Chapter IX
The Toiling Clock
All through the night Bess had leant over the chamber pot retching the contents of her stomach into it. The rich foods that she had been so excited to sample now churned queasily in her belly. The thick sweet wine made her head spin. Her mouth was dry and acidic, like old vinegar. She wiped her mouth with the back of her hand and leaned back against the pillows on her bedstead, her muscles aching from the effort of her violent heaves. The flat of her forehead was sticky with cold sweat and her hands slick with clammy wetness. Bile rose suddenly in her throat and the girl doubled over to be sick into the chamber pot. But nothing came now. Her stomach was so completely empty that not even foul belly juices came out anymore. It was just a dry retch which left her choking for breath and tears running from her eyes. The grandfather clock that stood further along the hallway outside was chiming. Bess lay in the darkness and listened carefully, counting the chimes.
"One…two…three…four…" Her whisper echoed around the still room. It would only be one more hour until they would rise and prepare for the day. Bess's body screamed with weariness, her eyes itched and stung with the effort of being awake. But try as she may, no matter how much she wanted to, Bess could not drift back off to sleep. She sighed and wrapped her blankets tighter around her body to keep in the heat. Then there was nothing to do except wait for the morning.
When watery sunlight finally began slicing angles across the floor boards Bess felt worse than she had an hour ago. Isabel stirred slowly, her tiny toes poking out from the blankets and then her face shrouded in a tangle of blonde curls. "What hour is it?" She murmured groggily.
"Five. Time to awake, Isabel." Bess swung her bare feet off the bed, flinching at the cold as they made contact with the ground. "We have much to do, Lady Jane is dining here this evening remember?"
Isabel just grumbled something and slid back down into her nest of bedding. Bess crossed the room and pulled back the sheets. She smiled weakly at Isabel's groaning protests. She finally slithered out of the bed and straight onto the floor where she just wriggled like a worm making Bess giggle. "Get dressed, silly."
They washed quickly and dressed in the everyday blue dress and warm stockings. Isabel brushed out her golden hair and looped it up in a coil on top of her head. Bess braided hers carefully, so it fell in one long strip along her spine. Isabel tugged on the end of it gently as they left the room to their breakfast of hearty porridge and milk in the apartment kitchens. To Bess the milk tasted strange. It had an emulsified quality to it which made her think it had been mixed with tepid water. Since Bess had grown up in a small farming village she knew the taste of milk and this wasn't it. She set the glass down and didn't touch it again. Her sister had told her not to touch city water.
After breakfast they cleared and washed up their dishes and set about preparing the Lord and Lady's breakfast. They ground up the oats and mixed the ingredients for richer porridge, seasoned with plenty of honey and cream. They sliced up the thick white bread and popped eggs into water ready to be boiled. Bess laid a selection of fruits and cheese onto a platter and poured out large glasses of fresh apple juice and small ale. Then the two girls wiped down the table in the dining room, set it with two places and stacked the prepared food on top of the wood. Isabel ran over the floor with a heavy mop and a bucket of soapy water while Bess laid a fire in the grate and laboured until the flames burst out uninterrupted by crackles. After making sure the floorboards were dry Isabel slunk off to rouse the mistress and Bess began boiling the eggs and brewing a large teapot.
They had been under instructions to never wake Lord Hertford unless he specified otherwise or there was a genuine emergency. Such as his wife had been violently stabbed to death in her bed and the apartments ransacked. But even in that scenario he probably would still be unhappy if awoken. This morning he had still not emerged from his chambers by the time Lady Anne was seated at the table dressed in navy velvet and a jewelled headpiece. Bess poured her a steaming cup of fresh tea and stepped back beside Isabel near the wall. Lady Anne proceeded with her breakfast despite the custom being usually to wait for the man of the house. She obviously knew him well as she was just cracking the top from her boiled egg when Lord Hertford swept into the room.
"Good morning, husband."
He briefly nodded before pushing a spoon into his porridge and beginning. Bess swallowed awkwardly, her heartbeat thumping dully in her ears. Just having him so close was enough to tense her muscles. Lord Hertford did not so much as glance in her direction and Bess found herself feeling a mixture of strange disappointment and a pinch of relief. Her stomach was churning again, the porridge had been a bad idea so soon after being ill. She felt cold bile sliding up the back of her throat. Bess resisted the urge to cover her mouth with her hand or run straight from the room. Instead she just stood as still as a piece of marble until the Lord and Lady finished their breakfasts and retired from the room.
As soon as they had gone Bess doubled over, bracing herself on the table to gulp in thirsty breaths.
