Authors: Susan Higginbotham
“Your lady wife was imitating poor William Beste, my lord,” said Emma, who never failed to greet Hugh formally.
“I’m sorry,” sputtered Bess. “But he is so deadly serious.”
“Well, show me your art,” said Hugh.
Bess pulled a long face and said, “Repent, my lord and lady. Repent.”
Her imitation was so good that Hugh would have been hard-pressed to explain it away had the unfortunate Beste himself appeared at that moment. He snorted with laughter before adding, in a tone that immediately afterward struck him as rather stuffy and elderly, “He's a good man.”
“Good night, my lady.” Emma slid off the bed and drew Bess's bed curtains as Mary rose stiffly to her feet and made a feint at assisting her. “Good night, my lord.”
“Good night.” Hugh settled next to Bess in the space that was still warm from Emma's body. Bess stiffened slightly, as she always did, then relaxed with a visible effort. Hugh knew that she was never was at ease with him alone as much as she was with her ladies present. But she was trying; Hugh had to give her credit for that. After a moment or two she said brightly, “This is a pretty castle, Hugh.”
“Yes, it's one of my favorites,” he lied.
“I like being able to see the water.”
“Yes, so do I. We’ll ride alongside it tomorrow if you like.”
She nodded. He leaned over to give her his good-night kiss, wondering as he did so whether she was as acutely aware as he was of her blossoming womanhood. The boyish figure she’d had when they first became betrothed was rapidly disappearing, as Emma had noted, and the fine, light fabric of her shift might have been designed as an instrument of torture, so tantalizingly did it hint at the new Bess underneath. Remembering his promise to Bess's father that he would not bed her for a year, Hugh distracted his thoughts from the natural direction they were taking by picturing Alice his laundress, whom Hugh had taken into his service after his release and who was now close to sixty, in his bride's place. It was an act of conjuring that was steadily growing more difficult, but he managed it once more, for now. “Good night, sweetheart.”
“Good night, Hugh.” She smiled at him, as she always did, and with a yawn of contentment rolled on her side, stretching her pretty, long legs after that day's long travel. Probably, Hugh thought morosely, the year of chastity could not pass too slowly for her taste.
Hugh had only a couple of more months to consider the developing charms of Bess and the attendant frustrations, however, for the Scots had been about their old business of raiding England, and King Edward decided that it was time to put it to a stop. In October he began to move north, and Hugh was among those lords summoned to join him. He obeyed with some reluctance, for it seemed a pity to leave his little bride all by herself in his large castles, which Hugh knew well could be lonely places, even with her ladies and most of his household present. He was relieved, then, to hear just before he departed that his sister-in-law Anne le Despenser would welcome a visit from his new lady.
Bess bade her husband a warm, if not heartfelt, farewell. She had come to like him but not to love him, and she was certain that he could take care of himself in battle and would be coming home safely. He always had, after all.
Edward and Anne le Despenser had their principal residence at Essendine in Rutlandshire. Edward and his squires had gone to Scotland with Hugh, leaving Anne at Essendine Castle with her three small sons. She hated it, she confided to Bess within five minutes of her arrival, when Edward was gone, and if she had things her own way, the English would live in eternal peace so that she would never be parted from him. “But it is his obligation as a knight to fight, he tells me, and I know it is,” Anne said apologetically. “But I wish he was not so conscientious about attending to his duties! He doesn’t like it much, I know; he would much rather be with me and our boys, attending to our lands here. Don’t you wish Hugh was home, Bess?”
“Indeed,” said Bess a little awkwardly, for in truth she had not given Hugh much thought, though she dutifully included him in her prayers each night and certainly wished him the best.
