by Virna Sheard
CHAPTER VI
VI
When Debora awoke, the sunlight was flooding the chilly room, and onthe frosty air sounded a chiming of church bells. A confusion ofthoughts stormed her mind as she sprang up and found herself dressedand by the window. Her eyes ached as eyes will that have weptovernight, and her heart was heavy. Still it was not her way to thinklong; so she bathed in fair water till her face got back its shell-pinktints. She put on the white taffeta kirtle and farthingale that wasalways kept for Sunday, and fastened a fluted ruff about her throat.When all was finished, her hair coiled freshly and puffed at the sidesas Darby would have it dressed to follow the new fashion; when hershoes, with their great silver buckles and red heels, were laced andtied, and when the frills at her wrist were settled, she looked in themirror and felt better. It was not possible to view such a vision,knowing that it was one's self, without taking comfort.
"Things be past their worst surely," she said. "An' I have no heart inme this morning to give Darby a harsh word. Marry! men take not kindlyto upbraiding, and hate a shrew at best o' times. So will I talk tohim in sweeter fashion, but in a tone that will be harder to endurethan any scolding."
She went down the hall and stopped at her brother's door. No faintestsound came from the room, so she entered and looked about. On the hugefour-post bed, from which the funereal-looking curtains were drawnback, lay Darby, in a slumber deep and unrefreshing. Now and again aheavy sigh broke from his lips. His bright locks were tossed andruffled about his face, and that was dead white, save for the violetrings beneath the eyes and the unabated swelling on his forehead.
"He is a doleful sight," said Debora, gazing down at him, her spiritssinking, "a woful, doleful sight! Ods pitikins! 'tis worse than Ithought. What a pass 't has come to that this should be DarbyThornbury. Heart o' me!" a flickering sarcastic little smile goingover her face, "Heart o' me, but here be a pretty Juliet!" Then shegrew grave.
"Juliet!" verily it would not be possible! That part was out of thequestion for Darby, at least on the morrow. The bruise on his browsettled it, for the eye beneath was fairly closed.
Alack! alack! she thought, how ever would things fall out atBlackfriars? What of the new play that had already been put off somemonths and had cost the Company heavily in new dresses, new scenery,even new actors? Oh! was ever such a coil? 'Twould be the lad'sundoing upon the London stage. No Master-player would e'er trust himwith part or place again.
Debora stood by the bed foot, still and sad, a thousand wild thoughtsand questions tangling themselves in her brain. Should she away toMaster Shakespeare, who had but just returned to London for the openingday? He was at the Mermaid Inn, and peradventure 'twas best to tellhim all. She grew faint at the thought. Had not Judith told her whata very fever of unrest possessed her father before one of these newplays was shown! Debora fancied she could see his sensitive face, withthe eyes so wise and kindly, change and grow cold and forbidding as thetale was unfolded.
"Then what is left to do?" she said, desperately. "What is left to do?The play must be saved, Darby must be saved, his reputation, hisstanding among the players cannot be lost thus." Oh! for some one toturn to--to advise. Oh! for Nick Berwick and his fair cool judgment.Should she report at the theatre that her brother was ill? No, for hehad been seen with a merry party drinking at the Castle Tavern onSaturday. If this outbreak could be tided over 'twould be his last,she thought, passionately, her woman's faith coming to the rescue.Some way she must find to save him.
Slowly an idea took possession of the girl and it faded the colour fromher cheeks, and set a light in her eyes.
"Debora Thornbury! Ay! there was one could play the part of Juliet."The very life seemed to go out of her at the thought, and she slippeddown to the floor and buried her face in the coverlet. Slowly the coldroom, the great four-poster, the uneasy sleeper all faded away, and shewas alone upon a high balcony in the stillness of a moonlit garden.The tree tops were silver-frosted by the light, and the night was sweetwith a perfume from the roses below. She was not Debora Thornbury, butJuliet, the little daughter of the Capulets. The name of her lover wason her lips and a strange happiness filled her soul.
Suddenly rising she went to a heavy press that stood against the wall,swung back the door, and sought out a suit of her brother's. It was ofKendal green cloth, faced about the doublet with tan-coloured leather.The long, soft boots were of the same, and the wide-brimmed hat bore acluster of white plumes and a buckle of brilliants, while a small lacehandkerchief was tucked into the band, after a fashion followed bygentlemen of the court. Opening the door beneath the press the girlselected cuffs and collar wrought in pointed lace.
"In very truth," she said, with a little bitter smile. "DarbyThornbury hath a pretty taste, an' must have coined many rose-nobles inLondon--or won them. He hath certainly spent them, for never saw Isuch store o' finery! Here be two velvet tabards slashed and puffedwith satin; and a short cloak o' russet silk laid upon with Flemishlace fit for a prince! 'Truth what with his clocked hose, an' scentedgloves with stitchery o' silver thread on the backs methinks he hathturned to a very dandy."