"Are you alright?" Isabel asked worriedly, rubbing soothing circles on her back.
"Fine." The girl straightened up slowly. "I wasn't well last night, it was the wine I think."
"You'll adjust no doubt."
Then they simply went about their business. Clearing away the breakfast dishes, cleaning the kitchen and wiping the table.
"So…when will you see him again?"
Isabel and Bess were on their knees scrubbing the wooden panelled floors of the dining room with stiff thistle brushes and prickly soap. From where Isabel was kneeling she could see the shabby leather of Bess's boots poking from her common day dress, it made her smile. Her hands were beginning to ache.
"See who again?"
"Richard." Isabel flicked some soapy water from the bucket at her friend.
The other girl gave a little laugh and shook her head, flicking some back. "I do not think so."
"Why ever not?" Bess just shrugged. "Did he ask to see you again?"
"Not in so many words."
"But it was clear that he liked you."
Bess just focused on the regimented strokes of her scrubbing brush. "If you say so."
"Are you not in the least bit excited by the prospect of a handsome man taking an interest in you?"
"I suppose so."
Isabel chucked her scrubbing brush at Bess with an exasperated chuckle. "If you do not take him, I will!"
Bess laughed a bit too, wiping a bit of water from her hair. "As if. You would break the heart of every serving boy at court."
"Well, true." Isabel grinned. "But you should still see him again. Think of how lovely your children would be."
"Isabel, stop!" She shrieked.
"I believe you are blushing Bessie."
"I am not." She shook her head, "Maybe you are a little jealous." Bess smiled sarcastically at her friend.
Isabel shrugged. "Maybe. You and Richard could get married and live off in a quaint village somewhere, have a troupe of squalling children to look after, a home to keep. I think sometimes that I would like that."
Bess glanced over as she dipped her brush back into the water. "It's funny that when we grew up in the village all we ever wanted were gowns and jewels and dancing. I dreamed of having a carriage drawn by two horses and a dress made of silk. You have all that and you want to be like us."
"I have had a wonderful life; there is no mistaking that, I never wanted for anything as I grew up." She hesitated and then added. "It's just that your life seems so effortless, so simple. It must be nice not to have to worry about family honour or expectation."
"I wouldn't say our way of life is effortless…but yes, if I choose to marry it will be my choice and I am grateful for that small victory."
They continued to scrub in a thoughtful silence for a while. Bess looked at her reflection in the watery polish of the boards. Her white face floated like a smudged ghost the eyes just dark pits. As she worked her stomach began to ache painfully, the emptiness starting to gnaw at her insides. But Bess knew how to be hungry, she had been for most of her life, and so she pushed the thought away from her mind and ground her jaw as if she was chewing. It was a trick her sister had taught her once. It was meant to make the stomach think that you were eating, and the hunger pangs would soon subside for a time while the body thought it had been fed.
When the dining room floor gleamed the two girls stood and turned their attention to other tasks. They swept out the fire grates and restocked them with fresh wood, cleaned down surfaces and dusted the large crystal chandelier before laying new candles in place of used stubs. Bess set about polishing the silverware for the dinner in the evening with a damp cloth and Isabel scrubbing the linen table cloth in a bucket before hanging them to dry in the steamy kitchen. It was hard, gruelling work and as the day was drawing closer to an end Bess was weary and aching. She had thought she knew hard work from her time on the farm and looking after her unruly siblings, but this was a whole new kettle of fish. Her head even ached just from the concentration. Bess wanted every job that she completed to be perfect. She had no wish to draw any more attention to herself from Lord or Lady Hertford.
It was drawing up to four in the afternoon when the two girls descended on the kitchen to muck in the two pantry maids to prepare the meal for the evening. Cold potato and leek soup for a starter with slices of warm crusty white bread with a powdered crust. Goat's cheese tart with stewed spinach, walnuts and red pepper. Then there came the meat course – smoked venison or roasted, honeyed lamb with a variety of vegetables and sauces. The fish was pike and baked into a flaky pastry with spiced creamy sauce, artichoke and almonds. Bess was in awe of the amount of food they could possibly eat. What Lady and Lord Hertford would be served in one night was more than Bess's family would have eaten in a week. She felt a little sick at their gluttony as she plated up the trays and overlaid them with silver coverings.
The Lord and Lady would expect to entertain their guests in the reception room for pre-dinner drinks and conversation. The men would discuss politics and the women would talk about their dresses most likely. Then they would eat in the dining room before the men retire to the study and the women to the sitting room. Bess and Isabel would serve as there were no serving men employed at present by the family and would be required to stand quietly at the side of the room with a platter of the current course in hand.
