Bitter Conduct: Part I

"Two such opposèd kings... in man as well as herbs: grace and rude will."

July 5th

A long July day was winding down. The week had been unseasonably warm, driving everyone indoors for relief from the sun. Consort Capulet remained in his bed most of the day. After recurrent fits, including the first, unfortunate episode on a staircase that had endangered his life, he was slowly convalescing. Hermia and her cousin, Miranda, fled to the front room where the family sat on summer evenings. The cousins still spent a good amount of time together. With Puck slaving in his mother's shadows most days, Hermia was as in need of company as ever. Miranda, in disgrace with her mother for disloyalty, was perfectly happy to provide it at all hours.

Miranda had never been comfortable within her own immediate family. Her mother was distant, her father was a disgrace, and her siblings were too young to be her friends. The bond she formed with Hermia had to make up for all of her disappointments, and Miranda, though the elder, was attached to her cousin like an adoring younger sister. When Hermia fell in love and then into trouble with the violet-eyed god called Puck, Miranda helped her cousin take him. Growing up under a marriage like Goneril and Albany's had taught her that husbands were unimportant. It wasn't until it was too late that Miranda realized that not everyone, not even within the family, thought the same. Dreams of artistic pursuits and life-long sisterhood had given way to suggesting names for a baby she already hated.

"Andromache."

"Ugh."

"Imogen."

"Definitely not."

"Goneril, then."

"No, no, no!" Hermia laughed. "Why not 'Rot' or 'Dungeon', if you are going to kid with me?"

"Alongside my own mother's name, 'Rot', you say?"

"Oh, don't pretend to be offended, Miranda. You're a bad actress." Thoughtfully, Hermia rubbed her stomach. "Besides, I know it's a boy, no matter what Puck says."

"What would a man know about it?"

Hermia shrugged. "We'll see what he says when Lysander arrives."

"Lysander?" Miranda's brows shot up. "What kind of name is that?"

"A family name."

"It is not."

"It's a Summerdream family name, and I like it. Lysander Capulet."

"You can't name a girl 'Lysander', sprite," Puck interrupted. "And you should stop saying you know the little sprite's sex." Happy to be home, he kissed Hermia's cheek and vaulted over the back of the sofa. He had grown up knowing he wanted to be a diplomat, like his mother. He hadn't planned on wanting even more to be with his wife and their baby every moment. If he was distracted now, when all he might miss was the baby pummeling Hermia from the inside, he was on the path to being downright useless once the child was actually born. "People will think I've given you more than just a heathen baby."

"I may be as fat and slow as a Montague's grandmother, but I'll make a pulp out of the first person to say that to my face."

"Beautiful and fearsome? How did I get so lucky?"

"The prettiest eyes in Verona, to start."

Miranda stood suddenly and headed for the table. "Tea?" she called out.

"None for me, but for Puck." Hermia leaned into him and whispered, "Mint tea." While the scent of mint tea reminded her of being sick, she knew Puck loved it. "Lysander had better not inherit your taste."

"You're right. It would be very embarassing to crawl into our daughter-in-law's bed looking for you."

"You are just cruel, do you know that?" She smacked his arm. "You shouldn't tease a woman in my delicate condition."

Still laughing, Puck pulled his wife onto his lap. "Delicate? Delicate? You physically kick me out of the bed twice a week in your sleep!" When she demanded a kiss, he happily obliged. "You are beautiful and clever, sprite, but delicate?"

"Goddamn it." The door suffered another scar as Tybalt knocked it into a chair that ought to have been moved five years ago. "It's hot as Hell outside. Is there something to drink in here?"

Hermia leaned her head against Puck's and groaned. "What, done harassing children and small animals already?"

"I had something to take care of."

"Ooh, an errand, how exciting."

He glared at his cousin much as he had at the age when he would have also stuck out his tongue and yanked her hair. "At least we'll know who to blame if the baby is born with fangs."

Miranda rolled her eyes as she passed him with Puck's tea. "You're thinking of a vampire, you dolt."

