Grace looked up at Bess with solemn dark eyes as she digested the words. The door opened and Francis Talbot and his young bride, Anne Herbert, came in. “Oh, I'm so glad you came, Lady St. Loe,” Anne said.

“You may call me Bess now that you're a married woman.”

As Anne and Francie embraced, Grace made an announcement. “Bess says we didn't kill her—God did.”

Young Gilbert Talbot joined them, and when they were all together, they found the courage to tell Bess of the terrible argument Francis had had with his mother and how the rest of them had joined in the shouting match to support their eldest brother. When his mother laid about him with her walking stick, she fell to the floor in a seizure and died.

Bess talked to them for hours, doing her best to take away their guilt and assure them they would not be blamed. She knew they all felt considerably better for talking about it openly. Finally, Grace asked, “Will Father punish us?”

“No, my darling, he will not,” Bess promised. “I shall write him a letter and leave it with your big brother Francis. Your father will likely be home tomorrow. He loves you all very much. Your welfare will be his only concern.”

In the letter Bess told Shrewsbury that his children were blaming themselves for their mother's death. I know you will take away their guilt, as you took away mine. You have an infinite supply of strength and compassion and an amazing ability to comfort. My heart goes out to the children, and to you also, Shrew.

That night, as Bess lay abed, her thoughts were filled with him. Before he left for Court, they had pledged to become discreet lovers with a long, beautiful summer lying before them. Instead, Shrewsbury was returning to a dead wife, a big funeral, and a long, circumspect period of mourning with the eyes of the kingdom upon him. Gertrude's death had changed everything.

In spite of the fact that she felt cold and shivery, Bess finally fell asleep. Gradually, she felt a warmth against her back that slowly seeped into her limbs. She stretched as the delicious heat crept over her entire body. Suddenly, she realized he was there in the bed with her, and she turned eagerly into his arms. “You came,” she whispered in wonder.

He took her whispered words into his mouth, then murmured against her lips, “Of course I came.”

She melted against the molten heat of his body and opened her mouth for his ravishing. Bess moaned with longing. He was easily the most attractive and sexually arousing man she had ever encountered. Her breasts and belly ached with need. She wanted his hands and his mouth on her body, she wanted his long, thick, marble-hard manroot filling her emptiness, but above all, above everything else in the world, she wanted to be Elizabeth, Countess of Shrewsbury.

“Are you mad?” He pulled away from her and quit the bed. “You're only a servant.”

Bess sprang from the bed to confront him, uncaring that she was naked with her disheveled hair tumbling about her shoulders. “I am Bess of Hardwick—just as good, if not better, than any in the land!”

“Well, at least your name is apt,” Lord Talbot drawled. “You certainly make my wick hard.”

She flew at him and raked his dark, arrogant face. “Bastard! Whoreson! Ravisher!”

He began to laugh. “You openly invited me, Vixen.”

“I've changed my mind; I won't fuck with you, Shrew. I won't be your mistress. No bedding without a wedding!”

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