“I don’t know what that means.”
“Recusancy? Not attending Protestant services.”
“Do your aunt and uncle attend?”
“For a time, they did. In recent months they have given it up as hypocritical. That is what our families quarreled about.”
“Your family does attend, even though they’re Catholic?”
“My father feels it is the safest course. They go to Protestant services, and when there’s a priest about the neighborhood, they come home and hear Mass.”
I nodded. “Okay. Go on.”
“For the priests themselves … some have been tortured and executed, as you witnessed today. Especially the Jesuit missionaries.”
I shuddered involuntarily. “That poor man—do you think he was a Jesuit?”
“The sheriff said as much, and it is they the Privy Council are after. Especially a priest named Edmund Campion.”
“I’ve never heard of him. Why are they afraid of him in particular?”
“Campion is a brilliant thinker, a natural leader. He is much loved by the people, even Protestants. Wherever he goes, Catholics arrive in droves to say their confessions to him and hear him preach.”
“Thomas disappeared before the burning. What was that about?”
“I do not know for certain, but I think Master Cook is our Jesuit priest. He dared not linger, in case the prisoner recognized him. When Thomas met us along the road, his face was pale and he said not a word.”
“So he’s not an Oxford professor after all.”
“He was probably educated at Oxford, as were many of the priests who left England. No, I believe that is the role he plays while here. We’ll find out for certain at Mass on Easter morning.”
“Are the Jesuits really so dangerous to the government?”
“The members of the Privy Council believe they’re in league with Spain to overthrow the government and put Mary, the Scots queen, on the throne. Treasonous acts. The Jesuits swear they come only to minister to their neglected flock.”
“Who do you believe?”
“I think the truth lies somewhere in between,” Stephen said, “as it so often does.”
My contempt for this era rose to the surface. “I guess your rulers don’t believe in freedom of religion.”
“Religious freedom is not a concept embraced by the queen and her Privy Council. One state, one religion. Things are different in these times. You know that.”
“Why is this Privy Council so powerful?”
“The council members are the queen’s closest advisors. Most are from the nobility.”
“So the Privy Council is after the Jesuits, and we have one living right here. Wonderful.”
In a soothing voice Stephen said, “Try not to worry. You must concentrate on your mission, which is to keep Will Shakespeare out of the clutches of the church. Let me worry about all the rest.”
He reached up and smoothed my hair away from my face. I ducked my head, feeling unexpectedly shy, and he swiftly withdrew his hand. When I looked up, there was a softness in his eyes I hadn’t seen before. I believed he’d told me the truth, as much of it as he himself knew.
“All right,” I said, feeling some of the pressure in my chest ease. “I’ll try.”
Good Friday was marked by eating hot cross buns for breakfast. Spiced with cloves and filled with currants, each round bun had a cross carved in its top. Bess brought me a basket of four; I scarfed down two and saved the rest for later. She told me it was customary for all the meals to be served in our rooms because it was such a solemn day.
I was restless, fidgety, so I decided to walk up and down the passage. All the sets of double doors were standing open. Although I saw no sign of Stephen, Copernicus loped over and joined me in pacing up and back. His claws made a soft clicking sound on the wood floors. “So, what would you do in my place, Cop?” He raised his head as though he was thinking it over.
“Should I go on with this crazy scheme, or try to get out of it somehow?” I could pretend to be sick. If Stephen thought my life was threatened, he’d send me back, I was sure. When we reached the staircase at the end of the passage, Copernicus halted. I turned; he stood where he was, whimpering. I walked back to him. “Yeah, I know this is crazy, boy, but I’m afraid it’s the only exercise we’ll be getting today.”
“Mistress Olivia,” a disembodied voice said.
I jumped and whirled around to see Will Shakespeare standing there. He must have come from his room at the far end of the passage. God, I hoped he hadn’t heard me.
“Master Will! I didn’t think anyone else was about.”
“Pray forgive me for startling you. I thought you would hear me approaching.”
