Kissing Shakespeare (31 page)

I jumped in, ignoring Stephen’s warning. “Will told me he wanted to write poetry and someday become a player. Now, he seems prepared to abandon all his plans for a life that may not be right for him.”

“Even if this is true, why does it concern you?” Alexander’s expression was solemn and somewhat annoyed. He peered at us, his fingers steepled.

“Because we’ve come to care about Shakespeare,” Stephen said. “Thomas has a passion for God. He is a most holy and learned man, but Will is more passionate about earthly things. He is not a zealot, like Thomas.”

“Mayhap he will turn his passion toward God.”

“Uncle, you sound as if you already know this to be true,” I said.

“Indeed. I have discussed it with Thomas. I have even given my consent to the plan, not that Thomas needed it.”

Oh, no
, I thought.
Oh, no
. “But what about Will’s family? Have they consented?” I asked.

“My dear Olivia, I am not convinced you should be privy to this discussion at all. But since you are my niece, I shall allow it. You may rest assured that I have written to the lad’s father.” Lips pursed, he sent Stephen an irritated glance, as if he thought my brother should keep a tighter rein on me.

Stephen persevered. “Olivia and I have both become friends to Will. We are only concerned that he do what is best for his own life.”

“That cannot be for either of you to judge.”

Stephen lowered his voice and leaned forward. “Nor for someone else, especially not Father Edmund Campion, who has much to gain in the matter.” A smothering silence fell. Stephen’s uncle gripped the edge of his desk until his fingertips grew white. He cleared his throat and finally spoke.

“How long have you known?”

“Not long. The point is, with such a one as Campion pressuring him, how can Will make a proper decision? If he decides against the priesthood, he knows he will be disappointing one of the most venerated men in all of Europe. That is a strong motivation to choose against his own interests.”

Alexander sighed. His face looked haggard, and I thought then that he probably spent many sleepless nights knowing he was sheltering an outlaw, a man wanted by the Privy Council, and so was endangering his entire household.

“Thomas Cook leaves on Sunday, directly after the pageant. Will has agreed, in fact asked, to escort him to the next home. It is up to young Shakespeare to make his own choice. I … I understand that you mean well, but I will not prevent him from going. That is all I shall say on the matter.”

“But—”

“Olivia, our uncle has made his decision, and we must abide by it. Let us say no more.” Stephen took my arm and I rose and curtsied, glaring at him. Why were we giving up so easily?

As we turned to leave, Alexander spoke once more.

“Do others know?”

Stephen shook his head. “I do not believe so.”

Jennet. Tell him Jennet might know
.

“You will be discreet, I trust. I do not need to tell you what would happen if word got out.”

We nodded and wished him good night.

“God keep you both,” he said.

Outside in the passage, we paused. “Let’s go somewhere we can speak privately,” Stephen said, heading toward the library. Instead of the settle, Stephen led me to the window seat. “We know now that my uncle will not help. It is up to us.”

“Yes.”

“I believe we have done all we can for the present. Your making a friend of Will allowed you to plead with him to do what he loves. Other than Thomas, you have the most influence on him.”

“I do?”

“Of course you do! If not for you, he and Thomas would have sneaked away in the night before now. He would not be doubting himself.”

“But the play, and Thomas’s writing.”

“The play could easily go on without them. And I think Thomas finished his document weeks ago. Nay, I think ’tis because Will is yet undecided that they remain here.”

“Even though it’s so risky for Thomas to stay?”

“For him, recruiting a man of Shakespeare’s intelligence and sensitivity to the priesthood is foremost. He’s willing to take the chance.”

“I’ve tried to get Will alone in the last few days, but he’s always rehearsing for the pageant. If I could have one more chance to try to convince him …” I tapered off, knowing that in this case, nothing was a sure thing.

“We must be vigilant, in case they’re prepared to leave before Sunday. Then we must intervene.”

“By locking him up?”

