She looked down at the worn cobblestones at her feet. The silent stones bore no testimony, but she wondered what kinds of men had tramped over them, what horses had worn them down. Had Cromwell himself marched across their uneven surface, or had the feet of the immortal Gloriana glided over them? And all the ordinary people—the foot soldiers, the milkmaids, the grooms and stable boys—her thoughts then trailed off in another direction. The people who lived here today—the landlords and shopkeepers and tour guides—so many must be the descendants of those very same people.
She remembered how her father had often stood staring up at the great medieval keeps, or how he sometimes muttered to himself as he traced his way through the ruins of some old fortress. Was this what her father had seen when he’d looked at those churches and castles and towers, as if the past had leaped into life? She’d tagged along, occasionally stumbling over half-buried stones, usually bored in the way that teenagers and older children are often bored by their parents’ interests. If he had thought to make her a historian, he was sorely disappointed. But something must have stuck, she thought. The plays of Shakespeare and Marlowe and Jonson had drawn her to the theater.
“Hey, which way?” Alison’s voice interrupted her reverie.
“You go that way.” Olivia pointed. “And I go this way. I’ll catch up with you in—” she checked her watch. “About an hour. Beware of tourists bearing cameras.”
“Thanks for reminding me. Have fun.” With a wave, Alison strolled off yawning.
Olivia made her way to the main office, where an ancient air conditioner loudly blasted cold air in all directions.
“Can I help you, miss?” asked a woman wearing a pink Fair Isle sweater around her shoulders. She sat behind a battered desk.
“I’m Olivia Lindsley. I telephoned yesterday—”
“Oh, yes, of course. The American professor.” She peered over her bifocals at Olivia, looking her up and down, and, self-consciously, Olivia smoothed her jeans with one hand while she clutched her notes closer with the other. “I hope you don’t mind my saying, but you seem a bit young, dear.”
“Professor Lindsley was my father,” Olivia answered. “I’m—I was his research assistant.”
“I see.” The woman raised one eyebrow as if to suggest she was anything but, and rose to her feet. “Well, come this way, Miss Lindsley. Lord Talcott left word that you were to be provided with whatever materials you requested. I’m Doris Parmell. I’m in charge of the archives.”
She led Olivia down a short corridor and into a small, well-lit room that, unlike the main office, was obviously climate-controlled. It reminded Olivia of the rooms where precious manuscripts were kept in libraries. Which, she realized with a start, was exactly what it was, on a smaller scale. “Now, I believe you were specifically interested in the family around the turn of the sixteenth century? I’ve taken the liberty of searching out everything we have on the family during that period. It’s all there.” She pointed to several leather-bound books of obvious age, wrapped in special cloths.
“Thank you,” Olivia said. She placed her notes on the table. “There seems to be a fair amount here.”
“If you tell me what you’re looking for specifically, I might be able to help you pinpoint it. I understand you’re here for the revel as well?”
“Well, my friend is. She came along for the ride, so to speak, and we thought that might be a fun way to while away the time.”
“Of course.”
“Specifically, I’m looking for an Olivia, Lady Talcott. She would have probably been about—well, my age—in the mid-1590s or so.”
“Nicholas Talcott was the master of Talcott Forest during that period, and—” Doris hesitated and then smiled. “Come to think of it, I believe his wife was named Olivia. Didn’t you say that was your name?”
“Just a coincidence.”
“Ah, well. Right over here.” With an efficient bustle, Doris opened the book lying on top of the stack. “I think you will find the information you’re looking for here. But Olivia Talcott was very obscure, surely. Why the interest?”
“As I explained to Lord Talcott, my father believed that Lady Talcott may have been Shakespeare’s Dark Lady. You’ve heard about the cache of letters discovered a few years ago? Well, as part of that find, there were a number of letters written to Shakespeare from a woman who signed herself Olivia, Lady Talcott. There’ve been several candidates, but it’s taken quite a while to track them all down. And actually my father, right before his death, felt that this Lady Talcott—if certain things add up—might well be the Dark Lady. But there’s a certain mystery surrounding her. My father wasn’t ever able to discover exactly who she was.”
“Hmm,” mused Doris. “How interesting. I hope you find what you’re looking for, Miss Lindsley. I’ll be right down the hall. Do call if you need any assistance.” With another chilly smile, she left Olivia alone.
Olivia settled into the straight-backed chair with a little sigh and a fervent prayer that this might be the answer to her father’s lifework at last.
An hour later, Olivia carefully shut the last of the ancient chronicles and rewrapped them in their special casings. She pushed herself away from the table, stretched, and gathered up her notes. She’d certainly learned a fair amount of interesting tidbits about the family. The maze, for example, had been built by one of the younger Talcott brothers in 1585. He’d apparently died suddenly the following year, shortly before his older brother had married Olivia’s elusive namesake. Like so many avenues of inquiry into the past, this one only yielded another mystery, as tantalizing as the one for which she’d come to find an answer.
She walked slowly back to the front office. “Find what you need?” Doris asked.
