By This Dear Encounter

"He is the half part of a blessed man, left to be finished by such as she."

December 20th

"M'lady," the servant pleaded, "Lord Mercutio doesn't like to be disturbed here."

"Then it's very good that I am a visitor and not a disruption, isn't it?"

"If m'lady would agree to wait while I see-"

"She will not," the lady snapped.

"But this is the family wing, part of Lord Mercutio and Lord Romeo's private quarters!"

"So I gathered from your previous hysterics!" No indignant serving man would stop her. Mercutio Montague was reputed as a clever young man. She wanted to know how much of that was owed to preparation. Ignoring every instruction on manners she had ever heard, she slammed the door shut between herself and the servant.

Mercutio, ripped out of a nap, tumbled off of the bench. Two hours ago, he had only meant to rest his eyes for a moment. When they came into focus, he scrambled to his feet, nearly slipping on the volume of poetry he had dropped. He couldn't remember ever meeting the intruder, but he knew who she was. The grays and purples about her, down to her hair and her eyes, gave her identity away. "Lady Amantes." He bowed politely. "To what do I owe the honor?"

"I thought it prudent to meet the man my granddaughter has her heart set upon, and I thought it right to meet the man who used pirates' gold to cover an old lady's taxes." Lady Amantes took a seat while Mercutio recovered his wits. "It was very convenient for me that those men should both be you."

After wasting a moment on it, Mercutio stopped wondering who had told her. There was only one answer - and an irrelevant one at that. He would not admit to it. "I am many men and one man at once, my lady, but I can only claim to be half the man you seek."

"Oh, but you are a silver-tongued liar, aren't you? Orsino was not exaggerating."

Mercutio tried not to take anything away from Lady Amantes' familiarity with Lord Nowell. They were of an age and both witty and direct. "I am glad of it. An exaggeration in mere silver would wound my pride. If I am to be credited with more than I am, I would not want anything less than gold."

"Pirates' gold, perhaps?"

"I know nothing about that."

"Oh, drop your pretense." Lady Amantes waved her hand dismissively. "Orsino told me everything when I saw him last. He was impressed, you should know, and I daresay more than a bit grateful. Old bones won't stop him from thinking I need to be saved from myself." She shrugged. "Of course, that isn't to say I never do, but you men do like to make a mountain of a molehill. I would have thought he would tire of it after a few decades, but, alas..."

The look on the old lady's face soured Mercutio's stomach. There was a story there, likely a blood-curdling one about Lord Nowell and Lady Amantes. Old age was unsettling enough to Mercutio without the addition of lust. He gave up his pretense as she asked, if only to have something to say. "Our families have long been friends. It was my honor to help you."

"To help my granddaughter, you mean." She leaned over and patted his hand. "If you think you are the first man to do an anonymous favor for the sake of a young lady, you are sorely mistaken. And you are in no danger of being revealed, of course. I could never allow Paulina to marry you if she felt indebted, and she is depending upon that marriage for her happiness."

Mercutio's mind focused immediately on the implication. "Then you do consent to the marriage, my lady?" The neutral set of his expression quivered just a bit as it staved off joy.

The mirth in Lady Amantes' face dimmed. "You are aware that my granddaughter is not my heir? Paulina has her own dowry, but my title and the hereditary portion of my fortune will go to my late half-sister's heirs." She had been grated the title for life by her mother's will, an attempt to give the family stability that would be lost if a small girl had inherited. The late Lady Amantes had somewhat overestimated her daughter's competence and underestimated her longevity. The current lady had never doubted they would survive her reign somehow.

"I am aware, but it is of no matter."

"No? Wealth and title do seem to be the whips which drive our world."

"Only the beasts may be driven by whips. Thinking creatures are capable of more complex motivations and plans. Even if I were not to inherit my own title and fortune, I would have no regrets if she were penniless."

"You would be unique to your kind if that was true," Lady Amantes observed. "Your house and your family line have always had a hunger for title and wealth."

