You Do Protest

"They breathe truth that breathe their words in pain."

December 27th

The purging was progressing well, or so Georgiana had been told. While her mother and Juliette were always at the bedside, Georgiana was anywhere else, constantly in search of a few minutes of quiet. Capulet Manor had grown into the largest house in the duchy over the generations, but it felt impossibly cramped to her. Arguments popped up almost hourly. The house guards were on patrol in the corridors at all hours, the Ducal Guards were coming in and out frequently to consult with the family. Occasionally, some peace was to be found in the chapel, but her last visit had nearly dumped Georgiana into a womanly discussion between Lady Capulet and her sister. She was grateful to have bumped into Hermia during her retreat. 

Hermia had pulled her into a cozy sitting room and set Georgiana up with a little easel and her own paints. How Hermia had known that would relax her she didn't know, but she wouldn't question good fortune. To hold a brush in her hand was a relief, nearly a luxury. She went to work after only a short deliberation. She had seen a beautiful painting on her last visit to the Crown Gallery, and she wanted to reinterpret it with her own parents as the subjects. In the art, she lost herself for a long time until another argument reached her ears. Georgiana did everything to avoid listening, but it was too loud and close by to be ignored. 

"You say another word about my sister, and I'll rip the tongue out of your mouth, Puck. Juliette is-"

"Juliette pumped us for information, and the two of you sat on what you knew like squirrels on a nest of nuts."

"We didn't know anything. It was a goddamn dream!"

"Just enough to disarm all the guests and put the guards on watch, but somehow not enough to include anyone else who might give a damn! You didn't even have the courtesy to tell his mother!"

"He knew, and he could have told her, or he could have listened-"

"Listened to what, Tybalt? To the fucking dream that you just said didn't tell you anything, you fucking tr-"

"Peace, both of you." The men glared at each other, assigning sole responsibility for this development to the other. "He wouldn't want you to be squabbling."

Puck rolled his shoulders to shrug off his complaint. Fitzwilliam would be as angry as Tybalt with him for assigning any blame to Juliette. There was still a point worth carrying in there, but it wasn't the time. He couldn't change the past. "I'm sorry, Georgie."

She waved off the apology. "Have you been to see him? How is he?"

It was hard to gauge the wellness of a soulless body, but Puck tried. "He looks a little healthier, less sallow. Mab says the fever and the cough will be gone when he wakes up. I'll take you up to see him, if you'd like?"

Immediately, Georgiana shook her head. She would go back into the sickroom when her brother returned, no sooner. "Thank you, no." Although she tried to think of a decent excuse, none came to mind. "Hermia said I could borrow her paints, so..." Her voice faded along with the blood in her face. In an instant, she was so pale that both Puck and Tybalt turned to see what had frightened her. 

"Niece, what is this nonsense about not being allowed to see my sister and my nephew?"

"I, uh..."

Lady Catherine shook her head. "If you were not the image of my sister and mother, I would wonder that you are any part Fitzwilliam at all, my dear. Speak meaningful words or not at all."

Georgiana borrowed Puck's gesture and rolled her shoulders. It helped only a very little. "I'm sorry, aunt, but I thought my note explained it to you. My mother won't leave my brother, and the sickroom is out of bounds to visitors."

"Out of bounds? Why, I am his aunt, his true relation. I don't doubt that impertinent girl of his is haunting the bedside, and she is nothing at all unless she does marry him. No, I will see them both, and you shall vouch for me."

"Aunt, please," Georgiana pleaded, "go back home and wait there. I will send a note as soon as there is any news. The Capulets have been exceptionally kind in looking after us-"

"But it is your brother who must be looked after. If your mother spends her time weeping and you making idle conversation, someone must be checking up on the physician and the care given to your brother. He is the very last in your line, you know, other than you."

She knew. She knew it too well.

Puck spoke up; Tybalt looked like he was trying to swallow his own tongue. "The, uh, physician is very strict, Lady Catherine. We would not want any more ill-humors to find their way to him."

Her eyes narrowed. Lady Catherine had early on found great fault with Puck. Initially, she had tried to be patient with this victim of the corrupt morals of the Fae, but even her patience had limits. "I do not know what you truly are, sir, but I am a daughter of the House of Fitzwilliam and the wife of Lewis de Bourgh. My blood and breeding prevents me from being polluted with ill-humors. Come, Georgiana. Be a good girl and your brother need never know you were reluctant to do your duty by me."

"No, aunt. I do not wish to go, and you cannot." With that, Georgiana turned her back to her aunt and walked back into the sitting room, back toward the little painting she was working on. A flabbergasted Lady Catherine followed on her heels with the rest of the party trailing behind.

"You would tell me I cannot go to them? This is most ridiculous thing I have ever heard! I am his own aunt, and I have known your mother her entire life, at least twice as long as you have. Who else could comfort her as I can? This yet another example of your remarkably poor judgment, young lady."

Georgiana scrutinized her palette, noticing she would soon need more yellow. "One of us is guilty of poor judgment, aunt, but I will leave it to you to determine who."

"Of all the impudence! Wherever did you learn such shocking rudeness?"

Lady Catherine's head turned slowly. "Are you laughing? You dare to laugh at a time like this? You are a diplomat, are you not? You are severely lacking in a sense of occasion. This is not the time to laugh. I have always maintained that it is imperative that diplomats have a keen understanding of all situations. Why, the improper reaction could seriously jeopardize negotiations of -"

"Stop it!"

This time, Lady Catherine's head snapped around. "Thank you, niece."

"Not him - you!"

