Beyond Poetry
Chapter Three
The following morning, Olivia arrived to find the theatre already full, and the actors hard at work. Henslowe found her immediately and singled her out for some work. "Olivia, I trust those doublets will be finished today? The actors need to begin rehearsing in them as soon as possible, you know. And Sam's dress still isn't finished," he snapped at her. "Yes, yes, I know," Olivia returned with more than a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "They'll all be done in time, Mr. Henslowe." Henslowe's face immediately turned red, as if some secret had been divulged. He took Olivia firmly by the arm and led her out of sight-and earshot-of anyone else. "I'll ask you not to use that tone of voice with me," he scolded. "And why not? Are you my mother?" Olivia shot back, and added. "Now, please excuse me, I have work to do, as you so aptly noted earlier." With that, Olivia turned on her heel and headed off toward the prop room backstage, nearly bowling over Ned Alleyn, who gave her a confused look.
Fighting back tears of heartbreak and frustration, Olivia immersed herself in her work. She thought that if she could keep herself from thinking of Will with anyone else, she just might be able to overcome her feelings for him. She continued through the day, working in silence, as the actors recited Shakespeare's brilliant words on the other side of the wall where she sat. For three days, she worked like this, rarely leaving the room except to catch a breath of fresh air or a glass of water. One day, she encountered Will backstage as she carried some props to the actors. "Olivia!" he exclaimed. "I've scarcely seen you around here lately. Is everything all right?" "Yes, Master Shakespeare, just busy with my work, you see," she said briskly, walking past him. "Ah yes, as am I. Having a bit of trouble finishing the death scene," Will said, not picking up on the apparent annoyance and despair in her voice. "Death scene? Well, what about your muse, this Lady Viola? I thought she cured you of any.obstacles you might encounter in your writing. Or haven't you seen her recently?" Olivia asked. Will turned color. Coughing, he replied, "Ah, yes, I saw her.just last night, in fact." Olivia's brows furrowed. "Last night? But you were here last night. Rehearsing, with everyone else," she said. "Oh! Yes, that's right," Will stammered. "Must have been another night then." Olivia looked at him strangely. It seemed as though he was hiding something. "Uh, well, back to work, then!" Will, in an almost panicked mood, quickly hurried away. Olivia raised her eyebrows and shook her head. "Writers," she said, attempting to busy herself with her work. A few moments later, a familiar voice rang out and Olivia rolled her eyes. "Olivia!" the man's voice called bombastically, ostentation oozing from every syllable. "Where is that accursed costume girl?" Olivia went silent. She hoped her would just go away. But he didn't. Within moments, Ned Alleyn was standing in the doorway, his head cocked, eyebrow raised. "Olivia," he said succinctly, enunciating each syllable. "Henslowe told me I could find you here. Are the Montague doublets finished yet? We are all waiting."
"Yes, nearly," she said tersely, without any inflection in her voice. She stood up to place something on the shelf behind her. Suddenly, she felt Ned approaching her. His hands fell upon her shoulders. "You know, Olivia, you never answered my question, did you?" he said, his voice deepening. Olivia could feel her face redden. She shrugged his hands away. "Your question?" she snapped. She pretended not to know what he was talking about, but she could hardly forget him, suggesting the previous day that they should become lovers, even though he sensed her affections were fixed to someone else. Ned was perceptive, despite his ego. "I'm not one of your little strumpet fans. And I'm not my mother," she said bitterly. Ned looked exasperated. "Surely, you must know that my intentions are much more honorable than that," he said seriously. "And what indication have you given me that they are?" Olivia retorted angrily, trying to make him leave. "Do you really think me so far below you that your mere notice of me is enough to make me fall at your feet?" Ned was silent for a moment as he pondered his response. Finally, he said softly, "Olivia, you are the daughter of a whore." Olivia felt the blood rise to her face as she laced into him with her fists. "Get out!" she screamed, tears running down her face. Ned backed away from her, astonished. "How dare you! Get away from me. Don't ever speak to me again!" she yelled and began to run. She didn't care where, as long as she got away from Ned. Her head down, she barreled toward the back door of the theatre. Suddenly, she collided with another solid body. Which happened to belong to Master Shakespeare, who was perusing his latest writing. Noticing Olivia's obvious distress, he took her by the shoulders. "Olivia! Good God, what's wrong?" he asked in genuine concern. Olivia looked away, fuming as tears streamed down her cheeks. She wiped them away angrily. "It's nothing," she sniffed. "Actors," she added, with more than a hint of disdain in her voice.