“I thought that Hugh would never marry. We never could figure out whether he was just particular, or whether he liked his life as a single man, or whether people were shying away from him because of his poor father. You know about his father, I daresay?” Bess nodded. “It was horrid, wasn’t it? My Edward says very little about him, but I know he loved him dearly, and I am sure Hugh did too. Your husband Hugh, I mean. It is so cruel for men to use men so— Edward! Don’t pull the dog's ears, or I shall pull yours, young man. Now, where was I? Oh, Hugh's marrying. I regret having missed the wedding, but my little Hugh was teething, and though his nurse is very good I simply would have fret too much if I had gone away. Edward told me that it was very grand and that you were a beautiful bride. He must have liked you very much, for he even told me what you were wearing, and normally he doesn’t notice things like that. Rose-colored silk, was that it? Yes, you must have made quite an impression on him.”
Anne took a deep breath and sipped from a cup of wine. “People do say I talk a lot,” she said apologetically.
Bess widened her eyes in surprise.
“Oh, they do, and I suppose they’re right. Edward just listens; he's such a darling. We liked each other the moment we met, and then Edward asked my brother for his permission to marry me, wasn’t that sweet? Much nicer, I think, than having everything arranged beforehand. Of course, your marriage was arranged, and nothing wrong with that; mine would have been if Edward hadn’t sought shelter at Groby during a dreadful rainstorm and met me. I am so glad he did before they married me to someone not nearly as good and kind. Wasn’t that providential? But I am being rude, chattering on like this about Edward and myself. Tell me about yourself.”
Bess could hardly equal Anne's conversation, but she told her sister-in-law about her family, then finished up by telling her about her travels through Hugh's estates. Having summed up her fourteen years on earth in a few minutes, she asked Anne about her boys, knowing that her hostess would be unable to resist such a topic. It was one near at hand, for Edward and Thomas had been running in and out of their mother's chamber throughout the conversation, and toothsome little Hugh had just been taken out by his nurse for a nap. “They are fine boys,” Bess said. She did not have to stretch the truth, for all three looked vigorous and sturdy for their ages.
“Yes, we have been blessed, haven’t we?” Anne looked suddenly guilt-stricken. She lowered her voice and said, “In truth, sometimes I wish for the next one to be a girl. I am so outnumbered here! But they are good boys, when they are not savages.”
“It is odd to think that I may have one—years from now, I mean,” Bess hastened to add, fearing that Anne might misconstrue her words.
“Well, as you are one of how many—five, did you say, no, six?—and Hugh was one of ten, I think your chances will be excellent on both sides!” Anne smiled at the smock she was making for her son Hugh. “We are married to brothers, so you will not be offended if I ask if you are bedding with Hugh yet?”
“I am not—offended or bedding with him. My parents wanted us to wait a year.”
“Well, I daresay you will like it when you do. Hugh is a deal older than you, but he will be gentle about it, if he is anything like Edward.”
A loud and intense dispute between Anne's eldest boys having erupted in their nearby chamber, Anne excused herself. As the sounds of her reprimands and the boys’ self-justifications echoed down the hall, Lady Welles, who had been chatting quietly with Anne's damsel as the sisters-in-law got acquainted, said, “My lady, my head aches dreadfully. I would like to lie down in our chamber, if you can spare me.”
“Goodness, Emma! Please do, poor thing. I am sorry you have been sitting here in pain all of this time.”
“It just came on, my lady. I have had them before. It will pass when I have been in the dark and quiet for a while.”
“Then do lie down,” said Bess. She rose and kissed Emma on the cheek. “Feel better, my dear.”
Anne returned, flushed from battle. “You shall not see
them
again today, my lady; they are being punished for their silly bickering with no supper tonight.” Behind her back, Anne's lady smiled, and Bess, who suspected that some food would find its way to the boys’ chamber, perhaps through Anne herself, tried hard to suppress her own smile. “I passed Lady Welles. Is she ill? She looked peaked.”
“She has a headache, but she said it will pass with rest.”
