The Actor and the Earl (24 page)

“Yes.”

This time he was handed a small wooden box, and once again the boy ran off before he could ask any questions. The box itself was striking, a red-colored wood with a star motif inlaid into its lid and, if Sebastian was not mistaken, rather expensive. He opened the lid, and in a nest of velvet sat a gold ring with a red stone. Sebastian picked it up and realized that it was the ring Anthony usually wore on the little finger of his right hand. Sebastian had a vague recollection of a tale told at the card table that it had once belonged to Anthony’s father. It was a token that would have meant a great deal to Anthony. Sebastian paused, deciding whether or not to slip it onto his own finger, but if he wore it now, it could be construed that he had forgiven Anthony. And at the moment that simply wasn’t the case. Sebastian put the ring back in the box and snapped shut the lid.

Sebastian left work as normal at sunset, and as he exited the theater, someone shouted out his name. He looked around to see Matthew crossing the road to get to him. “Matthew,” he greeted with a warm smile for his friend. “What are you doing in London?”

“I heard you had left Crofton Hall.”

His friend looked worried, but Sebastian thought it too much of a coincidence for Matthew to have turned up here unprompted. “Did Anthony send you?”

“No. I admit I went to his townhouse, and he told me you were working at the Globe, but the idea that I am here at his request is farcical.”

“Of course, I’m sorry.” Sebastian hugged his friend. “Let’s go somewhere to talk.”

Sebastian led Matthew to a nearby inn, where they ordered a tankard of wine and a game pie each.

“I knew something was wrong when I turned up at the hall to find Bronwyn was bedridden and you’d gone traveling,” said Matthew, examining his pie.

“I had to leave, Matthew. I had to put some distance between me and Anthony.”

“Why?”

Sebastian took a bite of his pie and washed away the grease with a swig of wine. “There is only so much a man can overlook before he either turns blind or goes mad.”

Matthew grunted. “You’re speaking melodramatic nonsense again. But at least you look in better shape than Crofton when I saw him. I’ve never seen him so unkempt—bedraggled even.”

“He is trying to court me,” said Sebastian, unable to stop a small smile escaping. “To make amends.”

Matthew looked up from his pie to study Sebastian’s face. “Is it working?”

Sebastian shrugged. “Perhaps a little.”

“Ho! You romantic fool!” Matthew laughed. “But be sure he repays his debt to you in full. Don’t let him shortchange you in his efforts at making good.”

“You are a good friend, Matthew.”

“I like to think so,” Matthew replied with a smirk. “So how about showing how good a friend you are, and invite me to meet your cousin?”

“I should have known you had an ulterior motive. I surmise from this that the letter of introduction sent to Claire’s father has been deemed acceptable?”

“Oh, indeed. The fair maiden has even written to me herself!”

Sebastian finished the last of his pie and drained his tankard. “A maiden my cousin may be, but is she fair? That is debatable—perhaps of face, but not so in temper.”

A
FEW
mornings later, a loud knocking dragged Sebastian from his sleep, and as it was the first good night’s sleep he’d managed in over a week, it was doubly annoying. It was still dark, and Sebastian had no intention of getting out of bed. Instead, he tried to ignore the noise and buried his head under the bedclothes. A few moments later the knocking stopped, but to his annoyance, it was replaced by Claire shaking him.

“Get up, Sebastian—you have to see this!”

“No. I have to sleep. Leave me alone.”

Claire pulled away his blankets, and Sebastian curled into a ball to conserve the warmth that had been so cruelly ripped away.

“Trust me. You will want to see this,” Claire insisted, tugging at the sleeve of Sebastian’s shift.

“I never trust you,” Sebastian muttered, but having little other choice, he sat up. “Let me put some clothes on, and I’ll come and see whatever it is just to shut you up.”

