"What perils past, what crosses to ensue"
The first sovereign Duke of Verona had granted oversight of the law to those families who had most honorably upheld it before and during the Veronese Revolution. He had believed that the most dangerous corruption in a magistrate was the desire to keep a position that could be lost to the ever-changing whims of the powerful. A hereditary judiciary nullified that danger. It gave the law a sense of permanence, of timelessness. As his legal system had long outlasted his dynasty, the Duke's reasoning had been proven sound to the Veronese.
The office of Hereditary High Magistrate had been granted in perpetuity to the head of the House of Iden after the revolution. When the first Compromise Council was formed to restore order after the death of the last duke, they affirmed the grant, noting the Ladies Iden had been a steady and fair font of justice even in times of upheaval. A private upheaval had come down upon the Idens just five years earlier, when Elizabeth Iden was murdered in her courtroom and left behind a daughter almost a full year too young to serve. Charlotte Iden now had a few years of experience behind her, but she had yet to reveal what legacy she wished to leave.
A part of it would be born in deciding the fate of the House of Capulet.
While criminal cases afforded the accused the option of a jury, civil cases did not. Lady Iden would be arbiter and judge of the proceedings. She could also exercise considerable power over the terms of the trial. Just as the nobility had the right to Lady Iden's justice, Lady Iden had the right to determine how best to deliver it. Keen observers of her courtroom expected a lengthy affair, thanks to her affinity for long and numerous recitations of laws cited by the litigants. Not only did she clearly find this procedure and reactions to it helpful, but it was generally agreed that she derived some pleasure from inflicting such tedium.
The courtroom would certainly be full each day of the trial. The floor was reserved for those invited by the litigants and any of the governors who wished to attend. Upstairs, a balcony was theoretically open to the public. In practice, few admittance tickets were ever left once well-connected and interested parties called in their favors. Some would come out of genuine interest, some would come for the high drama, and some would come because it was a chance to see and be seen. Formal dress - courtly gowns with large skirts for the ladies, long robes for the men - was all but required. It was also customary for ladies to bring out their fine jewelry and ornate head adornments that were the bane of anyone who sat behind them. Though the more humble were allowed to come as they were, there was no room left for the humble at this particular spectacle. For two days each week (for the Court was always busy and its magistrates much called-upon), the litigants, advocates, supporters, and ticketed members of the public would come to the Crown Court to see the fate of the Capulets play out. Today was the beginning.
Juliette's contingent arrived quite early in their sea of red. Juliette and Hermia had weaponized their grandmother's formal wardrobe, each selecting a gown whose significance would inspire wrath in their aunts. With the next Capulet to enter the world straining Hermia's belly, her choice had been let out quite a bit by Mistress Starveling. Juliette required fewer alterations as yet but still felt sufficiently smothered by the large gown. The men were far less encumbered, but Tybalt and Fitzwilliam were not happy to have been forced into fancy, identical court robes for all the world to see. Puck, having procured a red robe in a style worn by some at the Fae Court, was far more comfortable.
Yet, all was not well with Puck. He excused himself from the group not long after they arrived to allow his feet and mind to wander. With so much strain bearing down on Juliette's team, he felt it his natural duty to boost morale and lift spirits. It was growing more difficult by the day. More than anything, he was worried about Hermia hauling herself to and fro with her time drawing near. He called her sprite, but she was more correctly likened to a flame. If he was part of her, he was the edge of the flame, the bit that flickered and danced and cast funny shadows on the walls. She was the strength, the core, and the twins' birth had brought her light low. Until it was proven to be the exception, that horror was the rule, and there was nothing Puck could do but to wait for their fortune to be laid bare.
