Two Milliners

By James Connor

Hiding inside the hollow pedestal of the statue standing just outside the castle walls, sixteen-year-olds Lavinia and her visiting-for-the-summer cousin, Beatrice, develop a crush on one of the night sentries patrolling the perimeter. When, by chance, they learn of the debilitating illness of the sentrys ten-year-old son, Benjy, they resolve to bring secret medical help to the family after the Duke, Lavinias father, refuses their pleas. At the same time, it is summer in the Midlands and the two young ladies begin to flirt with two lads their own age that they meet in the forest. The working class lads, who serve as apprentice milliners hat-makers in town, do not suspect at first anything more than romance is involved with these privileged daughters of English nobility. But they both soon become swept up in something more, an ill-fated scheme to kidnap a sick lad from his home while a doctor is deceived by the disguised-as-servants cousins into treating the boy on a moonlit forest trail. The plan takes an unpredictable, tragic turn when the mother of the boy is awakened in the middle of the night to find her son missing. She takes the news directly to her husband walking his rounds at the castle, and, still bearing the sentrys sword upon his hip, he flies on horseback after the two milliners responsible. Set in Elizabethan England around 1600, the book mixes adventure and romance in equal measure with the text in the form of a Hollywood script.

• Language: English
• Publisher: Xlibris US
• Release date: Feb 3, 2012
• ISBN: 9781469140100

Book preview

Copyright © 2012 by James Connor.

Library of Congress Control Number:       2011962985

ISBN:         Hardcover                               978-1-4691-4009-4

                   Softcover                                 978-1-4691-4008-7

                   Ebook                                      978-1-4691-4010-0

All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording, or by any information storage and retrieval system, without permission in writing from the copyright owner.

This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents either are the product of the author’s imagination or are used fictitiously, and any resemblance to any actual persons, living or dead, events, or locales is entirely coincidental.

This book was printed in the United States of America.

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OPENING CREDITS:

Two boys about 17 are walking in a forest in England. By their dress, wearing knee-length breeches and hats with feathers, one surmises the period: Elizabethan England in the 16th Century.

Barely glimpsed on this warm, sunny day are two figures lying prone alongside the path, their eyes peering through the foliage. Lying in shadow, their sex is undetermined.

Another day. The same two boys are walking in the forest. It is raining. They pass over a wooden foot-bridge. Through the slats, the spying figures are seen as girls. By the gleam of devilish mischief in their eyes, it is obvious one is secretly in love with one of the boys.

The third day. The foliage on the trees indicates the season: summertime. The boys arrive at a small river after running the last fifty yards at a gallop. Tearing off their clothes as they continue to hop and run, naked, they charge into the sun for the water.

It’s a race between them and the only way, Scroop, the taller, can win it is by passing his friend as he slows to doff his trousers, pass him and charge into the water with his shirt half off and his breeches trailing behind one ankle. The loser runs full-stride at Scroop and barrels him over in knee-high water.

Running along a nearby path, the girls arrive at a spot upstream from the lads. They eagerly devour the scene.

*     *     *

Next day in the forest.

A fallen tree lies diagonally across half the screen. Sitting on it is one of the two girls. She glances behind from time to time. Finally Beatrice appears far down the path, running toward her.

Breathless and excited, Beatrice runs up, takes the sitting girl’s hand and pulls her along a few steps on the path.

Lavinia: Did he kiss you?

Beatrice: Ay. Come on.

Lavinia: Stop it. Beatrice, will you stop?

Beatrice: I’ll tell you.

Lavinia: When? (She returns to log)

Beatrice: On the way home.

Lavinia: Tell me now.

Beatrice: He’s coming.

Lavinia: (sits) He lives the other way.

Beatrice: His father’s a milliner in town.

Lavinia: I like the way he dresses.

Beatrice: I think he’s coming this way today.

Lavinia: I hope he does. He’ll find me here.

Beatrice gives up and sits down on the log too.

Lavinia: His father’s a milliner in town?

Beatrice: Ay. The yellow-brick building next to the glover’s.

Lavinia: We were there today!

Lavinia removes a pair of fashionable brown gloves from a bag she is carrying.

Beatrice: We were there today. (Pulls her own black gloves from her pocket) I hate this material. I don’t even know why I bought them.

She throws the gloves away. Lavinia goes to pick them up.

Beatrice: No, leave it. I want him to find them.

Lavinia: (accepting this) He’s not poor then.

Beatrice: Better not be.

Lavinia: Did you tell him?

Beatrice: Do I have to? (A reference to their clothes: both are the daughters of English nobles)

Lavinia: I mean that we’ve been following them.

Beatrice: No.

Lavinia: His father owns the shop or he’s just apprenticed there?

Beatrice: One or the other.

Lavinia: Beatrice, you think he saw us in the glover’s this morning?

Beatrice: Oh! Do you think he did!

Lavinia: And then followed us. They don’t come this way normally. (Beatrice considers this silently) What if they did?