“Poor dear, if it does not I will summon my physician immediately. A pity she is a widow still, I wonder that she has not remarried. She must have loved her husband deeply, I suppose. If Ed—” Anne crossed herself. “I could not even bear to think of that. I hate it that he has to fight. Stupid Scots! But we were talking of Hugh. You know, when I married Edward, I was so foolish when I realized that I was not his first woman, I cried! It was silly of me, I know now; for goodness’ sake, he was a grown man! But I had lived in Groby all of my days and had very little idea of what men get up to, of course. I trust you will have more sense than I about those things when the time comes. Hugh is in his thirties, after all, and men do get around a bit.”
“My mother said that he might have had a mistress, that men often did.”
“Oh, he might well have. Indeed, I think Edward even mentioned her once. Not by name, but I do remember he talked of Hugh and his lady friend going to Glamorgan. But that was a couple of years ago. And when we visited there was no one but family staying with Hugh.”
“Oh,” said Bess. She wondered, a little jealously, what this lady friend had looked like. Russet-haired like Joan of Kent, dazzlingly blond, or a black-haired beauty? Surely a man as wealthy as Hugh would have had a good-looking mistress. She wondered how she compared, with her rather serious face and her hair that would never be any shade but plain brown. “He never described her?”
“No. Hugh didn’t flaunt her about, I suppose.” Anne looked a little guilty. “I am sure she is long gone by now,” she said apologetically.
Bess stabbed at the embroidery in her hand with a sudden irritation.
By late January 1342, Hugh had returned home, none the worse for wear, for little had happened on the Scottish campaign, to the king's frustration and to Anne le Despenser's relief. Bess herself was pleased enough to have Hugh back, and they settled back into their brother-sister relationship quickly and pleasantly, at least from Bess's point of view.
The talk among Hugh and his knights in the great hall was now of Brittany, as it had been for months. The Duke of Brittany had died last April, survived by a niece, Jeanne de Penthiévre, and a half-brother, John de Montfort. Jeanne had married the Count of Blois; John the redoubtable Joan of Flanders. Bess, though she was not all that interested at first in the talk going on around her, soon became aware that France supported the claim of Blois, King Philip's nephew, while Montfort had appealed to the English king for his aid. By the time the English returned from Scotland, it was Joan, the Countess of Montfort, who was leading her own cause, for John de Montfort had gone to Paris to negotiate and ended up as Philip's prisoner.
Edward determined to come to the countess's aid. By March, he had sent a force, under the command of Walter Mauny, to assist her, though it was not until May when his troops arrived. With the English-French treaty under which Edward had been laboring set to expire, more forces were to come, and everyone knew that in the end it would not be the countess pitted against Blois, but England pitted against the might of France.
In the midst of all the talk of war, an invitation arrived in June for Bess to visit her brother Will and Joan in north Wales at Mold Castle, which the couple had been granted by the Earl of Salisbury. “Can you spare me?” Bess asked Hugh dutifully, knowing that the king might be calling on him to fight the French. “I can postpone my visit if you wish.”
Hugh said immediately, “Of course, sweetheart, go. I know you haven’t seen your brother in a while, and hearing about this business with France must be deadly dull for you.”
Eager to see her brother and her childhood friend again, yet secretly a little annoyed that Hugh did not consider her indispensable as a manager, Bess set off on her visit, where she soon found that although Mold Castle was smaller than most of her own residences, Will and Joan's household was run much less smoothly than her own. It was true that the couple were very young—indeed, Will had just turned fourteen, and Joan was just a few months older than her husband—but their parents had made certain that they were supplied with reliable officials and honest servants. So why, then, was Bess's chamber not ready for her when she arrived?
“Sorry,” Will said to Bess as she stared disapprovingly at the stale rushes on the floor. In Hugh's household, they would have been replaced with fresh and sweet-smelling ones in anticipation of a guest. “Joan forgot to tell anyone that you were coming. She does things like that a lot. Last month, it was Mother. What a look we got!”
“She was never so flighty when we lived together.” Bess frowned as something rustled in a dark corner.
“She forgets things now and then, but we’ll soon have it ready for you.”
“And where is she, anyway?”
“At the market, I suppose, or just riding about. She doesn’t always say.”