Kissing Shakespeare (6 page)

“Hush,” Stephen said, a smile pasted on. “Someone will hear you.” I clung to his arm to keep from keeling over.

Back upstairs, Copernicus greeted me with his sloppy kisses, and I knelt down to pet him. “Nice doggy,” I said, stroking his long back. When he shifted position, I rolled right over onto the floor. Stephen hauled me to my feet and lifted me onto the opulent bed, where I hoped to sleep for the rest of the day.

Alas, it was not to be. He let me sleep for two hours, and then awakened me for dancing lessons. I opened my eyes and immediately squeezed them shut again.

“My head,” I moaned. “Go away. Leave me alone.”

“Nay, you must get up. You do not want to look foolish tonight, do you?”

“I don’t think I can walk, let alone dance.” I told him I’d learned country dances at school and seen them performed a zillion times in plays and at Renaissance fairs, but he still insisted.

“You try my patience, Miranda. Fresh air is what you need.”

I staggered over to the washstand and splashed my face with water, cringing when I remembered the “Mir-livia” incident. As we headed outside I said, “I think you should call me Olivia all the time. It’s too confusing for both of us if I have two names.”

Stephen nodded. “Olivia it is, then.” We circled the house, finally ending up in a rose garden full of bushes bearing tender buds.

He guided me through all the moves, called “double,” “single,” and “slip step” or “French slide.” The dances always began and ended with an “honor,” when the ladies and gentlemen bowed to each other. At first, I could barely coordinate my brain with my feet. “How do you people drink so much alcohol and still function?” I asked Stephen.

He shrugged. “Because we are accustomed to it, I suppose.”

After a while, the fresh air revived me. All the dancing made my face grow warm and sweat trickle down my back. “I hope no one sees us. Wouldn’t they think it was weird for a brother and sister to dance together?”

“They will think only that we are high-spirited youths free of parental restraints,” he said. “Here, let’s try a volta!”

Before I could react, Stephen had lifted me high and was twirling me around. “It is rumored that the queen loves this dance!”

I shrieked, afraid the spinning would make me nauseous. My stomach seemed okay, though, so I just laughed and grasped his shoulders. An elated feeling gripped me for a moment. I threw my head back and let it fill me up.

When Stephen put me down, I noticed a drape on one of the second-story windows open. In a flash, it fell quickly back into place. Someone had been watching us.

D
URING THE EVENING MEAL
, Alexander announced that tomorrow, Maundy Thursday, we would ride to Preston to distribute food and alms to the poor. “ ’Tis customary,” Stephen whispered to me. I could live with that, except for the “ride” part. I hoped Preston wasn’t too far.

When the meal and all its rituals ended, Alexander stood and said, “Let us have some dancing!”

While we waited for the servants to rearrange the furniture, I stood off to the side, my mind clear and alert. I’d limited my ale consumption at dinner to half a tankard. I was dressed in the crimson gown I’d found in the trunk. After the dance rehearsal, Bess had helped me wash and change, and she’d done my hair too. I could get used to being waited on, I thought.

The hall looked beautiful. Hundreds of chandeliered candles illuminated the room, casting a warm amber glow over everyone, and the minstrels’ gallery had been hung with greenery. Even though I felt pretty confident about the dance steps, I didn’t really know the order, which explained the uneasy feeling in the pit of my stomach.

Stephen strolled over to stand beside me. “That gown suits you, Olivia,” he said, his eyes laughing.
Right
. It was difficult to read Stephen—I was never sure if he was teasing me or not.

“Sucking up to me won’t help,” I said. “I still don’t want any part of your stupid little scheme.” His eyes hardened, but he didn’t comment. Too late, I wished I’d kept my mouth shut. The laughing-eyes Stephen was much better looking than the scowling one.

In a moment, music began to drift down from the gallery, and when I looked up, there stood Will Shakespeare plucking the strings of a lute. Fulke was playing a recorder, and a boy I hadn’t seen before, fingering a strange-looking keyboard instrument, rounded out the ensemble.

The music had a familiar ring from plays and movies I’d seen, and yet at the same time it sounded completely foreign. It was, after all, some four hundred–plus years removed from modern music. “Who are all these people, by the way?” I asked, glancing around at women and girls wearing brightly colored gowns and men and boys in fancy doublets.

“Friends from the neighboring villages and manors and their sons and daughters. My uncle wanted this to be a festive occasion. Until Easter Sunday, there will be no more entertainment.”

“So, how long do you think this seduction stuff will take?”

“Longer than you’ll like if you don’t find an opportunity to pass some time with Master Will.”

“Difficult when he’s up there and I’m down here,” I pointed out.

“I’m sure you’ll think of something.” Stephen glanced toward the musicians, and I thought he was about to suggest a way for me and Shakespeare to get together. Instead he said, “Will you dance with me, Olivia?”

I sent him a cynical glance. “If I must.”

Stephen laughed. “You provoke me, mistress.” Looking around the room, he said, “I see Jennet Hall is not dancing. She is, I believe, from a strict Protestant family. Her father is a minister.”

“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.