Olivia shrugged. “Can you tell me anything about Olivia Talcott? Where she was from? I see she married Lord Nicholas in 1587, but before that she seems to come out of nowhere. There’s no family name for her, I don’t see any record of a dowry—”
Doris spread her hands. “You’re more than welcome to come again. I can’t say I’ve made a very thorough search through the old records—I know the family tree fairly well, and so I recognized the name. But for those kinds of details…”
“Are there any other records?”
“Not that I know. But I can check with Lord Talcott when he returns from Paris tomorrow. He may know of some ancillary records—church records and so on—that I’m not aware of. Would you like me to take the name of your hotel in London, and perhaps give you a ring?”
“That would be very helpful, thanks,” said Olivia as she jotted down the number on a card. “I have a funny feeling this may be the lady. But it’s odd how sketchy the information on her is. Are there any portraits of her in the main part of the house?”
“No, there aren’t.” Doris shook her head. “There’s one that’s thought to be Lord Nicholas, I believe. But quite a few of them were lost during the Civil War. They were taken out with many of the family treasures, and many were never recovered.”
“I’ll have to be sure to look for the one of Lord Nicholas,” Olivia said, glancing at her watch. “I guess I should go change into my costume for the revel. Can you tell me how to get to the changing area from here?”
“Oh, yes. It’s very easy.”
After another promise to call her in London, Olivia said good-bye to Doris Parmell and made her way through the long corridors to the changing rooms in the converted stables. Another woman in a blue smock directed her to a locker where a blue satin dress and a flowered wreath hung from a wooden hanger. The costume was cleverly arranged to look more authentic than it actually was—a white lace ruff helped conceal a zipper, and the farthingale was actually a large hoop sewn to the skirt, rather than a separate article of clothing. Olivia had just finished pulling the dress over her head when she was startled to see Alison, wearing a green satin gown, hurry into the room, glancing over her shoulder as though she was afraid someone was following her. “Allie?”
/> “Oh, thank God, Liv. Are you finished dressing? Do you need some help?”
“No, I think I can manage. But you look like you’re running away. What’s the matter?”
“I am running away. From that dreadful Jim Hicks.” Alison gave a mock shudder. “I don’t know why I’m such a nerd magnet. You look great. I look like a green satin Titanic.”
“Oh, you do not.” Olivia laughed as she placed the wreath on her head. “Where’s yours?”
“My wreath? I already look ridiculous enough, thank you. Come on. Let’s go see if the coast is clear. They were heading for the maze when I slipped away. Now that you’re back you can run interference for me.”
“You think my notes will be all right here?” Olivia looked around dubiously.
“Everyone left their purses here. The lockers lock. See?” She held up her wrist, from which dangled a little key on bright elastic. “We’re going to miss the eclipse.”
“That wouldn’t be the first thing we’ve missed. Everyone at home’s probably amazed we made the flight.”
“And won’t they be surprised when we actually make it home.”
“Yeah, well, we haven’t done that yet. Let’s not make any assumptions.” Alison led the way to the door. “So did you find what you were looking for?”
Olivia adjusted her bodice. “Well, yes and no. I found out some interesting stuff. For example, did you know that Lord Nicholas Talcott left specific directions in his will in 1624 that under no circumstances was the maze ever to be torn down? Isn’t that strange? And he married an Olivia in 1587—which makes the timing perfect for her being the Dark Lady. But there are hardly any details about her that I can find. I might have to come back the day after tomorrow. Will you mind?”
“Only if I have to wear this thing again. I can find something to keep myself busy in London. But you think this could be the one?”
“I think I’m pretty close—” Olivia broke off as Alison placed her finger to her lips. “What’s wrong?”
“I want to make sure that guy’s not waiting out here. I thought he might follow me all the way to the ladies’ room. I guess he gave up,” Alison said after peering around the deserted gardens. “The maze is this way.”
“Then, come, my dear lady Alison. Let us make haste to the revel!”
Alison led the way into a wide stone courtyard. She looked up at the sky, which was thick with grayish white clouds. Almost imperceptibly, the sky seemed to darken. “I think it’s starting. We should hurry.” Picking up their skirts, they shuffled as quickly as the billowing fabric would allow.
“So much for dignity,” Olivia said as they scurried past the wide herb beds. All around them the gardens, some open, some bordered with high hedges, lay in some formal arrangement. “This is magnificent.”
“If you think this is a sight, wait until you see Mrs. Higgins.”
Choking back giggles, they passed an open rose garden, arranged around a fountain, and another herb garden, this one laid out in concentric rings. High stalks of lavender scented the humid air.
“There’s the maze.” Alison nodded in the direction of a high hedge. “I think the coast is clear.”
Practically scampering to keep up with Alison’s long strides, Olivia gathered her skirts. The costume was undeniably authentically uncomfortable in the heat. They must spend a fortune on dry-cleaning the sweat stains out, she thought as they stepped between the tall hedgerows. Box yews rose all around them and, straight in front, another row of hedges made a corridor that led off in both directions. “You sure they’re in here?”
“Mrs. Higgins said we’d view the eclipse from the center.” Alison paused and frowned again. “I think I hear them.”