"Wealth and titles signify power. Power must be held by someone. If honest men refuse it, others will not."

"And are you a honest man? You do not come from a line of honest men." Lady Amantes watched Mercutio's expression carefully. He looked confused and slightly offended, which she decided was to his credit. "Your father, perhaps, might have been. I did not know him well enough to judge his honor. If my granddaughter is to be believed, you yourself are a giant among men. And you did prove yourself to be generous and resourceful, in your own way. None in my care will suffer, thanks to your sound judgment. I cannot say the same for your other predecessors."

Mercutio returned the favor of intent observation. Lady Amantes' statements were indirect and intriguing. As his heart had ached in the past for reconciliation, his mind ached now for knowledge. Yet, there was a slight smirk in the lady's expression - a dare, almost, to question her further. Dares always risked injury and disgrace. If she dared him to go down one path, honor dwelled in the opposite, no matter how rude-seeming (and enjoyable) a path it was. He wanted Paulina's beloved grandmother to think well of him, so he took his chance. "As I said, my lady, it was my pleasure to assist. Tell me, is your granddaughter with the others?" Lady Amantes was but one of many guests, including Paulina, who had been invited for the evening. "I believe I have some immediate business with her."

"Oh, she went looking for you somewhere." She looked pleased by his choice. "Surely, you can find your way around your own home. I myself should rejoin the others, lest your servant die of a fit because I invaded your private quarters."'

"You are welcome here any time, my lady."

"Silver-tongued," she laughed quietly as she stood, drawing Mercutio to his feet as well. "Go and make my granddaughter happy, will you?"

"As you wish." Mercutio wished she would go more quickly. The longer he tarried, the more of an ass he felt for wanting to know anything about Montague-Amantes politics when Paulina was in want of him. To his dismay, Lady Amantes turned around just short of the door.

"Though, before we part, allow me to impart a bit of wisdom?"

"Of course, my lady."

"I know you broke my poor girl's heart once with some rubbish story about family responsibility and danger. The next time you ponder either of those things, remember that your lady's grandmother is an old woman with no regrets if she meets her Creator tomorrow." She patted his forearm fondly. "Good luck."

Mercutio said nothing. There was nothing to say, even if his tongue hadn't turned to lead. After a quick trip to find his coat and better boots, he ventured outside on a whim. The cold, biting air seized Mercutio the instant he left the enclosure of Montague Court. Beneath his tunic and coat, his skin prickled. If his aim was anything less than Paulina, he would have turned back immediately. Mercutio had never liked the cold.

He had to surmise that Paulina liked it well enough - or, at the least, that she could tolerate it better. She was on a rock in the midst of the white sea. Her footsteps had faded in their old age, blown over by the snow on the wind and dusted with the lingering flurries. Mercutio stamped them out of existence with his own, larger prints. The breeze ensured the snow would not be defeated for long.

"What else haven't you told me, Paulina?"

Unsurprised, as she had heard Mercutio's feet crushing the snow behind her, Paulina glanced over her shoulder with a smile. "What else? What was the first thing I didn't tell you?"

"That I am marrying the first lady of snow and ice." He rubbed his hands together for warmth.

"Hardly," she laughed softy. "I am only enjoying what I have been so often ordered to avoid. It is quite pleasant, I find." Paulina tilted her head and looked to the sky. "And I was not aware that you were marrying anyone for certain."

"Neither was I." He stepped up behind the rock, hopeful that she might give him a piece of it to spare his feet. When Paulina slid to the side, Mercutio wasted no time. "However, I just concluded a conversation with a certain young lady's grandmother, and I have been informed that it is my duty to make her a happy bride."

Paulina bit the inside of her cheek to quell her excitement. Implied thoughts and half-spoken sentences had brought them until now without a formal engagement. When she had allowed herself to care about the moment it became formal, she had wanted it to be like this - sweet and simple. "My congratulations, Grandfather."

