Nicholas and Bess - part 5

[girlyswot]

                Nicholas took his courage in his hands and went to Burbage with his request.  It was an unusual one, for players' families did not often attend performances, in case of bad omens.  But, although Dickon looked a little queerly at him, he gave his consent.

                So it was that, peeping out from the wings, Nick caught a glimpse of Bess with her mother at her side, in the throng of people whom, he could not credit it, had come to see his play.  He prayed she would take its message aright.  And suddenly, he knew he could play Jason. 

                As if it were a superstition, Nicholas willed himself not to dare a glance down to where he knew Bess was standing.  He became Jason, growing accustomed to life on the ship, terrified to find himself threatened on that foreign shore, triumphant in his return.  He relived the anguish of discovering he had thrown away that which was most precious in those he loved.  He remembered the anxiety he had felt on first seeing Trennels after all those years and not knowing if there would be a welcome for the wanderer. 

                And then it was the end.  Nick found himself holding Lecky's hand, looking down into his eyes speaking with love.  Lecky was doing very well, he noticed with half his mind, as the adoring, worshipful Medea.  They had finished the play and the chorus was speaking his final words.  He had forgotten until this moment that he should be nervous as to the crowd's response.  For a brief pause there was silence.  The players held their collective breath and Lecky's grip tightened on Nick's hand.

                Then there was a growing sound like thunder ahead.  Nick looked up, expecting to see the darkening clouds, then round at his fellows in confusion.  He saw Burbage grinning at him and the others seemed to be smiling too.  Sam came across and clapped him on the shoulders.  It dawned on him that the noise was coming from the crowds.  They were cheering him!  And they were cheering his play!  He felt the familiar blush creeping up his face and couldn't think what to do with his hands.  He bowed briefly, embarrassedly and left the stage hurriedly.

                Afterwards, Nicholas remembered nothing of that night.  He must have got out of his costume he supposed.  Humfrey had given him some revel-ale he thought and someone must have got him home for he woke, fully dressed in his bed at a late hour the following day.  Apparently Ned had given orders that he was not to be disturbed so that when he finally forced his eyelids open and felt the agony of the bright sunlight pierce the back of his head it was near noon.  He groaned and promptly shut his eyes again. 

                An hour later, he woke properly and, splashing some water on his face, got to his feet blearily.  As he made his way downstairs, he remembered the play.  He stopped, thinking how it had felt to have his work so publicly approved.  Suddenly he felt a great sympathy with Will and wished he could tell him that he finally understood what it was that had driven him through those sleepless nights of total absorption in his work, abandoning the world around for that which he dreamed up in his head.  To play with a crowd like that, to make them feel what he wanted them to, to help them understand what little he knew of human character ... he was exultant.  He felt like singing or dancing or ... or something, to celebrate.

                Nicholas walked into rehearsal a little sheepishly that afternoon.  He knew he was unforgiveably late and fully expected a dressing down from Burbage or Hemings.  But Hemings no more than nodded acknowledgement before continuing his discussion with the stage hands over a technical matter with the shipwreck scene.  Burbage broke off his conversation with August when he saw Nicholas, but only to pass on a message.

                'Nick, lad. I am bidden to ask you to join my family for supper this night.  Come at eight.'  Nicholas nodded dumbly and passed on to where Humfrey was sitting with Sam and Lecky over in the corner.  All three were looking at Nick in awed admiration when he appeared and flopped down beside them.

                'Humfrey I swear to you on my life if ever you offer me revel-ale again, you will end the sorrier.'  Humfrey grinned in recognition of his friend's weakness and asked if his head still hurt.

                'Like someone is drumming the inside of my skull,' he replied, closing his eyes once more.

                'Teach you to go celebrating with the men instead of us boys,' suggested Lecky with an impish grin.

                Nick opened one eye and glared at him until the younger boy murmured an apology and subsided into humble silence again.

                Nicholas left after that day's performance as early as he could contrive without drawing unnecessary attention to himself.  He wanted to dress in his second-best clothes and find a comb to drag through his hair before seeing Bess again.  I am bidden, Dickon had said.  By whom?  Mistress Wyn might well have done so to celebrate his success.  Better to think that then.  Oh but surely it was Bess?  Dickon raised his eyebrow slightly in that teasing way he has, surely that means Bess had spoken to him?  Well, he thought bravely, I'll know soon enough.

                He was brought into the parlour, where Dickon was seated with his four eldest girls.  The two babes were evidently sleeping and Nick looked in vain for Mistress Wyn whom, he had decided, would be the safest person to strike up conversation with.  He glanced nervously at Bess, saw she was smiling at him and decided to risk it, going over and seating himself next her.  She smiled at him again but said nothing. 

                Burbage, noticing with amusement the lack of conversation between the pair, began to talk to Nicholas.

                'We shall play your piece again, lad.  Tomorrow if all is well.  Mind you're at rehearsals in proper time - today was an exception.'

                'Yes, of course, Dickon.  I... I hardly expected it to go so well on the first night.  Do you think we shall need to make many changes?'

