Page 54 of Fangs, Frost, and Folios
Caspar paged through the printout of the play, already planning his reaction for the following night when Giovanni would ask his opinion.
“Oh dear.” Isadora looked up, moving the reading glasses from her nose. “I’m not an expert but…”
He started to laugh. “It’s really not very good, is it?”
Isadora’s smile was painful. “They can always give it to Richard?”
Caspar’s laugh grew. Richard Montegu was a famed actor of Shakespearean tragedy who’d been turned into a vampire against his will. His only outlet now was the touring theater company partially funded by Giovanni and Beatrice that performed exclusively at immortal events.
“It’s a bit disappointing though, isn’t it?” Isadora sighed. “Though I suppose every writer has their flops, don’t they?”
“Flop?” He looked at the notes in the margins. “I don’t think this was ever performed, my love.”
She looked at the pages again. “There are stage notes though. See? Here in the margin.”
“Feedback, I think. The writing is different.” He pointed to one page. “Look at this one. ‘Very terrible. No woman speaks like this.’ Do you think…?”
Isadora’s eyes lit up. “Perhaps Lady Penny’s ancestor wasn’t Shakespeare’s lover but his editor? Maybe he gave it to her to read and she didn’t like it, so he scrapped it and left the manuscript with her.”
“It’s possible.”
She narrowed her eyes. “This play is… Well, it reminds me ofMuch Ado about Nothinga bit.”
“Men returning from war to return to their loves they left behind?” Caspar nodded. “I definitely see the similarities.”
“But the new Duke character… He’s rather foul, isn’t he?”
“Taming of the Shrew.” Caspar set down the pages. “That’s what I was thinking. He reminds me of Petruchio fromTaming of the Shrew.”
“Yes!” Isadora murmured, “Richard Burton really was so handsome, wasn’t he?”
“Focus, darling.” Caspar felt like he was young again, brainstorming with Giovanni on a new literary mystery. “Perhaps this play was an early draft and Shakespeare decided to remove that part of the plot and write it on its own.”
“And after that, maybe he decidednotto return to Navarre after all. Maybe he decided that new characters were the better choice.”
“Leave the King of Navarre with his ends and create a whole new cast of characters?”
“It’s possible.” Isadora set down the papers. “I enjoyedLove’s Labour’s Lost, but I never felt like it needed a sequel.”
“Leave beloved characters to their imagined ends?” Caspar set the play aside and slid into bed next to his wife. “That’s the writer’s prerogative, I suppose.”
“The audience can always use their imagination,” Isadora said. “Not everything needs to be spelled out.”
“I think there’s a note like that in the margins somewhere.” He turned off the bedside-table lamp. “I wonder what they’ll do with this?”
“Even if the story isn’t complete, it’s still more than enough for Shakespeare fans to argue about, isn’t it?”
“Very true.” Caspar drew Isadora’s head gently to his shoulder, where his wife’s soft white hair tickled his nose.
He wouldn’t end his nights in any other way.
“Good night, my darling.”
“Good night, my love.”
Happy Holidays!
