“Wait a second. I thought she was a cousin of the Hoghtons. Which would make her your cousin too.”
“A distant one, on her mother’s side. I’ve never met her, or even heard of her, so the connection must be rather tenuous.”
“Protestants are not allowed to dance?”
“Not necessarily. But I believe they are Puritans. The so-called godly. They have rather extreme views about such things.”
So I’d guessed right about Jennet’s religion. “Why would she be staying with Catholics, then?”
“As I said, her mother was a Hoghton.”
Stephen and I lined up for the next set with the other couples. Don’t screw this up, Miranda. He took hold of my hand, as did the man on my other side, and we performed the honor. Then the dance began, and I concentrated on getting the moves right. All I had to do was repeat them endlessly until the music stopped. After a while, I was able to relax into the rhythm of the steps and even enjoy myself a little.
Somewhere in the middle of it, Stephen said, “You are a graceful dancer, Olivia.”
Did he mean that, or was he teasing me again? I felt ridiculously pleased by the compliment. “Not really,” I said, flustered. He didn’t answer, but when I glanced up at him, he was grinning.
“Young ladies must learn to accept compliments graciously.”
“So now you’re my etiquette teacher?” His grin broadened, and my irritation grew.
After the dance, he offered to get us something to drink. “Wait right here.” He returned quickly, thrusting a cup of wine at me, and then said he was going to speak to Shakespeare. Sipping the wine, I followed his progress up the stairs to the minstrels’ gallery, where he whispered in Will’s ear and then motioned toward me. Pretending not to notice, I pressed myself against the wall, dying for an escape route. A route back home, preferably.
Stephen accepted the lute from Shakespeare, who began to make his way down to the hall. Just then I noticed Jennet standing not too far away from me. Her eyes were riveted on Will, and I could tell as he drew closer that she was waiting for him to come to her, that she fully expected him to. When he passed her by with a slight nod and headed toward me, her face crumpled at first, but then her expression rapidly changed from disappointment to anger. Maybe even rage. Her eyes glittered, and I thought she might stomp over and grab Shakespeare away from me.
“Mistress Olivia, may I have the next dance?” Will bowed, and I didn’t think about Jennet again until later. This was my first chance to get a really close-up look at Shakespeare, and I liked what I saw. His eyes, a pale gray, were unusual and captivating. No sign of the earring—that must come later, in London.
But the truth was, he could have looked like Godzilla. I wouldn’t have minded. He was the great William Shakespeare, and I was about to dance with him.
“Mistress?”
With a shock, I realized I’d been standing there gaping at him like an idiot. “My pleasure,” I murmured. I had no idea if people of this time said things like “my pleasure,” but I thought it sounded right.
“Your brother offered to play so that I might have the honor of a dance.” He gestured toward Stephen, who was turning out to be a man of many talents.
Will and I made our way to the dance floor. The dance was announced, an almain, which, I remembered from practicing with Stephen, had more complex moves. It began easily enough, doubling forward and backward a few times.
“ ’Tis lovely here, is it not?” Will asked.
“Aye, very fine,” I said, trying to keep track of my footwork. Oops. I turned the wrong direction, and Will gently corrected me.
“And why are you here, Master Will? Are you also a distant cousin I’ve never met?”
He laughed. “Nay, I am schoolmaster to a bunch of unruly little beggars who do not care much for learning. They are the children of Master Hoghton’s tenants.”
“What do you teach them?” I had to wait for my answer since we were again facing away from each other.
“The youngest learn letters, the older, some Latin. When everyone grows bored, I tell stories and recite rhymes. Sometimes we sing or dance, on occasion even act.” He smiled. “I disliked school as a young lad. The masters looked for reasons to whip us. I refuse to do that.”
“Your stories and poems—are they of your own composition?”
Now we held hands and moved in a half circle. I clung to Will’s hands, not realizing I was supposed to release them for the next move. “Pardon me, sir,” I muttered when he pulled away from me. Shakespeare looked like he was trying not to laugh.
“Some of them are mine. I am fond of writing poetry. Do you think me odd?”
“Not at all. What kind of rhyme do you write?”
“Nothing worth anybody’s notice. Sonnets and songs. Rhymes for the schoolroom. But someday I hope to be a real poet.”
I nearly choked. “That is admirable, sir, for the world lacks great poetry.”
“Do you think so? Have you not read Virgil and Ovid, then?”
My stomach lurched when I realized my blunder. I was no classics student and really didn’t have a clue which poets Shakespeare would have read.
“You are right. I have not. Perhaps you could instruct me while I am here, help me to further my education.” I smiled and raised my eyebrows, going for an alluring look.
“I would be delighted.”
It had worked! I couldn’t wait to tell Stephen.
After the honor at the end, I watched as Will snaked through the crowd and back toward the gallery. Jennet’s arm reached out and latched onto his, and he stopped and leaned toward her. They spoke for a moment, and then, after a slight bow, he left her. I immediately strolled over to see what I could find out.
“Mistress Jennet, you do not dance?”
“Nay, I do not,” she said. “My faith does not allow it.” Rather than looking at me, she kept her nose pointed toward the dancing.