“Nay, I did not.” Probably because I was having a fascinating conversation with a dog.
Will was holding a small, oblong parcel, which he now handed to me. “This is for you, mistress.”
I frowned, puzzled. “For me?”
“Aye. Open it, pray.”
I untied the string. The paper fell away to reveal a pair of leather gloves. “Oh! They’re beautiful, Will.” I smiled ruefully. “But I can’t possibly accept them.” I didn’t think an Elizabethan girl would accept such a personal gift, and I didn’t want to break any rules.
“Will you not even try them on?” he asked.
What could it hurt? “Very well.” I tugged one on, then the other. They fit perfectly, and I couldn’t help grinning up at him. “They’re so soft.” I stretched my fingers out and then fisted them, getting a feel for the shape and fit.
“You will do me a great service by keeping them.”
“But sir—”
He held up a hand. “Hear me out. My father, as I told you, is a glove maker. He bade me give these to Mistress Hoghton, though I made them myself.”
I was horrified. “Well, then, that’s even more reason why I can’t possibly keep them.” I started tugging them off.
“Have you noticed her hands?” When I shook my head, he went on. “They’re large and long fingered. This pair would never do for her. That’s why I want you to have them. That, and the fact that your hands were freezing yesterday.”
I stammered a little in my reply. “I-I’m very forgetful, I fear. I did not think to bring gloves with me, as the weather was fine when we set out.” I held out my hands and studied them. As gloves went, they were more serviceable than elegant, fashioned of brown leather, with a stamped fleur-de-lis at each wrist. One of them was a little crooked, proof that Will’s talents lay elsewhere. I decided there was no harm in accepting them if they wouldn’t fit Elizabeth.
“Thank you, Master Will. I confess my hands have been rather cold since I arrived here.”
“ ’Tis chilly inside these stone manor houses.” He took a step closer to me, and my heart sped up a little. Grasping one of my hands in his, he slowly smoothed the leather over each finger, sending a chill up my spine. Then he did the same with the other hand.
“Oh, that I were a glove upon that hand, that I might touch that cheek.” The line from Romeo and Juliet jumped into my brain, and I wondered if any poet besides a glover’s son would have written it. I stared at him in awe, and dropped my gaze when he caught me.
“I thought you did not share your father’s work.”
“I grew up with the trade, watching my father, and when I was old enough, helping. As a young boy, I put tools and materials away and swept. Later I progressed to cutting tranks, and after many years was permitted to do everything from designing to sewing. I suppose it is how I knew I could not spend my life in such work.”
“Pardon me, but what are tranks?”
“I forget you will not be familiar with glover’s terms. Tranks are the forms one cuts from leather to make the gloves.” He lifted one of my hands again. “These are made of kidskin. Very supple, are they not?”
“Aye. I’m very grateful.” I felt weird. Under his spell. Something about the way he said “supple” … if not sensuous, it w
as definitely flirtatious. I brought my hand to his face and caressed his cheek. Wasn’t this exactly what I was supposed to be doing?
He smiled, eyes catching mine playfully, and leaned his head toward me. Just as he was about to kiss me, footsteps sounded behind us and I heard Stephen’s voice calling out. Great timing, Langford.
Will and I leaped apart. I quickly pulled the gloves off and held them at my side, and Will balled up the wrappings.
“Well met, Olivia, Will,” Stephen said when he reached us.
“Where were you?” I asked.
“Mass. ’Tis a strictly observed holy day. As you know,” he said, quickly covering up the fact that I actually didn’t know.
“All morning?”
“I broke my fast with our aunt and uncle afterward.”
“I should have attended,” I said.
“I did not want to wake you. After yesterday I thought you needed some extra rest.”
We all looked at each other in dismay, silently acknowledging the horror of what had happened, but knowing we didn’t want to discuss it.
“You were missed, Will. Thomas Cook asked after you.”
