As Soon Moved to be Moody

"What, my dear Lady Disdain! Are you yet living?"

April 4th 

Fitzwilliam Darcy's 21st Birthday

Bianca Montague was almost completely pleased with her evening so far.

Goneril Capulet had looked utterly miserable the entire night. The delightful rumor of Hermia Capulet's condition was spreading through the crowd like a disease, eliciting distaste that only seemed to add to Goneril's misery. At dinner, Lady Anne had made a point of seating Bianca's niece, Beatrice, in a good position relative to where she would seat her son. (Beatrice was only sixteen, but Bianca saw nothing wrong with marrying early, and nobody could accuse Lady Anne of having any scruples in that quarter.) Only two things were holding the night back from perfection - Fitzwilliam Darcy had somehow managed to skip the entire meal and thus never took the seat near Beatrice, and Bianca was now saddled with her mother.

Lady Montague was younger than her husband, but she was still an elderly, slightly forgetful woman. Where her children got their ambition from was clear, because it was not from her. Isabella had always liked her role as the consort to a very powerful man, but she suspected she would have been just as happy as a wife and mother to less prestigious people. Matchmaking was matchmaking, after all.

She thought she had done prodigiously well in her role so far - her sons had married very good women and her daughter had been engaged to an upstanding, wealthy man once upon a time. That her eldest son, both daughters-in-law, and her would-be son-in-law were all dead was nothing to her - the Capulets were the ones responsible for those nagging details, after all. And it left her open to more opportunities to pair off her offspring. How many women her age could boast that they had not only four grandchildren but two children available to be well-married?

"It was very rude of the Darcy boy to miss the meal," Lady Montague complained. "Beatrice must be disappointed."

"If she knows what's good for her." Bianca had lived with her brother since the death of his wife and had taken his children's interests up as her own. She would force her niece to explain to her later how flirting with a nearly penniless Captain of the Guard was in the family's best interest. "His blood isn't quite as good as ours, but the fortune is excellent."

"I like that he's not a trouble-maker. He would probably live long enough to give me some great-grandchildren. And it is a good match for Beatrice, too."

"Someone should warn that child," Fitzwilliam whispered to Juliette as he peered into the foyer. "My uncle is not to be trusted."

Juliette leaned over just enough to look inside. When she saw who Captain Fitzwilliam had cornered, her concern dropped like a stone. "Her grandmother and aunt are both in the room. If they do not like it, they can stop it." After reliving Hermia's awful situation by telling all to Fitzwilliam, Juliette was in such sore need of diversion that she had (eventually) convinced him to extend his absence from the party. She feared he would go charging in to rescue the silly girl if they lingered in sight too long. If Beatrice Montague ruined her night, she swore, she would throttle her. "Come, before your uncle turns around!" Juliette grabbed his hand and pulled him past the foyer. They headed for the kitchen garden in hope of a few minutes of quiet and privacy.

Inside, Bianca decided she might as well make use of the time spent with Lady Montague. "I don't know if Antonio is in agreement, Mother. Between us, I think he believes she is too young to be married."

Lady Montague hit her cue. "What does a man know about marriage? I'll make him see reason." And then another. "It is so important to get girls married early on, after all," she said somewhat more loudly. "If they are unwed for too long, they are apt to get into trouble, don't you think, daughter?"

Goneril Capulet scowled at the Montague women. How the entire district had already learned of her niece's condition was a vexing mystery (as long as one didn't consider the ill effects of screaming one's dirty laundry in earshot of the servants.) She would have to determine the proper course of action immediately. On her way to speak to her sister, Regan, Goneril tried to quickly walk past the two ladies. She underestimated them.

"Oh, Lady Capulet," Bianca called in a singing tone dripping with sarcasm. It was one of the few times Goneril had ever hated to hear the title she insisted was hers. "It's such a lovely evening, isn't it? What a shame your children and nieces are not here. Are they unwell?"

Goneril swallowed her bile. "I did not think such a gathering as this was suitable for Miranda or my nieces. Girls of marriageable age must have their company chosen very carefully, and my daughter and nieces are of that tender age when a lady is neither too young or too old to be married." She paused for emphasis. "Please, excuse me. I have business elsewhere."

Outdoors, the secretive couple had only just settled down when they were forced to jump up again and hide. Familiar voices were heard coming from the formal garden.

"All of Verona knows!" Goneril snarled. "My God. This is apparently quite normal for his people. His parents don't seem the slightest bit ashamed."

"What else could you expect from the Fae? And God knows where he really came from! Oh, Goneril, to see our blood wasted on that of some whore who would leave their infant on a bridge! Can you imagine, having to call such a dirty peasant a Capulet?"

"Unthinkable, sister. And yet, now we must welcome the little beast into the family immediately. There is no other way."

Regan's features lit up with a sudden idea. "Perhaps there is. They could leave Verona. She would be written off and forgotten soon enough."

"Father would never stand for banishing her. We can't risk angering him - not yet."

"But if Hermia leaves on her own, Father can have nothing to say to it."

Goneril caught up to her sister's thoughts with glee. "And it really would be for the best, wouldn't it? Hermia will start over where her past is not known, and we..."

"Fitzwilliam Darcy!"

"Grandmother?"

"What is going on here?!"

Next Post: "Here Come the Capulets"