“Bess may partner me since she doesn't know how to play.” Frances sat down facing her and the two men took their seats. Cavendish picked up the cards, shuffled them, and informed Bess, “We'll play long whist. We use all fifty-two cards; each player gets thirteen.” He dealt them out one after the other in rotation. “A game is for ten points—the holding of the honor cards is counted.”
Bess nodded her head, even though she didn't fully comprehend. She focused her complete attention on Cavendish, listening to his every word, watching his every move. Gradually, it came to her that each pair of partners tried to take tricks. The ladies lost every hand against the men, and Bess was grateful that Lady Frances seemed not to mind. Bess grasped the concept quickly, learning the honor cards; then it occurred to her that if she kept track of the cards that had been played, her chances of winning would be vastly improved.
They changed partners so that Bess and Henry Grey were pitted against Lady Frances and Cavendish. “Enough pissing about, Henry, it's time to play for stakes. Rogue and I will clean you out!” Frances declared.
Bess watched the men put money on the table and place wagers. She felt terrible, for she knew that with her for his partner, Henry Grey would lose his money. Whenever she and Henry did manage to take a trick, Bess whisked it from the table with a feeling of triumph.
The three friends carried on a running conversation, rich in gossip and punctuated with jibes at each other. Bess didn't listen; she gave her whole attention to the cards and the way Cavendish played them. With every subsequent hand she picked up more nuances of the game. A footman served them wine, and after she drank a little, everything came into sharper focus. Bess now watched their faces as well as the cards, and she realized how easy it was for a player to signal his partner in subtle ways. Inside her, excitement mingled with apprehension as she anticipated that soon she would be partnered with Rogue Cavendish.
“Pay up, you damned tightwad,” Frances twitted her long-suffering husband, then raked in half the silver coins that she and Cavendish had won.
As Henry and William changed seats, Bess drained her wineglass to give herself courage. Then she felt Cavendish's amused eyes on her from across the table. “Let's double the stakes.” His mouth curved in a smile of pure confidence.
Bess felt as if her heart were in her mouth as she gazed back at him. He was like a master with a pupil in whom he had every faith. She experienced a moment of panic that he was putting all his trust in her. Then Cavendish winked at her boldly. Suddenly, she was filled with assurance. All her uncertainty fell away. Without him she would be vanquished; but with him she could do anything!
It was as if lady luck sat on her shoulder advising her which cards to play. Like magic, she and Cavendish could do no wrong. Bess began to enjoy herself. As well as whist, she and her partner were engaged in another game, quite overt and open, but at the same time they were linked together in something far more subtle and personal, something that excluded everyone else in the universe, something intimate and private.
They communicated in a language that had no words. Each knew the thoughts of the other; each gave and received pleasure from the other. It was not a flirtation; Bess would have lost her concentration immediately if she had engaged in dalliance. It was more basic and elemental, not only a meeting of minds, but a sharing of passionate enjoyment for what they did, like true kindred spirits.
When they had soundly trounced the Greys, Cavendish pushed half their winnings before her. “Clever girl.” It was the first money Bess had ever had in her life.
“Beginner's luck!” cried Henry, rising so he could change partners.
“Sit down,” Rogue murmured. “I have no intention of relinquishing her.”
Bess blushed and caught the eye of Lady Frances, who gave her an admiring look. She had acquitted herself at cards and performed even better in the more exciting game played by men and women.
The hours melted away, and the pile of silver coins before Bess doubled. When Frances refused to lose one more time and their game broke up, the hour was late and most of their guests had retired. Frances handed Bess a cloth purse. “You cleaned me out; you might as well have the purse as well.”
“Thank you, Lady Frances. I had a wonderful evening.”
“I should thank you. … I was entertained simply watching you.”
“It isn't over yet.” Cavendish was at her elbow. “I know what both of us need,” he murmured suggestively. Bess glanced up at him, trying to keep her alarm at bay. “Fresh air.” He took her arm and led her from the salon toward doors that opened onto the balustrade.
The night air was cool as it touched their faces and ruffled their hair. “Mistress Hardwick, you are a most apt pupil.”
“You are so experienced, you make an excellent teacher, sir.” She spoke to him formally, and he got the impression the intimacy they had shared during the game had somehow vanished. Her words also made him acutely aware of the age difference between them.
“God's death, you make me sound ancient.” “You mistake my words; I am most grateful to you.” How grateful? he wondered. “Well, what plans do you have for your ill-gotten gains?”
Bess had gathered forty silver shillings into her purse, which amounted to two whole pounds. “Oh, I've always wanted a little neck ruff; now I'll be able to indulge myself.”
He stopped walking and looked down at her, astonished at how unspoiled she was. “A ruff? Do you not long for jewels?”
“Of course I do, and someday I shall have them,” she said matter-of-factly.
His fingers reached out to touch her collarbone. “I could give you jewels, Elizabeth.” His suggestive offer hung upon the night breeze. She gave no response. They were standing on the balustrade, and he watched her step back and glance upward at the unlighted windows.
“I must go up. I don't wish to disturb Lady Zouche or her daughters.”
Lady Zouche can go to the devil!“If you come to my chamber, you won't disturb them,” he urged persuasively.
“If I were gone all night, sir, I would be instantly dismissed, and rightly so.”
He slipped his arm possessively about her small waist, drawing her back to him, and pledged, “I would take care of you, Elizabeth.”
She gave him a level look. “I have more good sense than to allow you to seduce me, milord. I have no dowry; I must make my own way in this world. I want a respectable marriage, and without my honor that would be impossible.”