Young Bess Part Eight
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Young Bess - Part Six free porn video
How very grateful I am to have such good friends supporting this little
project! Elaine! I always suspected you were somewhere in the
background. Thank you for your editorial collaboration. Special thanks
to Brian for so many lovely reviews? To Felicity for your supportive e-
mails? To Bluto, Bruce, Sophie, Sirearle, C-Monster, and dd for all your
courtesies?many, many thanks!
Please note that YOUNG BESS is fully copyrighted and cannot be reprinted
or reproduced without the express consent of the author.
Young Bess Part Six
By Jane Howard
The coach rattled from side to side as we raced over the many hardened
ruts and shallow holes that plagued even the best maintained highways in
the North of England at that time. There was chaos inside the coach as
we were bounced and jostled from side to side and up and down and even
thrown towards each other at times.
Philip sat facing me, with his back to the coachman, asking me endless
questions. The portly Hollinshed twins held him in place like two flabby
bookends. John sat at my side in complete silence. Occasionally, John
would try to brace me against the shocks we endured, but I refused his
touch. I wanted nothing to do with him, either in the present or ever
again.
Considering the crude traveling conditions we were forced to endure,
Philip was in a particularly affable mood. For a man who was one step
ahead of the hangman, his mood was all the more remarkable.
I refused to answer any of Philip's questions. Since he was surely going
to murder me, I hardly thought it mattered whether he found me
cooperative or not.
I considered my situation. As soon as Philip's letter reached my father,
all was lost. Indifferent as my father was in certain matters concerning
his offspring, I was confident that he knew how many children he had and
how many of them were male and how many of them were female.
Having served as Chancellor of the Exchequer for so long, my father was
a conscientious counter of all things. The practice was deeply ingrained
in him. I could clearly remember that on the rare occasions when he was
home, he would sit at the dinner table and actually calculate the sum
total of his silver, his plate and his progeny.
I will say of this eccentric man that he did his computations without
much conscious thought. This he achieved by moving his eyes from one to
the other of his possessions, meantime nodding his head in pretense to
be listening to my mother's perpetual babble.
As he inventoried us, and he would do this at least several times over
the course of the evening meal, his face would beam at Edward, turn
contented in his regard for Sheila, and then he would come to look at
me. Whenever he did that his expression would change rather subtlety,
moving from one of uncertainty to one of astonishment and finally
settling into a kind of melancholia. Whatever inner thoughts these
disturbing looks of his revealed, whatever may have distressed him about
the development of my character, and the potentialities of my future
prospects, he knew that I was his third child, and he knew that I was a
boy.
Who, then, could this Elizabeth be, as referred to in Philip's letter of
ultimatum to my father, in which Philip threatened all kinds of terrible
fates to his cherished child, should his cooperation be declined? Why,
no one! She did not exist at least in my father's eyes.
And what were the demands that Philip was seeking to have my father
meet? Very ambitious ones, so it seemed to me. He was to surrender
control of the King's Treasury to Philip's faction, rally the
Parliament, and provide troops for the rebel cause. He was to do all
these things, and if he did not, then he would never see his precious
daughter again in this life. This was all so typical of Philip, who
never did anything by halves.
I would have laughed, were it a laughing matter. Unfortunately, it was
not.
Could my father really do all those things? Yes, actually he very
probably could were it in his nature to take a stand on anything.
Would he do them for some unknown girl? The question required no answer.
I suppose I could always confess the truth to Philip, and tell him who I
really was, but I hardly thought there would be any benefit in it.
Frankly, I rather doubted that my father would be all that ready to risk
life, fortune, and reputation in order to save the life of his second
son, even if it was in his character to do so, which it most
emphatically was not.
Nor did I think that my father should do any of those things. Our nation
needed to move forward, not backward. I was very keen on history, and I
knew that movements like Philip's always failed anyway. Philip was a
crackpot.
Then there was the question of what was to become of me once Philip's
rash and foolish plans all unraveled and I was ?never to be seen again
in this life.' I supposed that meant that I would probably be given over
to Louis, who, among the many jobs he performed for Philip, included
among them the task of assassin, a role that I had seen him carry out
very efficiently in the case of Mr. Beaseley. Fortunately for me, Louis
was currently engaged in driving our coach to the city. He was too busy
lashing the horses to greater and greater speed to be cutting my throat
just yet.
Tears sprang to my eyes not because I was afraid or saddened at all by
the prospect of my impending death. I was much too young to even
understand what it meant to have one's life come to an end, let alone
how I felt about my imminent demise. I suppose that is why they only
send young men to war when they should actually be sending old, useless
men to die for silly causes. The image of old men hobbling about on a
battlefield stabbing at each other with swords and spears cheered me for
a moment, but then it was back to weeping. Why did I weep? Because of my
deep disappointment in John Villiers, you see.
How could the man have fooled me so easily? I honestly thought that he
cared for me. Was my judgement so badly mistaken as all that? Even now,
he confused me. He was solicitous and kind, and the look on his face
told me that his every thought was for my well being. Yet, he had
connived to have me placed in the gravest danger. Would Romeo have done
that to Juliet? Would Tristan have done that to Isolde? Actually, both
men did, so I suppose those were poor examples.
