Till We Can Clear These Ambiguities

"When clouds appear, wise men put on their cloaks."

January 4, 1519

For some of the Montague family, life had taken a turn for the better. Benedick was relieved to know he was going to the Académie. Quite enjoying his new status, Antonio was never seen without a puffed up chest. Beatrice's attitude had improved dramatically once she heard a certain odious wedding would no longer eclipse her birthday. It had even prompted her to vow to never mention the matter again, and she was finding life was much more pleasant this way. She was the star of the birthday celebration she was sharing with her twin.

This gave a less happy Montague the chance to reflect on his disappointment. After a prophetic Christmas dream (to which he would never admit), Mercutio had decided to give new life to his parents' silver engagement bands. He had been resolved to propose to her today and ride out to see her formidable grandmother tomorrow for her consent. When Paulina didn't arrive with her cousins' family, he asked about her absence. Valentine looked at Mercutio as if he had three heads. Paulina had received a letter on the twenty-third from her grandmother, saying she was unwell and asking Paulina to come to visit a few weeks. Valentine swore she had sent a note to Montague Court before she left - hadn't Mercutio received it?

He had - or, rather, he had received a note from Paulina. The one he received had said nothing about going away. Instead, it expressed how sorry she was that she couldn't see him at Christmas, how much she had looked forward to seeing him that night until she was begged to accompany her cousin, Portia, to a party. Coming by way of Romeo, to whom it had been mistakenly given, it had one of his romantic plans attached before Mercutio ever saw it. Romeo easily convinced him to sneak into the Capulet party to impress Paulina. Mercutio had a harder time of convincing Romeo to leave after meeting Adrian, but they were both glad for it when they realized what might have been if they stayed.

The aftermath had been an exercise in patience and silence. Mercutio and Romeo both saw the wisdom in lying low until red tempers cooled off, just in case they had been seen after all. Though apparently unaware of his nephews' close calls, Antonio also worried about a misguided reprisal and ordered the guards to seal up the gates for nearly a week. This party was their first step back into the world at large. Mercutio was tired of it already.

"Merc, I need a word. Now."

Although he had expected Adrian to corner him eventually, Mercutio jumped at the voice. No-one else but Romeo ever came into this room. It had been their mother's favorite; her painted tiles still decorated the walls. "What is it, Adrian?"

"You damn well know. The magistrates are riding the Guards to find someone to blame, and Captain Fitzwilliam isn't any easier. They're so desperate for more hands on this that they've even pulled me out of recruiting. The only serious clue they could have to go on is what I haven't told them yet, so you had best tell me why you were at Capulet Manor."

"As I told you then, I wasn't there to make trouble. If my word isn't enough, turn to logic. If I had tried to kill Darcy, he would be dead. No assassin worth his salt leaves his mark alive." Just then, a familiar muscle twitch, the remnant of an old injury, reared its head in Mercutio's arm. He grabbed it to hold himself steady. Shaking wasn't a symptom of truthfulness.

"This mark has no business being alive. If the wounds didn't kill him, the poison should have. It was a very thorough job."

His head shot up at this new information. "Poison?"

Adrian nodded. "The blade."

Now Mercutio knew why Adrian had wrestled with his conscience this long: he didn't want to send friends to the block. Use of poison had been added to the list of capital crimes fifty years ago. Whether their victims lived or died, poisoners were very often executed. "Poison is a coward's weapon. And what motivation would my brother and I have to kill Darcy?"

"Weren't there bad dealings between him and your cousin?"

"In Bea's mind, maybe. If the milksop is willing to marry a Capulet, I'm damn grateful he's not in my family." More words rose up into his mouth. They burned liked acid and would go over his lips even more harshly, but they had to be said. "Her father is Lord Montague. If she was insulted, avenging her is within his power."

"A fair point, but Lord Montague wasn't at the party. You and Romeo were." Mercutio glared and turned away, fuming. Feeling guilty, Adrian fumbled for an excuse. "Listen, Merc, I know he got the better of you this summer and that everyone is waiting to see if they should kiss his ass or yours. You and Rom are in a tight spot. If Antonio sent you there to do his work..."

If Antonio sent you. The wheels of Mercutio's mind jolted into motion. He heard nothing else Adrian said, consumed by a disturbing theory. It gave the forged notes a purpose, and it gave a real motive to marking Fitzwilliam Darcy for death. The poison was no longer so stupidly redundant. Three birds, one stone - or, rather, one dagger.

"Uh, Merc?"

"Shit! Uh, I'm..." Mercutio fumbled for something to say. He needed Adrian to promise to be quiet and then leave as quickly as possible. More than ever, he needed to be alone to think. "I thought Paulina Amantes would be at the party. Rom talked me into going to see her." He carefully avoided mentioning the conflicting notes. "He convinced me it would impress her."