Shakespeare winced. “I’m afraid I fell so deeply into Ovid’s poetry, I lost all track of time. Until I heard Mistress Olivia.” He glanced at me. “Which reminds me, mistress. We must arrange a time for me to instruct you in the classics.”
“Indeed,” I said. “I am most eager to learn.”
Stephen had a funny look on his face. “I hope ’tis the Metamorphoses and not the Amores or Ars Amatoria from which you will be instructing my sister.”
“Oh, I promise to choose only the most moral and allegorical verses.”
Ugh. That sounded boring. I’d much rather hear the love poetry. I had a feeling Will was needling Stephen with his innocent act.
“I shall hold you to that,” Stephen said, giving him a sidelong glance. “Do you care to go for a gallop with Fulke and me, Will?”
“Aye! Let me change. Shall I meet you at the stables?” Stephen nodded, and Will hurried toward his room.
I must have looked pathetic, because Stephen said, “Would you like to come, Olivia?”
I knew he was simply being kind. “No thanks. It sounds like a guy thing.”
He squeezed my shoulder. “As you say, then. Maybe you’ll find an opportunity to spend time with Shakespeare tomorrow. If not, most surely on Easter. I shall look for you after the ride. We can share a meal.” He turned and strode off.
“Right.” I didn’t mention he’d interrupted Will and me as we were about to kiss. If he was so eager for me to seduce Shakespeare, why had he acted so weird about the love poetry?
I strolled over to the windows and looked out onto the courtyard. I glimpsed Stephen as he emerged from the house, on his way to the stables. He seemed very single-minded in his purpose, and yet I sensed protectiveness toward me too. Like he cared for me a little, in a brotherly way, even if he did think I was promiscuous.
Maybe losing my virginity to Will Shakespeare wouldn’t be a bad thing. After all, it had to happen sometime. Why not with Will? He was definitely cute, and he liked me. Even if I didn’t love him, I loved the sonnets and plays. Those were a part of him, and would forever be a part of me, too.
I smiled, thinking about how hooking up with Will would really give me one up on my mother. Not that she’d ever know about it.
I WOKE UP FAMISHED on Saturday morning, only to find out from Bess that the day before Easter was a strictly observed fast day. The only food and drink in my near future was a slice or two of coarse brown bread and a tankard of ale. Lucky for me, I had one hot cross bun left from yesterday. I’d save it for later, though. By evening I’d probably be half dead from hunger. I felt restless, like I might start screaming if I didn’t find someone to talk to or something to do. Since I’d been trapped inside yesterday, a walk around the grounds sounded appealing. I couldn’t find Stephen, so I headed downstairs by myself.
On the lower level, I passed the library, backed up, and decided to peek in for a quick look around. The door stood partially open, and I heard voices, which I recognized as belonging to Will and Thomas Cook. After scoping out the hallway to make sure no one else was around, I pressed my back against the wall, as close to the door as I could get without being discovered.
“You are shaken about what you witnessed yesterday,” Thomas Cook was saying.
“In truth, I never thought to see something so evil. I have not found my heart’s ease since, I confess.”
“I am sorry, Will.”
“You are not to blame. Did you know the poor man?”
“In Rome, but I did not know he had been sent to England. ’Tis a lonely and fearful life we lead here.”
So Stephen had been right about Cook being the Jesuit. The events in Preston must have been horrific for him.
“Your life could be in danger too, Father Thomas!”
“I have made my peace with God, Will. I do not fear death, although I would not like my life to end so soon.”
“Indeed, no.”
“Prayer offers great comfort after such as we saw yesterday,” Thomas said.
“I—I have tried to pray, but each time, the image of the man burning leaps into my mind. All I see are his haunted eyes.”
“I find at times like these, solitude and quiet enable me to find God’s peace.”
“Aye,” Will said. He sounded depressed.
Maybe to lift Will’s spirits, Thomas changed the subject. “Have you given thought to further education?”
“It was my wish, and my father’s, too, that I be educated at Oxford. But Father fell into debt, and so here I am, a lowly country schoolmaster.” There was a slight pause, and then he said, “Do not mistake me, sir; I am grateful to have this post.”
