“How do you fare with your reading?” he asked.
My heart plunged. “Reading?” I echoed. He wants to know about reading? “I haven’t had much time to work on it.”
“Would you care to do so now?”
“Now?”
He twisted a corner of his mouth. “Are your ears plugged, mistress? Aye, now.”
No kissing today, apparently. Damn!
“If you are called upon to read a letter to a servant, or my aunt should require you to read a Bible verse, you must not hesitate.”
His mention of letters and servants triggered a memory. “I need to tell you something about Will first. I was so excited about reading the Shrew with him, I forgot all about it.”
He raised a brow. “Go on.”
“On my way to the classroom the other day, a servant passed me. He was carrying a letter to Will from Thomas Cook.”
“And?”
“And nothing. I mentioned it to Will, hoping he might open it and tell me something about what was in it. But he didn’t bite. He said he’d read it later. Why would Thomas write to him when they could as easily talk?”
“They cannot speak often in private. The letter may contain something important. If you should see it lying about …”
“I don’t know when that would be.” I frowned at him.
“On another visit to his classroom, mayhap?”
“Maybe. I’m supposed to meet with Will again, so I guess it might as well be there.”
“We must move things along, Olivia.”
“I know. I promised you I’d … take this to the ultimate outcome, and I will.” The “ultimate outcome.” What does that even mean? The last time we’d talked about this, I’d told Stephen I couldn’t wait to make love with Will. My lack of enthusiasm must have registered, because his eyes softened and he grasped my hand. “Soon. We must—you must—do it soon.”
I nodded, and he said, “Let us look at Ovid and see how you’re progressing.”
Wonderful.
On a rainy Monday afternoon I settled myself in the ladies’ withdrawing room, practicing my newfound needlework skills. No one could fault me for lack of effort. It was April 10th, my twentieth day in the past. I’d been keeping track in my head. I knew Stephen was right about moving things along. At this point, I was growing desperate for an opportunity to work my wiles on Will. For the time being, I felt I’d done all I could to encourage his writing and acting, and I’d keep working that angle.
It still nagged at me that the sheriff had asked us about “young Shakespeare.” We had never figured out why he wanted to know, though I suspected the sheriff and his goons weren’t all that picky about who they arrested and tortured if they thought he might have information they could use against their perceived enemies.
I’d just returned to my room, trying to decide what to do next, when I heard someone walking quietly through the passageway. It was Jennet, wearing a cloak with the hood pulled up over her head. My chamber was dark, and I hadn’t been in it for the last few hours. There was no way she could have known I was in there. Since it was pouring outside, I couldn’t imagine why she’d be venturing out, but I made an impulsive decision to follow her. Even if it came to nothing, at least it was a chance to take some action.
I waited until she’d descended the stairs and the courtyard door had closed behind her before following. Even though I’d thrown my own cloak on and pulled up the hood, the steady downpour soaked me within a few minutes. Jennet headed toward the thick forest beyond the rose garden, and I stayed as close as I dared. If she turned around, she’d spot me immediately in the open area between the trees and the tilting green.
Jennet entered the woods and hesitated, apparently uncertain about which path to follow. Please don’t turn around, I begged silently. Evidently she made up her mind, because she continued. When I arrived at the spot where she’d paused, I looked around and spied a bit of red cloth tied to a low-hanging branch. Someone had marked a trail! That would make this easier. Walking beneath the trees protected me from the rain, at least. I turned briefly and looked toward the house, at the bulk of the great keep rising into the sky. Should I turn back?
I decided to keep going. I waited for Jennet to get farther ahead of me, since I knew I could depend on the red markers to guide me. The sound of the rain was muted under the trees, and a musky smell of dampness and rotting leaves drifted up from the ground. I zigzagged around trees, fallen logs, and dripping ferns, watching for the red pointers. When something deeper in the woods caught my eye—a rapid movement, a blur of color—I stopped. I thought I could make out two figures huddled together. I crept closer, the leaf-covered ground muffling my footsteps.