Vigilance was the name of the game.
The grandfather clock was striking seven. Lady Anne had been redressed in scarlet velvet and diamonds by the girls and was standing in the reception hall beside her husband to welcome their guests. Lady Jane Seymour was just as beautiful as the whispers in the kitchen had guessed. Her lovely golden hair spilling over the shoulders of her powder blue silk gown and pearl headpiece, big soft eyes sparkling in a gentle face. She spoke in a quiet, humble voice and bowed her head respectfully when addressing her brothers. A well-bred Lady through and through, it was no surprise that she had caught the eye of King Henry.
The dinner went by slowly, Bess's nerves and clumsiness slowing her down as she carried serving trays and jugs of wine around the table. At one point she had been so mesmerised by the lull of Lady Jane's sweet voice that she nearly let the honeyed lamb slide off the silver plate and into her lap. But she steadied herself in the last moment and wobbled away as fast as she could. She could feel the dart of Thomas Seymour's eyes roving over her spine as she moved. Course by course the guests were filled and as Isabel laid the table with the fruits and pastries Bess knew they couldn't be much more time she would have to wait to be dismissed. The room was warm and seemed crowded as the rich curtains had been pulled across the windows and candles lit instead. Bess's head spun. She felt sick. Thomas was watching her again and she stepped up to fill his glass. Under the table, where his hand could not be seen, Thomas groped at Bess's leg. She flinched and spilled wine onto the white lace hem of his tunic.
The sound of disgust he made was loud. Three heads turned to the sound of the commotion and Bess began to back away slowly, apologising all the time. Thomas stood from his chair in one fluid motion and laid a backhanded smack across her face that left a ringing in her ears. The girl's head jerked violently but she made no noise and when Thomas retook his seat she simply melted back into the wall as if nothing had ever happened.
Isabel reached out subtly and linked her fingers into Bess's. She resisted the urge to slam her serving tray over Thomas Seymour's greasy little head. She couldn't have been more relived when the dinner came to a close and the guests retired to separate rooms. Bess and Isabel cleared away the table silently and retreated to the kitchen as the clock was striking ten with empty bellies and weary limbs.
"We get to eat the leftovers you know?" Isabel mentioned, attempting to elicit a smile from her silent friend.
"I'm not hungry."
"You haven't eaten all day Bess." Isabel plucked up a piece of honeyed lamb and chewed it slowly. "You should have something."
Bess looked at Isabel for a long time, attempting to gauge the stubbornness in her eyes and whether or not it would be easier to just stuff a piece of pie in her mouth and be done with the conversation. In the end she did just that and downed a large glass of the wine with it. Wiping her mouth on the back of her sleeve she rolled her eyes moodily.
"Happy?"
"Ecstatic." Isabel muttered in response and turned around to the sink to wash the pans. Bess finished her chores as soon as possible, brought fresh wine to the ladies and then left Isabel to undress Lady Anne before heading to her bed.
She lay restlessly awake for several hours before slipping out of her bed wrapped in a blanket to sit by the window. Before she knew it her fingers were brushing the bruise beginning to well on her cheekbone and her eyes stung with the swelling of tears. Bess missed the tiny village she had left behind. She missed her family, her brothers and sisters. Even the little house in which they all lived with its thatched roof that leaked in the rainy season. She missed the animals in the fields and the chickens in the coop. She missed her special favourite place on top of Miner's Hill and the sunrise you could see from it every dawn.
But more than anything she missed her mother.
Her beautiful dark haired mother with her smiley mouth and laugh lines around her eyes. The smell of homemade lavender scent and straw. The patchy fabric of her worn, green apron and the holes in her stocking toes.
It had been two years, five months and thirteen days since she died.
And Bess missed her every day.
"Bessie?" A distorted mumble came from under Isabel's blanket, her blue eyes poking out hazily. "Are you alright?"
"I'm fine. Go back to sleep Isabel." The words had barely left her mouth before the blonde's eyes dropped shut and her quiet breathing was the only sound in the room. Bess slunk barefoot back to her bed and climbed in. She lay in the darkness with a stinging cheek and an exhausted mind but could not mind sleep.
If she did snatch minutes of sleep they were broken with nightmares or the convulsing of her stomach when she retched up the pie she had eaten. Bess wished for nothing more than a few uninterrupted hours but her eyes were sticky and heavy when she heard the clock striking five.
Time to wake up.