Kissing Shakespeare (30 page)

“T
HE LEADER OF THE
J
ESUITS
? The charismatic one?” I asked. “It finally makes sense why Will is so in thrall to him.”

“Go, quickly, and put the letter back. Then we shall talk.”

I dashed back down the hall into Will’s room. Just as I reached the writing table, I heard Stephen’s voice.

“Will! How is the play practice progressing?”

I jammed the letter back into the book.

“Very well, I believe,” Will answered, probably wondering why Stephen was shouting.

“Ah, I am glad to hear it. Will you perform indoors, in the hall? I was wondering if out-of-doors would be more realistic, such as was done in the old times.”

I dashed into my room.

Stephen and I had no further opportunity to talk until late in the day. During lunch I realized I hadn’t even told him about Will’s almost certain decision to join the Jesuits. But I put that out of my mind for now, because I was sitting next to Jennet. This could be a chance to learn something.

“Are you helping with the pageant, mistress?” Jennet asked me while I nibbled on bread and sipped my ale.

“Thomas has asked me to be the prompter. Females, as you know, cannot be players.” I rolled my eyes and she laughed. “And you?”

“Nay, I cannot take part. My father would remove me from here if he got wind of it. Indeed, I will probably have to leave on the day of the performance. When is it to be?”

“I believe a week from Sunday next.”

“I shall ask Cousin Alexander to arrange for me to go home the day before.”

I drank some ale and pasted an innocent look on my face. “Pray, what is the harm in watching such a play?”

Jennet’s expression sobered. Her eyes slid away from mine and she said, “ ’Tis a practice established by the old faith, regarded as frivolous and heretical by Puritans.” Her cheeks flushed. “Also, my father considers men dressing like women an abomination against God’s laws.”

“Do you regard it thus?”

“I have nothing against it. It seems like harmless fun.” She shrugged. “Master Will says ’tis funny.”

“They are performing the story of Noah and the Flood.”

“And Will plays Noah’s wife. That would be a sight to see.”

“Where I come from, ’tis sometimes said of parents that ‘what they do not know cannot hurt them.’ ” I gave her a sly smile.

“I will think on it. Mayhap my father need not know.”

“Speaking of your father,” I said, “what news of your betrothal?”

“None. And that is another good reason not to go home.” We laughed, but I shuddered to think what it would be like to be forced into a marriage with a widower years older, unappealing in every way, and then be expected to sleep with him, raise his children, and nurse him in his old age. Ugh. I couldn’t help feeling sympathetic toward her.

At the other end of the table, Thomas, Will, and Fulke were entertaining the others with stories about the pageant. “Master Will makes a fine nagging wife for Noah,” Thomas said.

“And you a most excellent God Almighty,” Will jibed. “Though we all know you fancy yourself thus already.” Thomas took it good-naturedly. Alexander looked as if he thought Will had gone too far, but must have realized it was all in fun since he ended up laughing too.

Stephen sent me a look, darting his eyes away after a second, and I knew he was wondering the same thing I was. Did Will know Thomas’s true identity? With the initials on the sealing wax—a totally careless act on Thomas’s part to have sealed the letter that way—how could he not? And all the discussions they’d had, probably in private as well as among company. Alexander most likely had known from the start. A devout Catholic, he would have been honored that such a man would want to reside at his home while writing his manifesto, or whatever it was.

“Olivia?” Jennet poked me in the ribs. “Master Cook is addressing you.”

So deep in thought I hadn’t even realized anyone was speaking to me, I jerked my head up. “Pray, what did you say?”

“Can you come to our rehearsal this afternoon? Your job is quite an important one, as you will save us all from the shame of forgotten lines and missed cues,” Thomas said.

“Oh, aye. I shall be there.” I smiled, as though I had nothing on my mind but an amusing production of the Noah’s ark pageant.

Stephen and I finally caught up with each other after the evening meal. “Get your cloak and meet me in the rose garden.”

I rolled my eyes at his bossy tone. “Yes, sir. Will do.” As he hurried up the staircase ahead of me, I took a long look at him. He was always impeccably dressed. Tonight he wore a black doublet with an aubergine-colored lining over a fine linen shirt. Dark velvet Venetians—best described as billowy shorts—stockings, and boots completed the look. He could have been on the cover of a Renaissance edition of
GQ. Stop it, Olivia
.

I grabbed my cloak and tugged on the gloves Will had given me. It had rained earlier, and both landscape and buildings were shrouded in mist. The moist grass dampened my slippers and wet the hems of my skirts. While I waited for Stephen in the garden, I tried to identify the birdsongs. My grandmother always said robins sang the day to sleep, but I didn’t know if that was true in the here-and-now. The then-and-now. Whatever.

A form appeared out of the mist, and I gasped.

“Did I frighten you?” Stephen asked.

“It’s just that I couldn’t see you coming.”

“Let’s find a bench and sit down.” He reached for my hand and led me around blooming crabapple trees and down a path until we reached the bench.

“I noticed you conversing with Jennet during the meal. Did you learn anything?”