Gathering the garments she desired together across her arm, she wentagain to the bed, and looked down, her eyes growing tender. "I fear me'tis an unmaidenly thing to even dream o' doing, but if 'tis done, 'tisdone for thee, dear heart, albeit without thy consent or Dad's. Therewill be scant risk o' discovery--we be too much alike. People havewearied us both prating of the likeness. Now 'twill serve; just two orthree nights' masquerade for me an' thou wilt be thyself again."Stooping, she kissed the bruised face and went away.
In her own room Debora made quick work of changing her dress. It wasan awkward business, for the doublet and green tabard seemed fairlypossessed to go contrariwise; the hose were unmanageable, and thecordovan long boots needed stuffing at the toes. Here and there uponthe suit was broidered the Lord Chamberlain's coat of arms in goldthread, and when all was finished Deb looked at herself and felt shewas a gorgeous and satisfying sight. "Marry! but men be fond o' finefeathers," she thought, studying her reflection.
Then, letting down the coils of auburn hair, she drew the glitteringstrands through her fingers. "I would it might just be tucked up--itpleasures one little to cut it off. Beshrew me! If I so resembleDarby with such a cloud o' hair about me, what will I be like when 'tistrimmed to match his?" Taking the shears she deliberately severed itto the very length of her brother's. The love-locks curled around heroval face in the self-same charming way.
"My heart! 'tis all most vastly becoming," she exclaimed, fastening thepointed collar. "I liked thee as a girl, Deb, but I love thee, nay, Idote on thee as a lad! Now must I stride an' speak in mannish fashion('tis well there go'th a long cloak with the suit, for on that I relyto hearten my courage); also I bethink me 'twould be wise to use somestrong flavoursome words to garnish my plain speech. By Saint George!now, or Gad Zooks! Heart's mercy! stay'th the hat so? or so? Alack!my courage seem'th to ooze from my boot-heels. Steady, true heart,steady! Nay then, I cannot do it. I will not do it--it look'th a veryhorror to me. Oh! my poor, pretty hair; my poor, pretty hair!"
"I like thee as a girl, Deb; but I love thee as a lad"]
On a sudden the girl was down on the floor, and the long locks werecaught together and passionately held against her lips. But it wasonly for a moment. When the storm was over she rose and dashed themist of it from her eyes.
"What must be, must be! I cannot think on any other plan. I wouldthere were an understudy, but there be none. So must I take the partfor Darby--and for Master William Shakespeare."
So saying, Debora went below to the room where the table was laid forbreakfast, walking along the hall with a firm step, for her mind wasmade up and she was never one to do things by halves.
Taking her brother's place she knocked briskly on the little gong andwaited. Master Blossom started to answer the summons in a slow-footed,ponderous way peculiar to him, yawning au
dibly at intervals upon theway.
The Sabbath morn was one whereon good folk should sleep long, and notlook to be waited on early, according to him. Dame Blossom herself wasbut just astir, and lodgers were at best but an inconsiderate lot.Cogitating on these things he entered the room, then stood stock stillas though petrified, his light blue eyes vacant with astonishment.
The dainty figure at the table swinging one arm idly over its chairback made no sign, unless the impatient tapping of a fashionableboot-toe upon the sanded floor might be taken for one.
"Ods fish!" exclaimed Blossom, moving heavily a few steps nearer. "I'fecks! but thee art a very dai-asy, young Maister! Dost mind how 'Aput 'e to bed? Thou'st pulled tha' self together marvellous, allthings considered!
"Marry, where be tha' black eye? 'twere swelled big as a ribstonepippin!"
"Beefsteak," answered Deb, laconically. "Beefsteak, my lively Blossom.Tie a piece on tight next time thou hast an eye like mine--an' see whatthou shalt see."
"But where gottest thou the beefsteak?"
"Egad! where does any one get it? Don't stand there chattering like amagpie, but bring me my breakfast. This head I have doth not feel likethe head o' Darby Thornbury. 'Tis nigh to breaking. Fetch me mybreakfast and give over staring at a man. See'st aught odd enoughabout me to make thee go daft?"
"I' fecks! 'tis the first time 'A ever heard thee call so loud forbreakfast after such a bout as thine o' yestere'en! I wonder thou haststomach for 't. Howbeit, 'tis thine own affair."
The girl bit her lip. "Nay," she said with cool accent, "I may havesmall appetite for it--but, as thou say'st, 'tis mine own affair."
"Thou need'st good advice more than breakfast, young Maister," saidBlossom, solemnly. "Thy sister was in a way, 'A tell thee. Thou artbecome a roisterer, a drinker an' a gambler that lives but to hear theclink o' gold against the table. Ay! Such a devil-may-care gambler,an' thou had'st a beard an' no money thou would'st stake that o'er thedice. Being these things, an' a player o' plays, marry! 'A see nofair end ahead o' thee."
