Chapter III
The First Dance
When they finally arrived at the royal court of King Henry VIII Bess could hardly believe her eyes. There were crowds thronging through the city streets with more people than lived in Bess's entire hometown. It smelled like piss and meat cooking on the street vendor carts, like pleasure and life fulfilled. She loved every bit. They passed along the winding road and up to the enormous stone palace, through wrought iron, gilded gates. Atop them sat the English rose, the red and white of two ancient warring families came intertwined to peace.
Bess knew some of the history to that. Elizabeth Woodville, the common daughter of a Lancastrian family, who married King Edward. She was the white queen that gave birth to the current King Henry's mother. The single woman who had united a blood drenched country under the banner of fellowship. Bess smiled at the sight of it.
"This evening," Lady Anne drew the attention of her two ladies. "There is to be a courtly feast. It will be our first evening together as a household of importance. There will be dancing and dining and I am sure it will be a wonderful time." She smoothed her skirt neatly. Ice in her eyes. "You will not, under any circumstance, embarrass me or my family name. Is that perfectly clear to both of you?"
"Absolutely." Isabel nodded respectfully.
Lady Hertford surveyed her. "You are of a good family Isabel and you understand the courtesies attached to attending nobles, so you are in charge of teaching Bess how to behave. You will also have charge of the day to day running of our chambers and the chores that entails."
"Thank you, my Lady."
The woman nodded once and then readied herself to leave the carriage as it trundled to a halt. "I will be watching you both very carefully." The door swung open and Lady Anne took the offered hand on the other side. She was so graceful it made Bess's heart twinge. After her and Isabel climbed down, they fell into line behind their mistress and swept through the halls of the court towards the lavish new chambers of the Seymour family.
There was a large reception room with thick curtains at the edge of wide bay windows and richly upholstered furnishings. An adjourning room acted as the dining area with a long slender oak table, polished to a high shine and with enough chairs to fit twelve people. Bess could not stop staring at the opulent chandelier that hung above, the candle light dancing in the facets of the crystal dangling from it. There were separate bedchambers for the Lord and Lady which the girl found a little strange but of course did not comment on. Lord Hertford had a private study with a marble fireplace and mahogany desk. Then Bess and Isabel were shown their own bedchamber. And it was the most beautiful thing that Bess had ever seen.
It was equipped with two beds, one on either side of the room, and each had a wrought bedstead and clean white linen sheets. Their trunks had been laid at the foot of their beds. The floor was wooden panelled and a smooth crimson rug had been spread out at the centre of the room. A window cast light from the far end, with curtains that matched the carpet.
Bess covered her mouth with one hand, then turned to Isabel and embraced her, giggling. "This is perfect."
"I believe you will be very happy here, Bess. Come now, the feast will begin soon and we must dress our Lady."
It took almost three hours until Lady Anne was satisfied with her appearance for the grand entrance of the Seymour family. She had chosen a gown of burnt orange with glittering gems edging the plunging square neckline. The waist was nipped in tightly and the skirts were full and rustling. Isabel pinned up the Lady's hair up into an excessively intricate braided style, secured behind her jewelled headpiece. Expensive pearl earrings dangled from her lobes heavily. Bess slipped on her shoes and they had heels higher than she had ever seen. She wondered how Lady Anne could walk so easily in them. After she was fully dressed Lady Anne turned her eyes over her ladies. She pursed her lips. Satisfied, they were ready to leave.
Lady Hertford took her husband's arm as they entered the doors into the grand hall, the serving maid's falling in behind. Isabel leant across to whisper some instructions as they walked. "Do not talk to anyone unless they address you directly. Accept any offers to dance. Do not drink too much. Do not eat too much. Keep your head down Bess, and just try to enjoy yourself."
The opulence of the royal court was unbelievable. Long tables stood on either side and a great dais at one end. The King sat there in all his glory. Queen Anne beside him in scarlet and diamonds. Couples swarmed on the dance floor and nobles chatted with crystal wine glasses between their fingers. The Lord and Lady Hertford dissolved into the crowd and Isabel and Bess stood at the edge of the throngs of dancers to watch. A man passed by with a tray of wine glasses and Isabel snuck two from it. The farm girl had never tasted wine before and the thickness cloyed her pallet, but she swallowed it down in quick gulps. "You do not have to finish it all at once. Continue like that and you will be completely sloshed by the end of the evening." Isabel giggled. Bess just grinned at her as a serving boy refilled her cup.
The girl pointed to the dancers. "A friend of my eldest sister in the village came to court once. Her name was Annabelle, just a kitchen maid but she and the other girls would sneak up to the window and watch all the nobles dancing. When she came home one Christmas she taught us all." Bess smiled softly, remembering. "We must have looked so silly. She took us all into the village square, all the little girls in their dirty dresses and taught us to swirl around like Lords and Ladies." She touched a curl of her hair. "Annabelle was a sweet girl; she did not mind one jot that I followed her and my sister around like a lost puppy. She even made me a daisy chain crown 'cause I learnt the quickest."
Isabel nudged her playfully. "Why don't you show me?"
Bess shook her head and the curls bounced. "With whom?"
The blonde surveyed the room quickly and then pointed towards the young groomsman from the Hertford home. He was looking over. "With him."
Bess glanced over, she blushed a little. "With Richard? No."
"You know his name, so I think yes."
"Oh, stop it." Bess laughed, taking a drink of wine.
"He will not stop staring." Isabel flashed him a smile and beckoned him over subtly. Richard raised an eyebrow, then smiled boyishly and skirted through the crowd until he stood directly in front of Bess. He inclined his head politely.
"Miss."
"Richard."