“But mayhap there is another path you could take.”
“What do you mean?”
“The one I chose. The priesthood and the Society of Jesus.” I could hear the passion in his voice, could imagine him leaning close to Will, his eyes gleaming. I stepped away from the door. I had to tell Stephen about this. But Thomas kept talking, so I kept listening.
“You could leave England for the Continent. Rome, perhaps, or the Low Countries. You’d be in the company of many Englishmen, and could remain there until things are more settled here.” Thomas Cook’s voice was made for the theater. It was deep and resonant, almost hypnotic, and he spoke with perfect diction. Mr. Finley, my annoying drama teacher, would love him.
“I don’t know if I want that life, sir. With all due respect, one gives up much to become a priest. And after yesterday … I fear I am too cowardly to submit to torture and burning.”
“Not all are asked to make such a sacrifice. That does not mean you are not suited to the priesthood.”
“I will think on it,” Will said.
He didn’t sound at all convinced. Should I interrupt, say I was looking for someone to walk with? I hesitated. The sound of footsteps heading my way decided me. I didn’t want to be caught listening at the door, so I pushed it open and strolled in.
“Oh! Pardon me. I was looking for Stephen.”
Both men turned toward me. Master Cook, whose face fell when he saw me, stood near the fireplace. Will was on the settle.
“I believe Fulke and your brother are practicing with the longbow,” he said.
“ ’Tis such a lovely day, now that the rain has stopped. I thought a walk about the grounds would be pleasant. Would either of you like to join me?”
Will took the bait, practically leaping off the settle. “I would,” he said. Bowing briefly to Master Cook, he offered me his arm. Thomas tilted his head a fraction, and I curtsied. Outside in the hallway, we found Jennet studying a tapestry. Had she been eavesdropping too? More likely, she’d heard Will’s voice and was waiting for him to emerge.
“Mistress Jennet, come walking with us,” Will said.
A glow suffused her face at his words. Jennet really was attractive
, which had slowly been dawning on me. She was one of those lucky girls whose hair grew thick and wavy, and its tawny color framed a fair complexion and brilliant green eyes. Her teeth were still white and even, which was pretty amazing, because dental work, or the lack of it, was definitely a problem in these times. Missing and decayed teeth seemed pretty common.
Jennet held Will’s other arm. Outdoors, although the grass was wet, the sun shone strong and bright. We headed toward the tilting green, where Will said the shooting was taking place.
“Pray go ahead of me,” I said. Once we’d left the outer courtyard and stepped into the garth—Stephen’s word for the stable yard—dodging puddles and dung was easier to do by myself. I did manage to listen in on Will and Jennet’s conversation, though. I was turning into a first-class snoop.
“I thought you were leaving us this morning,” Will said.
“My father will presently arrive to escort me home for Easter Sunday. I wanted to take my leave of you first.”
Will smiled down at Jennet. “I am glad that you did. When do you return?”
“On Monday morning.” Jennet gave him a dazzling smile, and then abruptly changed the subject. “What were you and Master Cook discussing?”
“My education,” Will answered. “He believes I should continue my studies.”
“And will you?”
“I have no plans to do so at present.” His answer seemed guarded. He mentioned nothing about the priesthood idea.
Maybe Thomas Cook faced a real challenge in recruiting Will, who, at least for now, didn’t seem that interested in becoming a Jesuit. If that were the case, Stephen wouldn’t need me, and I could go home.
We heard Stephen and Fulke before they came into view. “Friend, do you wish to become more indebted to me, or shall we just shoot for the sport?” Stephen asked.
Fulke hooted. “Lady Luck has favored you, Langford.”
“And your bragging is more skilled than your shooting,” Stephen shot back, extracting arrows from the target. As he pivoted toward the shooting line, he spotted us.
“Good morrow, ladies,” he said, bowing. “Master Will, some archery practice?”
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