Another time, he would have borrowed some courage and levity from his parents. His mother, ever the politician, could pull bits and pieces out of the ether and spin them into the most comforting assurances. The twinkle in his father's eyes came from some inexplicably endless well that he never hesitated to share. A last minute infusion of wit and mischief and even love would have done Puck a world of good, but it was out of the question now. The Fae delegation - himself included - had judged it best that the Ambassador act as impartially as possible and not consort with either side once the trial began. The Summerdreams would attend but sit upstairs in the gallery, representing Queen Mab and the interests of the Fae Kingdom. They would play their parts.
He shrugged the detail off. "I'm not looking at anything."
"Right." Puck slid his back up against the wall and poked his head into Fitzwilliam's vision until the stare broke. "This fascination with windows, brother? I would say it's poetic, thoughts drawing you to an opening onto the wider possibilities of the world... except it's you."
"And as it's me?"
"As it's you, it's more leaden logic. You can ruminate in peace and, usually, keep an eye on what's behind you." When his observation garnered no response, Puck moved on. "I thought you had all gone to pray and what not."
"The others did." With another shrug, Fitzwilliam turned away from his thoughts and toward his friend. "The world is no clearer than that glass today. I don't know if praying could help that."
"Not unless you find sore knees enlightening," Puck snorted. "Or praying in the same place where hundreds of people have right before being told they're for the gallows."
"You know just what to say to lighten the mood, brother."
Puck grinned. "And so do you - just this once."
"And though I know you aren't actually interested to know it, the kneeling is meant to be enlightening, in a way. We struggle through all manners of pain to ultimately do right in this world, mortal and fallible as we all are. It reminds us of our humble place, our ultimate insignificance, in this world."
"Which you need no more of today. You know, it's only natural to be afraid."
"I am not afraid."
"You have the same look on your face as you did while Juliette was giving birth."
"You were drowning in your cups. How could you possibly remember anything?"
"I was pissing wine out my ears the next day, yes, but I don't need to remember anything to know that was how you looked. What's that expression you godly types use? 'O, ye of little faith'?"
"At the moment, you aren't wrong," he muttered, though it was not faith in God that he lacked. Fitzwilliam lacked faith in a world subject to the free will of his fellow creatures.
"So, have a little more faith, then. Perhaps being right doesn't guarantee justice, but all the work we've done - you and Juliette in particular - does count for something. Together, that might be enough to overcome all the rest. Goneril can't bring the legions of underlings into this court. It's just her and Regan versus Juliette and you. I like our odds."
"That does sound delightfully cozy!" The teasing and plastered-on smile blocked the way for any rogue tears that might have escaped Puck's violet eyes. "You and Juliette, Hermia and me, Georgie and Tybalt-"
"Just Georgiana."
"To start," Puck reminded him, trying very hard to live up to his role of spirit-lifter. "Tybalt will survive his captivity, and if you haven't had me forcibly removed from the premises yet, we could all be together before you know it - and up to our ears in babies!"
"So not only am I to live in my own garden - while you live in my house - but you are criticizing in advance my guardianship of the children you ship out to temporarily join my exile?" Fitzwilliam's tone betrayed that he was not in the least surprised.
"Yes, which gives your duty the clarity that stupid glass never could. Ride the talents your god gave you to victory or hear 'Uncle Fitz, why do you live in the flower beds?' for the rest of your days. It's that simple. Now, brother," Puck continued with a smile and a clap on the shoulder, "let's go see if it's not too late to mortify our flesh in that chapel of the damned."
To Puck's sorrow, it was not.
After the prayers in the chapel were abruptly concluded by Goneril's arrival, Juliette's contingent moved to the courtroom itself. Hermia and Puck had walked at the back of the group so she could go at her own speed. The downside to walking slowly was that she was more aware of every raised eyebrow they passed. Convention dictated that a woman in her stage of pregnancy removed herself from public view. Just for that reason, Lady Fitzwilliam would not be accompanying her husband to support their nephew. Hermia didn't see that she had any such luxury. She hadn't relished the idea of waddling about while dressed like the crown princess of a whale kingdom, but she would be at Juliette's back until the baby started pushing its way out. Hell, if it would win us the case, I'd give birth right here.