"Would you care to dance?"
"I would love to."
He grinned at her in such a disarmingly attractive way Bess flushed the colour of a deep sunset. He ran the pad of his thumb over her knuckles when he took her hand, the same way he had done back at the house. Her pupils were dilated in the candlelight and hazy with the new experience of alcohol. The irises were so dark that he could barely find the line where blue ended and black began.
Richard was just a common man. He was tall with stocky shoulders from a life time of tending horses, and golden skin from working in the sun. He was dark haired and dark eyed with an easy smile. Bess was surprised to find that he had a lithe grace on the dance floor and strong arms to lift her with.
She actually found herself giggling when he did so. And a comfortable warmth spread over her skin when the pressure of his hands wrapped around her waist to seize her from the ground.
It was nice. He was nice. Perhaps Richard was the kind of man she would marry one day. A nice man. Richard was almost like a slice of home in a foreign land. As they twirled together the warmth suddenly evaporated. Bess was caught in the gaze of Edward Seymour and his icy eyes. He did not look impressed. Before the evening ended Bess danced four times with Richard and stood with him for the remainder of it. Every now and then she would catch him gazing down at her with bright eyes. It would make her blush every time. They were swirling around with Bess's skirt unfurled like blooming flower petals when Isabel called over to her as she passed, being spun by her own partner. "Our Lady is departing."
The women broke apart from their partners, curtsied quickly and turned to go. Richard caught her arm gently, raised her hand to his mouth and gave her a sweet kiss on the knuckles. "I hope to see more of you, miss."
"Bess."
"Bess." He repeated softly. The girl flashed him one last look over her shoulder before falling into line beside Isabel, behind their Lady Anne.
"Take a message to my Lord husband." Bess looked up from where she was placing down the comb. "Ask him if we are to entertain his sister Lady Jane tomorrow evening as he mentioned. I will need to make the adequate preparations on the morn if so."
Isabel was unlacing the final layers of the Lady's petticoat in front of the looking glass. Her hair had been unbound and fell in curly locks down her back. Between her fingers she dangled two earrings; one a teardrop shaped diamond, the other a slender slice of emerald. She considered them absently and then added. "And ask him if he will visit my bed chamber tonight."
Bess set down the brush neatly beside the comb, curtsied and left the room. It took her a moment or two to summon the courage to knock firmly at the wood of his study door. Then the honey coated husk of his voice sounded. "Enter."
She did so quietly. Lord Hertford was seated in a chair near the fire with a book between his graceful fingers and a cup of wine of the table beside him. Bess walked to his side, curtsied and bowed her head. "My Lady bid me to ask whether your sister, the Lady Jane, would be dining in your private apartments tomorrow evening, so that she may make preparations for this on the morrow."
His eyes burned her so Bess did not dare look up. In the flickering light from the fire grate shadows gathered in the hollows of her collarbones, like bats. "Tell my Lady wife that my sister will indeed be joining us, along with my brother."
Bess dipped her head deeper in the way of a nod, nibbled her lips and hesitated. Lord Hertford regarded her. "Do you have something else to ask of me?" Perhaps he was trying to be gentle but the scrape of his fine voice was as cold as ever.
"My Lord…the Lady also asks if you will visit her bedchamber this evening."
There was a long silence. It settled heavy in the room like the thick air before a rain storm. Bess could hear her heartbeat thudding dully in her ears. Edward Seymour closed his book with a soft snap. "That boy you were dancing with, who was he?"
Bess looked up abruptly. "Er, R-Richard, my Lord. His name is Richard."
"And you know him how?" His beautiful eyes rested on her face where she fidgeted.
"He was a groom at your own home, my Lord, and now finds employment at the stables here at court." The girl hesitated and then couldn't stop herself. "May I ask why?"
"No you may not." Edward leaned to his side and poured fresh wine into his cup. "You may instead return to my wife and tell her that I will not be visiting her bed."
"Yes, my Lord." She dipped another curtsy and turned away.
"One moment." Bess froze where she stood, unsure whether she should turn to face him. "Come here." She did so, slowly at his beckoning. "Kneel." Bess found herself bending at his feet, chewing on her lip until it became swollen. Then Edward did something quite unexpected. He simply touched her face where a strand of hair was sticking to her cheek and tucked it behind her ear.
Bess looked up at him with those terrible blackened eyes of hers. Edward leaned forward slightly. "You will not flaunt yourself to that boy in my presence again." She blinked slowly.
"Flaunt myself?" She whispered.
He was colder than ever. A finger reached out and traced the plunging neckline of her gown, right across the swell of her breast. Bess shivered beneath his touch. "You let him touch you before the entire court. You allowed him to kiss your hand and touch your body. That is what I deem to be flaunting."
"Why are you so concerned with me?" Those first words were an immediate mistake but her lips would not stop moving "If you resent the lowness of my birth so, dismiss me and have done with the whole affair."
Lord Hertford's hands flashed forward and griped her wrists, wrenching her forwards so her back was bent up awkwardly where she knelt between his legs. Their faces were close together, Bess stifled a gasp. "It is not your birth which concerns me." He hissed.
"Then why must you torture me?" Her gaze met him from beneath the thick row of black lashes.
"You interest me." He told her simply. His grip tightened on her, pulling her upwards towards his face.
When their lips were just a whisper from each other; hers parted, his smirking, she asked him. "Why?"
"I am not sure." His voice was quiet. Then he released her. Flesh lingering on flesh. "Good night, Bess." She rose to her feet reluctantly, surprised that Edward knew her name or cared enough to use it. After managing one more curtsy and Bess left the room with trembling fingers and heat on her skin.