Olivia cocked her head, trying to listen closely with Alison. “I think you’re right. This way!”
Down the narrow corridor between the high rows the two friends went, pausing at the opening. “This way?”
“No, this way,” Olivia said, wishing she could remember what her father had told her about hedges and mazes.
“Didn’t Mrs. Higgins say something about this maze? It didn’t sound that complicated—just keep turning in one direction and eventually you come—” They came to a dead end. Hedges rose on all three sides. “Damn. Maybe we should’ve turned in the other direction.” Alison winked.
Olivia laughed. If there was one thing she loved about her friend, it was her ability to always see the funny side of any situation. “Obviously.”
“Come on.”
Up and down the maze they walked, peering back and forth, straining to hear the voices, which seemed maddeningly elusive. The sky darkened even more, and Alison looked up. “Wow, look, Liv—it’s the eclipse. Did you bring your funny glasses?”
“I think I left mine in the office.”
“I left mine on the bus, or maybe back in the locker room.”
As if in unspoken agreement, they slowed their pace as the clouded sky grew even grayer. The thick air stilled and, despite the darkened sky, the heat grew almost unbearably oppressive. Olivia felt waves of dizziness come over her, and she took a deep breath. She glanced at Alison’s face and saw that her friend was pale. “Are you okay?”
“Yeah,” she answered unconvincingly, “Just a little queasy for some reason. Maybe I’m hungry.”
“I feel strange, too,” Olivia said. She took a deep breath. “How long is this supposed to last?”
“Just a couple minutes.” Alison started to glance up, seemed to remember the repeated warnings not to look at the sun, and looked down. “Let’s go.”
Olivia reached for Alison’s arm as another wave of nausea rolled over her. “It’s been more than a couple minutes.” She glanced down at her watch, then realized she’d left it in the locker room. The light began to brighten, and then, inexplicably, the sky darkened once more. “That’s really weird,” she murmured. “I don’t think that’s supposed to happen.”
“There’s something really weird about this maze,” said Alison. “How long have we been in here?”
Before Olivia could reply, the whole scene seemed to shift in and out of focus. She took one step forward and stumbled, as though she’d tripped. She looked over her shoulder at the ground behind them, as the light began to strengthen at last, and saw nothing lying across the path. “Now that’s really strange. I could’ve sworn—”
“Look—there’s the entrance.” Alison pointed.
“How—how could we have been that close—” Olivia broke off as they stepped out from between the high hedges.
“I don’t know,” Alison answered. “That was creepy. Thank heavens we’re out of there. I thought for sure they’d have to send in a search party. Hey, where’s that music coming from?” She raised her head and pointed. “Look—that wasn’t there before.”
A large buff-colored tent was pitched on a slight rise.
Bright pennants of all shades of blue and yellow and russet flew from high stakes. The music—a high-pitched piping that began and ended in fitful starts as though someone was practicing—was definitely coming from that direction. The smell of cooking meat wafted past on the breeze. Olivia sniffed appreciatively. “Mm. That makes my mouth water.”
Alison sniffed deeply, smiled, and then gagged. “But, my God, get a whiff of that!” She made a face in the opposite direction. “What on earth—?”
Just then a young man in his middle to late twenties rounded a corner. He was dressed in authentically theatrical clothes, noted Olivia. In fact, the authentic side won out over the theatrical side, as she noted sweat stains under the arms of his doublet. His whole appearance seemed a bit grimy, as though his costume hadn’t been cleaned thoroughly in some time. He was muttering to himself as he approached.
“Excuse me!” she said.
He looked up with a startled expression, as though the two women were the last people he expected to see standing next to the entrance of the maze. An odd expression crossed his face, and Olivia continued: “Can you tell us how to reach
our group? We got separated and we haven’t been able—” She broke off as the young man’s face drained of color.
His mouth dropped open, his eyes grew wide, and his face blanched. “By our Lady, it worked!” He stammered, just before he toppled over in a dead faint.
CHAPTER 2
ALISON BOLTED to his side with Olivia, shocked and completely dismayed, close at her heels. Olivia knelt beside Alison, who was feeling for his pulse, and loosened the ties that held the grayish-white ruff in place around his neck. “What do you suppose is wrong with him?”
“I don’t know—he’s not warm or anything… color’s okay—except for being so pale—here, he’s coming around. Must be the heat.”
The young man’s eyes fluttered open, and Olivia could see they were a shade of light brown, flecked with gold, almost the color of sherry. They widened the moment he glimpsed the two of them leaning over him. His mouth opened, and a little sound escaped.
“You’ll be okay,” Alison was saying. “Just lie there and take it easy. That costume’s probably too hot for this weather. How about we get this top thing off?” She reached for the lacings of his doublet, and the man’s mouth dropped open even further, revealing strong, even, white teeth.
“Mistress, what do you do?” He pushed her hand away with a horrified look and struggled to sit up and move away.
“I’m just trying to make you more comfortable. You’ve got to be sweltering in that get-up. Come on, take the top thing off.”
“I will not!” The young man sat up and backed away, glancing at Olivia.
“We’re only trying to help,” she said. “Have you fainted like this before?”
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