Beatrice: That’s even better.

Lavinia: Better. Better she says. She kisses a strange boy in the forest.

Beatrice: A strange boy. How many days have we been following them? I feel like I could recite some of their jokes by heart. (She stands and stalks around the area, kicking a mound of leaves in the air) Lying covered with leaves. Huddling under bridges in the rain.

Lavinia: But if he followed us from town… Beatrice, his friend frightens me.

Beatrice: (laughing) We thought we were following them.

Lavinia: But they were following us. And that’s wrong, Beatrice. (She stands and goes to Beatrice) Now I am scared.

Beatrice: Why is it wrong?

Lavinia: Not wrong like right-wrong. Peculiar. It makes me wary.

Beatrice: (keeping an eye on the path) It’s wrong for a milliner’s son to be following me…

Lavinia: And me.

Beatrice: But it’s not wrong for me to be following a milliner’s son.

Lavinia: Where was his friend when he was kissing you?

Beatrice: He was watching. I didn’t care.

Lavinia: You saw him. You saw him watching? (Both hands over her mouth, she contains her laughter) Great God, you saw him watching the two of you!

Beatrice: In fact, I went to him like this behind my lover’s back (beckoning him with her finger) and whispering: ‘Have a look in here, Bardolph, if it pleases ye.’ (She indicates her bodice)

Lavinia, role-playing, takes Bardolph’s part, pretending to appreciate Beatrice’s full breasts. Laughing, they fall together groping one another. At the same time, laughter is heard behind. Turning, they see Scroop and Bardolph approaching down the trail.

Lavinia: Who’s that?

Beatrice: I told you he was coming.

Lavinia: They are following us!

Waiting just long enough to be sure the lads see them, the girls flee down the path.

Scroop: Wait!

Bardolph: Let’s after ’em.

Scroop: (staying his arm) That’s what they want. That’s what they want. (They watch them disappear in the woods) They’ll be back.

Bardolph: Just as well. Think I twisted my knee back there. (He sits down on a tree stump rubbing his leg)

Scroop: Well, you damn sure twisted your bloody neck.

Bardolph: What? Oh, well, o’ course. You said I could, didn’t you?

Scroop: I winked for you to drop behind the rock. So what’s he do? He gets behind a tree about like this. (An extremely narrow one)

Bardolph: I didn’t want anything interrupting the view.

Scroop: Why don’t you take the other one off tomorrow and view her?

Bardolph: Tomorrow? I’m for going after them today.

Scroop: Rest your leg. Let them go for today. She’s a strange one alright.

Bardolph: Mine?

Scroop: No. Yours? Bardolph, don’t get your hopes up.

Bardolph: What’s so strange about her?

Scroop: The way she kisses.

Bardolph: The way she kisses, huh.

Scroop: Look.

Scroop holds his tongue out, crouching in front of Bardolph seated on the stump.

Bardolph: I see it.

Scroop: Look.

Bardolph: A tongue.

Scroop: Is it bleeding?

Bardolph: Blood! You must be kidding.

Scroop: Just answer.

Bardolph: (looking more closely) Where you been sticking it?

Scroop: Is there?

Bardolph: No. (Shakes his head) You serious?

Scroop: Wisht I was joking. I don’t really go for that much push first dance.

Bardolph: Kisses like a poisoned she-wolf, does she?

Scroop: I don’t really go for her that much.

Bardolph: Well, she had all her claws into you, I’ll vouch for that. Sweet loving Christ, Toby will not believe this.

Scroop: That’s a terrifying feeling when you feel your tongue being sucked down her throat.

Bardolph: He’ll laugh till he pukes in his apron.

Scroop: See how they’re dressed? (Bardolph nods) Think they did it on a dare? (Bardolph shrugs) I began to ask myself: are we lovin’ or fightin’?

Bardolph: It’s like that sometimes, I guess. Scrappin’ like alley-cats. I used to watch ’em for hours through the window over Exton’s basement. Comin’ and goin’. Comin’ and goin’.

Scroop: Look! She was wearing these. (He looks inside the gloves) Hubert Gurney. She bought these next door!

Bardolph: (grabs them) Hubert Gurney. That she did. (He puts them on) They fit.

Scroop: Bardolph, twinkle-toes, take them off.

Bardolph: Twinkle-toes he calls me. (Returning the gloves) Black, too. Look at the size of these! Look at the size of those! You see why she’s not afraid to scrap with you? She probably figures in a fist-fight she’ll have the better of you. (Then, as Scroop continues to inspect the gloves) We can find out what they cost easy enough. And I’ll wager it’s a pretty penny.

Scroop: (giving the gloves back) Find out.

Bardolph: (throwing them back) Find out yourself.

Scroop: (stooping to pick one up) My father wouldn’t want me going in there for that.

Bardolph: And you think it might not look a bit strange me walkin’ in there, pricin’ ladies’ gloves. My own father would lace me up to our tree for it.