* * * * * *
There was a knock on the door of the small prop room Olivia had commandeered to finish her sewing. "Come in," she said flatly. The door opened and Ned poked his head in the room. Olivia looked up. "I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again." Ned entered the room and shut the door behind him. "Be that as it may," he began diplomatically, "I won't be defeated so easily." "Do you have any real reason to be here?" Olivia asked impatiently. "I've come to tell you that rehearsal is over for the evening, and the Admiral's Men and I are heading down to the Boar's Head. Would you care to join us?" he asked. Olivia gestured toward the mound of costumes she had yet to finish sewing. "Even if I didn't have this pile of work to complete, I don't think there is enough beer in that tavern to make one evening with you bearable," she snapped. Ned closed his eyes and grimaced. "Very well. I see. Have a good evening, Olivia," he bid her farewell and left the room. "Good evening, Ned," she called after him, no sign of affection or concern in her voice.
Ned had only been gone for a few moments when Henslowe stuck his head through the door. "We're all leaving for the evening, Olivia. Will you be joining us?" he asked. Olivia held up the costume she was working on. "Not if I want to finish these." "Oh. Well, if you finish, you know where we are. Oh, and Olivia, you'll be alone here tonight, so be careful," Henslowe said. "All right, thank you," she replied, more than a hint of annoyance in her voice, but secretly, she appreciated the concern.
It was nearly midnight before Olivia finished sewing the correct cords on the right doublets. Her fingers full of pinpricks, she folded and set them in the prop room, and then gathered her things together to go home, preparing for a long night's sleep. She was about to slip out the back door when she heard a loud noise backstage. Thinking it was that brat John Webster trying to spend the night in the theatre again, she quickly lit a lantern and walked back inside. "I thought we told you to stay out of here," she called menacingly into the darkness, hoping that the morbid little child would show himself. She thought she saw a light on the stage area and made her way toward it. Sure enough, behind the set that was functioning as the Capulet's house, a lone candle stood burning. Beside the candle she saw two forms in the shadows. She silently crept toward them as they came into view. Before her she saw Will.locked in a passionate kiss.with Thomas Kent. Olivia gasped and almost cried out, but then she saw Will gingerly remove Thomas Kent's hat. Waves of blonde hair cascaded down over Kent's shoulders, although Olivia was beginning to suspect that that wasn't his name. Shaking, Olivia backed away and quickly broke into a run as she rushed out of the theatre.
Chapter Three
The following morning, Olivia arrived to find the theatre already full, and the actors hard at work. Henslowe found her immediately and singled her out for some work. "Olivia, I trust those doublets will be finished today? The actors need to begin rehearsing in them as soon as possible, you know. And Sam's dress still isn't finished," he snapped at her. "Yes, yes, I know," Olivia returned with more than a hint of sarcasm in her voice. "They'll all be done in time, Mr. Henslowe." Henslowe's face immediately turned red, as if some secret had been divulged. He took Olivia firmly by the arm and led her out of sight-and earshot-of anyone else. "I'll ask you not to use that tone of voice with me," he scolded. "And why not? Are you my mother?" Olivia shot back, and added. "Now, please excuse me, I have work to do, as you so aptly noted earlier." With that, Olivia turned on her heel and headed off toward the prop room backstage, nearly bowling over Ned Alleyn, who gave her a confused look.
Fighting back tears of heartbreak and frustration, Olivia immersed herself in her work. She thought that if she could keep herself from thinking of Will with anyone else, she just might be able to overcome her feelings for him. She continued through the day, working in silence, as the actors recited Shakespeare's brilliant words on the other side of the wall where she sat. For three days, she worked like this, rarely leaving the room except to catch a breath of fresh air or a glass of water. One day, she encountered Will backstage as she carried some props to the actors. "Olivia!" he exclaimed. "I've scarcely seen you around here lately. Is everything all right?" "Yes, Master Shakespeare, just busy with my work, you see," she said briskly, walking past him. "Ah yes, as am I. Having a bit of trouble finishing the death scene," Will said, not picking up on the apparent annoyance and despair in her voice. "Death scene? Well, what about your muse, this Lady Viola? I thought she cured you of any.obstacles you might encounter in your writing. Or haven't you seen her recently?" Olivia asked. Will turned color. Coughing, he replied, "Ah, yes, I saw her.just last night, in fact." Olivia's brows furrowed. "Last night? But you were here last night. Rehearsing, with everyone else," she said. "Oh! Yes, that's right," Will stammered. "Must have been another night then." Olivia looked at him strangely. It seemed as though he was hiding something. "Uh, well, back to work, then!" Will, in an almost panicked mood, quickly hurried away. Olivia raised her eyebrows and shook her head. "Writers," she said, attempting to busy herself with her work. A few moments later, a familiar voice rang out and Olivia rolled her eyes. "Olivia!" the man's voice called bombastically, ostentation oozing from every syllable. "Where is that accursed costume girl?" Olivia went silent. She hoped her would just go away. But he didn't. Within moments, Ned Alleyn was standing in the doorway, his head cocked, eyebrow raised. "Olivia," he said succinctly, enunciating each syllable. "Henslowe told me I could find you here. Are the Montague doublets finished yet? We are all waiting."