All the same, Hermia was glad to sink into her cushioned chair when they arrived.
The select people invited to sit on the courtroom floor began to trickle in not long after. Hermia waved off Puck to greet Lady Anne and do whatever else would sap enough energy to keep him still through the proceedings. Aside from hauling her backside just north of the chair when the others stood for Lady Iden, Hermia would not be getting back up for anyone or anything. If someone wished to speak with her, they could come to her.
"Do you mind if I sit?"
"Why would I?"
Juliette shrugged and sat with enviable ease. "You might have wanted a moment of quiet."
"The only thing I want is to not have to get up out of this seat again. I don't know how the horses can pull the carriage with me in it. Puck may have to conjure me a dragon if this goes on too long." Hermia rolled her shoulders. "I can't even imagine having two so close together as Mother had us - and you had to go and out do her."
"Shut up." If the situation wasn't so serious, Hermia would have opted for a kinder interjection. They had made good progress on their relationship in the last two years. She and Juliette weren't each other's closest friend and never would be, but that was for the best. The current goal of Hermia's best friend was to ensure a whore fathered the next Lord Norman. While entertaining in its way, that quest would not safeguard the future of the House of Capulet. Juliette's could - it had to. "The time for doubts is over. From now on, you are Juliette Celia, Lady Capulet and Governor of Verona," Hermia strained to whisper. "If there's a girl in one of our bellies, she will bring her grandchildren into the gallery some day to admire a great lady who saved the family by doing more than she thought she could, do you hear me?"
"I do."
Another Capulet, one who did not hear Hermia's speech, was also thinking of daughters. Regan believed she loved Tessa as much as anyone could love someone so young and helpless. The girl wanted for nothing Regan could provide - servants, clothes, toys, a good half-hour of her own time every day. She even made sure that Tessa was not exposed to negative opinions about her father, worthless as he was. It would be many years before the girl reached the age when it was appropriate to judge one's parents as people. Regan deemed it impossible that Cornwall could be bothered to live that long, so it was all the better not to let anything slip through the cracks. Tessa would not have to remember her father the way Regan now remembered hers: that she wished he had lived long enough for her to kill him.
His private ambitions had been apparent from the moment Regan's mother died, but he never went far enough for strong action to be justifiable to an outsider. That might not have mattered if he had not backed his own daughters into a corner with some fluke of a will, no doubt drawn up as a bit of catharsis after Goneril and Regan locked horns with their mother. What else could it be, if she had never given anyone reason to believe Goneril was not the heiress? But he had seized on the opportunity to turn a trio of orphans into the instruments of his agenda. Cordelia's irredeemably spoiled children were now grasping for control of the family, for power they could never understand, much less wield effectively. Juliette was the least shameful of the three, and that ought to have been rewarded by allowing her to live out her dream of being a brood mare for a low-born prig. She should not have had her head filled with other people's machinations, like a calf fattened before the slaughter.
"By the authority of the Crown granted to me, Charlotte Alexandra, Lady Iden and Hereditary High Magistrate of Verona, I call the Crown Court to session on this day, the 10th of November, 1520. The issue before the Court today is a petition by the The Lady Juliette Celia of the House of Capulet as regards the execution of the will of her grandmother, the late Contessa Celia, Lady Capulet and Governor of Verona." Charlotte turned her eye on the petitioner, whose barely-concealed anxiety was a familiar sight. "Lady Juliette, who will be presenting your case to the Court?"
Juliette and Fitzwilliam stood to address the Court as custom dictated. "Your Ladyship, I will be sharing that responsibility with my husband, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy." On cue, Fitzwilliam bowed to Lady Iden.
"I see." Charlotte threw a glance at her scribe, who made a note in the trial record. "And who shall I have the pleasure of hearing announce your formal petition to the court?"
"I will announce it," Juliette replied.
"Thank you. And the respondent?" she asked the other table.