"I was thinking of your mother."

Puck was a rather gentle person, but as he took the tea from Miranda, he couldn't help but wish that she and Tybalt would rip each other to tatters and leave the rest of the family in peace. The moaning ghosts he swore he heard at night were less annoying than the bickering cousins. He had been friends with both for most of  his life, but that was before they all lived in the same house. (Hermia had asked Miranda to stay with her until the baby was born.) If they weren't close cousins, Puck would have wished them married, because they truly deserved each other.

"Goddamn it!'

"Oh, what is it, Tybalt?" Miranda groaned. Her cousin was making a furious mess of the table.

"This swill!" He made a show of spitting the tea back into the cup. "My God, Miranda, what did you put in this?"

Puck picked up his cup; rather than mint, there was no discernible scent of anything. He raised an eyebrow as Hermia put it under her nose and then, bravely, took a big sip. When her mouth puckered, he pleaded, "Don't spit it out on me, sprite."

"Oh, it's bitter!" She shivered, her mouth still full of the awful taste. "That's not mint at all." When she saw Miranda's sudden fright, Hermia tried to smile. "In truth, Miranda, I think the servants couldn't tell mint from mice some days."

"I'll take it back and prepare it myself." She snatched the cup off the table with such force that half the liquid sloshed onto the floor. Giving Tybalt a good shove in the process, she swept the rest of the things off the table and hurried out of the room. In the kitchen, she berated the servants for several minutes before retrieving a fresh batch of tea. She was carrying it in the main hall when she ran into Juliette.

"Are you bringing that to the front room, Miranda?"

"Why?"

"Is Tybalt there, do you know?" Juliette was unnaturally apprehensive and looked spooked when Miranda told her he had been when she left. "I think I will go upstairs directly. Don't mention this, if you don't mind?"

Miranda shrugged. "Fine."

The cousins were parting ways when an alarming amount of noise shot down the hall from the front room. They both stepped forward carefully until they heard the shrieking. Juliette was first down the hall with Miranda following, set back by the split second it took to drop the entire tea tray to the floor.

"My God! What happened?"

Hermia panted between bouts of pain. She was clutching her protruding stomach, as if trying to keep it attached to her body. "Too early... oh, God... too early..."

"Jule, send someone for the doctor!" Tybalt yelled. He and Puck were trying to lift Hermia gently without much success.

"And the midwife," Hermia groaned.

"No, no, no." Forgetting gentleness, Puck scooped up his agonized wife. "You can't need the midwife, not yet! It's too early."

"I know that!" Hermia shrieked. "Oh, God..."

The entire house was soon treated to the sounds of Hermia's agony. Puck carried her upstairs as quickly as he could, which, considering her squirming and his shock, was not very fast at all. Tybalt dropped out of the party near Consort's room and went in to tell the old man what was wrong before he had another fit. Miranda followed them all the way to the bedroom and stood in the doorway, mesmerized.

"Stay with me, Hermia."

"Don't name her after me."

He wiped her brow; she was already in a sweat. "We have a long time to talk about it. A long time."

"Ooooooh!"

Puck never regretted who he was more. It was bad enough that he'd made Hermia an object of ridicule with this baby he planted in her. Now, that poor creature might die or even kill her, and he saw absolutely no way to help, only how he had hurt. Perhaps he had already done it once, to his blood mother. Had he killed her, too? Was that why someone left him in a basket on a bridge? Had he bled the life out of one fiery, brilliant lady only to live to do it again? "Stay with me, please."

"I love you."

"Don't say-" He was interrupted by another loud wail. How he hated and loved the sound at once! He never wanted to hear these noises from Hermia again, but as long as she was screaming, she was still alive. "Don't say anything. Just hold on, sprite." Firmly, Puck grabbed her hand, daring her to squeeze back. "Hold on."

Next Post: "But wonder on, till truth make all things plain"

Note: If Capulet Manor looks different to you, that's because it is. I had to replace it shortly after the last time we saw it (hood crash), so I went for something new & improved. Credit is on the new resource page.