by Alexa Schnee
Then, I felt it coming on again. I glanced around, searching for something I could vomit into. I ran around the tiny room before I couldn’t hold it in my stomach any longer. I placed a hand over my mouth, but it was useless. Bile covered the freshly cleaned stomacher in front of me.
I bit my lip before I could curse. It would have to be scrubbed again.
I placed the bodice back in a tub of soapy water and sighed, starting over again. I thought about what might have caused my upset stomach. I had eaten that day—and not too much, either. I was tired, but I felt no other symptoms of sickness.
I sat down on an upside-down washing tub. My thoughts danced with possible reasons—sour milk, spoiled ale—but none of them seemed to make sense to me. I ran a wet cloth over my face, trying to calm myself. I touched my stomach.
Then, it dawned on me. This could only mean one thing.
I quickly forgot the wash and ran to Henry’s chambers. People in the passageway watched me as I whisked past them along the familiar path to his rooms. I heard voices inside. I wrung my hands impatiently. I would have to wait. They were probably some members of Parliament and such, but no state matter could be as important as this.
I paced outside his chamber door, eager to tell him the news. He would be the first to know. I tapped my foot. My heart was racing, and my face wore a smile. I was to be married, my dream since I had been in the Countess of Kent’s care. To think that I had almost given it up. Now it was as clear as day, a beacon of light where there once was dark. The excitement overwhelmed me. There were so many things I could do now.
When the men finally left Henry’s chambers, I practically ran into the room. Henry sat at his desk, as he had so many times before. His smile was wide. He was happy to see me. He stood and gave me a kiss on the cheek.
“Darling,” he said. “What is this news that you came to tell me in the middle of the afternoon?”
All I could do was beam. What would he do when I told him?
“I’m with child.”
I loved the words as they came out of my mouth. Such words, such brilliant words. For as long as I could remember, I’d dreamed of those magical words of freedom. I had been under the control of others for so long. I had even given up any hope of having the life I wanted, and now here it was, staring me square in the face. I was free.
I did not care if Henry kissed me or slapped me. I would no longer have to come when he called me at nights. I would no longer have to sit with him at state dinners or host hunts or jousts or anything of the sort. Most of all, I would no longer have to lie with him.
He had been good to me; there was no doubt about it. He treated me fairly, as a mistress should be treated, and he helped me gain the favor of the queen. I had given myself to him, and I would be rewarded for it. He would pay me a sum every month and set me to marry a fine gentleman.
A flash of hope went through my body. What if I were to marry William Shakespeare? Could that happen? I thought of the feeling of his hand holding mine, and shivers went up my spine.
“Are you certain?” Henry’s smile faded, and his drooping eyes searched mine.
I nodded. “Yes, my lord. I have missed my cycle this month and had a sickness in my stomach.” When I first noticed that my bleeding hadn’t come, I thought it was from the disturbing instance of Lady Bess’s ordeal and thought nothing more of it. Now I understood.
He nodded. He sighed and tapped his fingers on the desk a few times. His eyes followed my every movement. He was losing me, and it was as sudden as a whim. I had been his mistress for six years.
Henry tottered back over to his desk and moaned. He put a hand to his head as he sat down. He was taking it worse than I thought he would. Of course he would not feel the same way I would, but I did not care that he was upset. I had been upset for all these years.
“You have been a faithful mistress to me. I will look into only the best husband for you. How much would you like a year?” His voice quavered.
He struggled to find some parchment to write the sum on. He clenched his hands before tightly grasping a quill pen. He bent his head over the paper so I could not see his face.
I thought carefully before I answered. If I requested more money, then the quality of the husband would probably diminish. A better husband would be able to pay for new gowns and things that he didn’t need to consider before he married.
“Whatever my lord is willing to give,” I replied, hoping I said the right thing.
“All right,” he said. “How is forty pounds a year? That should buy you the necessities that ladies insist upon.”
I agreed. He was being more than fair.
He shook his head and gave a small chuckle. He looked older than ever, and it was hard to believe that he had caused this spark of life inside of me. Yet there it was.
“I have had a few mistresses,” he said, trying to hold back the tears gathered at the corners of his eyes. “But none, Lady Bassano, have been as kind or as beautiful as you. This is a loss.”
I smiled softly. I appreciated how he cared. He had been my protector, and for a moment I had a twinge of guilt for not being more saddened by our parting. For that’s what it was. I was leaving Henry that day. I would see him around court, and he would speak to me until we found a husband, but this was my official farewell.
He continued.
“I will miss you, as will the ladies of court. But you will promise me that you will come back?”
I nodded again. I could not help but feel how the Countess of Kent must have when she promised me that she would visit me at court. She never had…and I didn’t know whether I wanted to return.
“Thank you,” he finished. I could see the water in his eyes, and a single tear escaped. It would be a greater loss to him than it would be to me.
“You may go.”
IMMEDIATELY AFTER THE AUDIENCE with Henry, I went to Margaret. She held me tightly, as if I was a little girl.