Sebastian dressed quickly, and Claire tapped her foot impatiently as she stood holding a candle, still dressed in her nightgown. They headed downstairs and into the dining room, which had been lit by several candles. Standing two feet high on the table was a toy ship. Not any ship, but a perfect replica of the
Golden Hind.

“Where did it come from?” Sebastian asked, hardly able to believe what he was seeing.

“Two men banged on the door and delivered it. I came straight to fetch you.”

Sebastian ran his fingers down the sails and across the rigging, stroking the ears of the deer figurehead. “I used to have one like this when I was a boy.”

He trailed the red and gold marking running along the side of the ship, noticing a few chips here and there in the paint, and how one of the ports was missing a cannon, like his own had when he’d lost it in an epic battle against his sister’s dolls. There were other things that were similar: the flags flown in the same order and the deck scuffed as if soldiers had been marched up and down on it. At the stern of the ship was mounted a blue shield, and Sebastian gently prized this section away, all the time half expecting it to stay in place and for the ship not to have a special compartment to keep the sailors in. It came away after some persuasion, though, and written on the back of the wooden panel were the initials
S
.
H.

“This is mine, Claire. Anthony found my ship.”

Claire laid her hand on his shoulder. “I don’t know what went on between you when you threw him out of the house, Sebastian, but whatever it was, Anthony has gone to a lot of trouble to get you to forgive him.”

“You think I should?”

“I cannot answer that for you.” She leaned forward, squinting into the body of the ship. “There’s something else in there.”

Sebastian reached in and removed a folded piece of paper. He exchanged a questioning look with Claire and opened it. It was another sonnet, Shakespeare this time:

A woman’s face with Nature’s own hand painted

Hast thou, the master-mistress of my passion;

A woman’s gentle heart, but not acquainted

With shifting change, as is false women’s fashion;

An eye more bright than theirs, less false in rolling,

Gilding the object whereupon it gazeth;

A man in hue, all ‘hues’ in his controlling,

Much steals men’s eyes and women’s souls amazeth.

And for a woman wert thou first created;

Till Nature, as she wrought thee, fell a-doting,

And by addition me of thee defeated,

By adding one thing to my purpose nothing.

But since she prick’d thee out for women’s pleasure,

Mine be thy love and thy love’s use their treasure.

“You cannot say he’s hiding his feelings,” said Claire, after reading the sonnet over Sebastian’s shoulder. “So what now, Sebastian?”

“Now I go to work.”

Claire’s frustration came out as a snort. It amused Sebastian greatly as he left the townhouse, and he thought his cousin should spend more time on her own love life than his. Especially considering how well her introduction to Matthew had gone. It was cold as Sebastian made his way through the streets, the sunrise of the mid-December morning doing nothing to increase the temperature. But he took solace that it was not raining, and since the sky was clear of clouds he should, at least for a few hours, remain dry.

Sebastian entered the round of the theater, yawning as he did so, but he stopped midstride as he saw a crowd of actors on the stage giving advice to a very familiar face. So surprised was he, he didn’t notice David joining him, and he flinched as the other man spoke. “Morning, Sebastian.”

“Morning, David. What is going on up there?” he asked, pointing at the stage and Anthony being guided to stand in a particular fashion.

“Oh, that’s Earl Crofton. He’s planning a surprise for his wife and wanted some acting tips.”

“But why here?”

David’s brow furrowed in confusion. “He knows the owner. Why are you so interested?”

“Because he’s my brother-in-law,” explained Sebastian. “I knew he had connections to the Globe. We came here in the summer together to view the theater while it was being built. I didn’t realize he was planning something.”

The actors were backing away, leaving Anthony standing on his own. He was staring around the theater, and when he spotted Sebastian, he grinned. David nudged him. “Let us see if he has managed to learn something.”

Anthony held out his arms, the actor nodding encouragingly at his stance. “This can be no trick. The conference was sadly borne. They have the truth of this from Hero. They seem to pity the lady. It seems her affections have their full bent.”