Regan and Goneril stood at once. The latter replied, "I, Goneril Imogen, Lady Capulet and Gov-"
Lady Iden spoke before Fitzwilliam could object. "For the duration of these proceedings, Lady Goneril, I will ask you to refrain from using the titles in contention."
"Would that not suggest that my noble house is without a sovereign lady and rightful voice on the Council?"
"The Senior Governor has informed the Court that the Council is not expected to be called into session before the new year. Should a critical emergency arise, the Court will hear any immediate petitions you wish to make. The Court will also allow all parties to retain control over their private affairs and any affairs of their house for which they were responsible before today. I believe that should satisfy your concerns, Lady Goneril."
"Indeed, Your Ladyship." Goneril saw no option but to accept her demotion. To those who did not know her well, she even appeared to be unaffected by it. "I, The Lady Goneril Imogen of the House of Capulet, contest this petition. I will address the court myself with counsel and assistance from my sister, The Lady Regan Celia."
"Very well. And would Lords Hal and Tybalt Capulet show themselves?" She was relieved to see the two young men stand up; that was one worry out of the way. "My lords, you shall both remain at liberty until I am to render the verdict, but I will require that you attend every session. If you fail to appear, you will be enjoying my hospitality, is that understood?" It was, and so she allowed them both to sit again.
After a quiet order to her scribe, Lady Iden invited Juliette to present her petition.
You've made this speech a hundred times before. Do it just as you rehearsed it. Just as you rehearsed it...
"Your Ladyship, I come before the Court today to seek justice. I was, until the thirty-first of July this year, not of age to assert my legal rights or even to object to what was done on my behalf during my minority. Since the death of my beloved grandmother, Lady Goneril has been suffered to act in the role of Lady Capulet as per an agreement made with my late grandfather, The Lord Consort of the Houses of Capulet and Thebe, who was my legal guardian. Now that I am of age to do so, I reject the continuation of this bargain, while Lady Goneril refuses to cede to me my birthright or even acknowledge my claim. I am the one, true heiress to my grandmother. Her will, lawfully filed with this Court, named none but my late mother, The Lady Cordelia Hermia of the House of Capulet, as heiress to the title of Lady Capulet and all that belongs to the title-bearer. My mother predeceased my grandmother. As the eldest daughter, I have first claim on all the wealth and titles that would have passed to my mother if she had lived. I therefore ask the Court to order Lady Goneril and all who work on her behalf to immediately desist in her usurpation of my birthright and acknowledge me as Lady Capulet." Juliette performed the low, formal curtsy required the the Court's etiquette - no mean feat, encumbered as she was with a heavy gown and a growing babe - and sat.
Upon the invitation to do so, Goneril stood and rounded the table to make her reply. "Your Ladyship, I beg you to excuse my niece for her frivolous and ill-advised abuse of the Court's time. My beloved mother died more than five years ago, far and away from the three month limitation on challenges to wills. As neither of my late parents ever saw any cause to educate my niece in the laws of the realm, she should not be punished for her ignorance."
Fitzwilliam could hardly wait to register his objection. "With all due deference to Lady Goneril's undoubtedly excellent education, the age of legal majority has been written into our code of laws since the realm's days as a province of the Old Empire. As Lady Juliette could not act in her own favor in civil court until her twenty-first birthday, the period to contest the will only began on that day. The initial petition was submitted within the three months allotted."
"It appears the interpretation of the law taught at the Académie is as stagnant as ever," Goneril scoffed. "Putting aside the utter absurdity of considering a woman lawfully married and soon to be mother to two children as too young to speak for her own interests-"
"Or perhaps anyone too young to speak for their own interests ought to be too young to be married," Lady Iden quipped. "Regardless of your opinion, I retain sole responsibility for determining what is correct interpretation of the law in this courtroom. Move on."
Regan rose an inch out of her seat, doubting her sister's temper. She hovered for several moments before trusting Goneril to continue.