News travels fast around court. Everyone knew in matter of days. It was the best news we’d heard recently. The pregnancy of a musician’s daughter was nothing of the gossip that Lady Bess and Frances had generated, but many were still as surprised as I that it had finally happened.
When the blossoms of early summer began to appear, court seemed to wake up. We all were more joyful and hopeful. The queen’s mood must have improved also, for she released Sir Walter Raleigh from the Tower. He would never come back to court with the freedom that he had before, and he would have to go to his estate with Lady Bess at his side.
I heard that William Shakespeare was coming back to court. The queen called him to perform for her again, and he left his new theatre in London for Her Majesty. I waited expectantly for him to come.
On one of my daily walks outside the palace, I heard some rumbling from down the long road that led to the castle.
I walked toward the noise, into the sunlight. My skirts skated along the green grass. I squinted, blocking the sun. I wished I had brought my hat—or at least a fan to shade my face. The sky’s blue was unrivaled by any other color I had seen in my life. It expanded above my head like the giant dome of a church, painted with birds and clouds softer than any fabric.
Some people were coming toward me on horseback, pulling a cart loaded with large objects. As they came closer, I could make out wooden beams protruding toward the sky.
“Excuse me.” I stopped them as they were about to pass me. I recognized an object on the wagon. “Is this the set to the play going to be performed here? Are you members of the Lord Chamberlain’s troupe?”
A man with a round, dirtied face turned his horse around to talk to me. The gloves on his hands were worn, and his hair was disheveled from travel.
“We are, my lady. We are the actors, at your service.” He gave a theatrical bow.
“Do you know if William Shakespeare is here?” I asked.
“Will? He had some business to finish in London, but he’ll be along soon. Just finishing up some writing, I think.
Right, Richard?”
A man in more distinguished clothing, black with silver lining, nodded.
“He’d better be. If I don’t get those pages to deliver to Wriothesley soon…” He turned back to his cart. “We better get this stage into the palace. Her Majesty will have a royal fit if we aren’t ready to perform when she demands.”
The man with the round face laughed. “All right, then. Good day, my lady.”
I thanked him, my heart dancing la volta inside my chest. He was coming back to court. I was to see him again.
I hurried inside, breathing hard. I leaned my back against a cool stone wall, feeling it relieve the heat from the sun on my shoulders. My chest rose up and down. I was breathing hard for more reasons than one. I might have stopped running, but my thoughts were still racing in my mind.
HENRY DID NOT KEEP in contact with me as he had. This was to be expected, but I wished that he would give me more news of prospective husbands. I hoped to be married before the year ended. I did not know if I would have the baby before then, but it would be nice to have a house to give birth in. The traditions of court birth were horrendous. A woman would be locked in a room a month or two before the birthing, sometimes earlier if a miscarriage was possible. Maids would place hangings over the windows, blocking all the light. She would be in the dark for all those months, lying on her back. I was frightened of the idea. A home was much more comfortable and practical.
I started to notice changes in my figure. I had once been very thin; Margaret had been trying to put more weight on me ever since I had come to court. I now wore curves and needed to expand my dresses. I spent a lot of time in front of the mirror, running my hand over my budding belly.
“Have you heard from Henry?” Margaret asked me.
“No.” I shook my head. “I was hoping to soon. Are there any more prospects?”
“Not that I have heard.”
“We’d better hurry,” I said. “It won’t be long before this baby is born.”
“It’s hard to find the right match. He must be wealthy enough that he can take care of you and your child, but poor enough that your dowry tempts him,” Margaret spoke wisely. “Are there any courtiers that have caught your fancy?”
At first I thought I might actually tell her about my feelings for William Shakespeare. However, I thought better of it and once again shook my head. I did not want to know what she would say.
Margaret picked up a petticoat I had carelessly thrown on a chair and placed it in her laundry basket. She had been burdened with even more things to do since I had become with child. I helped the best I could, but there were special precautions a woman must obey when she was pregnant. That was probably the reason Lady Bess had lost her child in the Tower. It would be almost impossible to follow those rules while locked in prison.
I could not bend over often, nor could I eat too much. The more I ate, the harder the birth would be. I drank tea made of rose hips to soothe my stomach and to ease the pains. I had not become any more beautiful while the child had grown, but it was a fact of life. I might never have the same figure that I had before, and the skin on my stomach might permanently wear scars. It was all worth it. The life I would live would be worth it all.
“No,” I said. “People keep mentioning the poet Thomas Campion. But I don’t think he could support me.”
Margaret nodded. Her eyes were on my belly as well.
“He is but an unknown poet,” she agreed. “I will keep asking around. Henry, of course, would know better than all of us.”
“He does not pay attention to me anymore.”
“I will go to him if I must,” she said firmly. “This is important.” She turned. “By the way, it is said that the playwright”—she cocked her head—“what’s his name again?”
I pretended not to know. “Smith?” I offered.
“Shakespeare, I think. He wishes to speak to you.”
My heart leaped to my throat.
“Me? Why?” I asked.
