The Gray-Eyed Morn

"We mean to build... and when we see the figure of the house, then must we rate the cost of the erection."

July 28th

Knock. 

Juliette ignored the interruption, and a brief stoke of her hand ensured her husband did as well. Who knew how many quiet mornings were left to her? Her birthday, and the trouble that came with it, was only three days away. And she was not so full of recent indulgences that she cared to forgo one, either. After Will's birth, she had struggled with the idea of intimacy. She had felt a failure when her newborn son's appetite outstripped her body's capability, and her expectations for regaining her figure had grown to cover up that wound. Frank words from a few mothers in her life - her sister, her Aunt Eleanor, her mother-in-law - had recently given her courage to overlook perceived imperfections and try.

She considered her leap of faith well-rewarded. Her husband had been wise enough to not bring her troubles into their bed, not even for a compliment. The experience felt like coming home. If she looked good making love with her husband, so much the better, she had decided. She prayed to God they would be still be making love when they were a gray-haired tangle of wrinkled, aching limbs. Their hearts would still be full of each other, Juliette knew. 

Knock. 

"Brother? Forgive me, but if Juliette is in there with you, I must speak to her at once. There isn't a moment to lose."

Juliette immediately climbed right over Fitzwilliam and out of the bed, nearly sliding across the polished wood floor to answer the door. She feared the worst; why would her sister-in-law come instead of a messenger or... no. God, no. "Georgiana, tell me."

"I'm so sorry, Juliette. Your grandfather passed in his sleep, and your brother and sister beg you to come immediately."

---

Capulet Manor was operating under false pretenses. Tybalt and Hermia had agreed that it was best not to make their grandfather's death known until Juliette was present. They disagreed about the role of a human hand in Consort's demise, but Hermia had to admit it was safer to act as if Goneril was responsible. That meant secrecy until they were assured they could hold the Manor against her inevitable intrusion. As Tybalt had argued, Goneril couldn't act until she was meant to know about the death. This meant letting the household busy itself with futile preparations for the party planned for this night. It also meant the family had to pretend naught was amiss when their future was teetering on a precipice. 

The only outward sign of abnormality so far was Georgiana's flight. Tybalt had twitched under the strain of letting her go, but even he had to agree she was the best option. It had to be a family member who told Juliette, and only Georgiana had reason to run off to Darcy House at such an early hour. Tybalt's place was protecting the rest of the family while Captain Gower, the only outsider who knew the secret, kept watch over the late lord's locked chamber. To that end, Tybalt had herded them all into the chapel. If the worst happened, he could defend the one small doorway himself while the others escaped through the crypts. 

Puck left such strategy - and, barring the the few moments when Tybalt went down to the crypt to retrieve a fearsome-looking axe - the sentry work to his brother-in-law. Once he saw the twins were happily playing with each other, he devoted himself entirely to Hermia. "Comfortable, sprite? Can I bring you anything?"

"No," Hermia replied softly. Puck couldn't revive her grandfather, cool the weather, or give her a temporary reprieve from pregnancy. He couldn't make her sister appear, safe and sound. "I'm just..." Conflicted. He wasn't an affectionate man, not always a kind man, but he was good to us. If it wasn't fair, it was still right, wasn't it? We needed him, and he tried to do his best. "I would have liked to say goodbye for once." A cold horror swept into her mind like a winter breeze and froze her blood. Her body seized up. "Miranda... Puck, what if Miranda..."

"No, no. No, no, no," he murmured into her hair. "Miranda is young and healthy and strong. She and the baby will be well. And, Hermia, she's too much like you to let it be otherwise - not when she's gone to all that trouble."

“I know, but…” Hermia lowered her voice even further. “The last time we saw her, when she said she would be all right no matter how the baby turns out, did you believe her?”

“No.”

“And Goneril will bar me from her house if we stop her from taking control of the Manor.”

Or take you for a hostage. “Most likely.”

“Then she’ll be alone with her pain if the worst happens.” Hermia sighed in pain and disgust. “God, Puck, what good will a divorce be later if she gives up now?”

“Sprite, I swear, I think it will all turn out for the best. Miranda is prickly, but her heart is in the right place. That God of yours owes her a favor after all she’s done.” Turning to catch his wife’s gaze, Puck tried to smile. “The babe will be fine. Miranda will be scheming against her mother and plotting mutual grandbabies with you before you know it.”

