SHAKESPEARE’ SECRET

by Elise Broach

  At that moment the phone rang. Mrs. Roth handed the album to Danny and hurried into the kitchen to answer it. Hero could hear her apologizing.

  “Oh, of course, I’m sorry. She’s been here all day. We completely lost track of the time. She’ll come right now.”

  Hero stood up. “I guess I have to go.” Danny nodded, barely paying attention. He was still looking through the pictures.

  Mrs. Roth walked over to a lamp and switched it on, bathing them in light. “Hero, that was your mother. Dinner is on the table.” She rested her hand on Danny’s shoulder. “I suppose you should go too, Daniel, before your father starts to worry.”

  “I can stay awhile longer,” Danny said quickly. “He’s at the station till eight tonight.”

  “Really? We can have dinner together then. That would be lovely. Let me see what I have for us.”

  As Mrs. Roth returned to the kitchen, Hero picked up her sweater and tugged open the front door. “See you later, Danny.”

  “See you, Hero.” He didn’t look up, his eyes gliding steadily over the pages of the album. Hero smiled to herself, stepping into the cool evening air.

  At the Netherfield house, Hero’s mother was serving plates at the stove while Beatrice clunked batches of silverware on the table.

  “Hey!” she said when Hero walked in. “What were you doing in my room?”

  Hero remembered the broken light and shook her head quickly at her sister.

  Their mother looked at them questioningly. Beatrice frowned at Hero and said reluctantly, “Hero’s been going through my clothes.”

  “Well, you do that often enough to her.”

  After dinner, Hero did the dishes while Beatrice sat on the counter watching her. As soon as their parents left the kitchen, Beatrice demanded, “So what were you doing up there? You broke my light into a jillion pieces.”

  Hero hesitated, scraping potatoes into the sink.

  “Come on, Hero. Just tell me. What’s the big secret? You think I don’t know something’s going on? All the time you’re spending over at Mrs. Roth’s? And Danny? Something’s going on with Danny.”

  “Not what you think,” Hero said. “It’s not what anyone thinks.”

  “Then tell me.”

  Hero sighed. It was over now, anyway. There was no secret to keep anymore. She stuffed a fistful of forks into the dishwasher rack and turned to Beatrice. “You can’t tell.”

  “I won’t.”

  “You can’t tell anyone, not Kelly, not anyone.”

  “I won’t, okay? I promise.”

  “It’s the diamond. Danny and I ...” Hero took a deep breath. “We found the Murphy diamond.”

  Beatrice looked at her blankly. “What diamond?”

  Hero laughed suddenly, thinking how strange it was that the diamond had dominated her life for weeks—the only thing she could think about—and Triss didn’t even know what it was. She slammed the dishwasher door, flipped the lock, and wiped her hands on her jeans.

  “Okay,” she said. “I’ll start at the beginning. Remember the day before school started, when Mom asked me to take back those clippers she borrowed from Mrs. Roth?”

  And then she proceeded to tell the story, about the Murphys and the necklace, about Anne Boleyn and Queen Elizabeth, about Edward de Vere and Shakespeare, about the diamond and the finding place. Beatrice listened, at first only curious, then surprised, then amazed. But Hero stopped short when she came to the part about Anna being Mrs. Roth’s daughter. It didn’t seem like that was hers to tell.

  “So it’s gone now? Danny’s mother has it?” Beatrice asked in disbelief.

  Hero nodded.

  “Wow. You must be pretty mad at him.”

  Hero shook her head. “Not really. I don’t know. Nothing ever turns out the way you expect.”

  Their father suddenly appeared in the kitchen doorway, looking annoyed. “Anything you girls want to tell me about the light in Beatrice’s room?”

  Hero and Beatrice exchanged glances. “No,” they answered simultaneously.

  He frowned. “These are the original fixtures, you know. Irreplaceable.”

  Beatrice took a breath. “The bulb went out, and we were trying to change it,” she offered hopefully “Beatrice, you’ve never changed a lightbulb in your life. If you’re going to lie to me, at least put some effort into making it more believable.”

  Hero swallowed. “It was my fault,” she said. “I was jumping on the bed. Sorry, Dad.”