Just then, a particularly bad bump in the road nearly put Philip in my
lap. In the ensuing confusion I accidentally poked him in the eye.
"Oh, my God!" cried Philip, holding his hand to his eye. "I've just been
assaulted by the Anti-Christ!"
"How so?" asked one of the Hollinshed twins, raising a quizzical
eyebrow.
"Before she laid her hands on me I could see, and now I am blinded!"
replied Philip, hurriedly bringing a handkerchief to his face. "How
clever of the Devil to create such a beautiful pink and golden bitch
with which to plague all mankind! I say, John! Can't you keep your play
toy in check?"
"She is not my play toy," replied John rather dryly.
"Play toy, indeed! Pink and golden bitch, am I? Now, I shall poke you in
the other eye!" I screamed, launching myself at Philip with all my
strength. And I would have succeeded in my plan to blind that wretch,
too, if John had not wrapped his arms around my waist and held me fast
so that I could not do it.
"Let me go, you beast!" I cried. But he refused to loosen his grip even
an inch.
"Calm yourself, Bess!" John entreated. "It will go all the worse for you
if you don't!"
"Humph!" I said, relenting. I knew that I could not win my release
against John's greater strength. I would have to use my wiles instead. I
waited a minute before complaining that he was holding me so tightly
that I could not breathe.
"I'm willing to release you provided that you promise to behave," John
said.
"Our nation has come to a pretty point when a common maiden's word
carries more weight than that of a nobleman, an heir to a peerage, a
gentleman whose conduct should always be above reproach," I countered.
"Oh, fiddle! There's nothing common about you, Bess," replied John,
brushing my insult off with a smile. Then, he did the most remarkable
thing: he doffed his hat and held it to the side of his face so that no
one but I could see his expression and he winked repeatedly at me. This
all happened in a moment and the others took no notice of it. I stared
at him uncomprehending. What did this series of winks mean, I wondered?
I gave him my word, and he let go of me, and the rest of the trip was
uneventful. We all sat in our own personal silences, John, Philip and I,
as well as the twins, who, for all their affability, studied me like two
smiling jackals from under the shadowy brims of their tricorner hats.
We arrived late in the afternoon. The coach's wheels made clicking
noises as the horses clopped over the paving stones of the High Street.
Already the market vendors were closing up their stalls and storing
their handcarts away in anticipation of the next day's trade. All the
buildings were suffused with hues of blue and gray, with an occasional
interruption of harsh orange sunlight as we moved past the alleys
running down west to the river, which I could see was dyed brown with
sewage and clogged with barges.
The greengrocers, fishmongers, butchers, bakers and tinkers were all
done for the day and going home. Only the strong odors from rotting
vegetables, barrels of fish guts and spoiled animal flesh remained. I
found those smells unsettling. I withdrew a scented handkerchief from
the sleeve of my gown and held it to my nose until we passed into a
residential section.
The street on which Louis reined in his horses was lined with an
assortment of buildings. All of which had seen better days save for the
one we were to enter, which was in remarkably good repair. The exterior
had been freshly painted a bright white, and flower boxes were hung at
all the windows. The only oddity to it was in the number of lights that
hung from the lintels. I wondered why they had already been lit when it
was not yet night. I was also curious as to why the glass cases that
housed the candles were all tinted red.
Only John and I alighted. The others remained in the coach and Louis
geed the horses onward. I heard Philip say something that was, I think,
about me, and then I heard the ingratiating laughter of the Hollinsheds
dissipating into the air as the coach faded into the half light of dusk.
A maid was waiting at the door and John escorted me inside.
The interior of the house was as unusual as the outside. The furnishings
were expensive and tasteful. But there were rather too many chairs, and
although all of them seemed to be new, there were signs of wear rubbing
away the brocade in spots, as if these chairs had experienced a great
deal of traffic in a relatively short time.
The serving staff was composed of all very pretty young women, with too
much paint on their faces and too much d?colletage in their blouses.
Were they to work for me, I would have certainly prohibited the use of
such coquetries, lest these girls gave my house a bad name. Otherwise,
they were extremely industrious, pleasing, and even tempered. They
smiled at every opportunity.
Despite the cordial, if somewhat peculiar atmosphere of the place, I had
the greatest apprehension concerning what would befall me there. For
that reason, and no other, I found myself holding tightly onto the arm
of the only person who, among all the villains who surrounded me in my
misfortune, might be considered my friend. Although I had taken many
vows of enmity towards John in my mind, I had to admit to myself that I
needed his good will if I was to have any chance to survive my
predicament.
A woman approached us from another room located behind the grand
staircase in the entry hall. She had once been very beautiful, but age
and excess had stolen away the best parts of her, and padded out the
very parts of a woman, who, as she ages, she must do her very best to
conceal.