"Lady Iden, it is my niece's own admission that an arrangement was made on her behalf by my esteemed late father. If he had the authority to broker marriages for his granddaughters that all the realm consider legal and permanent, why could he not settle the will on one's behalf?"
"Lady Goneril has produced no evidence of such an agreement regarding the disputed title, but her conjecture also does not support her arguments. Even if the unique conditions of civil marriage contracts are set aside, the broader idea of a marriage in fact proves our point," Fitzwilliam countered. "Marriage is a sacred bond, and any affront to it imperils the immortal soul, the greatest treasure in all the world. The Church may be informed of obstacles that may invalidate consent by a timely, active objection from a parent or guardian of a person between sixteen and twenty-one years, but the consent of the persons wed is absolutely paramount, even in the case of a solemnized betrothal. God, the keeper of all souls, obviously may not have His judgment questioned or His guardianship subjugated to inferior powers. Marriage contracts are a civil matter regarding worldly possessions and constructs. Minors may be bestowed with the rights to their worldly goods and permitted to dictate the civil consequences of their marriage from the proper authority - in this case, the parent or legal guardian. However, the contract is not legal without the consent of the relevant persons, even if they are minors. Just as the Crown Court chooses not to engage anyone under twenty-one years of age in civil proceedings, a minor cannot be forced to participate in a contract against their will. In all cases, it is the clear intent that the overseeing party is charged with the protection of the minor. People cannot be given the same implicit trust as is give to God, so additional boundaries must be set to ensure a minor's future is not settled against their best interest by a flawed person. Many contracts of similar consequence, including inheritance of title and property, have been held to the same standard. Without such legal protections as a right to challenge upon majority, what is there to prevent a malicious person from impoverishing or otherwise harming their young charge?"
"The nobility of one's blood," Goneril replied. "It takes a lesser breed to even imagine such an offense. Your Ladyship, there is no villainy here nor much cause for confusion. There is not one person who can say my mother intended for anyone but me to succeed her. There is not one person who can say they even doubted my position, for I was treated as nothing but my mother's rightful heiress for my entire life. If that is not proof of her will, what is?"
Juliette began to see the folly in sitting down at all. "I believe the written copy of her will might suffice."
"An outdated document which leaves my mother's legacy to a dead woman is not a proper will."
"If Lady Goneril wishes to bring popular opinion and unfounded expectations into the discussion, perhaps your ladyship would like to consider how it was 'known' that my grandfather expected this challenge to his dying day."
Lady Iden raised her eyebrows briefly but then replied, "I would not. And if all parties are quite satisfied with this performance, I should like to come back around to actual law. Since there seems to be some misinformation afoot, my scribe will refresh us all on the current statutes regarding the age of majority and lawful marriage, after which you may correct any opinions you have reconsidered." No-one dared groan, but the entire courtroom heard one all the same. "Following that, we shall move to discovering whether the late Lady Capulet's estate is subject to the clauses regarding intestacy in the Inheritances Act of 1391. That will determine how we proceed from here. Lord Felix, if you please?"
As Fitzwilliam took his chair after seeing her into her own, Juliette whispered, "Intestacy? Everyone accepts she had a will."
"Yes, but it is possible to argue that her choice to leave a will naming only your mother as heir makes the will impossible to execute and therefore invalid. Then it would be up to the Crown - in this case, the Crown Court - to apply the law to the estate to determine the inheritances."
Juliette frowned. "And that's bad for us."
"At the moment, you aren't wrong," he muttered, though it was not faith in God that he lacked. Fitzwilliam lacked faith in a world subject to the free will of his fellow creatures.
"So, have a little more faith, then. Perhaps being right doesn't guarantee justice, but all the work we've done - you and Juliette in particular - does count for something. Together, that might be enough to overcome all the rest. Goneril can't bring the legions of underlings into this court. It's just her and Regan versus Juliette and you. I like our odds."
And may you keep liking them. "But have you made arrangements if things go otherwise?"