Margaret picked up another article of clothing and shrugged, giving me a sidelong glance. Did Margaret know?
The thought of seeing William Shakespeare was almost more than I could handle. My breath quickened, and my heart thumped in my chest. I wondered if Margaret could hear it. What would he think of me now that I was with child and growing larger? Would I be able to face him?
“What time does he wish to come?” I sighed, as if it was the last thing I wished to do.
Margaret raised an eyebrow. “What time do you want him?”
I SAT AT THE seat in the window. I wished to wear my finest gown, but I was afraid to put it on in case Margaret might suspect. I wore a simple, clean gown instead. It stretched over my belly tightly. It wouldn’t be long before I would have to loosen it, as I had all the others. I pulled my hair back in a bun. I was no longer a young girl, and I must keep some dignity.
It had been a year since I’d seen him last. An eternity and a moment. With all that had gone on with Lady Bess and Sir Walter, time had gone by quickly; with being a lover and being lonely, time dragged on. But now he was here. He was here.
The knock on the door sounded like trumpets. I motioned a maid to let him in. My hand went to my hair before I could stop it. I made sure it stayed in place.
And then there he was. He stood with his head cocked to the side, as if he were observing some rare plant or animal. He was observing me. His eyes shone, and his hands hung at his side. What was he doing? What was he thinking? Was he noticing my growing figure? No, he was looking at my face.
“Master Shakespeare,” I said. I pointed to the seat I’d set up for him across from me. It was the chair Margaret had sunk into when she’d told me she was with child. It was the chair Frances had sat in when we waited up nights for Henry Carey.
He walked over. He did not stride like many men. He walked with a proud actor’s grace. Was he playing a part? Or was that the way he had come to walk after all of those years on stage?
William Shakespeare came to talk business. He was even more handsome than I remembered; his eyes were more brilliant than I had ever seen them. He was nothing like all the other men at court who cared only for love and money. Here was a man who cared about something more. He brought words, marvelous words, into this world. They were beautiful, and so was he.
“What reason do I have the pleasure of your company today?” I asked.
“You see, my lady…” He smiled a small smile. “The baron has been very generous toward me and my troupe. I wish to give him a surprise. A performance.”
“Master Shakespeare…,” I started.
“William, please.”
“I am not sure I can help you,” I said.
“Of course you can,” he said. His fingers traced the pattern on the chair’s fabric. I recalled what it felt like when that hand had touched my own.
“You know what plays he likes and admires. I want to write him one. What takes his interest?”
I wanted to say that he liked to bring young girls to his bed, but I caught myself. Henry had been good to me for many years, and I needn’t be judging him now. I thought before I answered.
“He is dreadfully fascinated with kings and queens and great people. What was that one you performed while you were here?”
“Henry the Fourth,” he spoke without hesitation. Did he remember that day as I did?
“Yes, he enjoyed it. Do you have another one like it?”
“Several.” He smiled sheepishly, as though he should be ashamed that he was writing so much. “They are mostly about France or Denmark.”
“Henry would want something about England,” I replied. I watched to see if his face would change, but it did not.
“I don’t have anything of that sort,” he said. “But I could write one in a few months, I suppose.”
I nodded, even though I did not really care a bit what kind of play Henry Carey received.
“What if you wrote more about Henry the Fourth or some other king?” I a
sked.
“I could do that. Would he like that?”
“He would love it.” I smiled. I expected him to rise and leave, but he did not. His eyes bore into my own. They were so intense that I almost had to turn away.
“About that day when I was showing you my set…” He chuckled. “If I offended you, my lady, I did not mean to.”
“Well”—I smiled and played with the ring on my finger—“I do become offended at kindness. It’s a terrible fault of mine.”
He laughed. Still, he showed no sign of leaving; I wanted to grab him and force him to stay.
“How long do you plan to be at court?” I asked.
If he could sense my intentions, he did not let on.
“Through the summer season,” he said.
I silently rejoiced. If he had a family, he would return to them this summer, for he had been at the theatre the whole past year. It was strange that a man like him hadn’t been married for at least a few years, but I suppose that he traveled so often….
“Well, we are glad to have your company,” I said.
At that he stood up.
“Thank you very much, my lady. You assistance has been most helpful.”
“It was no trouble at all,” I replied, trying to hide my disappointment.
He grinned and nodded in parting. I sighed after I heard his footsteps disappear and heard the door close behind him. He hadn’t given any indication that he thought of me as I thought of him.
I was just about to turn back to my sewing when I heard the clunking of his boots once more.
“I’m sorry,” he said as he appeared again. “I quite forgot something.”
He bent over and kissed my hand, and I caught my breath once again. The touch of his lips on the back of my hand lingered long after he left the room. I knew who I wanted to marry. I had only known him a short time, but he had known me forever. I could imagine us in a small house in London, next to the theatre. We could walk to it and watch his plays being performed. The baby inside me would become an actor and convey his father’s beautiful words to an audience. I could almost hear the crowds gathered and see the colors. Finally, my life was becoming what I wanted it to be.