Only nineteen and reaping the benefits of choosing her own spouse, Hermia refused to admit how nice an idea the last one was. “Not everyone has grandbabies on the brain at our age, Puck.”

“Well, they should.”

Hermia very much wished that was on her mind. Yet, until Juliette arrived, she was ensnared by darker thoughts. 

When Juliette did arrive, she was first greeted by the sight of her brother clutching an axe. She wasn't bothered; her brother had kept an axe by his bed for years. Georgiana gasped so loudly that Juliette surmised that habit hadn't carried over to his married life yet. Undoubtedly, that would change now. So many changes had been thrust upon them all this morning. 

Hermia swept Juliette up in an embrace without ever being seen. She squeezed her sister as tightly as she might have if they hadn't met for years. "Oh, thank God. I thought you'd never get here!"

"That makes two of us."

More greetings and embraces followed, but the sorrowful business of the day could not be ignored for long. Juliette inquired after everything Georgiana had not been able to tell her during their ride. Tybalt and Hermia took turns sharing information with their sister. She was distressed to hear that her grandfather remained in his bed. "He should be in the crypt," Juliette remarked. "I feel like we're planning a battle when we ought to be planning a funeral."

Tybalt agreed in theory but insisted their grandfather would have wanted them to take precautions. "Jule, he wanted to see Grandmother's wishes carried out more than anything else. We don't have an inch to give with him gone. All we have is control of the Manor. Goneril has the title, the seat, the jewels, the ring - everything else, and she's had the lot for five years."

"It's our home," Hermia added. "Those two vicious cows would have humiliated me and run me out of the country. I won't see Goneril and that pig-faced little beast she forced on Miranda live here. And, sister, all the people in the household! We're being cautious, but honestly..."

"Not many of them would rather serve Goneril than us," Juliette finished. "And even they would be sacked for having served loyally after Grandmother passed." She turned an eye to her brother, who had been fostering loyalty from the house guards for some time now. House guards were a special class in society, sworn to the command and justice of the house they served. But in this situation, the recipient of their oath was in question. "The guards will follow you?" 

Tybalt nodded. "There may be a few dissenters, but Gower and I can root them out. It will only take one or two displays to keep any wavering loyalties in line."

"No, no 'displays'." The display would be a head, the traditional punishment for a guard who abandoned his post. "I want anyone who doesn't want to be here gone. It will be hard enough to regulate who can come and go without wondering who is enforcing our orders."

"What is there to regulate? We seal the gates, and no-one comes or goes."

Hermia snapped at her brother. "We have to let the family in for the funeral."

"Why?"

A blistering argument commenced between Hermia and Tybalt. Hermia insisted their cousins had an equal right to mourn their grandfather and that it wasn't wise to make them the enemy. Rather than contest his sister's point, Tybalt argued that the ends justified the means, that their cousins would all be better off under Juliette's leadership. Family, security, and decency were all up for debate. 

While the fight beat on, Juliette rubbed her aching head. She stopped when she rubbed too hard, not yet mindful of her hand's latest adornment, the token her husband had given her before she left. Fitzwilliam had pulled the ring out of thin air, it seemed. He said it was to have been for her birthday. The ring was a signet ring, albeit smaller and more delicate than the one she might wear as Lady Capulet. The engraved purple stone depicted a peregrine falcon defending a key, signifying tenacity, endurance, and wisdom. The purple stone, she had instantly realized, was the union of his family color and hers. Unity was what they all needed now. 

"Enough, please." When her siblings paid her no mind, Juliette repeated her command several times at ever-increasing volume. Finally, she screamed for quiet, shocking them both. "Hermia is right about the family. Even our aunts deserve the opportunity to see Grandfather laid to rest. If we bar them entirely... it will be bad enough that we will be the ones to break mourning." The three-month time limit on Juliette's ability to bring her grandmother's will to court started on her birthday, three days hence. Goneril and Regan were sure to keep up mourning until that time ended. "But Tybalt is right about the need for security. The orders will be strict - no servants, no retinue, no helpers - not so much as a coachman to keep the guards from running them off the property if need be. And all orders for comings and goings will be sealed with this." Juliette extended her hand to show her new ring. "It's a unique design, unknown to anyone else."

The adults all looked at one another and nodded. 

"It's settled, then," Juliette said with great relief. "Tybalt, give the order to ring the bell for an assembly." This signal would bring anyone not performing an essential duty to the staircase hall. "It will be brief, and then we can go about some more important business. We'll need a priest - Father Laurent, preferably - to come immediately and then have some riders go out to inform the family and alert the guests that the party is canceled."

