Nicholas and Bess - part 7

[girlyswot]

'Bess!  Bess!  Come out and come skating with me!'  Nick shouted up into the Burbage's lodgings, full of gaiety on this bright winter day.  Surprised at receiving no answer, he banged on the door again and then entered without waiting.  He found Bess with her mother and several of her young sisters sitting in the parlour with their sewing.

                'Bess!  Did you not hear me?  Come out skating with me.  It is a glorious day.'  Bess continued to appear absorbed in her sewing and refused to acknowledge him.

                'What?  What is it?  Why will you not come out?'  Nick was genuinely surprised but starting to feel a sense of unease about the situation.  Bess could not possibly know about young Nancy at the Beargarden but...

                Mistress Wyn, seeing that her daughter would not speak for herself, answered for her.

'Bess has caught a chill.  She feels it would be unwise to venture out in this cold.  May I wish you a good day, Nick.'

                'No.  I mean...Thank you, Mistress Wyn, but may I not stay and cheer your daughter in her sickness?'  Bess looked up at that but not at him.  She pleaded silently with her mother through what Nick plainly saw were tear-filled eyes.

                'Bess,' he said gently, 'Won't you tell me what is upsetting you so?  How else may I mend it?'  Kneeling by her chair, he removed her needlework which stood in grave danger of a soaking.  Nick took Bess's hands in his and risked a glance at Mistress Wyn.  With a loud clucking of diapproval, she rose and gathered her assorted offspring around her for all the world like a mother hen and her chicks.

                Alone together, Bess allowed her tears to run freely whilst Nicholas waited patiently to hear her out.  Eventually he decided enough was enough and began to dry her cheeks and tuck back a loose strand of hair.  For a moment, she allowed him to caress her but then she remembered why she was so upset and pushed him away.

                'Don't, Nick.  I can't bear it.'

                'But why, sweetheart?  What has happened?'

                She gulped and took a deep breath before clenching her fists and deciding to begin.

                'Last night I heard Father talking to Mother when he came home from the playhouse.  He said he didn't know what to do, whether he should speak to me or not.  And then Mother said that since there was no formal understanding yet there was no need to interfere.  Better to let things take their course, she said.  And then he said that a year away on the seas hadn't improved you and he wished Will were here to knock some sense into you before you let yourself be seduced by every pretty girl who came into the playhouse and took a fancy to you.  Nicholas, I ... I can't bear to be just one of your girls.  So, I would rather you stopped coming here at all, except to see Father if you must.  And, you must not call me sweetheart, when it is not true.'  She ended this speech in barely more than a whisper but Nicholas heard every word all too clearly. 

                His first thought was to defend himself against Dickon's accusations - his relations with all the playhouse girls had gone no further than innocent flirtation.  But then he remembered Nancy and coloured deeply.  Somehow, he had never thought that Bess could be hurt by anyone like that.  Bess loved him, he had always known that.  And, struck by the fierceness with which he knew it, he loved her.

                Carefully, he began, 'There are yet four months to run of the year your father stipulated before our marriage. I will not attempt to persuade you by idle words but let my behaviour over that time be your guide.  On that day, the anniversary of Will's death I will come to you and, provided Richard allows, I will beg your hand.  You must decide, dear Bess.  But my wishes and feelings will always remain unchanged.  Good-day to you.'  And he left.

                Nicholas went to find Humfrey, determined that the girl's silliness would not prevent him from enjoying the day's skating he had planned.  Sam and Lecky and the two newest boys were already at August's lodgings, waiting for Humfrey to findest his warmest jacket and mittens.  The six of them made a happy, laughing group on the ice, falling over with frequent shrieks and racing each other with fierce competitiveness.  Nick once again proved his superior skill seeing off allcomers and ending jubilantly the last one standing.  The cold wind seemed to have blown his mind out of the emotional muddle Bess had caused.  He dammed all women and went to find a warming drink with the boys.

                It was a cold winter, that year.  The Thames froze solid for the better part of a month.  Sunday afternoons had grown into a new routine.  Nick took his lunch with the Burbages and afterward cleared the table for Bess's reading lesson.  He began with her name and his, spelling them out for her, pointing out the repeated letters.  She was a curious learner, fascinated by the difference between letters at the beginning of the word and in the middle.  Nick wrote some simple words for her, using the letters she had learned.  Carefully she spelt them out.  'S…l…o…w…slow!'

                'Good girl.  Now try this.'

                'w…a…i…l.  Wa-il?'

                'Wail.  The a next to the i makes "ai".'  She nodded, biting her lip.

                'So… r…a…i…l.  Rail!'

They carried on until it was full dark and time for Nick to leave.

                'May I come next week?'

                She nodded but kept her eyes cast down.