"Teasing pixie," he whispered. "Tell me, love, what do you say? Will you have me for a husband?"

Paulina closed her eyes. Mercutio felt warm and solid, as he ever was, but he felt easy tonight as well. So often, the happy, lively side of him collapsed to make room for the man his grandfather had wanted him to be. Paulina loved him whether he was tense or easy, but this Mercutio was at the core of her heart. This was the one she wanted to couple her soul with forever. And perhaps she could. "Will you marry me tonight?"

Mercutio's brow wrinkled. "Tonight?"

"I know we must have a proper wedding and everything which accompanies it." She frowned. "And I do want a proper wedding, to share it with our families. But, Mercutio, what I want more than anything is you. When I think of the day when I felt like a whole person again, I don't want to think of anyone but you, the the man I am with this instant. I want something that's just ours."

He laughed. "By God, Paulina, what did they teach you at that convent?"

"To expect an answer to my question!"

He glanced across the snow-covered landscape toward the chapel above the Montague crypt. By the family's request, there was frequently a churchman keeping watch and praying for their ancestors. The low candlelight glowing in the windows suggested the chapel was currently occupied. A secret wedding was an appealing, soul-stirring idea. What could be more joyous? And what man-made complication could ever steal that joy? The possibility was smashed to pieces by the leaden regret he would live with if he refused her. Paulina had entered his life as a prudent choice; now she was restoring the pleasurable excesses that his grandfather had whittled away. He loved her. "Who am I to refuse the pleasure of marrying Paulina Amantes twice?"

"Who indeed! Won't it be such a lovely secret?" The word 'secret' punctured her joy. Defeated, she slumped against him. "But we would need witnesses, wouldn't we? It couldn't be just us."

'Go and make my granddaughter happy.' "Oh, no. No, no, my lady." Mercutio quickly rose and offered Paulina his hands to raise her up. "We won't be defeated so easily as that."

"But there isn't anything we can do about it. We would have to have witnesses, of course. I spoke before I thought."

"Away with thought! What has love to do with thought?" He wrapped his hands around hers - gently at first and only more firmly when she smiled despite herself. "Which is the true marriage - the one of love and questionable details or the one of perfect form and no affection? What poet has ever expended ink on the beauty of witnesses and rules?"

"And what woman who believed in such poetry has ever found herself in need of a recognized marriage? Certainly no-one who taught me at the convent," she teased.

"I would besiege any convent that imprisoned you." And kill any man who sent you to one. 

Paulina laughed at the very idea of anyone attacking a convent. More amusing still was Mercutio's certain belief he could outlast a nun. Clearly, he had not met many. "I don't think God would favor you in such an action."

"Then," he replied slowly as he covered a change in tactics, "I would take up the religious life. I could join the convent in disguise." When she laughed, he grinned and pushed forward with the pretense. "There must be a few nuns who are tall and masculine in appearance."

"But none whose faces grow hair in the blink of an eye. Perhaps you could join a nearby monastery," she mused, watching intently for the horror of losing his long hair to set in. "Or, perhaps, we could simply have our wedding now and our wedding night later?"

Mercutio nodded in agreement. But by her leave, it never would have been otherwise. The banter had been silly fun - much like an illegal marriage bought from a monk for a bottle of good wine. If he was willing to send her back to her cousin tonight, honor and decency demanded he send her back still a maiden. "Are you certain this is what you want, love? If you like, we could invite them all in now and hang convention or just wait altogether. I only want you to be happy."

"You make me happy, Mercutio. Remembering our wedding will make me happy while I wait for the wedding we share with everyone else. Inviting them all in would spoil our fun. And truly," she added, "my poor grandmother would never forgive me if I rob her of a proper wedding celebration."

"Far be it from me to disappoint our poor grandmother.

"Would you care to go and be married, Paulina?"

"Oh, how did you ever guess?"

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