  Her father rolled his eyes in disgust. “Now that I believe. For pity’s sake, Hero. You’re twelve years old.” He disappeared down the hallway, grumbling.

  Beatrice waited till he was out of earshot, then hopped down from the counter. “But the diamond,” she said. “What’s Danny’s mom going to do with it?”

  “I don’t know.” Hero paused. “I don’t know anything about her.”

  She walked to the window and looked at Mrs. Roth’s house. She could see a tiny square of light over the top of the fence. It must be the light from the kitchen window, she decided. She pictured Mrs. Roth and Danny together at the table, eating and talking. They would have so much to tell each other. Hero suddenly felt a warm swell of happiness that had nothing to do with herself.

  CHAPTER

  30

  The next week passed quickly. Hero floated through the days at school, oblivious to everything but an overwhelming urge to be back at Mrs. Roth’s with Danny. They met there every day after school. Sometimes, if Danny was late, she and Mrs. Roth worked the crossword puzzle. But mostly it was the three of them, sitting on the porch if it was warm enough or in the dark, cluttered living room, talking about the strange series of events that had brought them all together.

  “That first day,” Hero said to Mrs. Roth, “if you hadn’t told me about the diamond, I never would have come back here. I mean, unless my mom made me.”

  “And if you hadn’t started coming here, I probably wouldn’t have either,” Danny added.

  Hero smiled shyly. “And then we never would have found out about the necklace or Anne Boleyn or Queen Elizabeth or Shakespeare ... or Anna.” She turned to Danny. “Has she called you yet?” They had been waiting all week for some word, some acknowledgment. But there’d been none.

  Danny shook his head. “But she doesn’t call much. I could try and call her.” He hesitated. “My dad doesn’t really like me to.”

  “You’ll hear from her,” Mrs. Roth said confidently. They both turned to her. “I feel sure of it. I wrote to her, you know.”

  “You did?” Hero looked at her in astonishment.

  “Oh, yes, of course, right away. Daniel gave me her address.”

  “Did you tell her about the diamond?”

  Mrs. Roth frowned. “That wasn’t why I wrote. There was so much else to say.”

  Danny sighed. “I don’t know, Miriam. I wouldn’t get your hopes up. She’s not much for writing letters either.”

  “We’ll hear from her,” Mrs. Roth said again decisively. She brushed her hands together. “And now we have something more pressing to discuss. I want to have a little get-together on Friday. Your family, Hero, and your father, Danny. After all, he is my son-in-law.

  I’ll call and invite them this afternoon. Would you two come over after school to help me get everything ready?”

  The question made Hero smile, since they came every day anyway. “Sure,” she said. “But what’s the party for?”

  Mrs. Roth looked at her in surprise. “I want to celebrate,” she said. “I want to celebrate our finding one another.”

  And so, on Friday, when the dismissal bell rang at school, Hero quickly packed her things and headed for the bus. She was a little nervous about seeing Danny’s father again. And she felt strange, somehow, at the thought of her parents and Beatrice at Mrs. Roth’s. It was a place she wasn’t used to sharing.

  As she was waiting in line for the bus, she heard a voice behind her.

  “You forgot your book.” It was the red-hair
ed girl, Tory, the one with the dog named Hero. She was holding the battered green book of Shakespeare from Mrs. Roth. Hero looked at it in surprise.

  “Oh, thanks,” she said, puzzled. “I didn’t know I brought that to school.” It must have been with her Language Arts book on her nightstand and she’d accidentally slipped it into her backpack. She took it carefully, unzipping the top of her pack.

  “What is it anyway?” Tory asked. “It looks really old.”

  Hero felt herself blushing. She would seem even more of a freak if the other kids found out she read Shakespeare. But then she thought about what Beatrice had said, about not raising her hand in class even though she recognized the quote. Hero shrugged.

  “It’s a Shakespeare book a friend gave me,” she said. “Because one of the plays has a girl named Hero in it, and that’s who I’m named for.”

  “Oh,” said Tory.

  Hero turned back to the line, impatient for the bus to arrive. But she realized Tory was still standing there, looking at her expectantly.

  “Uh, thanks for finding it,” Hero said.