“And yet you are here.”
“Aye. It seemed rude to simply retire for the evening.”
“You have made a good friend of Master Will Shakespeare.”
Now she turned toward me, anger flaring in her eyes. “Aye, and what of it? He is teaching me to read, and I help him with his scholars. I have two younger sisters and am accustomed to dealing with mischief.”
I couldn’t keep the shock from my voice. “You do not read?”
“Mayhap I have not had the advantages of your station in life.” After a quick curtsy and a brusque “Good even, mistress,” she scurried away.
That went well. I hadn’t meant to make an enemy of Jennet. Nevertheless, I’d managed to embarrass her because she couldn’t read, and worse yet, I had danced with the man she clearly admired and possibly even loved.
After Shakespeare returned to the minstrels’ gallery, I noticed Stephen heading toward an outer door. I danced a few more times, once with Fulke and then with a boy who said he was a neighbor. Afterward, I wandered outside to look for Stephen. Cut adrift from all that was familiar, I felt a little lost when he wasn’t around. I strolled through the courtyard, hoping to spot him. I thought I saw him, but when I called out, I realized I’d interrupted a man and woman kissing, locked in an embrace so tight they looked like one person. Mumbling an apology, I hurried on. By now I’d made it to the outer courtyard, where I could no longer hear music or voices.
It was so still and quiet here. No traffic noises and no artificial light. A solitary bird sang in the night, and a light breeze rustled through the vast forest. So different from my world, where absolute silence existed in very few places. Maybe above the Arctic Circle.
“Miranda?”
I jumped. “I wish you wouldn’t call my name like that, just out of nowhere. And you’re supposed to be calling me Olivia.”
“A slip of the tongue,” Stephen said. “Were you not looking for me?” He was seated on a stone bench, just beyond the outer courtyard. Reaching out, he grabbed my hand and pulled me down next to him. “Did you t
ire of the revelry so quickly?”
I snorted. “Time travel can be exhausting.”
He gazed at me for a second but didn’t comment. “This is the tilting green. The benches are provided for watching the jousts.”
Briefly, I conjured up a vision of King Arthur and Lancelot. “Do you do that? Joust?”
“On occasion. I’m very poor at it and would far rather protect my own skin than gain the worshipful notice of the ladies. Tell me about your dance with Shakespeare.”
“He offered to deepen my knowledge of poetry. I felt really special until Jennet informed me he was teaching her to read.”
Stephen chuckled. “Aye, that would be part of it.”
“Meaning what?”
“Jennet is here to learn how to manage a home and probably to continue her education—what little she may already have had. Her father most likely requested it, for Puritans are keen on everyone reading the Bible. In English, of course.”
“I’m afraid I offended her.”
“Indeed? How so?”
I related my comments to Jennet and her reaction.
“You must try to hide your modern views, Olivia! Many girls and women of this era cannot read, even those from wealthy homes. And it is best not to make an enemy of anyone.” I could hear the disapproval in his little lecture, so I decided to tease him with my theory about Jennet.
“She has a major crush on Shakespeare, you know.”
“A … what?”
“A crush.” I thought for a second. “She fancies him.”
“You’ve had one conversation with her and deduced this?”
“It’s more than just from our talk. I’ve been watching her watch him.”
“And what of Shakespeare? Does he fancy her?”
“I’m not sure. Maybe.”
“Your job will be more difficult if he’s already besotted with someone else.”
Which would force me to stay here even longer! “If Will fell for Jennet, he wouldn’t run off to become a priest, would he? Maybe you don’t need me after all.”
“Ah, but a Puritan girl will not allow any … physical demonstrations of affection, shall we say. In your time, young ladies have no such inhibitions.”
“You mean we’re willing to have sex with just anybody. Is that what you’re saying?”
When he didn’t answer, my temper flashed. “Well, you’re wrong, Stephen! Not all of us are … experienced.”
“Calm yourself, Olivia. I do not mean for you to slip under the coverlet with Will, at least not immediately. But there’s no harm in letting him believe you might.”
I seethed. I’d better set some limits on what I was willing to do, even to save the genius Shakespeare. “Well, if you think—”
“Soft! Someone could overhear us,” he cautioned. Stephen reached for my hand, but I yanked it away. “Kate the Curst,” I heard him mumble under his breath.
“Excuse me?”
“ ’Twas nothing.” He looked up and said, “I missed the night sky when I was in your century. Even in moonlight, the stars glow passing bright here.”
I relaxed a little. He was right. With no artificial light to dim their effect, the stars rocketed out of the darkness. I was spellbound until Stephen’s voice called me back.
“Come, gentle night, come, loving, black-browed night,
Give me my Romeo; and when he shall die,
Take him and cut him out in little stars—”
Recognizing the lines from Romeo and Juliet, I joined in:
“—And he will make the face of heaven so fine
That all the world will be in love with night,
And pay no worship to the garish sun.”
“Have you played Juliet?” he asked.
“I wanted to audition for Juliet in last year’s play, but my mother thought I was too inexperienced. Of course, she’s played her dozens of times. Now she’s too old. She dreads being relegated to roles like the nurse.”