"Oh! get thee away an' send thy good wife--thou dost make my nervesspin with thy prating. Get thee away," said Deb, petulantly.
"Zounds! but thou art full like thyself in speech. Too much wine i'thy stomach one day makes a monstrous uncivil tongue i' thy head next."
"Nay then! I ask thy pardon, Blossom," cried the girl, laughing, andholding out a crown piece she had discovered in a pocket of thedoublet, "thou art a friend I have no will to offend. Now send thygood Dame."
Shortly Mistress Blossom came bustling in, rosy in the face frombending over an open fire. She carried high in one hand a platter fromwhich drifted a savoury smell, and a steaming flagon was in the other.Setting these down she smoothed her voluminous skirt and stood waiting,an expression of severe displeasure hardening her face.
"A goodly day to you, and a fresh morning, mistress," Deb saidshortly--"I pray thee shut the door--an' see it be latched."
The woman did so without speaking.
"Now look at me well. Come"--smiling--"did'st ever see me more likemyself?"
"Nay," replied the Dame, after a slow scrutiny of the charming figure."In looks thou art well enow. An' thy manners matched, 'twere causefor rejoicing. Thou wer't a disgrace yestere'en to thy sister, ay! an'to the hamlet o' Shottery that saw thee raised."
"Make a finish, good Dame," answered Deb, mockingly; "say a disgrace tomyself an' the company o' players I have the honour of belonging to."
"Hoity-toity! Play actors!" quoth the other. "Little care I for whatdisgrace thou be'st to them! But what o' thy broken head, lad? Hathit sore pained thee? Why, my faith, the swelling be quite gone!"
The girl gave way to a short peal of laughter.
"Marry! I laugh," she said, struggling for composure, "yet feel littlelike it. Look well again, Mistress Blossom. Look well. Surely therebe small triumph in befooling thee, for thou art too easy hoodwinkedwithal. Gaze steady now. Dost still say 'tis Darby Thornbury?"
The woman stared while her complexion went from peony red to pale pink."Thou giv'st me a turn, an' I be like to swoon," she gasped. "Whatprank has't afoot, lad?"
"Thou wilt go a bit farther before thou dost faint. Hark then, an'prythee hold by the table an' thou turn'st giddy. Now doth it come.See then, this handsome, well-favoured youth thou art breakfasting,"rising and making a pretty bow, "is--is none other than _DebThornbury_!"
"Ods pitikins!" cried the woman.
"Sit down," answered Deb, growing sober. "I would talk with thee, forI need thy good-will and, peradventure, thy help. Things with mybrother are in a very coil. He will not be able to take his part i'the new play on the morrow. His face is too sorely marred. Beshrewme, he looks not one half as much like himself as I look like him. Nowthere be no understudy i' the cast for the character Darby hathtaken--further, 'tis an all important one. To have him away would meanconfusion and trouble to Blackfriars and I gainsay nothing rejoicing tothe Admiral's Company and Lord Pembroke's men. 'Tis not to becontemplated. By the Saints! I would not have trouble come to MasterWill Shakespeare through my brother, no, not for the crown jewels!Dost follow me?"
"Nay, that I do not nor what thou'rt coming at," was the dazed response.
Debora shrugged her shoulders. "I hoped 't would have dawned on thee.Why, 'tis just this, I will play the part myself."
"Thou?" cried Dame Blossom, agape. "Thou, Mistress Debora?"
"Yes! yes! Nay, ply me not with questions. My mind is set. There benot one in London who will discover me, an' thou dost not break faith,or let thy good man scent aught on the wind. But I wanted to tellthee, dear Mistress Blossom, and have thy good word. Pray thee say Iam not doing wrong, or making any error. I have been so bewildered."
"I will not say thou art i' the right, for I know not. Has't askedMaster Darby's consent?"
The girl turned impatiently. "Heart o' me! but thou art able toprovoke one. His consent!" with a short laugh. "Nay then--but I willshow him his face i' the mirror, an' on sight of it he will leavethings for me to settle."
"Ay!" the dame returned, blankly, "I warrant he will. But art notafeared o' the people? What if they should discover thou art a_woman_!"
"I'll say they are of quicker wit than one I could name," returnedDebora. "As for the play--well, I know the play by heart. Now onething more. I would have thee go with me to Blackfriars. The theatreopens at four o'clock. Say thou wilt bear me company dear, dearMistress Blossom. Say thou wilt."
"Nay then, I will _not_. Ods fish! Thou hast gotten thyself in thisan' thou can'st get out alone. I will keep a quiet tongue, but ask meto do naught beside."
"Well-a-day! 'Tis as I thought. Now I will go and dress in maidenlyclothes. These fearsome things be not needed till the morrow."