Kissing Shakespeare (32 page)

Worse yet, I felt a flush suffusing my skin all the way from my neck up to the top of my head. “I, well, that is, in my family, we believe it is important to follow your dreams.”
Oh, God, that sounded way too modern
. I tried to recover. “You see, my father did not wish to be a farmer. He has always regretted not speaking his mind on the subject.”

“I see. So he did not wish to work the land that had been in his family for generations?”

“Nay. He wished to study … uh, law. Aye, he wished to be a lawyer.” I was really warming to my subject now, digging myself into a deeper and deeper hole. “Legal matters have always fascinated him.”

“Truly? I am surprised he would have had any knowledge of the law.” Since Will’s eyes met mine with curiosity and amusement, I was pretty sure he was deliberately putting me on the spot.

“Aye, well, he did. He does not like to talk of it, but our mother has told us.” I looked down and ran a thumbnail along a deep groove in the table.

“And your brother. What does he wish to do with his life?”

I huffed out a breath, as if it were obvious. “Stephen? He loves the land. He wants nothing more than to supervise the farming and the tenants. To marry and raise children and live in our family home.” I thought all of that was true, since he’d told me so himself when we talked about the visions. The idea of him married to … whoever … put an annoying knot of jealousy in my gut.

“What do
you
wish for, Olivia?”

“Me?” I forced a phony laugh. “I’m simply a poor female, marking time until my father arranges a marriage for me to a respectable man.”

“Oh, I’m certain he will have no difficulty doing so.” He shook his head slowly while he spoke.

I swallowed uncomfortably, my throat feeling like it was about to close up around all the lies I was spouting. Why the interrogation? Will seemed to be having a good time with it. Since I didn’t think I could stand one more minute of it, I shot to my feet. “I must go. I promised to help my aunt with, um … something.”

Will burst out laughing. “Pray forgive me, Olivia. I have teased you unmercifully.”

“Aye, you have done. I do not understand the reason.”

He must have sensed he’d hurt me, because he sobered. “Since the Privy Council’s men were here, I have become suspicious of everyone. I am finding it difficult to judge who is trustworthy. I wished to know if you were someone I could rely on, since I have entrusted you with my secrets.”

“And what have you concluded?”

“One thing I know for certain, Olivia, is that you have my best interests in your heart. Indeed, I do not understand why, but I believe it is so.”

I placed my hands on the table and leaned forward, so I could look Will in the eye. “In that you are correct,” I said. I bobbed a quick curtsy. “Good day, Master Will.”

I got out of there as fast as I could without breaking into a run. Will had turned the spotlight on me, and I couldn’t very well turn it back on him. I hadn’t been able to question, cajole, or influence him any further.

Later, at the noon meal, Jennet told me she’d made up her mind to stay for the pageant.

“That is good news indeed! I think you’ll enjoy it. Why did you change your mind?”

“Your advice that what he does not know cannot hurt him. And I have no desire to see the man my father wishes me to wed.”

She didn’t joke about him today. Her eyes looked hard, and I wondered if perhaps the marriage was imminent. Her intended must be really horrid for her to have such a strong aversion to him, I thought.

She bit off a piece of bread, chewed, and swallowed. “It would have been nice to see my sisters, but I can visit them another time.”

I nodded, washing down a bite of partridge with ale. If Jennet stayed here, it would be much more difficult for her to communicate with her father, the lugubrious Master Hall. Yet her sudden change of heart seemed strange. She’d seemed so certain before.

I noticed that Alexander was not present. He hadn’t been at the evening meal last night, either. Curious, I turned to Fulke and asked him if he knew where my uncle was.

“He’s gone to the horse market in Preston. Every landowner picks up new horseflesh this time of year.” He seemed puzzled. “Does not your father do the same?”

I gulped. “Aye, he does. I’ve lost track of time since I’ve been away from home for so long.” I nibbled at a strawberry tart and then realized Jennet was speaking to me.

“Mistress Olivia, how do you progress with your needlework?”

“Not well, I fear. I need another lesson. Are you busy this afternoon?”

“I am. Cousin Elizabeth and I will be in the stillroom brewing decoctions and tinctures. On the morrow, mayhap?”

“I will appreciate your help.”

Since Stephen’s mysterious departure, I’d given up on everything except Will. So I made a decision. I’d take advantage of this perfect opportunity to search Jennet’s room. Maybe I could learn something about her relationship with Robert Lowry, Privy Council spy.

After lunch, I excused myself before anyone could ask yet again about Stephen. Hurrying past his chamber, I couldn’t help picturing all the “Stephen” things I knew were there. The stack of books near the bed. The miniature portraits of his parents on his night-stand. Foolscap, an ink jar, and quills scattered over the small writing table.
Oh, for God’s sake, Olivia. You’re not supposed to be thinking about him
.

I waited for an hour or so, to be on the safe side. I’d told Bess I was tired and wanted to rest. Will was helping to supervise set building this afternoon. When everyone had gone off to their respective tasks and the house had grown quiet, I approached the double doors separating my room from Jennet’s.