“Can you think of a better idea?”

“No,” I admitted. “Shouldn’t we have told your uncle about Jennet?”

“Ah. I thought about that, but I hate to cast suspicion on someone if it turns out they’ve done nothing wrong. After what we said about Thomas and Will, I have the feeling he’d think we were a couple of gossiping goodwives.”

“But she met with Lowry!”

“Can you be absolutely certain about that? It was raining, the light must have been poor—”

“I’m sure. I had a clear view of them both. It was Lowry.”

“It has been many days since their visit, and nothing has happened. I do not think we need worry about Mistress Jennet.”

I sighed. “I don’t get it. Just the other night, you said you thought she might be conspiring with her father to pass information to Lowry. What changed your mind?”

“I do not discount that as a possibility. ’Tis only that I am more concerned about Thomas Cook leaving and taking Shakespeare with him. We must concentrate on preventing that from happening.”

“Your call.” I wasn’t at all sure he’d made the right one, though. I was still mulling everything over when I heard his voice.

“Olivia,” he said, in that funny way he had. He’d stood up and planted himself in front of me. He looked serious, his dark eyes without even a glimmer of humor.

“What?”

“Do you think about going … back?”

“Of course. I hope you have a plan for getting me there.”

Studying me, he said, “You need not worry. The magic has not failed me in the past.”

Since I didn’t really want to talk about going back, I said, “Speaking of which, I’ve been wondering about some of your other … adventures. This isn’t the first time you’ve had to, uh, step in, is it?”

“This is only my third adventure, as you put it.”

“Would you tell me about the other ones?”

He put his hands loosely on his hips and stared me down. “Truly, Olivia, you wish to hear of this now? You are diverting me from my purpose, which was to talk about you.”

“Pick one—your first one. Give me the short version.”

He shook his head. “You’re incorrigible, wench.”

“Hey, Langford. You’re treading on thin ice.” His lips quivered, and I giggled. And then we were both laughing. After a minute I said, “You’re not off the hook, you know.”

He sighed. “You’ve heard of Sir Francis Drake, who sailed ’round the world?”

“Of course! Sixth-grade social studies.”

“I spent time aboard one of his ships.” He shuddered and gave me a mock-horrified look. “Bad experience. I was horribly seasick. I pray my work will never involve a sailing vessel again.”

I snorted. “But what did you do? Your mission?”

“Would that you were not so persistent, mistress. A planned mutiny would have placed Sir Francis’s life at risk. I made sure it did not take place, because I knew Britain needed Drake in the future. And that is all I will say.”

“But—”

“No more! We were talking of you, not me. I was thinking about your life when you return, and how you are feeling about everything.”

“Why do you care?”

The vulnerable look flashed in his eyes. “Do you think I have no feelings for you, Olivia?”

“I don’t know,” I said truthfully. “Do you?” I looked into his eyes, wishing he’d say how much he adored me.

He dropped his gaze and didn’t answer. “Are you still determined to give up acting? You’ve been playing what will surely be one of the greatest roles of your life. I look upon you sometimes and am convinced you stand with one foot in the present and one in the past. I am all in awe of you.”

Something fell away inside of me, maybe the final barriers to trusting him completely. “That’s the nicest thing you’ve ever said to me. Thank you, Stephen.”

“I only say the truth.” His voice was low, but forceful. “You have fooled everyone into believing you are my sister, an Elizabethan young lady. Only a great actor could have succeeded.”

And I loved every minute of it!
The thought slammed into me and, suddenly light-headed, I had to grab the edge of the window seat. Stephen seized my arms and pulled me to my feet. “I don’t want to give up acting,” I said, laughing a little. “It’s how I want to spend my life.”