                'One or two.  Time to decide that tomorrow, eh?  Let's eat, now.'  Gratefully, Nicholas saw Mistress Wyn making the dinner ready.  He sat between Bess and her mother at the table and was glad to have Mistress Wyn's easy, amiable conversation to listen to.  Once, he turned to Bess and asked her if she would walk out to the country with him on Sunday.  She nodded, blushing faintly and turned away quickly.

                All in all, thought Nick when finally he was able to plead exhaustion and make his way home, he was glad that was over.  He toyed with the idea of calling on Humfrey and going together to talk the night away but a great yawn persuaded him to find his own bed while the night was still young.

                The promised changes were easily made, to make clear some points in the plot which the audience had not followed quickly enough and to improve one of the comic exchanges between the sailors.  They played it again that night and once more Nick found the thrill of the applause intoxicating.  He was careful to make that his only cause of insobriety that night, having once more learnt his lesson with the ale.

                Sunday came and Nick went with Ned dutifully to hear the homily prescribed for the day.  He heard even less than his usual half of the minister's droning, preoccupied as he was with wondering what on earth he would say to his Bess that afternoon.

                'Did you like the play?' he asked cautiously as they left her house behind.

                'Oh yes!  You will think it strange, I know, but I have never seen a play before.  Not acted out properly like that, I mean.  Of course I have seen Father and Will and sometimes Ned acting scenes for us.  But that was... it was like being in another world, Nick.  I felt as though I was with you, with Jason, on that ship and in the castle and on the little boat.  I could see it all and hear it all and almost smell it all!  I do see why you all care so much for being players.  I never could before.  To stand on stage night by night saying the same made-up lines seemed silly, childish even.  But to do what you did - to make me see the world differently - that must be worth doing.'  She had grown solemn and passionate as she ended this speech, stopping in the path and making Nicholas turn to listen to her.  He grinned in delight that he had succeeded so well in his plan.

                'Tell me what it made you see differently, Bess.'  She knew he asked because he really wanted to know and she took time to consider her answer.

                'It made me see that there are things which can be better understood by going away than by staying at home.  That parting can be the beginning and not the end of loving.  It made me see that perhaps I have always had too narrow a view of life.  It made me wish that I could be a little more adventurous.  Like you.'  She paused, then added quietly, 'It made me think that I must be the one to take the lead if I wanted you back.'

                Nick swallowed hard and felt the hairs on the back of his neck tingle.

                'Do you want me still, Bess?' he managed to say, not daring to look.

                She stole her little hand into his strong grasp.

                'You know I do.'  He pressed her hand tightly.

                'Forgive me, dear, I have been such a fool.  I thought I knew what love was, for I have played it so many times.  I have been Juliet, I was Viola - I imagined their love and thought mine would be the same.  But I have been entirely mistaken.  I want to be with you always, Bess.  I want you to be the dear one I come home to when my play has utterly failed or I have made a fool of myself forgetting my lines.  I want you to be the girl I have adventures with and who keeps me safe at the still centre.'  He stopped and turned to face her, looking earnestly down into her clear, grey eyes.  'I want you to marry me, Bess.'

                'Oh Nick, of course I will.'  And as he bent to kiss her, she knew for a certainty that, despite his greater years, she would always be the elder in their marriage, and she was content to have it so, for she dearly loved her boy.

                'So beautiful when you smile, Bess,' he murmured, wonderingly as he traced the outline of her jaw.

                Alight with love, she replied gravely, 'I think you are beautiful always, Nicholas.'

                'For that, you get another kiss.'  He swooped and, holding her so tightly she could barely breathe, he kissed her hard and long, with all his passion finding its release in that embrace.

                'You didn't kiss me like that before, Nick.'

                'Do you mind?'

                She cocked her head, considering.  'No, I like it.'  Together they smiled a swift, private, remembering smile and walked on, hand in hand, not caring where they were headed. 

                Much later that day, Nick strolled happily back to the lodging that he still shared with Ned to find that gentleman stretched across both chairs, glass in hand, surveying him darkly.

                'Out with your girl again, boy?  Tamed the little cat, have you?',  he smirked.

                'That 'little cat' will soon be my wife, Ned.  You will not speak of her like that.'  replied Nicholas, hotly.

                'Or what, my dear child?  You'll come at me with that pretty sword of yours?  I think not.'  He rolled off his chair and stood, not towering over the younger boy as once he had but still with a two inch advantage.   Then, without warning, the tension went from his face and he laughed.  'Come, let us not quarrel.  We are soon to have a new lodger join us here.  I have taken a boy.'  Nick blinked in surprise, both at the news and the manner of giving.  'He'll be here on the morrow - he'd better take your chamber and you can move into Will's.'  With that he was gone and Nicholas was left wondering how much longer Ned's heavy drinking could last and what would be its next incomprehensible results.

                The boy duly appeared at breakfast the following day.  His name was Simon and he would be, Nick judged with his critical eye, a taking thing when dressed in his woman's garb.  He was just eleven years old, he announced, and had walked that morning from his home out in Deptford.  No, he had not eaten and he would be very glad to break his fast.  Nick helped him to a hunk of bread and some cheese and went to call Ned to take charge of his new possession.