In this instance, the opposite strategy was at work. The woman took
great pains in her style of dress to exaggerate the grotesque glories of
her immense and collapsing bust, and even larger rump with all kinds of
trumpery that only succeeded in presenting her as a crude model of what
she had once been. These same parts of her bounced obscenely with her
every motion, like ten pounds of mutton placed in a five pound sack
hanging from the back of a swinging cart. Just as the serving girls did,
she too wore too much paint upon her face.
"I am Mrs. Pierce," she announced, taking brisk little steps towards me
that belied her great bulk. "You must be the young gentlewoman about
whom I have heard so much."
I noted that she was missing several teeth, which caused her speech to
slur at times. At least, I think that was why she slurred her words.
"Come, my darlings! Pay attention, my dears!" Mrs. Pierce fairly
bellowed at the serving staff, until they had all gathered into a small
crowd around her. I would call the staff's disposition ?attentive,' to
say the least. I concluded from their behavior that Mrs. Pierce must be
a very strict taskmistress.
"Who we have here is the well-bred, aristocratic daughter of a peer of
the realm. You will address her as Miss Elizabeth. I commend her to you.
You are to treat her with all due courtesy and you are to avail her of
all the amenities we offer here at Maidenhead House?"
Did I detect a brief snicker coming from somewhere inside the crowd of
girls at the mention of the house's name? I thought surely that I did.
"?is that quite understood?" Mrs. Pierce finished her brief speech with
a stern look, and a wiggling of her brows at all the young faces
surrounding her.
"Yes, Mrs. Pierce," the girls replied with a single voice.
"Ho! Ginny! Where are you!" cried Mrs. Pierce.
The smallest of the girls made her appearance by pushing her way out
from within the circle of maids and scullery wenches. Although petite
and feminine in appearance, she had boyish mannerisms and the cocky air
of a bantam rooster about her.
"Here, Mrs. Pierce!" she said.
"Escort Miss Elizabeth to her chambers," instructed Mrs. Pierce. "You
others may get back to earning your keep!"
Still clutching John's arm, I followed the bustling Ginny to the stairs.
Seeing that John was about to accompany me up to my new chambers, Ginny
raised her hand in warning.
"The gentleman is not permitted to go any further," Ginny explained.
"Don't worry, you're quite safe. It's only that that Mrs. Pierce won't
tol'rate any scandal here at Maidenhead House, you see. She don't
approve of a single young lady like you having a man up in her
apartment. No, she don't!"
Disappointed as I was at having to leave my only protector behind,
Ginny's words reassured me that at least I was in a decent place where
proper decorum prevailed, even if good couture did not.
John stood were he was, looking forlorn.
I held my skirts out before me and began the climb to my new rooms. As I
approached the dark at the top of the stairs I turned my head to see his
face one more time. He smiled, but weakly it seemed, and his eyes were
anxious. Still, even in his distress, even though he had betrayed me as
if I was nothing to him, I had to admit that John was a handsome man.
How saddened I was to think that there could be nothing but rancor
between us ever again. A feeling of intense depression overwhelmed me
such that Ginny had to steady me until I was in my chambers at last.
The rooms, which overlooked the courtyard at the rear of the building,
were bright and cheerful. The paper on the walls was of excellent
quality. Several interesting landscapes were hung here and there. A
small bookcase containing leather bound copies of classic works by
Horace, Seneca, and Virgil was tucked in the corner. The bed was
canopied with intricate lace-work, the bolster, pillows and coverlet all
in a rose pattern and ruffled. Any woman would have liked the apartment
at once.
I dismissed Ginny and threw myself on the bed, which is where I do my
best thinking. I had a great deal to think about. Specifically, I needed
to consider my next course of action. And what was that? Why, to do away
with myself, of course! How else could I thwart these madmen? It only
remained for me to consider the means by which I could accomplish it.
That was the prickly part.
I confess that my constitution required it to be painless, and my vanity
required that it not be disfiguring. It was my conceit that I should
look as ravishing as possible at my funeral, so that seeing me there in
all my beauty, John's heart would break and in his remorse he would
throw himself very publicly across my body and kiss my lips for the last
time. Thus, piercing myself, throwing myself from the window, or hanging
myself were quite out of the question.
Since poison was unavailable, death by starvation seemed to me to be the
best option. I was not sure how long it took to starve oneself to death.
I did recall that I had forgotten to feed my pet rabbit Peter for
several days when I was six and that in that short space of time he had
gone quite dead. How I cried at Peter's demise. But all the crying in
the world did not bring him back.
A human being must take longer to die of starvation than a rabbit.
Therefore I needed to begin at once. There was a dish of cakes set on
the table beside the bed. These I immediately threw out the window.
Then, feeling a sense of accomplishment at having taken the first small
step in my plan, I laid back on the bed, fully dressed, ankles together,
hands clasped over my heart, and closed my eyes. I thought about Uncle
Isaac's letter to ?Elizabeth Radcliff.'
I tried to remember what he had written at the end of it, but I was so
fatigued that I could not do it without falling asleep first.
End of Part Six
Libbie
- 30.07.2021
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