When I’d gotten as close as I could risk, I hid myself behind a clump of dead trees and watched. Jennet was talking to a man with a huge hook nose. No one I recognized. Her hood had fallen away, leaving her exposed to the rain. Dank hair clung to her companion’s forehead. Dressed in a doublet and hose, he wore nothing else to protect himself from the wet weather. Unable to hear anything, I crept away before they discovered me. On the way back, I played a guessing game with myself as to the identity of the mystery man, and what exactly Jennet had to say to him.
Back inside, I waved to Stephen as I walked through the passage. Pulling my cloak off, I threw it on the bed just as Bess, bearing hot water, entered through the servants’ door. She took one look at my scraggly appearance and said, “Why were you outside on such a day, mistress?” She walked over and began toweling my hair dry.
I didn’t blame her for asking, since I’d wondered the same thing about Jennet. “I needed some fresh air after doing needlework for a few hours.” That was the best I could come up with.
She chuckled. “You’re not one for the needle, are you, mistress?”
While I washed, she laid out a fresh smock and bodice, and also chose a kirtle and petticoat for me to wear. After she fixed my hair, I hurried to Stephen’s chamber, knocking lightly before barging in.
“Enter,” he called. I walked in to find him donning a fine-looking doublet, slashed to show off its vermillion lining. Still working the fastenings, Stephen turned toward me. He looked up and stared. “You look quite beguiling,” he said.
I felt a blush spreading up my neck to my face, but accepted the compliment with a thank-you.
He blinked, as if to refocus. “What did you wish to tell me?”
“Is there somewhere we can talk without the risk of being overheard?”
“Now? Before dinner?”
I nodded. “It’s important.”
He grabbed my hand and we walked back to my chamber, toward the servants’ door. We stood on the landing, and I related my story of Jennet’s mysterious meeting in the woods.
“A lover, mayhap?”
“In the rain? Besides, they were only talking.” I wrapped my arms around my body, trying not to shiver.
Stephen sighed. “I cannot see what significance it could have. We have no reason to suspect her of anything, except perhaps fancying Will Shakespeare.”
“And writing the mysterious note! Don’t you think it’s weird that she’d be out in the pouring rain meeting with a strange man, unless it was on some secret business?”
“Aye. But I fear it proves nothing, nor does it reveal what, if any, mischief she’s up to. And we’ve no proof that it was she who sent you the message.”
We stood there, at an impasse. “You’re right, of course. It probably means nothing.”
“For the present, I do not see that we can do anything.” He squeezed my hand. “Come, we must go to the evening meal. They’ll be waiting for us.”
From my spot across the table from Alexander, I had my first good look at him since his return a few days before. He didn’t seem well, but then I’d always thought he looked sickly, even from the first day I met him. After spending time in jail, it was no surprise that his face would appear even more pale and drawn. I wondered if he was ill, and if his imprisonment had
made his condition worse. Elizabeth had not yet returned, so that probably didn’t help his health. Apparently her sister-in-law was on the verge of death, and despite learning of Alexander’s arrest, she’d been unable to leave.
“I have some rather unfortunate news to impart,” he said during a lull in the talk. I could tell everyone was holding their breath, waiting for him to make some devastating announcement.
“The Earl of Derby and his son, Lord Strange, will not be visiting us as we’d hoped. Lord Strange sponsors a company of players, as you know.”
A collective exhalation ensued, and some people resumed eating. “It did not seem the most propitious time for such a visit,” he continued. “But Master Cook has an announcement which may ease your disappointment.”
Now heads turned toward Thomas, who was seated near one end of the table.
“We are going to stage one of the Corpus Christi pageants, set for the same day Lord Strange’s players were to have performed. As the pageant master, I shall be calling on all of you to help with designing sets, sewing costumes, and, of course, playing the various parts.”