"I'm stuck, Fitz," Puck admitted with a shake of his head. "I know we ought to, but she's so tired by the end of the day that I can't do it. She feels safe there. She feels the children are safe there. My parents looked into a few contingencies for us while we were still in contact, and they'll surely have us for as long as is necessary, but I can't make any decisions without Hermia. " He shrugged. "It'll work out if the time comes. And what can the hags do but turn us out, really?"
Fitzwilliam had been battling concerns on that front for some time. Though all the delving into civil and house laws had not turned up a specific threat, he worried what inspiration Lady Goneril and her sister might have drawn from their preparations. Until he had something solid, he was inclined to spare Puck the additional burden. If things looked bleak, he would broach the subject with them both, but not before. There were other, better ways to help. "I know you are both keen on your children growing up among their cousins. Your family would always have a place with mine, if you and Hermia want it."
"I'm stuck, Fitz," Puck admitted with a shake of his head. "I know we ought to, but she's so tired by the end of the day that I can't do it. She feels safe there. She feels the children are safe there. My parents looked into a few contingencies for us while we were still in contact, and they'll surely have us for as long as is necessary, but I can't make any decisions without Hermia. " He shrugged. "It'll work out if the time comes. And what can the hags do but turn us out, really?"
Fitzwilliam had been battling concerns on that front for some time. Though all the delving into civil and house laws had not turned up a specific threat, he worried what inspiration Lady Goneril and her sister might have drawn from their preparations. Until he had something solid, he was inclined to spare Puck the additional burden. If things looked bleak, he would broach the subject with them both, but not before. There were other, better ways to help. "I know you are both keen on your children growing up among their cousins. Your family would always have a place with mine, if you and Hermia want it."
"That does sound delightfully cozy!" The teasing and plastered-on smile blocked the way for any rogue tears that might have escaped Puck's violet eyes. "You and Juliette, Hermia and me, Georgie and Tybalt-"
"Just Georgiana."
"To start," Puck reminded him, trying very hard to live up to his role of spirit-lifter. "Tybalt will survive his captivity, and if you haven't had me forcibly removed from the premises yet, we could all be together before you know it - and up to our ears in babies!"
"Which might eventually require some creativity in quartering," Fitzwilliam observed, "but at least the library will always have sofas enough for three if all our wives exile us at once."
"Oh, I am so disappointed in you," he tutted. "You speak of three on sofas when there are perfectly good windows through which to push our brother-in-law into the garden!"
"And risk to thereafter live permanently in my own garden?"
Puck shrugged. "It's a nice garden. All the little ones could take turns sleeping out there, smelling the flowers and watching the stars - under your unyielding supervision, of course. It wouldn't do to let them have too much fun."
"Oh, I am so disappointed in you," he tutted. "You speak of three on sofas when there are perfectly good windows through which to push our brother-in-law into the garden!"
"And risk to thereafter live permanently in my own garden?"
Puck shrugged. "It's a nice garden. All the little ones could take turns sleeping out there, smelling the flowers and watching the stars - under your unyielding supervision, of course. It wouldn't do to let them have too much fun."
"So not only am I to live in my own garden - while you live in my house - but you are criticizing in advance my guardianship of the children you ship out to temporarily join my exile?" Fitzwilliam's tone betrayed that he was not in the least surprised.
"Yes, which gives your duty the clarity that stupid glass never could. Ride the talents your god gave you to victory or hear 'Uncle Fitz, why do you live in the flower beds?' for the rest of your days. It's that simple. Now, brother," Puck continued with a smile and a clap on the shoulder, "let's go see if it's not too late to mortify our flesh in that chapel of the damned."
To Puck's sorrow, it was not.
All the same, Hermia was glad to sink into her cushioned chair when they arrived.
The select people invited to sit on the courtroom floor began to trickle in not long after. Hermia waved off Puck to greet Lady Anne and do whatever else would sap enough energy to keep him still through the proceedings. Aside from hauling her backside just north of the chair when the others stood for Lady Iden, Hermia would not be getting back up for anyone or anything. If someone wished to speak with her, they could come to her.