“But she is playing Cleopatra at present, is she not?”
“How did you know that?”
“I heard you talking to your friend Macy about it.”
God, it was weird to think Stephen had eavesdropped on some of my conversations. “She is playing Cleopatra. Stage makeup does wonders for wrinkles. And of course, she’s had work done.”
“I do not understand—”
“In my time, doctors can surgically remove sags and bags and wrinkles. It’s called a face-lift.”
“Amazing. And which of Shakespeare’s ladies is your mother most like?”
“Lady Macbeth,” I blurted out.
Steven laughed. “You mean she would dash your brains out to further her career?”
“If that’s what it took, probably. But she’s always arranged things so that wouldn’t be necessary. What would her fans think if she murdered her only child?”
“Surely you are too hard on her.”
“You don’t know what she’s capable of,” I insisted.
“Perhaps not.”
Something was puzzling me. “How can you know Shakespeare’s work well enough to quote from it? How do you even know it’s worth saving?”
“ ’Tis a long story.”
I looked straight at him. “I have all night.”
He sighed, probably wanting to keep his secrets. “I had to gauge the authenticity of the information I’d gleaned about Shakespeare. I spent many months in your time studying the plays, watching performances, and—as you already know—acting. It was no easy task passing myself off as a modern youth, years younger than my true age of twenty. But it was essential to my … work.”
I hadn’t guessed Stephen’s age, although I knew by now he had to be older. Hiding my surprise, I said, “How did you get away with it?”
“By cowering in my lodgings whenever I was not in a library or school or at a performance. Distancing myself from everyone. In truth, I did not venture out except to purchase food, and of course clothing when I first arrived.”
“And you lived … where?”
“Cheap inns. It makes no difference.”
“How did you get money?”
“I was able to acquire some of your currency with gold coins.”
I had a sudden vision of Stephen hurrying off after every rehearsal, always making an excuse when the rest of us were going out for pizza. “You must have been lonely.”
“Aye, very, but I couldn’t risk too much exposure. My ignorance of modern society was all too obvious.”
“Just as my ignorance of Elizabethan society is.”
Amusement flashed in his eyes. “But you have me to assist you.”
“There is that.”
Rising, he said, “Let’s go in. We’ll need to be up early tomorrow.”
I could see I wasn’t going to get any more out of him tonight, so I followed him toward our chambers, where we wished each other an awkward and rather formal good night.
IN A LIGHT DRIZZLE, Stephen helped me onto my small horse, which he called a palfrey. We were out beyond the stables, and no one else had joined us yet. This morning we would ride to the town of Preston, five miles from Hoghton Tower. It wasn’t long before the grooms were leading the other horses out, walking them around while waiting for their riders. The air was redolent with dung, dampness, and the unique odor I was beginning to associate with riding.
“This is a smaller horse, good for ladies,” Stephen said. “You can rest your feet on the planchette.” He pointed to the footrest hanging down on the horse’s side. “Or you can place one knee over the pommel and turn yourself toward the front. Try it.”
“What’s her name?” I asked, easing my right leg up and hooking it over the pommel. My left foot stayed on the planchette. Awkward, but I thought I’d feel more in control if I was facing forward.
“Peg.” I felt Stephen’s hand wrap around my foot. “Where are the pattens I gave you this morning?”
I grimaced. “I forgot all about them.” Earlier, he’d given me
some very weird-looking wooden overshoes. They had slightly raised heels, and according to him, were supposed to prevent your slippers from getting wet and muddy. Leather straps held them in place.
“Your feet will be wet and cold without them.”
I hated to admit it, but he was right. “I’ll run and get them.”
“I’ll walk you in.”
“Oh, don’t bother. I’ll be fine.”
I found my way with no trouble. After strapping the pattens on, I hurried down the stairs and came face to face with Master Thomas Cook. Without any hesitation, he offered his arm. “May I have the honor?”
I nodded and we strolled back toward the horses. “ ’Tis a pity about the weather,” I said.
“ ’Tis indeed.”
My turn. “How long before you travel to Oxford, sir?”
He looked down at me with those piercing blue eyes and a hint of a smile. Maybe I shouldn’t have asked. Perhaps he thought it was none of my business. I felt my cheeks growing warm.
But he answered me easily enough. “I am in no hurry. Master Hoghton has a fine library and has allowed me the use of it for my studies. I do not need to be at Oxford until Trinity term begins.”
Whenever that was. “And what do you study, Master Cook?”
“I am a teacher of religion and philosophy. Latin, too.” He smiled kindly. “How long will you and your brother remain with your aunt and uncle?”
“I am not certain,” I demurred. “It is for Stephen—and my father, of course—to decide. A month or so, I suppose.”
“Much time for enjoyment. We never lack for pastimes here at Hoghton Tower.”
Will Shakespeare, astride his own horse, waited beside mine. Master Cook inclined his head slightly toward me before handing me over to him. A groom helped me remount the little horse. “I would be honored to escort you to Preston, Mistress Olivia,” Will said, taking hold of my horse’s reins.
Kissing Shakespeare Page 5
