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ELEVEN
Within the month Sir William Cavendish was appointed treasurer of the King's Chamber, and because he was so familiar with both church and royal lands across the whole of England, he was appointed to the Court of General Surveyors. He reported directly to the powerful lord high treasurer, William Paulet, who had just been made Marquess of Winchester, a rank below duke but above every earl in the land.
Cavendish and Wily Winchester now controlled the purse strings of the entire nation and were besieged by the nobility for favors, patronage, and appointments, for which they were well-paid. The highest and most ambitious in the land now curried favor with Sir William Cavendish, and he realized the next post he must attain in his upward climb to power was that of privy councillor.
His time was no longer his own. Although he now had a secretary and a huge staff of clerks, he spent endless hours at Court and had rooms at Whitehall, where he spent most nights. His only respite was with his friends the Greys at Suffolk House, just a short distance from Whitehall down the Strand, where he could escape for a few hours. Although it was impossible to see Bess often, since she worked for Lady Zouche and lived in her household, she was never out of his thoughts. Her sparkling vision rose ever before him, always irresistibly radiant. She was easily the most attractive female he'd ever seen. He pictured every detail—her dark eyes flashing and her breasts heaving quickly. Sometimes she became so intense she actually quivered. Bess was a natural coquette without even knowing it. Whenever she gave him that level look without a trace of flirtation, it held him in thrall.
All his life, by hard work, boldness, and ruthless determination, Cavendish had achieved every goal that he desired. And now he desired Bess, for what good was such heady success without someone to share it with? The fact that Bess had refused to become his mistress did not deter him in the least. To William it was quite simple and straightforward. He wanted her. He would have her.
It was close on midnight when he arrived at Suffolk House, but the lights were ablaze and he knew he would find Frances Grey still playing cards or backgammon.
“Rogue! I'm bored to death. Please save my life by throwing me a tidbit of Court gossip.” Frances dismissed her yawning ladies-in-waiting, who were thankful to escape to bed.
“Well, let's see, our good friend William Parr has finally been granted his divorce, and Elizabeth Brooke is up to her pretty eyes in wedding plans.”
“Well, I'll be damned! It seems that nothing is impossible for Parr since his sister became queen! First he's made Marquess of Northampton, and now he's rid himself of an aging wife. Actually, I'll be double damned! How the devil did you learn of it before I did?”
“My daughter, Catherine, is espoused to Elizabeth Brooke's brother, Thomas. It so happens I visited her today at Lord and Lady Cobham's.”
“I had forgot Catherine no longer lives at home. I warrant she's far happier in the Cobham household. Why don't you take a page from Parr's book and divorce that wretched Eliza Parris?”
“When I was in Ireland, I had made up my mind to do just that, but when I returned, Eliza's doctor took me aside and told me she has a malady that is almost always fatal. Divorce seemed a shabby thing to do under the circumstances.”
“And why cover yourself with the scandal of divorce when the angel of death is about to grant your dearest wish?”
Completely used to her cynical irreverence, he rebuked her only lightly. “Frances, my dear, is nothing sacred to you?”
“Very bloody little, I'm afraid.” Her eyes swept over him with speculation. So the rumor that she is dying is true! He'll have to fight off the women. Heigh-ho, they'll be scratching out each other's eyes to become the next Lady Cavendish. How utterly divine that I'll have a front-row seat!
Cavendish picked up her plump hand and toyed absently with her fingers for a moment. “Darling Frances, I need yet another favor from you. I would like you to make Bess one of your ladies-in-waiting.”
Her eyes widened with comprehension. “Why on earth didn't I think of it before? She's exactly what I need to banish my boredom. My latest ladies have less wit than head lice.”
“How much do you pay your ladies?”
“Five pounds a year, I believe.”
“Offer her ten; I'll give you the money. I want her to be able to dress well.”
“You'll do no such thing! What is money to a Tudor? Whatever gowns she wants will be provided by the Royal Wardrobe. Harry's purse pays for every garment at Suffolk House, from the servants' liveries to the nursemaids' corsets.”
“Mmm, as treasurer I'd better look into such extravagance,” he said with a grin, happy that she was amenable to his suggestion.
“You can look into my underdrawers if it makes you happy, darling, just don't expect me to exercise restraint. Intemperance is my middle name.”
“Nay, Frances, you are not intemperate, you are most generous, and I love you dearly for it,” he said before he kissed her hand.
Bess was ecstatic when Frances Grey offered her the position of lady-in-waiting; she could hardly believe her great good fortune. Margaret Zouche did not stand in Bess's way of advancement and reluctantly let her go to Suffolk House immediately.
Frances took the greatest delight in giving Bess a spacious suite of rooms, complete with bedchamber, sitting room, and its own dressing room. It was in another wing entirely from the chambers of her other ladies, and the sheer luxury of the furnishings momentarily stunned Bess. But within days she adapted to her elegant surroundings as if she had been born at Suffolk House.
New gowns were the first item on the agenda, and Lady Frances decided that she along with Bess would have an entirely new wardrobe. They spent endless hours discussing style, choosing colors, and selecting material.
Bess knew exactly what suited her best and had a flair for the dramatic, which she was free to indulge for the first time in her life. While Frances needed darker shades to minimize her full figure and contrast with her blond hair, Bess chose the bold jewel tones of sapphire, amethyst, turquoise, and emerald. She indulged herself with black taffeta petticoats that rustled deliciously, black lace stockings, and satin high-heeled slippers that made her feel quite wanton.
Bess was so regal that the servants ran to do her bidding and the noble guests who streamed through Suffolk House treated her as an equal, since it was clear to everyone that she and the Marchioness of Dorset had become intimate friends. Bess had no real duties, so she was free to study and learn exactly how Suffolk House was run and to acquire the skills necessary to entertain on a lavish scale. She had boundless energy; all that was expected of her was to help Lady Frances entertain until midnight almost every night of the week, then rouse her in the mornings with a cup of chocolate accompanied by a generous serving of the latest gossip.
Bess entered the luxurious bedchamber of Lady Frances and drew back the heavy brocade drapes. “Good morning.” She set the tray with the porcelain cups and saucers and the jug of steaming chocolate on the bedside table.