I called her name and rapped softly a few times before sneaking in, then closed both doors behind me. Jennet’s chamber, smaller than Stephen’s and mine, had the austere aura one might expect for a Puritan girl.

A twin-size bed with a plain coverlet stood against the back wall, the washstand next to it. A painted cloth depicting a martyrdom in gruesome detail—a Protestant one, no doubt—hung on one wall, and beneath it, a table displayed a book called
Foxe’s Book of Martyrs
. I fanned the pages, but no papers fell out. Next I searched her wardrobe, quickly riffling through her clothing, all the same unrelenting black and white garments she wore every day. I reached to the back of each shelf and felt around with my fingers, but found nothing.

I examined her bed as thoroughly as I had Will’s, removing both the mattress and the sheet, but came up empty. Where else to look? There was no desk, nothing on the table but the one book. If Jennet had any secrets, they weren’t to be found here. I was turning to leave when something caught my eye.

Beside her wardrobe, a small painting of Jesus hung on the wall. Why would a Puritan girl want this in her room? “Papist” was the word that came to mind. I walked over and examined it more closely, but nothing about it jumped out at me. I lifted it off its nail and flipped it over. A piece of foolscap was stuck between the back of the painting and the edge of the frame.

I paused to listen for any sound of footsteps or voices, but heard nothing. With trembling hands, I unfolded the paper. Bold script crawled across the page. I scanned it rapidly, and it looked as if I’d be able to get the gist.

Daughter
,

On Thursday next, 20th of April, after yr midday meal, proceed to the alehouse at Riley Green. There you will meet with RL and sheriff
to arrange date for arrest of Campion and WS. Do not fail to oblige me in this. You know what will transpire if you do not do yr duty
.

Stunned, I read the words over and over, to make sure I had it right. They knew! They knew Thomas Cook was really Campion. Jennet had figured it out and told Lowry. It must have been after the privy councilors had dined here. If they’d known then, they would have arrested him that night. There was no signature, but Jennet’s father was obviously the writer. Tomorrow was Thursday, April 20. My hands shook as I replaced the note, rehung the painting, and beat a hasty retreat back to my own room.

I paced, my heart thudding. My first impulse was to go straight to Alexander, but then I remembered he was gone. Given his feelings about “females,” I wasn’t sure he’d believe me, anyway, even if I provided irrefutable evidence.

I should warn Will, I knew.
I should definitely warn Will
. But if I did, he’d be obligated to tell Thomas. Then the two of them would ride off into the sunset, never to be heard from again. I couldn’t risk it. I’d have to follow Jennet to the alehouse and listen in on her conversation with the two men. I didn’t know where Riley Green was, but it couldn’t be that far if Jennet had to show up there right after lunch.

One major obstacle stood in my way. Jennet knew me outright, and both Lowry and the sheriff would recognize me. I felt fury building, aimed directly at Stephen. If he hadn’t left, I wouldn’t be forced to deal with this on my own. We could’ve figured something out together. I kicked the small stool near the fireplace, and it slid approximately five feet. Not worth it for the amount of pain it caused.

“Ouch! God, that hurt!” I hopped around on one foot, cursing, and only then did I notice that Bess had entered the room through the servants’ door and was standing stock still, watching me.

“Mistress, is something amiss? Have you injured yourself?”

I stared at her for a moment, considering whether or not I could enlist her help. She undoubtedly would be familiar with Riley Green and the location of the alehouse. But could I ask her without arousing suspicion? “Nay, Bess, I am fine. I stubbed my toe. And I’m angry with Stephen.” At least that much was true.

She smiled sympathetically. “If you do not need me, I’ll help in the stillroom.”

I nodded my permission. As she turned to leave, I blurted out, “Bess, where is Riley Green?”

“The village?”

“I guess.” My face went red. “Aye, the village. There’s an alehouse there.”

“Why, ’tis just at the bottom of the road up to the manor.”

“Toward Preston?”

“Nay, the other way.” She shot me a suspicious look. “But you will not go there by yourself, mistress?”

“Someone mentioned it, and I wondered why I’d not seen it. That’s all.”

“The alewife and her husband are friends. Even so, young ladies do not … should not—”

“I would not dream of entering an alehouse unaccompanied.”

Judging by Bess’s look and warning, I’d have to disguise myself as a young man. Olivia Langford could not enter an alehouse unaccompanied, but
Oliver
Langford most definitely could. That meant borrowing clothing. Will and I were of similar size, but he had few clothes. I’d have to borrow from Stephen. Doublet, hose, shoes, hat. I had my Uggs, had hidden them away where even Bess hadn’t found them, so I’d wear those and hope nobody would notice their unique look. I thought about raiding the costume trunk for the Corpus Christi play for a fake beard, but that would have been totally over the top.

I gathered the pieces of my disguise. Good thing Stephen was so vain about his appearance. He had plenty of everything, including several hats to choose from. My boots were exactly where Stephen had told me to hide them, at the bottom of an unused cupboard in the passageway. I stashed everything else in there with them, just in case Bess stuck her nose into my wardrobe. All was ready.