"Puck," Hermia said suddenly, "would you mind taking the twins and starting the letters and orders? Juliette and I need to see to something else."

Suspicious, Juliette asked, "See to what?"

"You can't speak to them looking a wreck and wearing blue." When her sister started to protest, Hermia over-ruled her. "I have a fine new dress you can wear; I'll be too fat for it for a while yet. Georgiana will help me fix your hair while we're at it. Now, come."

---

The crowd assembled surprised all the family. It was one thing to know the number of servants and guards who worked at the Manor, but it was quite another to see them in near-totality. Puck and Georgiana, each holding one of the twins, stood on the edges of the family. They were both grateful to have a small child to distract them. Hermia and Tybalt had no such luck, but they were at least spared the necessity of speaking. Juliette had that honor.

Ghoulish as it had felt, she had thought about this situation before. Her poor grandfather had been an old man, not in the best health, and a cornerstone of her challenge. All three facts had been a danger to his survival, and so Juliette had felt she had to consider the possibility. She hadn't gotten far into what she would do, but she had a few notions of what to say. 

"It is my regrettable duty to inform you that my grandfather, your good lord for so many years, has departed this world for a better one." A immediate murmur swept through the crowd. Juliette noticed sorrow on more than a few faces. "I know you will all mourn alongside us. He will be honored with all the usual customs for as long as possible.

"But while I regret the necessity of doing so, there is an important matter I must address. The most senior members of the household and the guards had the pleasure of a audience with my grandfather last week, so I expect most of you by now will have heard this news. The Lady Goneril, the woman claiming the title of Lady Capulet, is a pretender. She acted on behalf of our house while I was not of age - a situation which will end three days from now. She rejects my claim, but she knows the truth. The title of Lady Capulet belongs to me." The murmur rose like the wind in a storm, with gasps in the place of gusts. Juliette leaned slightly toward her brother. "My grandmother, the late Lady Capulet so many of you served faithfully, selected my late mother as her successor. My grandmother did not re-inherit either of my aunts at any time. By our laws and customs, I am the first heir to all my mother possessed, including the titles and honors due to the head of this noble house." Juliette's voice, swelling in emotion and volume, halted. 

Behind her, Hermia whispered, "Keep going. You're doing well."

Juliette exhaled as much anxiety as she could and then pressed on. "It is not only my right but my duty to press my claim. I owe it to my family, to all of you assembled, to all who fall under the protection of the name Capulet. We are bound together by that name and what it should mean - strength and safety and prosperity. Those blessings should flow in turn to all who do their duty under our banner. I will lead a house we can all be proud of." 

To Juliette's relief, the majority of her audience was in the realm of approval, from nods and squared shoulders to guards thumping their maille-covered chests and a few cries of 'Lady Capulet!' rising up. But toward the back of the large assembly of servants and guards, a bit of discontent stirred. 

"Aye, lead from your husband's house!"

"Schemes and lies!"

The four trusted guards posted at the staircase closed ranks. Tybalt reached for his dagger even as Juliette asked for calm. Beside him, Georgiana held Elna tightly and hid the little girl's face, mirroring how Puck shielded Lysander. 

"I implore you," Juliette called out above the noise, "to listen carefully for your own sake! If there are any among you who would support my aunt's false claim, you may leave. You will report immediately to Captain Gower, who will see you safely to our gate at an appropriate moment later today. Anyone who does this, and only those who do this now, will be released from their obligations. I have no place in this house for traitors. But I warn you," she said sternly, "that you will find no quarter with Lady Goneril. You are all tainted in her eyes by your loyal service. Those loyal to me will be under my protection; you will not find it so with my aunt." 

The crowd had quieted significantly. 

"For those who will remain, there will be an indefinite ban on free passage through our gates. No-one will be permitted to pass without a sealed order from me for any reason. All further instructions will be passed down through the senior ranks. The guards may address any questions to Captain Gower and Lord Tybalt, who both speak with my authority. The household will address itself to Lady Georgiana or Lord Puck. In the case of my absence, Lady Hermia will speak for me as the final authority, but I do not expect to be absent from this house for quite some time.

"And finally, I call for two minutes of prayer for the repose of my grandfather's soul. Afterward, you may all return to your duties."

---

August 1st

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