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Authors: Gary Blackwood
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“You do?”
“Yes. You’re putting me off, because you don’t want to discuss it. Father does the same thing. I think he’s afraid that if he talks too much about a play in progress, it will put a curse on it somehow, and he’ll never complete it.”
“That’s it exactly. I don’t wish to put a curse on ’t.”
“Well, will you let me read it, at least?”
I wanted to say,
Aye, at the last Lammas
—meaning never. Instead I shrugged and said, “I might. When I’m further along wi’ ’t.”
“I can’t wait.” She shook my arm again. “Perhaps it’ll be performed, and become wildly popular, and make a fortune for you!”
Her words brought to mind Madame La Voisin’s prediction that I would come into a fortune. I let out a nervous laugh. “Much! I’ve never heard of a play making its author rich.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Father does well enough with his.”
“‘A does?”
She nodded. “He never lets on to Mother and me how much he makes, of course; he doesn’t want us demanding more of it. But”—she leaned in close to me, nearly stopping my poor heart—”it’s enough to allow him to buy a hundred acres of land in Stratford, and the largest house in town—three stories, it is, with ten fireplaces!”
“Gog’s blood! I never would ha’ thought it. ‘A lives so modest a life here, and ’a’s always fretting about money.”
“I know. To tell the truth, he’s a bit of a miser. He won’t even consent to loan money to his nearest friends. I think he’s afraid of ending up like his father—my grandfather.”
“How’s that?”
“When Grandfather died, he was up to his ears in debt. Father says it’s because he was too trusting, too ready to loan money to anyone who asked. But Mother says there’s more to it than that. She says it’s because …” She stood on tiptoe to whisper in my ear. “Because he was a
recusant
.”
“A what?”
“A Catholic who refuses to attend the Anglican services.”
“Oh. So ’a paid all his money out in fines, then?”
“That was part of it. But his business suffered because of it, too. No one but his fellow Catholics would buy wool or gloves from him, or rent his properties from him. He lost a good deal of property as well, in the rash of fires that Stratford suffered several years ago. Grandfather always claimed that the fires were set deliberately by Puritans. My mother has always staunchly denied it, but of course she would, being a Puritan herself.”
“I take it you’re not, then?”
“Not really. I suppose that when it comes to religion, I take more after my father. He says that the world is so full of ideas and customs and beliefs, each with its own merit, it seems a shame to place our faith in only one and rule out all the others.” She turned her face up to me. “And what about you, Widge?”
“What about me?”
“Well, I assume you’re not a Puritan, or you wouldn’t be a player. But what are you? A good Protestant? A Church Papist? A skeptic? An atheist?”
“I don’t ken, exactly. Is there a name for folk who can’t make up their minds?”
“Yes,” she said. “They’re called women.” Though she clearly expected a laugh from me, I was not in a laughing mood. In fact, my heart had suddenly turned as heavy as horse-bread.My face must have given me away, for Judith said, “What is it, Widge? What’s wrong?”
I nodded toward the house that lay just ahead of us. “We’re here,” I said grimly.
She laughed. “You needn’t sound as though you’re delivering me to the Tower.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that—” I faltered, unable to give voice to the feeling that rose up in me—the feeling that, despite the cold, despite the fact that my shoes were soaked through with slush, I would willingly have gone on walking—in circles, if necessary—for another several days at least, as long as I had her company.
Once again she seemed to read my thoughts and, patting my arm, said, “Don’t
“Yes. You’re putting me off, because you don’t want to discuss it. Father does the same thing. I think he’s afraid that if he talks too much about a play in progress, it will put a curse on it somehow, and he’ll never complete it.”
“That’s it exactly. I don’t wish to put a curse on ’t.”
“Well, will you let me read it, at least?”
I wanted to say,
Aye, at the last Lammas
—meaning never. Instead I shrugged and said, “I might. When I’m further along wi’ ’t.”
“I can’t wait.” She shook my arm again. “Perhaps it’ll be performed, and become wildly popular, and make a fortune for you!”
Her words brought to mind Madame La Voisin’s prediction that I would come into a fortune. I let out a nervous laugh. “Much! I’ve never heard of a play making its author rich.”
“Oh, I don’t know. Father does well enough with his.”
“‘A does?”
She nodded. “He never lets on to Mother and me how much he makes, of course; he doesn’t want us demanding more of it. But”—she leaned in close to me, nearly stopping my poor heart—”it’s enough to allow him to buy a hundred acres of land in Stratford, and the largest house in town—three stories, it is, with ten fireplaces!”
“Gog’s blood! I never would ha’ thought it. ‘A lives so modest a life here, and ’a’s always fretting about money.”
“I know. To tell the truth, he’s a bit of a miser. He won’t even consent to loan money to his nearest friends. I think he’s afraid of ending up like his father—my grandfather.”
“How’s that?”
“When Grandfather died, he was up to his ears in debt. Father says it’s because he was too trusting, too ready to loan money to anyone who asked. But Mother says there’s more to it than that. She says it’s because …” She stood on tiptoe to whisper in my ear. “Because he was a
recusant
.”
“A what?”
“A Catholic who refuses to attend the Anglican services.”
“Oh. So ’a paid all his money out in fines, then?”
“That was part of it. But his business suffered because of it, too. No one but his fellow Catholics would buy wool or gloves from him, or rent his properties from him. He lost a good deal of property as well, in the rash of fires that Stratford suffered several years ago. Grandfather always claimed that the fires were set deliberately by Puritans. My mother has always staunchly denied it, but of course she would, being a Puritan herself.”
“I take it you’re not, then?”
“Not really. I suppose that when it comes to religion, I take more after my father. He says that the world is so full of ideas and customs and beliefs, each with its own merit, it seems a shame to place our faith in only one and rule out all the others.” She turned her face up to me. “And what about you, Widge?”
“What about me?”
“Well, I assume you’re not a Puritan, or you wouldn’t be a player. But what are you? A good Protestant? A Church Papist? A skeptic? An atheist?”
“I don’t ken, exactly. Is there a name for folk who can’t make up their minds?”
“Yes,” she said. “They’re called women.” Though she clearly expected a laugh from me, I was not in a laughing mood. In fact, my heart had suddenly turned as heavy as horse-bread.My face must have given me away, for Judith said, “What is it, Widge? What’s wrong?”
I nodded toward the house that lay just ahead of us. “We’re here,” I said grimly.
She laughed. “You needn’t sound as though you’re delivering me to the Tower.”
“I’m sorry. It’s just that—” I faltered, unable to give voice to the feeling that rose up in me—the feeling that, despite the cold, despite the fact that my shoes were soaked through with slush, I would willingly have gone on walking—in circles, if necessary—for another several days at least, as long as I had her company.
Once again she seemed to read my thoughts and, patting my arm, said, “Don’t
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