Woman of Passion

Derbyshire, England August 20, 1533 "What the devil are you doing?" the little red-haired girl demanded as two burly farmers lifted the oak dresser. Ignoring her, the men hauled the dresser outside and came backupstairs for a bedstead. Bess Hardwick put her hands on her hips and commanded, "Stop!" When they did not obey her, she stamped her foot and cursed them soundly. Clutching her rag doll closely to her chest, she ran downstairs and literally staggered with shock when she found the rooms empty. She rushed outside and saw the oxcart filled with her family's possessions. Though visibly upset, her mother stood by passively, as did her older brother and her sisters. "No! Noooo!" Furiously, Bess ran to the wagon and began to unload their belongings. She managed to pull down a wicker linnet cage, but the rest of the furniture was tied down and far too heavy for her to budge. The little redhead threw herself on the ground, kicking her heels and screaming at the top of her lungs, in a royal tantrum. "Do ye want me to tan her arse, missus?" one of the men asked. "No, no. Bess has an overabundance of passion. She feels things more deeply than others. There is nothing any of us can do--it just has to run its course before she can stop." Bess Hardwick was in a full-blown rage, but rage was the only thing that kept her sickening fear at bay. First her father had gone and then the servants; then one by one the farm animals had disappeared. The best pieces of furniture had been sold, and now they were losing their home. Where would they go? How would they live? Where would they sleep? What would they eat? One uncertainty piled on top of another, becoming a mountain of stark, cold terror. Bess was ready to fight, ready to take on the entire world, but the rest of her family had no fight in them. "Come along, Bess, we cannot stay at Hardwick, it is no longer our home," her mother said, gently pulling her to her feet. "I'm not going!" she cried stubbornly as she sat down in the dusty road, glaring daggers at her family. After a full minute's wait, Elizabeth Hardwick nodded for the driver to start. "Bess will follow; she has no other choice." The imp of Satan sat, unyielding as the Rock of Gibraltar, as the wagon descended the hill, getting smaller and smaller, then finally disappearing down the rutted track. When she found herself alone, with no audience but the bird and her rag doll, Bess opened the door of the wicker cage. "Well, at least you don't have to leave. You may live here forever." The linnet hopped out of the cage and flew up into a large oak. Bess got to her feet and went to stand in front of the half-timbered house where she had been born. She spoke to it, never doubting that Hardwick Manor could hear and understand every word. "You are mine! Don't be sad. I will be back to claim you. The rest of them are useless. It's going to be up to me!" Bess's father had died and left her when she was four, but she remembered standing with him in front of the house on this very spot. She could still feel his hand on her shoulder and hear his words in her ear: "Land is wealth, my wee lass. Land and property are the most important things on earth. Hardwick! Even our family name comes from the land. Hang on to Hardwick, Bess, no matter what." Bess swallowed the hot bile in her throat and dashed a hand across her nose and eyes, rubbing dirt into the snot and tears that ran down her face. She would be six on her next birthday, and six was far too old to cry. Bess looked at her doll. "Are you ready to go, Lady Ponsonby?" After pausing for a moment, she added reluctantly, "Then so am I." Feeling almost torn in half, she turned away from the house and walked stoically in the direction of the cart,Henley, Virginia is the author of 'Woman of Passion', published 2000 under ISBN 9780440222088 and ISBN 0440222087.