Sebastian couldn’t help but smile as Benedick’s monologue from
Much Ado About Nothing
came from Anthony’s mouth.

“Love me? Why, it must be requited. I hear how I am censured. They say I will bear myself proudly if I perceive the love come from her. They say too that she will rather die than give any sign of affection. I did never think to marry. I must not seem proud. Happy are they that hear their detractions and can put them to mending.

“They say the lady is fair. ’Tis a truth, I can bear them witness. And virtuous—’tis so, I cannot reprove it. And wise, but for loving me. By my troth, it is no addition to her wit—nor no great argument of her folly, for I will be horribly in love with her.

“I may chance have some odd quirks and remnants of wit broken on me because I have railed so long against marriage; but doth not the appetite alter? A man loves the meat in his youth that he cannot endure in his age. Shall quips and sentences and these paper bullets of the brain awe a man from the career of his humor? No. The world must be peopled.

“When I said I would die a bachelor, I did not think I should live till I were married. Here comes Beatrice. By this day, she’s a fair lady! I do spy some marks of love in her.”

Sebastian was impressed. Anthony hadn’t stumbled over any of the lines, had injected spirit and gusto where needed, and made Sebastian’s heart beat as if it might explode.

David was clapping along with others in the theater, and Sebastian remembered where he was in time to join in.

“Not bad for a beginner,” said David. “I should go and add my compliments.”

Sebastian hummed distractedly in response, too engrossed in watching Anthony climb off the stage and head toward him. Anthony shook many hands as he covered the ground between them, David’s included, but he appeared determined to get to Sebastian.

“That was a very spirited performance, Earl Crofton,” said Sebastian once Anthony had reached him.

“It is easy to deliver the lines when I believe in them. And hope that the one they are directed to takes them to be as sincere as they are meant.” Anthony glanced over his shoulder and spoke quieter. “And they are meant as most sincere. Please, is there somewhere we can talk?”

Sebastian thought for a minute, biting his thumbnail as he glanced around the theater. “There are a number of small storage rooms. We should be undisturbed if we’re not too long.”

He led Anthony toward the back of the theater and into the dark rat runs the public seldom saw. The first door he tried was locked, but the second wasn’t, and they entered a small room filled with props and oddities that the theater had amassed during its short existence. There wasn’t much light, the window was too narrow and in the wrong position to be of real use, but Sebastian could make out Anthony’s features, see the uncertainty on his face.

“I have been amazed at your persistence,” Sebastian admitted, not sure how he should start. “And I thank you for the gifts. I could not believe at first that you had been able to find my toy ship.”

“You spoke fondly of it that time in William’s nursery. I thought if I could find it, then it would make you happy again. And that is what I want, Sebastian. For you to be happy.” Sebastian let Anthony take his hand and thread their fingers together. “I know I was presumptuous when I visited last, but I did not do that out of anything other than hope that we would be reunited. I want to show you that I love you.”

Sebastian had waited so long to hear Anthony say that, to speak the words that mirrored his own feelings. But he knew that he was caught up in the emotion of all the acts of courtly love that Anthony had performed for him, and that he had to find a little distance, needed to be sure that the decision he had to make was the right one and not one based on the highs of love.

“Can I ask one more thing?”

“Anything,” replied Anthony.

“Give me some time?”

“Time?”

“You know that I love you, and am happy to hear you return the words, but I need time to think.”

Anthony sighed. “How long?”

“I promise you will know by the new year.”

Sebastian tried to pull away, but Anthony held his hand tighter. “I can wait, but let me have one kiss before I go. And then I will leave you in peace until you contact me.”

Sebastian leaned up and pressed his lips to Anthony’s. It was a chaste kiss in comparison to the last they had shared, sweet and heartfelt, a kiss that spoke of promises.

With a sigh, Anthony rested his forehead against Sebastian’s. “Thank you.”

This time, as Sebastian stepped away, Anthony let him go. “You have my word that you will hear from me before the month is out.”

Chapter 22