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me. Stephen claimed the seat on my other side, next to his aunt. I was having a hard time thinking of the Hoghtons as my aunt and uncle. I only had one of each, and they lived in California. I rarely saw them. Since “Master Hoghton” was so formal, I decided to call him by his first name, Alexander. Only in my mind, of course. And I’d begin to think of his wife as Elizabeth.
    A young boy walked around with a pitcher of water, a basin, and a towel, and everyone washed their hands. Then Alexander offered a prayer of thanks, which dragged on for so long I nearly dozed off. After the amen, he toasted Stephen and me.
    “On this happy occasion, we honor our niece Olivia and nephew Stephen. May their company gladden us for many days.”
    I frowned at Stephen. Not too many days . Everyone raised their cups and drank, including me. It was beer or ale; I wasn’t sure which. It was served at room temperature, but it was smooth and thirst-quenching.
    Servants made the rounds, heaping food onto wooden dishes at each place. The first course was fish. I looked on as everyone else used a knife to lift the layer of meat from the bone. Once that was done, they used their fingers to eat. There was no knife by my plate, only a spoon, so I sat there waiting for someone to rescue me.
    “Sister, have you forgotten your knife?” Stephen asked. “I shall help you.” Deftly he deboned the fish and then laid the knife on the table between us.
    “Thank you, Stephen. I can always depend on you.” My tone was deadpan, but he raised a brow at me, looking amused. I realized I was ravenous. I never ate more than a snack before a performance, so I hadn’t had a meal since lunch yesterday. I shoved morsels of fish into my mouth like a starving person, and when I finished, I broke off a piece of bread from a loaf at our end of the table and gobbled it down.
    “This bread is totally good,” I whispered to Stephen.
    “It’s called manchet.”
    “Right.” I broke off another piece and stole a glance toward the other end of the table to see what Master Shakespeare was up to. Absorbed in conversation with the man introduced as an Oxford scholar, he didn’t seem the least bit interested in the new arrivals.
    After the fish, servants brought us little cakes of almond and sugar. Marchpane, Stephen quietly informed me. No sooner had I popped one into my mouth than the next course was served. More fish.
    “Eel,” Stephen mouthed.
    Oh, yuck!
    When Stephen and I went for the knife simultaneously, he politely deferred to me.
    “What news from home, Stephen?” Alexander asked between bites. “You spoke of your father. How is my sister?”
    “She is afflicted with toothache. Father nags her to have them pulled, but alas, she is too proud and would rather bear the pain.”
    “I am sorry to hear it. And what of yourself?”
    “I am much busy with account keeping and helping Father manage the tenants.”
    “You are taking on more of your father’s responsibilities. Good lad.”
    I leaned back in my chair so Stephen and Alexander could talk more easily. Meanwhile, the servers made room on the table for more sweets and a salad of lettuce, onion, and fragrant herbs. By this time I definitely had that stuffed feeling and wished there was some way to loosen my bodice. I turned to Stephen during a lull in the conversation and in a low voice asked, “Do all the meals take this long?” An arm darted between us, whisking my tankard away and refilling it. I drank deeply.
    “Go easy on the ale, Miranda,” Stephen said softly. “You’re not used to it.”
    I rolled my eyes. “I drink sometimes.”
    He looked skeptical. “To answer your question, only the noon meal. Unless there is some festivity in the evening, as there will be tonight.”
    “I—” Apparently he wasn’t interested in what I was about to say, because he resumed his conversation with his uncle.
    My eyes roamed around the vast room while the remaining courses were served—cheese,