"You thought Paulina was there," he repeated. Then, the first smile of the conversation appeared on Adrian's face. "Remind me, who was it that was tormenting me the entire time I was courting Ann? The one who doused the dormitory in rosewater and put a wig and a pair of..." Suddenly, Adrian remembered what he was supposed to be doing. "No, never mind that. What would Paulina be doing at a Capulet party?"

"I heard she was going with Portia Capitano because her husband was sick."

"Bullshit. I saw Portia and Julian at the party myself. And in the hours we all spent locked up in the great hall, I never saw Paulina once."

"I said that was what I heard, Adrian." Anxious, he bit the inside of his cheek. "Look, once Rom and I ran into you, we realized what a stupid idea it was and left. If you don't believe me, ask Brother Urswick. Antonio wasn't able to cram enough monks into the crypt all Christmas week. Brother Urswick was going down to the crypt to prepare for the midnight blessings when we saw him."

"What time?"

"Just before eleven." As Mercutio intended, this fact gave Adrian some pause. "You know how far it is between the houses. We couldn't have been there late enough to attack Darcy and be home before eleven."

Adrian narrowed his eyes. "How do you know what time it happened?"

"Anytime a Capulet endures so much as a bloody hangnail, we have to double the guards' shifts. Details are essential matters of protection. I would need them if someone who wasn't a friend had come in your stead. And I do, Adrian, I do appreciate the deference you've shown me as a friend. However, if you still suspect us, then do your duty, with my blessing." Mercutio rubbed his neck and hoped he had sounded sincere. He had been, but there was such a storm of unease within him that he hardly trusted himself to breathe.

"No, I think I've gone far enough for duty," Adrian replied. "We've been friends a long time, Merc, and you're always as good as your word. Lord knows stranger things have happened than this - none that I can think of now, but..." Before he gave too much thought to it, he shrugged and dropped the topic. "And your little love secret is safe, too. At least, it's safe until I get to make a man out of you before your wedding."

He tried not to cringe at the word. "I hope you do a better job than we did with you."

Adrian snorted. "Bastard. Come back to the party with me."

"You go ahead." When Adrian gave him a curious look, Mercutio added, "I forgot to get Bea a gift. I have to find the least-worn book on the shelves in here."

"You might as well get some rocks out from under the snow and save some time."

Mercutio pretended to laugh. In fact, he had bought Beatrice several books as a gift in the hope she could yet be improved. As soon as Adrian left, he dropped both charades - the hunt and the laughter. Not a single drop of mirth remained within him, not even the private ones that had been so well hidden under the banners of mourning and duty recently. There was nothing to laugh about.

His uncle had tried to kill him.

What a bloody fool I am! Antonio's servants know Romeo from me. That letter was crafted to plant that scheme in his head. We were meant to be seen there, to be implicated in a murder. A clever choice of victim, I'll grant. Darcy isn't enough for Lady Capulet to go to war if it all went to shit, but he's enough to keep the law thirsty. He surely wasn't meant to live, but that poison wasn't for him. It was for Romeo and me, to make sure the law would kill us if the Capulets didn't. Antonio would be free to run the family into the ground and leave Benedick the pieces. What a coup it would have been for that boil-brained traitor - and for whoever it was that devised this plan.

There was the salty, stinging rub: Antonio wasn't this clever. He had attracted an intelligent, cunning brain to his cause. Somewhere in the ranks, a shadow was lurking, and like any creature owned by a dumber creature, it was destined to cause harm. Loyalties would have to be re-assessed. All would have to be done quietly, so as not to let anyone, especially his uncle, know what he knew. Certainly, it would be a lengthy, tedious, and dangerous process. All alliances and plans would have to be put aside until Mercutio and Romeo could redraw the battle lines.

When the silver bands shook in the pocket cut into the lining of his doublet, each was a dagger in Mercutio's gut. Paulina was near the top of the very short list of people Mercutio still trusted, but she was also his biggest weakness. He was already praying that all that had been waiting for Paulina at her grandmother's house was a healthy old lady who was surprised to see her. If anyone knew it was possible to use a lady to torture a man, it was Antonio. He couldn't allow it. He couldn't allow Paulina to go the way of his mother and Hero. If he could barely save his own skin, he couldn't protect her from the target he had drawn on her back. One day, she would be safer with him than without him, but not until Mercutio knew what he was facing. It could take months, a year, or perhaps more, but his heart would just have to wait.

And to hope that, when the time was right, he hadn't already lost her to someone else.

"Damn, just as Adrian said. Pull your head out of your ass, Merc. When you're moping more than I am, it's too much. Come willingly or I'll drag you back to the party by your short hairs."

"Shut up and close the door. We have to talk."

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