  “No problem.” Tory twisted a strand of hair. “If you want, you could come over today. My mom’s picking me up, so she can give us a ride.”

  Hero looked at her in surprise. She hesitated. “I can’t. I have plans. Sorry.”

  “Oh, okay,” Tory glanced away. “Never mind. I’d better go to pickup.”

  Hero took a breath. “I could come over some other time,” she said. “Maybe next week?”

  Tory smiled at her. “I have to ask my mom. I’ll let you know.”

  “Okay.” Hero watched her hurry down the hall, feeling a mixture of curiosity and amazement. She wasn’t sure which surprised her more: that Tory had asked her over or that she’d been willing to go. Then the bus line started moving toward the doors, and she swung her backpack over her shoulder, running to catch up.

  CHAPTER

  31

  When the bus stopped, Hero followed Aaron down the steps. Ben was standing at the corner. He glanced at Hero appraisingly, then said to Aaron, “Come on. Mom’s waiting for you. You’re going to the doctor for your checkup.”

  Aaron’s face crumpled. “Will I get a shot? Last time I got a shot. Will they give me a shot this time?”

  “Yep,” said Ben. “With one of those great big needles like they use on horses.”

  Aaron’s breath turned ragged, and he grabbed Hero’s hand. “Is he right? Are they going to give me a shot?”

  Hero glared at Ben in disgust. She crouched down next to Aaron. “How old are you?”

  “Six,” he whimpered.

  “I don’t think you’ll get a shot. You get a lot of shots before you start school, but after that they just check your height and that kind of thing.”

  “Really?” He turned back to Ben. “Is she right?”

  Ben looked at Hero, then grinned suddenly. “Yeah. I’m not messing with her. Come on, you can ride on my back.” He grabbed Aaron’s backpack. “Boost him up,” he told Hero.

  Hero lifted Aaron high enough to wrap his arms around his brother’s neck, and watched Ben jog toward their driveway with Aaron’s skinny legs flapping around Ben’s waist. She heard Ben say, “But you know, if you don’t get a shot, you don’t get a lollipop either.” She smiled as Aaron began to whine in protest.

  When she reached Mrs. Roth’s, she saw Danny in the garden. He was using the clippers to shear a thicket of dead brown stalks in the flower bed next to the fence.

  He looked up eagerly when Hero came through the gate. “Okay, Miriam, she’s here. Now show us!”

  “What?” Hero asked.

  “Something came in the mail, but Miriam made me wait till you got here to see it.”

  Mrs. Roth rose, flushed and smiling, from the steps. “All right, I’ll get it.” As she left the porch, Hero looked at Danny.

  “From your mom? Did your mom finally write back?”

  “I don’t know. But it must be about the diamond.” He tossed down the clippers and bounded up the steps with Hero.

  Mrs. Roth returned to the porch, carrying a bulky white cardboard envelope. “Hey,” said Danny. “That looks familiar.”

  Smiling at him, she slid her hand in one end and they heard rustling. She slowly drew it out, opening her fingers to reveal the Murphy diamond.

  Hero caught her breath. It rested in the center of Mrs. Roth’s hand, all light and angles, glowing in the afternoon sun. Danny looked crestfallen. “She sent it back,” he said quietly. “I can’t believe she sent it back.”

  “It wasn’t hers to keep,” Mrs. Roth said gently.

  Hero reached out to touch it, skating her finger over the glassy surface.

  “But it’s not ours either. What do we do now?”

  Mrs. Roth handed the diamond to Hero, who promptly curled her fingers around it. “Anna sent a letter. I want to read it to you.” She reached back into the envelope and pulled out a folded piece of notebook paper. Hero could see small, jagged script crowding the page. Mrs. Roth smoothed it over her lap and began reading.

  “Dear Mia-”

  “Mia?” Hero asked.

  “What she always called me,” Mrs. Roth explained. “Now listen.