“Which pageant?” Fulke asked
“The flood,” Thomas said. “Noah and the flood. ’Tis humorous and has many parts. Of course, I will play God—” He was interrupted by hoots of laughter. Thomas, I’d noticed, liked a good joke as much as the next man. He grinned broadly, his eyes good humored. When the table had quieted, he went on. “Fulke will play Noah, and Will Shakespeare has agreed to take on the role of Noah’s wife.” This prompted clapping and jeering, and Will stood up and bowed.
“When do we begin?” Fulke asked.
“Tomorrow morning we shall meet in the schoolroom. Will’s scholars are going to help with the scenery, and several will be in the pageant. We do not have much time; April twenty-third is only two weeks away, so we shall need to work hard.”
Fulke and his father, along with Will, continued to question Thomas about the play. Stephen whispered in my ear. “Shall I explain?”
I nodded, remembering Will’s mention of the plays during our ride to Preston.
“When people were all of the old faith, these plays were performed by the guilds. Their purpose was to educate common folk about Bible stories. Each guild performed a different one.”
“So there were others?”
“Aye. The fall of man, the birth of Christ, the death of Herod. Many more. Noah’s story is very comical, if acted well. I daresay it will be of interest to us to see Master Shakespeare as a player, will it not?”
“Absolutely.”
Stephen turned to his uncle then, and they talked about spring planting and the effect all the rain was having on the crops. I stole a look at Jennet, and then surveyed the room. No sign of her friend. Not at our table, or at the one in the middle of the hall. If he wasn’t from the estate, then who was he? Maybe Jennet had a secret lover, but that wasn’t what it looked like. If I were having a tryst, I’d find somewhere warm and dry. I watched her as much as possible during the rest of the meal, but she acted like her usual self.
ON MOST NIGHTS, people scattered after the evening meal. Tonight, after the toothpicks had disappeared into their special cases, Alexander signaled us to wait. “The rain makes us dull,” he said. “Men, let’s retire to the guinea room for primero and some very fine sack I’ve been saving. What say you?”
There was general agreement among the men, who pushed back from the table laughing and rubbing their hands together. All but Will Shakespeare, who looked panicked. Stephen whispered something to him. He flushed, but after Stephen clapped him on the shoulder, he smiled and nodded. I assumed Will was short on money, and Stephen had offered a loan.
“I shall enjoy your sack, sir, but not the wagering,” said Thomas. “Mistress Olivia, may I speak to you?”
I was standing around, just waiting for everyone to disperse. I intended to hang out in my room for the rest of the evening. “Of course.”
“Would you be kind enough to serve as the prompter for our pageant? Since you may not take one of the roles, I believe this would suit you and allow you to participate.”
“Uh, sure. That is, I’d be happy to.” God, I was always stammering around him.
He smiled and inclined his head. “Excellent. I will explain your duties during our meeting tomorrow.”
After bowing to me, Thomas followed the rest of the men to their card game. He always seemed vaguely uncomfortable with me—with women in general. Overly formal, more so than he was with the men.
I lit a candle to take upstairs. When I entered my room, Copernicus greeted me with excited little whimpers, and I absentmindedly patted his head. I’d better study my reading. I couldn’t believe I’d just agreed to handle the prompt book for the pageant. That was probably a mistake. I lit more candles and curled up on my bed with a stack of books I’d borrowed from Alexander’s library. Within a few minutes I was yawning and would probably have fallen asleep if Bess hadn’t popped through the servants’ door.
“I brought you some clary, mistress. I warmed it for you.” She set a mug down on the table by my bed.
Clary? “Thank you, Bess. You’re so thoughtful.” I raised the cup to my lips, and the pungent odor nearly knocked me backward. Maybe “clary” was another name for spiced ale. I sipped cautiously. “Mmm. Good.” Actually, it wasn’t bad. It tasted like wine rather than ale. I took another sip and choked a little. If only they didn’t make these drinks so peppery.
“Do you need anything else, Mistress Olivia?”
I shook my head. “Not now, thank you.”