His hands gripped me hard. I looked in his eyes, recognizing the pain and longing there, and my face crumpled. “But I don’t want to go back! I can’t stand the thought of leaving you.” Stephen crushed me against his chest, holding me so tightly I could barely breathe. Then he pushed me away far enough to look at me. Devour me. I felt the warm caress of his breath on my face before he kissed me, so deeply I feared he thought it was our last kiss. My legs turned to mush, and I would have fallen if not for his arms encircling me.

“This cannot be,” he said, breaking the kiss and resting his forehead against mine. “You will return to the … to your present, and my life will go on without you.” He stepped resolutely away from me. “Please, Olivia, leave me now.”

I threw myself against him. “No. Don’t make me!”

Gently, he pushed me away. “Pray do as I ask.”

His face looked full of sorrow. I backed away, blinking back tears. Right before I left the room, I looked at him once more. He was staring out the window, his back to me. I stepped into the corridor and closed the door. Slowly and hesitantly, I began walking away, doing as he asked. Leaving him. I didn’t get very far before turning back. Every part of me wanted to go to him.
But no, Olivia. He doesn’t want it
.

In the morning, Stephen was gone. Vanished, without a word to me or to anyone else, apparently. And he’d taken Copernicus with him. When he didn’t return after a couple of days, I began to feel frantic. How would I get home? Fear, emptiness, and an ache deep inside rendered me nearly incapable of functioning. And anger. I was furious with him for abandoning me when I needed him most.

I
’D FORGOTTEN THAT IN
S
HAKESPEARE’S TIME
, usually only one copy of a play, called the “book,” existed. In a real playing company, it would have been my job to copy out each person’s lines. Thank God, Thomas hadn’t asked me to do that. Each actor had taken a turn at writing out his part on foolscap—if he
could
write—or simply used the time to memorize the lines. That was why the prompter was important. I was the one in charge of that single, precious copy, of letting people borrow it, making sure it was kept safe, and, in many cases, helping the younger players learn their lines. My reading had improved enough that I could handle it without worrying. After Stephen’s disappearance, I devoted myself to the job.

When people asked me where he was, I said our father had needed him. Maybe it was the truth. Possibly Alexander knew where he’d gone. Stephen could hardly have disappeared without telling his uncle, but I decided not to ask him. Wouldn’t he wonder why Stephen hadn’t told me himself?

Forget about Stephen
, I told myself.
Be glad he’s gone
. This strategy worked most of the time. Being involved in acting was healing in its way. The rehearsals had progressed to the point of full-scale productions. Thomas was an exacting pageant master, an Elizabethan Spielberg. If he wasn’t satisfied, the players repeated their lines until he was.

I decided to try one more time with Will, and after pageant rehearsal one morning, I approached him. The rehearsal was over, and he was instructing a group of his youngest students, who were playing some of the animals on the ark. “What sort of sound does a lion make?” Will asked. “He’s a fearsome beast!” Will was squatting, at eye level with a small boy.

“Like this!
Rrrrrrr—RR!
”

Will fell backward, as if the lion had frightened him to death, and the boy giggled. “Aye, very good, Luke,” he said, rising. “Practice that for a moment while I speak to Mistress Olivia.”

He grasped my elbow and we moved away from the children. “I’ve been wanting to tell you what a fine job you’re doing as Noah’s wife,” I said. “How does it feel to play a female?”

“I do not like having to pitch my voice higher. It runs the risk of sounding silly rather than funny. On the London stage, younger boys whose voices haven’t yet changed would play the female roles.”

“Have you seen a play in London, then?”

“Nay, I have never been there, but touring companies stop at Stratford on occasion.”

“You haven’t given up on the idea of becoming an actor, have you?”

He eyed me suspiciously. “Can you sit down for a moment?” he asked, leading me to the table in the center of the hall. “You have a great interest in my future, Mistress Olivia. I am curious as to … precisely why this would be the case.”

I was struck dumb. After all, I was the one who was supposed to be asking questions, not Will Shakespeare. Did he think I was a spy or something? I stared at him for a few seconds, my brain whirring so loudly I thought he might hear it.