Scroop: Alright. (Puts them in his pocket)

Bardolph: Scroop, you know they’re the best money can buy.

With his look of mild surprise, Scroop registers that he had not known.

Bardolph: They’re calve-skin.

Scroop: Calve-skin. The little ones. (Bardolph nods, smiles)

Bardolph: And look at the threadin’ on ’em. (Turning the gloves over in his hands, Scroop does) We could sell ’em.

Scroop: What do you think they’d bring?

He hands them back to Bardolph who considers the question a moment.

Bardolph: You’re tryin’ hard to get me into Gurney’s place, ain’t you?

Scroop: (laughs) Think they’d bring forty shilling?

Bardolph: Huh! If they brought a farthing. They’re stitched to perfection.

Scroop: That’s Audrey’s handy-work.

Bardolph: His daughter’s?

Scroop: Ay. Give ’em to me. Think I see somebody…

Lavinia and Beatrice re-appear down the path and walk up casually.

Scroop: Beatrice!

Scroop jumps onto the log and crouches cringing.

Beatrice: (ignoring his behavior) What are you fellows doing here?

Scroop and Bardolph say I don’t know with a look.

Lavinia: Hi, Bardolph. (Bardolph nods hello) We’re looking for a pair of gloves. Like these, only black.

Bardolph: (helping her look) How’d you know my name?

Lavinia: Beatrice told me. Mine’s Lavinia.

Bardolph: Lavender?

Lavinia: Lavinia.

Scroop: (coming down off the log, to Lavinia) They’re your gloves?

Lavinia: No, hers.

Scroop: We found this.

Beatrice: (running to join them) Only the one?

Scroop: The other may be about but that was the only one we found.

Lavinia: Feel under here. (The log) Feel under here.

Bardolph: I am. I feel something.

Lavinia: What? Well, what?

Bardolph holds a worm out.

Lavinia: (screams) A snake! (She jumps away)

Bardolph: It’s a worm. It’s only a worm.

Lavinia: Take it away. Throw it away. Don’t come near me with it.

Beatrice: We better keep going, Lavinia. The other may be back on the trail.

Scroop: Bardolph, wise up. (Bardolph throws away the worm) Beatrice, why don’t you and I cover this area? Since we already found the one here, the other may be about. (Beatrice and Lavinia look at each other) And, Bardolph, you check back down the trail with Lavinia.

Lavinia: (huddling with Beatrice) You trust these shit-heels?

Beatrice: Shh. Ay, I do. I trust ’em.

Lavinia: Mine?

Beatrice: Ay, I do.

Lavinia: He scares me, this muscled clown.

Beatrice: Don’t let him kiss you below the waist then. (They giggle together)

Lavinia: Alright. But I won’t be out of ear-shot.

Beatrice: Stay close.

Lavinia: You bet I will. (With a look she reminds Beatrice she is more attracted to Scroop. She walks up to Bardolph) Well?

Bardolph: Well, honey, I guess this means wedding bells will chime. (They leave down the trail)

Beatrice: (with her thigh leaning on the log) Do you like Lavinia?

Scroop shrugs indifference. Physically the two girls bear some resemblance, Beatrice being slightly prettier. Each is trim, tanned, and well-endowed behind her bodice.

Beatrice: Your shirt’s torn.

Scroop: I know. I did it in the brush back there.

Beatrice: Don’t you want to?

Scroop, who has been walking on the log, jumps to the ground and sits down next to Beatrice. She takes both his hands in hers.

Beatrice: This is awkward, isn’t it?

Scroop: Ay, some.

Beatrice: I know you’re nervous, so am I.

Scroop: Why do you think I am?

Beatrice: The way you were walking on the log, and your hands… your hands feel sweaty.

Scroop: On such a summer’s day as this, it would be more awkward if they were not.

Beatrice: On such a summer’s day as this . . . Ay, ’tis a beautiful day. I have been so bored lately the days… whole weeks pass without my noticing it. But, ay, ’tis a lovely day. Why are you afraid to kiss me now?

Scroop: What?

Beatrice: Why are you afraid to kiss me after you already have the first time?

Scroop: I’m not.

Beatrice: Well, do it then.

Scroop: I only met you today, Beatrice.

Beatrice discards a light sweater, throwing it onto the generous carpet of already-fallen leaves behind. She stands for a moment, allowing Scroop on the log an unfettered glimpse of her breasts as the sweater flies. Then taking his hands once again, she resumes her position beside him on the log.

Beatrice: (discarding it) I’m burning up. Well, look, I’ll kiss you. (She kisses him) There. You’ve been lots further than that. I heard Bardolph say so. And you have a girl in town.

Scroop: That’s over. Did Bardolph mention… did Bardolph mention Phebe?

Beatrice: Ay.

Scroop: Well, it’s been done with since Michaelmas last.

Beatrice: What happened at Michaelmas?

Scroop: We split up.

Beatrice: Why?

Scroop: When my dad opened the hat shop, our whole family moved in above