I was concentrating on my book when I heard her exclaim. “I stepped on this paper. I did not see it.”
Bess was holding out a familiar-looking piece of parchment, neatly folded. I waited until she left, then quickly opened it. The same scrawl as before jumped out at me.
You are not Stephen’s sister.
I gasped. Someone knew the truth. But how? More to the point, who? The words seemed like a threat, even though, as in the first one, the note said nothing about what the writer might do with this little morsel. Tucking it into the waistband of my skirt, I pulled my bodice over it. When Stephen returned to his chamber, I’d dash over and show it to him.
I studied my books with the magnifying glass and was pleased to realize I’d made some headway. I could actually read whole pages now. But I was too wound up to concentrate for very long. I set the books and glass on the floor and decided to go in search of the men. I made my way to the guinea room. Once there, I hesitated and considered whether or not a young lady would be welcome. I decided on “not.” The corridor was deserted, and the door was ajar. Throwing caution to the wind, I put my back to the wall and listened.
I recognized Stephen’s voice. “ ’Tis a wonder the queen has time for anything save the secret missives from Walsingham’s spies.”
“And the spies are after our priests.” That was Alexander. “They should seek actual criminals to harass.”
“I still believe the excommunication was unnecessary,” Stephen went on. “It didn’t serve any useful purpose other than to turn the queen and Privy Council even further against Catholics.”
“ ’Tis true, things have grown worse for us ever since,” Alexander said.
“It is not for us to question the pope’s decisions.” Now Thomas Cook was speaking. “But that particular one has forced English Catholics into hiding. Arrests and fines. Torturing and killing of priests. I ask myself whether this is too high a price to pay. It has not changed Elizabeth’s course.”
“All this religious strife.” That was Will’s voice. “Does it not serve to turn people from God?”
“There is no doubt men are confused,” Thomas said. “That is why we Jesuits have come back. To help England regain the true faith of the church fathers and the saints.” Even from the doorway I could hear the fire in his voice.
“I—I fear for your safety, Thomas,” Will said. “For your life.”
“Before
we left Rome, we spoke much of torture and death. One brother said he’d always wanted to be a few inches taller.” There was some uncomfortable laughter at his reference to the rack. “For myself, I hope to be able to walk to the scaffold on my own, with my dignity intact and my privy parts covered.”
Thomas would have been humiliated if he knew I’d heard that last bit about his … parts. Nevertheless, I brazenly continued eavesdropping.
“Pray do not say such things!” Will pleaded.
“I find humor comforting, Master Will. But do not worry; I have much work to do before I face such eventualities.”
I wondered how he could be so cavalier about his own execution. He doesn’t fear death, I realized. That’s the only explanation. But what about the torture certain to come before? I shuddered.
The conversation wound down, and after a brief silence Alexander said, “Gentlemen, I’m for my bed.” I heard footsteps and realized I was about to be discovered. I burst through the door before that could happen and dropped a curtsy. “Pray pardon me,” I said, flushing. “Is Stephen here? I need to speak to him.”
Five puzzled sets of eyes stared at me. The sixth, belonging to Stephen, shot daggers my way. He didn’t waste any time striding over to stand beside me.
With an iron grip on my arm, he said, “Gentlemen, I bid you goodnight. I shall escort Olivia to her chamber.”
“God keep you, Niece,” Alexander said.
“Fare you well, Uncle,” I said, stumbling slightly as Stephen jerked me away. His fingers bit into my flesh, and he hurried me along so fast I was practically gliding. “You’re hurting me. And slow down!”
He relaxed his grip on my arm and slowed his pace. “Would you care to explain what you were doing?” he hissed.
“Seeking information. What’s wrong with that?”
“You cannot loiter in passageways and eavesdrop!”
“Why not?”
“Because you’re sure to be caught, as you very nearly were. As it was, everyone thought you impertinent at best and unhinged at worst. Promise me you will not do anything so foolish again.”
Kissing Shakespeare Page 17