  Mrs. Roth flattened the letter on her lap. “There’s one more thing,” she said quietly. Clearing her throat, she read:

  She paused and looked at Danny, who was staring at the porch, tugging the bottom of his shirt. She shook the envelope, and a creased photograph fell into her lap. She gave it to Danny. Hero could see that it was a picture of a woman and a little boy. The woman was blond and pretty. Her head was turned, laughing at the boy, whose hands she held stretched out as far as they would go. The boy was smiling at the camera, a wide easy grin that even now was completely Danny’s own.

  “Read the back,” Mrs. Roth said quietly. Danny shook his head, sucking in his breath. He handed the picture to Hero.

  She looked at him questioningly, but when he nodded, she turned it over and read aloud the words printed carefully across the back:

  “My heart, my hope

  My soul, my smile

  My held and whole

  Beloved child.”

  Hero looked at Mrs. Roth. “Is that a quote from something?”

  Mrs. Roth sighed, smiling a little. “It’s from a song I used to sing to Anna before she went to sleep. I can’t believe she remembered it.”

  Danny took the photo. They sat in silence, staring at it, the words of the letter echoing in the air between them. Hero loosened her fingers to look at the diamond.

  “So what do we do now?” Danny asked finally.

  “We’ll have to call the police eventually,” said Mrs. Roth. “But I don’t think we have to do that right away. Let’s put it back first, shall we?”

  Mrs. Roth went into the house. When she returned, she had the necklace draped across her palm. She took the diamond from Hero and gently pressed it into the pendant. “It will need to be reset properly,” she said. “But, here. Look.” The pearls and rubies marched unstoppably toward the pendant, which hung at the bottom, now beautifully complete.

  “Wow,” Danny said.

  Hero could only stare at it. She thought of the necklace’s long journey, from brave, persecuted Anne Boleyn to her daughter, Elizabeth, trapped in her prison room, too scared to wear her mother’s pendant but clever enough to use its diamond to scratch a poem on the window glass. Then to Edward de Vere, maybe Elizabeth’s son and the secret Shakespeare. And then through the Vere family to Eleanor Murphy, who died not knowing the necklace’s history and secrets.

  And now, finally, to the three of them, who knew its secrets but would have no choice but to give it up.

  Mrs. Roth handed the necklace to Hero. “Put it on, my dear,” she said softly.

  Hero hesitated, then took it gingerly and unclasped it, fitting it around her throat. She felt the pendant plunk against her chest as she ran her fingers over the jeweled chain.

  “Isn’t it lovely?�
� Mrs. Roth smiled with satisfaction.

  They sat in silence, staring at the diamond. Hero felt transformed by it.

  Danny sighed. “Do we have to give it to the police? What a waste.”

  “Hey,” Hero said suddenly. “I know what we can do! We’ll tell my dad. We’ll tell him the whole story. He’ll be so excited. I mean, to see the necklace that proves who Shakespeare really was. And the other night, he said that the Maxwell buys lots of things besides manuscripts and old books. Don’t you think they’d want something like this?” She touched the diamond. “They can pay the insurance company for the diamond, and then the diamond and the necklace can stay together, at the Maxwell.”

  Mrs. Roth clapped her hands together. “What an excellent idea! Perhaps everything will work out after all. If the necklace ends up at the Maxwell, we can always go there to look at it.” She smiled with satisfaction. ’“Our remedies oft in ourselves do lie.’”

  Hero smiled back at her. “Shakespeare?”

  “Of course.”

  Danny shook his head. “Now here’s what I don’t get: How could somebody write something five hundred years ago and it still makes sense today?”

  Mrs. Roth rose slowly from the steps, her eyes lingering on the necklace. “That’s the real mystery, isn’t it? Not whether he was a common merchant or the queen’s son, but how he could understand so much about human nature. And write about it in a way that still rings true, all these years later.” She smiled at them. “That’s Shakespeare’s secret. And I suppose we’ll never figure it out.”

  She opened the door. “Now, my friends, we need to start getting ready for our guests. Danny, pick up those clippers and put them by the side of the house, will you?”

  Mrs. Roth disappeared inside. Hero stayed on the steps, watching Danny in the garden. Past the fence, in her own driveway, she saw Beatrice’s friend Kelly walking toward the house. Kelly looked over at them and came to the fence. “Danny?” she called.

  Danny glanced up, wiping his hands on his jeans. “Hey,” he said.