"Do you mind if I sit?"
"Why would I?"
Juliette shrugged and sat with enviable ease. "You might have wanted a moment of quiet."
"The only thing I want is to not have to get up out of this seat again. I don't know how the horses can pull the carriage with me in it. Puck may have to conjure me a dragon if this goes on too long." Hermia rolled her shoulders. "I can't even imagine having two so close together as Mother had us - and you had to go and out do her."
"If I'm taking on the burdensome parts of her legacy, I might as well get to have the enjoyable parts as well."
"You have a funny idea of enjoyable, sister, if you don't think I got the fun part," she retorted.
After a long pause, Juliette turned to look her sister in the eye. "Hermia, I'm sorry."
"For...?"
"This."
"We all knew the day would come. We were left an unholy mess, complete with a pair of demons. If Mother was still here, it would have been her duty. She isn't, and so it's yours."
"Mother would have hated it," Juliette sighed.
"Utterly. Aside from all the good and valid reasons to wish they were both alive, I would dearly have loved to see Grandmother try to convince Mother to take the title."
"Do you think she would have?" Her tone betrayed that Juliette believed so.
Hermia nodded in agreement. "I think she would have come to see it as you do." Her hand grasped her sister's. "I know this isn't what you pictured for yourself."
"I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try." Juliette paused to swallow hard. "But if we lose-"
"Juliette?"
"Yes?"
"I couldn't live with myself if I didn't try." Juliette paused to swallow hard. "But if we lose-"
"Juliette?"
"Yes?"
"Shut up." If the situation wasn't so serious, Hermia would have opted for a kinder interjection. They had made good progress on their relationship in the last two years. She and Juliette weren't each other's closest friend and never would be, but that was for the best. The current goal of Hermia's best friend was to ensure a whore fathered the next Lord Norman. While entertaining in its way, that quest would not safeguard the future of the House of Capulet. Juliette's could - it had to. "The time for doubts is over. From now on, you are Juliette Celia, Lady Capulet and Governor of Verona," Hermia strained to whisper. "If there's a girl in one of our bellies, she will bring her grandchildren into the gallery some day to admire a great lady who saved the family by doing more than she thought she could, do you hear me?"
"I do."
Another Capulet, one who did not hear Hermia's speech, was also thinking of daughters. Regan believed she loved Tessa as much as anyone could love someone so young and helpless. The girl wanted for nothing Regan could provide - servants, clothes, toys, a good half-hour of her own time every day. She even made sure that Tessa was not exposed to negative opinions about her father, worthless as he was. It would be many years before the girl reached the age when it was appropriate to judge one's parents as people. Regan deemed it impossible that Cornwall could be bothered to live that long, so it was all the better not to let anything slip through the cracks. Tessa would not have to remember her father the way Regan now remembered hers: that she wished he had lived long enough for her to kill him.
His private ambitions had been apparent from the moment Regan's mother died, but he never went far enough for strong action to be justifiable to an outsider. That might not have mattered if he had not backed his own daughters into a corner with some fluke of a will, no doubt drawn up as a bit of catharsis after Goneril and Regan locked horns with their mother. What else could it be, if she had never given anyone reason to believe Goneril was not the heiress? But he had seized on the opportunity to turn a trio of orphans into the instruments of his agenda. Cordelia's irredeemably spoiled children were now grasping for control of the family, for power they could never understand, much less wield effectively. Juliette was the least shameful of the three, and that ought to have been rewarded by allowing her to live out her dream of being a brood mare for a low-born prig. She should not have had her head filled with other people's machinations, like a calf fattened before the slaughter.
It would be a slaughter, one way or the other. The will could not stand. A lifetime of behavior could not be overruled by an impossible wish simply because it was written down. If that reasoning somehow failed, then the will would be invalidated and the succession left to Lady Iden's judgment. No reasonable person could choose an unprepared little girl over an experienced leader. How could Lady Iden rule against a family her brother would be joining?
