Page 94 of The Two Wills

“I know—a surprise most assuredly. I, myself, did not learn to read until I was already eighteen. Will taught me. Did you know?”

“He mentioned it once,” she said. “He clearly taught you well.”

“I suspect so. Now I teach boys much younger than I was. Sometimes I’ll write out speeches from Will’s plays and make them memorize them, since I found it a most useful tool for learning to read.” She smiled at this before we fell into a brief, anxious silence. “Is your family well?”

“My husband, Jamie, has been gone for many years now—a short illness. We were happy for his final years.” She gave a small, mischievous laugh. “The odd thing is, I believe I owe our happiness to Will.”

“How so?”

Looking thoughtfully at a riot of violets sprouting from the base of the child’s gravestone, she took a deep breath. “After things ended so wretchedly, I spent many years ruminating over the affair between he and I … and you.”

I felt a hot blush paint my cheeks.

She continued, “For a long time, I cursed myself for allowing a man such as Will to have so much power over my heart—a man I felt sure could never fully desire me as I desired him.”

My heart ached, for I recognized her agony. “I don’t think that’s true,” I said, hoping to console her. “When you left, he was greatly wounded. He walked around glumly for weeks. He loved you most assuredly.”

“In his way,” she said. “And I in mine. Unfortunately, that sort of insatiable hunger for another’s body is not of this Earth and—if one survives it—should not last more than a season at most.” She grasped a small emerald pendant that hung on a chain around her throat. “If we had continued to go on with our sport with that much vigor, I would have perished from madness.” Again, she smiled. “Or simply physical exhaustion.”

I laughed, as did she. “And how did that help your marriage?”

“The thing is …” She glanced toward the mourners and then back, before lowering her voice. “Unlike other wives, who stay stuck in their regret, I never had to wonder what might have been if I allowed myself to succumb to such a passion. Our darling poet fucked every single ‘regret’ from my body. Then, as you know, it ended abysmally, and I gnashed my teeth for a time. But eventually something curious happened. No longer wondering about ‘what might have been,’ I found myself utterly content with what was. I’m speaking of my sometimes dull and tedious husband—who was always warm, kind, and most loving. I just hadn’t noticed it before Will. I became so grateful.”

“Grateful?” I repeated, surprised by the word.

“Aren’t you?” she asked.

I shook my head. “Why would I be?”

“Think of it, Hughes! At least once in our lives we wrapped ourselves in the cloak of Dionysus, set ourselves aflame, and burned most brutally and gloriously. And yet we survived—thrived, even. Do you not feel it?”

I nodded but I did not feel anything akin to her sense of gratitude. Unlike her, I still possessed too many regrets left like stones in my own heart—not regrets of the flesh, but questions left unanswered. If only I’d had the chance to see him one more time so I might have asked. Now, those questions would linger forever. I decided it was time I make my leave.

“Well, it was a most unusual coincidence that we should run into each other like this,” I began. “But I really should—”

“Coincidence?” She laughed. “I sent you that letter intending to meet you here.”

“You sent the letter?” I was stunned. “I thought Anne had.”

“It wasn’t Anne. I thought you might not come if you knew it was me.”

“I probably wouldn’t have,” I said. “I’m sorry, I don’t mean to be rude, but why did you send for me?”

“In truth,” she began, “I had been searching for you the longest time. I visited all the usual taverns and alehouses frequented by players, but I met no one who knew where you were. Eventually I gave up. But when I heard that Will had fallen ill, I knew I had to try again. This time, at the very first alehouse in London where I inquired, a man approached me. He claimed to have met me once, but I had no memory of him. He said he had been your good friend and fellow apprentice. I can’t recall his name, but he was a most unattractive man with a clubbed foot.”

I could barely believe my ears. “Sam? You must’ve met Sam the Hedgehog.”

“I don’t recall any animals being mentioned, but perhaps Samuel was his name. He said he was currently working as a Master of the Book for one of the companies. He knew exactly where you lived.”

I caught my breath. That it would be Sam who had fathered this moment into being—the boy who had once been part of my awful plan to bring shame upon Rose. And that Sam had become a Master of the Book and knew of my whereabouts. Astonished, my skin turned to hen-flesh.

“But why were you so keen to find me?”

“It was years ago. I ran into Will in the yard of Saint Paul’s. We spoke about many things, including you.”

“You spoke to Will about me?”

“It wasn’t only about you. We talked of our time together, and he even apologized for how awful he had been.”