Free Love's Will by Meredith Whitford Page B

lost his dream for lack of effort or courage, and punishes his wife for it.”
    Rather pale, watching her intently, he said, “What if I try, and fail?”
    “At least you’d know. At least you will have tried. Better to be a glover or an usher in a school because that is what you do best. But Will, look – Dick Field said he had no trouble selling those plays you sent him, and I’ve always thought you could have got more for them if you had been in London yourself. Give it a try. Speak to the players today. Ask them for advice, ask what your chances are of a playing company taking you on. Show them your plays, tell them you sold two to Whatsisname.”
    “Henslowe.”
    “Whatever. Or, William, and you laughed at me last time I suggested this, you could write to Lord Strange, for whom you used to work in Lancashire, and ask him if his company of players would take you on.”
    “I could not write to a nobleman I’ve not seen in five, six years.”
    “Why not? I’ve never been more than five miles from Stratford but I know how things are done; country town or capital city, it’s who you know, it’s using people you’ve met, it’s reminding useful people of old acquaintance or obligation. So, William, you can rot here blaming me or your stars for the rest of your life, or you can test out your dream. Start by coming to the play today.”
    It sounded like the sort of line on which players made their exit from a scene on stage, and so she exited, downstairs to feed her family their breakfast.
     

 
    2 .
     
    The play ended. There was a moment’s hush, then the audience burst into applause. As they stamped and whistled the players lined up to take their bows, again and again, then filed away through the curtains at the stage’s sides. Spain became once more just some rickety boards on trestles, a painted backcloth and Stratford Guildhall.
    “Did you like it, sweetheart?” Anne asked Susanna. The little girl had watched with her father’s intensity, hardly breathing.
    “Yes. Mama, that lady was a man. Why was she?”
    “Women aren’t allowed to act on the stage. Boys play all the ladies.”
    “Oh. Why?”
    “It’s simply not allowed,” William said, standing up and easing his back; the wooden benches were no couches of luxury. “Shall I, after all...”
    “Yes.” Anne took her daughter’s hand and marched around to the back of the Guildhall. William flapped along behind.
    The players were bundling their materials into hampers, loading them onto a cart. Two of them were squabbling bitterly. Watching them was a rosy-faced man Anne recognised as Richard Tarleton, clown to the Queen’s Men. On stage he made you want to laugh as soon as he put his head round the curtains; now he looked tired and as if laughter were the last thing on his mind. Smaller, too, than on stage.
    “Excuse me, sirs,” William began.
    “If you’re selling something,” Mr Tarleton gave him a dismissive glance, “you’ve come to the wrong place. We’re players. No money.”
    “Oh no, it’s nothing like that. Sir, please could we – I mean, could I – speak privately? It’s about a matter of business. I would be glad to take you to the inn and buy a drink.”
    Astonished, Tarleton’s brows shot up and he glanced at Anne in a way she didn’t quite like. She had worn her only ‘best’ dress, her wedding dress, and had thought its flowered linen and her little lace-edged cap modest enough. Surely she didn’t deserve that appraising, almost salacious look. Was it common for men in country towns to pimp their women to travelling actors?
    His voice steely, William introduced her and Susanna.
    “Mr Tarleton,” said Anne smoothly, “may I say how much I admired your performance? I’d heard yours is the best acting troupe in the land, and now I see it’s true. And your performance, sir, was… was… incomparable.” It was the right tack to take. He expanded like a watered flower. Well, she thought, I did like his