                The second week, Nick came prepared.  He had written out an alphabet for Bess, showing her each letter illustrated so as to remind her of its sound.  Next 'A' was an actor, 'B' a button, 'C' a carriage, 'D' a man dancing, 'E' an eel and so on.  She was enchanted by it, laughing at his little pictures, carefully pronouncing each word and the sound of the letter.

                'Thank you so much, Nick.  It's beautiful.'

                'Now look, Bess.  I've written a story for you to read.  Just simple words, to help you learn.  Use the alphabet to help you.'  He was eager, hoping it would not be too hard for her.

                Tentatively, she began.  Each sentence was written on a separate small page with a little picture to help.  It was a silly tale of a cat chasing a dog while itself being chased by a mouse.  Bess couldn't help laughing at Nicholas's nonsense.  He laughed too, throwing back his head and showing his white teeth.  Catching his eye, she looked away quickly, turning the next page of the little book.  There were just two words.

                'T-h-e e-n-d.  The end!  Oh.  It's finished.  Can we read it again, Nick?'

                He nodded, so Bess turned back to the start and, more quickly and confidently this time, she read through the little story.

                'Good.  I must go now.  Here - I made this for you to try on your own.  I'll come next week and expect to hear you read it to me then.'

                'Nick, don't go just yet.  I… Stay and drink a pot of beer with Father?'

                'Thank you, Bess.  I cannot stay today.  But I will come next week, if I may?'

                'Yes, of course.  Thank you, Nick, for…for everything.'

                He smiled briefly and was gone.

                The story he had left with her was not like the story they had read together.  It was a fairytale romance.  A young girl with dark hair and grey eyes discovered she was a princess and was carried away by a fair-haired prince.  Bess blushed as she read it, making sure of its meaning with the help of her precious alphabet.  She doubted not that Nicholas meant her for the girl and himself for her prince.  She began to understand that books could make a mind see worlds and dream dreams unthought of.  Her waking thoughts that week were all of fair-haired princes, her dreams all of happy ever after.

                Nick had hardly noticed that he had seen nothing of Nancy for ten days or more.  She meant so little to him that, though he never refused her, neither did he miss her in her absence.  He was busy with his writing.  What time he had to spare he passed in contriving Bess's lessons and books or in company with Humfrey and the boys.

                After the performance on Tuesday of that week, however, a familiar figure waited for him outside the Globe.  He smiled perfunctorily at her and followed as usual to her lodgings.  An hour later, she sat astride him and held his chin firmly in her little hand.

                'Now, I believe we have reached the point of business.'  He frowned.

                'How so?'

                'Well, I can't go on offering my services for nothing.  A lady's got her rent to pay same's everyone else.' 

Nick shrugged.  'Find yourself a customer, then.  I want none of this.'

She laughed.  'Oh no, my pretty boy.  You'll pay.  I've made sure of that.'

'What do you mean?'  He was starting to feel a little nervous but years of training with the company made sure no sign of it showed in voice or expression.

'Why, your little fancy-girl!  How will she like to hear of our… arrangement?'  Nancy laughed, unkindly.

'Who do you mean?'  Nick was really worried now, but still grasped at the hope this might all be a bluff.

'Oh, the innocent!  Little Bess, o'course.  Burbage's girl.  Sweet on you and you not the less on her.  I daresay her pa would be interested to hear what I have to tell him.'

Nick grimaced inwardly at the thought of Dickon's response to Nancy.  He risked losing not only his wife but also, which he had so long thought more precious, his place in the company.  He could not see how to be rid of her. He looked at her laughing, cruel face and wondered why he had ever gone with her.  She had none of Bess's dear tenderness, nor of her gay laughing eyes.  Nick did not doubt for a minute that Nancy would carry out her threat and, indeed, take pleasure in his downfall.

'How much?'  He was curious to know what she thought he would be able and prepared to pay.

She smiled, horribly.  'Well now, a pretty boy like you, seems almost a crime to charge.  Tell you what, as it's you, let's say a shilling a night.  Nice round number.'

He almost laughed.  'A shilling!  That's all I get for a whole day's work and more.'

Her face became hard again and her grip tightened unpleasantly.  'A shilling.  Starting tonight.  Or you won't have any more work.'

'And how will that serve you?'  Nick retorted.

She looked confused for a moment, as though she hadn't expected any argument.

'You have more to lose than I, boy.  There is no veneer of respectability,' she fairly spat the word at him, 'which I have to keep.  There will always be others willing to pay me.  But who will take you when I have done?'

He was silent.  There was an escape from this horror.  If only he could find it.

'Very well,' he decided.  'Tonight you shall have your shilling.'  He scrabbled through his clothes for his purse and counted out the coins deliberately, pouring the little pile onto the bed for Nancy to collect.  He dressed, quickly, eager to be out of her presence.  He had never found her distasteful until this night but now he thought he was about to be sick.

'When shall I see you next?' he enquired, his hand already on the door.

'When I choose,' she simpered.

He slammed the door behind him and fairly ran down the stairs, gulping in great breaths of fresh air.