"I beg your-"

"Be quiet!" Afterward, Georgiana thought she could feel her own voice bouncing off the walls of the small room. Yelling at her aunt was liberating, but so was falling off of a cliff. "He is laughing because you are making a spectacle of yourself yet again. Puck is a diplomat, and his mother is the ambassador. How can even you believe you know something about diplomacy that he doesn't? Take your own advice and be quiet when you have nothing worthwhile to say."

Stunned, Lady Catherine was silent for half a minute. The response began slow and low, bubbling up out of her tightly-laced gut. "I have been here five months, and I am still astonished at the lack of deference you have for your elders and your betters!"

Georgiana's eyes checked her companions. Behind Lady Catherine, Puck looked like he had swallowed vinegar but also a touch guilty. She didn't believe he would make another provocative action. Tybalt was another story. He had a familiar look about him, that of a cat rearing back to pounce.

"Deference? It is deference you want?" Georgiana's insides quivered under the hot, anxious waves rolling through her. Although she felt herself on the edge, the truth was she had already taken the leap. All she could decide was how she would land: like a lump or on her feet. "Very well, then. In deference to your station, I insist you find quarters more suited to your station from tomorrow on. We will not be able to properly accommodate you in our new circumstances."

"I have no wish for new quarters! And you hardly have the authority-"

"For as long as my brother is unwell, I do, and I say it is for the best that our house be empty of guests when he comes home. I'm sure your daughter and Lord Audley will agree."

"My daughter does as she is told," Lady Catherine said with a pointed glare, "and Lord Audley? Girl, does your mother tell you nothing? I sent the note hours ago. He went running back to Varainsee this morning, saying some nonsense about being in the way."

There's one problem solved, at least. "If you don't wish to follow his example, you know where my uncle and my grandmother live."

"You would have your own aunt go begging for a place to sleep?"

"You can ask them for the name of a good inn, if you prefer."

"An inn!" she gasped.

"The choice is yours to make, aunt, so long as your choice of residence does not belong to me." Those were words she never hoped to speak about her brother's house again.

"And this is your final resolve?" Lady Catherine reminded Georgiana of a fish, her mouth puckering open and drawing closed as she looked around the room. "Very well, I shall know how to act."

The trio stood in silence for several moments after Lady Catherine departed. From all angles, it had been a befuddling experience. Puck was the first to recover. "How will she act, do you think?"

"Your guards do know better than to allow upstairs, yes?" Puck and Tybalt both nodded. "Then she will eventually leave. With Mother and Fitzwilliam out of reach, my aunt will be in want of someone to whom she can rant about my actions."

"Probably whoever she chooses to go to now that you've thrown her out of your house."

"I did do that, didn't I, Puck?" She felt something between shame and jubilation and was unsure of which to embrace. She would leave it for later consideration. "Then I ought to warn my uncle and my grandmother - and perhaps the servants at home, too. I doubt she will tell them herself of my orders."

"I'll go find some ink and paper and help you write, Georgie," Puck offered.

"Thank you."

"You don't have to stay. I'm sure Puck will come right back."

"Hang Puck," Tybalt muttered. He knew she wished he would go away. He wished he could go away, but he couldn't yet. The two of them had unfinished business, and the only thing less palatable to him than saying anything now was waiting. If the worst happened, the tide would push fortune-seeking scum up around her ankles. He wouldn't be taken for one of them. "I know you don't want to hear this now, but Cecily Nowell was my grandfather's idea, not mine. I don't want anything to do with her."

She shook her head. "You don't need to explain yourself to me. I-"

"Goddamn it, Georgiana, if you apologize, I'm going to thump my skull on that table."

"I didn't," she protested. "I wasn't going to."

"Like hell you weren't. I have two ears and a brain between them." Damn, what was it Father used to say? Breathe? "Sorry." He bit the inside of his cheek; the little rush of pain bought him a few more moments of relative calm. "If we ever have to rebuild this house again, I'd make the walls out of whatever you hide yourself in. It's da- nearly impossible to get through it, and I'm out of reasons to pretend I don't want to get by it. I know you're preoccupied now, but I need you to know I'm on the other side. I'm not going anywhere, and one of these days, I'll start shouting until you hear me out. I'll learn to be patient if I have to."

This should have been a hailstorm of embarrassment. She couldn't yet trust his feelings, and she was painfully unsure of her own capacity for emotion. Instead, this was her own lesson in patience. Already overwhelmed by her brother's condition, Georgiana had nothing left for Tybalt. She couldn't be anxious. She couldn't worry about what might happen. If she ultimately had to disappoint him, if she never developed feelings to match his, she would worry about it then. She simply couldn't right now. Her nerves would have to be patient. With her polite front in tatters after battle with Lady Catherine, Georgiana had only honesty left. "I think we both need to learn to be friends first."

'Friend' was a godawful word to his ears, but at least she hadn't said 'no'. "Would you tell me if there are there any shortcuts to friendship to be had with a sword?"

She had to smile at that, even if it was a milky, half-smile. Then a distant, indignant yelp pulled Georgiana's attention out of the present. Somewhere, her aunt was making a nuisance of herself, and Georgiana had set her off. Was it her fault for baiting her, or was it her aunt's for being so easily baited? Perhaps it was both. "Do you think I ought to have been more patient with Lady Catherine?

Tybalt snorted. "Less. I'd have sent her back to Varainsee with her teeth in her throat months ago." Then, he realized the question wasn't about Lady Catherine at all. "If I was the one navigating the underworld, I'd be a lot happier to come back if I knew you had just thrown the devil out of my house."

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