"Yes, nearly," she said tersely, without any inflection in her voice. She stood up to place something on the shelf behind her. Suddenly, she felt Ned approaching her. His hands fell upon her shoulders. "You know, Olivia, you never answered my question, did you?" he said, his voice deepening. Olivia could feel her face redden. She shrugged his hands away. "Your question?" she snapped. She pretended not to know what he was talking about, but she could hardly forget him, suggesting the previous day that they should become lovers, even though he sensed her affections were fixed to someone else. Ned was perceptive, despite his ego. "I'm not one of your little strumpet fans. And I'm not my mother," she said bitterly. Ned looked exasperated. "Surely, you must know that my intentions are much more honorable than that," he said seriously. "And what indication have you given me that they are?" Olivia retorted angrily, trying to make him leave. "Do you really think me so far below you that your mere notice of me is enough to make me fall at your feet?" Ned was silent for a moment as he pondered his response. Finally, he said softly, "Olivia, you are the daughter of a whore." Olivia felt the blood rise to her face as she laced into him with her fists. "Get out!" she screamed, tears running down her face. Ned backed away from her, astonished. "How dare you! Get away from me. Don't ever speak to me again!" she yelled and began to run. She didn't care where, as long as she got away from Ned. Her head down, she barreled toward the back door of the theatre. Suddenly, she collided with another solid body. Which happened to belong to Master Shakespeare, who was perusing his latest writing. Noticing Olivia's obvious distress, he took her by the shoulders. "Olivia! Good God, what's wrong?" he asked in genuine concern. Olivia looked away, fuming as tears streamed down her cheeks. She wiped them away angrily. "It's nothing," she sniffed. "Actors," she added, with more than a hint of disdain in her voice.
* * * * * *
There was a knock on the door of the small prop room Olivia had commandeered to finish her sewing. "Come in," she said flatly. The door opened and Ned poked his head in the room. Olivia looked up. "I thought I told you I never wanted to see you again." Ned entered the room and shut the door behind him. "Be that as it may," he began diplomatically, "I won't be defeated so easily." "Do you have any real reason to be here?" Olivia asked impatiently. "I've come to tell you that rehearsal is over for the evening, and the Admiral's Men and I are heading down to the Boar's Head. Would you care to join us?" he asked. Olivia gestured toward the mound of costumes she had yet to finish sewing. "Even if I didn't have this pile of work to complete, I don't think there is enough beer in that tavern to make one evening with you bearable," she snapped. Ned closed his eyes and grimaced. "Very well. I see. Have a good evening, Olivia," he bid her farewell and left the room. "Good evening, Ned," she called after him, no sign of affection or concern in her voice.
Ned had only been gone for a few moments when Henslowe stuck his head through the door. "We're all leaving for the evening, Olivia. Will you be joining us?" he asked. Olivia held up the costume she was working on. "Not if I want to finish these." "Oh. Well, if you finish, you know where we are. Oh, and Olivia, you'll be alone here tonight, so be careful," Henslowe said. "All right, thank you," she replied, more than a hint of annoyance in her voice, but secretly, she appreciated the concern.
It was nearly midnight before Olivia finished sewing the correct cords on the right doublets. Her fingers full of pinpricks, she folded and set them in the prop room, and then gathered her things together to go home, preparing for a long night's sleep. She was about to slip out the back door when she heard a loud noise backstage. Thinking it was that brat John Webster trying to spend the night in the theatre again, she quickly lit a lantern and walked back inside. "I thought we told you to stay out of here," she called menacingly into the darkness, hoping that the morbid little child would show himself. She thought she saw a light on the stage area and made her way toward it. Sure enough, behind the set that was functioning as the Capulet's house, a lone candle stood burning. Beside the candle she saw two forms in the shadows. She silently crept toward them as they came into view. Before her she saw Will.locked in a passionate kiss.with Thomas Kent. Olivia gasped and almost cried out, but then she saw Will gingerly remove Thomas Kent's hat. Waves of blonde hair cascaded down over Kent's shoulders, although Olivia was beginning to suspect that that wasn't his name. Shaking, Olivia backed away and quickly broke into a run as she rushed out of the theatre.