I wrapped my cloak closer around myself. “Only that she intends to leave the day before the Corpus Christi pageant. Her father wouldn’t approve. I tried to talk her into staying.”

“Any luck?”

“Hard to tell. She says she doesn’t want to go home. Her father wants her to marry a much older man who sounds pretty disgusting.”

“You raised the question earlier, and I cannot but wonder if her father is involved in this. It makes sense that he would be the one aiding the Privy Council.”

“I keep thinking about that too. If that’s true, he may have enlisted her help.”

Stephen nodded. “It is beyond belief that Edmund Campion has been in our midst all this time and I’ve been completely unaware. There were signs. I should have guessed.”

“It explains why Will is so confused. I think he truly
is
torn, Stephen. When I talked to him today, he seemed so dejected.” I shivered, feeling the mist drifting closer, wrapping us in its dampness. “Is there any doubt in your mind that Shakespeare knows Thomas is really Edmund Campion?”

“None. ’Tis the reason for his indecision. With such a powerful influence as Campion, Will must feel a great pressure to do his bidding.”

And then I grabbed Stephen’s arm so hard he flinched.

“What is it?”

“I just figured something out!”

“Soft, sweeting,” he whispered. “Someone could be about.”

Oh, God
. I moved closer, close enough to smell his soap, and wished desperately we were out here for a much different reason than the true one. “Jennet knows. She knows Cook is Campion!”

“We have no proof of that.”

“We’ve been wondering what she told Lowry. That’s got to be it.”

“ ’Tis a big leap. She may have identified Thomas as the Jesuit, but how could she know he’s Campion?”

“You said last night she could have been tricking us all along, that she may be as good a reader and writer as you or I. If she got her hands on the document he’s been working on, maybe something in it gave away his identity.”

“We cannot be sure, Olivia.”

It seemed perfectly obvious to me, but maybe watching all those reruns of
Law and Order
with my grandparents had skewed my perspective. “Will did have one encouraging bit of news. He said Thomas—Campion—is leaving right after the play. But that also means we only have about a week and a half to make sure Will doesn’t leave with him. What should we do?”

“Let us agree on one thing first. We should continue to call Campion Thomas. If we start talking and thinking of him as Campion, the name will doubtless slip out when we don’t want it to. Agreed?”

“Of course.”

“In answer to your question, we may have to resort to extreme measures to prevent Shakespeare’s leaving with Thomas.”

“Define ‘extreme measures,’ ” I said, slanting my eyes at him.

“Lock him in one of the rooms on the lower level.”

“But that’s ridiculous,” I said, loud enough that Stephen had to shush me. Again. I lowered my voice to a whisper. “He’d never come along willingly!”

Frowning, he said, “We wouldn’t keep him locked up for long. Just enough time so that it would be impossible for Will to catch up with Thomas. Then we’d release him. ’Tis not as if he would be our prisoner.”

“Good luck convincing
him
of that!”

“It may be our only hope.”

I lowered my voice. “I think we should talk to your uncle. If we explain the situation to him, maybe he won’t allow Will to escort Thomas, and then we wouldn’t have to deal with it.”

“Tell him Thomas wants Will for the brotherhood? I’m not sure it would matter to him. Indeed, he’d probably be pleased.”

“But surely Shakespeare’s family should have some say. If you had a young man working for you, one as young as Will, wouldn’t you feel obligated to ask his parents before sending him off to become a priest?”

Stephen exhaled a frustrated breath and his shoulders drooped. “You are right. I will ask to speak with him.”

“I want to be there too.”

“Absolutely not. Females are not involved in decisions of this nature.”

“Please, Stephen. I’m part of this. And I can be persuasive.”

He grinned. “That you can. Very well. Let’s go in, then. Perhaps I can find him now and arrange a time.” When we reached the outer courtyard, Stephen said, “Go first; I will follow shortly.”

I nodded. He brought my hand to his lips, brushing them gently across my fingers. Neither of us spoke. I walked toward the door, turning back once. But I couldn’t see him. He was already lost in the mist.

S
TEPHEN WASTED NO TIME
in arranging our meeting with Alexander. As I stepped hesitantly over the threshold of the billiard room, I recalled that it also served as an office. After Stephen shut the door, his uncle gestured for us to sit down on the oak chairs in front of the desk.

“I suppose, since you have closed the door, this must be a serious matter,” he said, raising his brows.

“Aye, Uncle, it is indeed.”

“You had better tell me what is amiss.”

Stephen and I looked at each other. We’d agreed that he would speak first, and I’d chime in if necessary.
Absolutely
necessary, Stephen had said. I was grateful for the decision, since I felt slightly nauseous. I wished I hadn’t eaten quite so much quail at dinner, and I should have skipped the pear tart with cream altogether.

“Uncle, we’re concerned for Will Shakespeare. It seems obvious Thomas Cook is attempting to persuade him to join the Society of Jesus.” Stephen paused, apparently unsure about what to say next. “Olivia and I do not believe …” He tried again. “We do not think Master Will is suited to the priesthood.”