And if, beyond all reason, the magistrate somehow found cause not to affirm Goneril's position, Regan herself was a viable alternative now that she had a daughter of her own. It wasn't her first wish; Regan had never fancied the restraints upon a Lady Capulet. She preferred to imagine fostering Tessa to be little Miralene's closest ally, raising her to understand the greatness of her family and all that entailed. Greatness was something Tessa's namesake had forgotten by the end of her life. Regan would prevail to ensure her daughter never did.
Soon, the courtroom was filled to the brink on the floor and in the balcony. A door in the northwest corner opened to admit Felix Thebe, who would be serving as the scribe and clerk for the trial. Despite their familial connections to the Capulets, Felix would be the only Thebe in attendance. His mother preferred the family remain neutral, as they had nothing to gain by choosing a side. He was soon followed by Lady Iden, whose arrival brought everyone to their feet before she impatiently signaled for them to sit. Within a moment, she was ready to begin what had been five years in the making.
And if, beyond all reason, the magistrate somehow found cause not to affirm Goneril's position, Regan herself was a viable alternative now that she had a daughter of her own. It wasn't her first wish; Regan had never fancied the restraints upon a Lady Capulet. She preferred to imagine fostering Tessa to be little Miralene's closest ally, raising her to understand the greatness of her family and all that entailed. Greatness was something Tessa's namesake had forgotten by the end of her life. Regan would prevail to ensure her daughter never did.
Soon, the courtroom was filled to the brink on the floor and in the balcony. A door in the northwest corner opened to admit Felix Thebe, who would be serving as the scribe and clerk for the trial. Despite their familial connections to the Capulets, Felix would be the only Thebe in attendance. His mother preferred the family remain neutral, as they had nothing to gain by choosing a side. He was soon followed by Lady Iden, whose arrival brought everyone to their feet before she impatiently signaled for them to sit. Within a moment, she was ready to begin what had been five years in the making.
"By the authority of the Crown granted to me, Charlotte Alexandra, Lady Iden and Hereditary High Magistrate of Verona, I call the Crown Court to session on this day, the 10th of November, 1520. The issue before the Court today is a petition by the The Lady Juliette Celia of the House of Capulet as regards the execution of the will of her grandmother, the late Contessa Celia, Lady Capulet and Governor of Verona." Charlotte turned her eye on the petitioner, whose barely-concealed anxiety was a familiar sight. "Lady Juliette, who will be presenting your case to the Court?"
Juliette and Fitzwilliam stood to address the Court as custom dictated. "Your Ladyship, I will be sharing that responsibility with my husband, Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy." On cue, Fitzwilliam bowed to Lady Iden.
"I see." Charlotte threw a glance at her scribe, who made a note in the trial record. "And who shall I have the pleasure of hearing announce your formal petition to the court?"
"I will announce it," Juliette replied.
"Thank you. And the respondent?" she asked the other table.
Regan and Goneril stood at once. The latter replied, "I, Goneril Imogen, Lady Capulet and Gov-"
Lady Iden spoke before Fitzwilliam could object. "For the duration of these proceedings, Lady Goneril, I will ask you to refrain from using the titles in contention."
"Would that not suggest that my noble house is without a sovereign lady and rightful voice on the Council?"
"The Senior Governor has informed the Court that the Council is not expected to be called into session before the new year. Should a critical emergency arise, the Court will hear any immediate petitions you wish to make. The Court will also allow all parties to retain control over their private affairs and any affairs of their house for which they were responsible before today. I believe that should satisfy your concerns, Lady Goneril."
"Indeed, Your Ladyship." Goneril saw no option but to accept her demotion. To those who did not know her well, she even appeared to be unaffected by it. "I, The Lady Goneril Imogen of the House of Capulet, contest this petition. I will address the court myself with counsel and assistance from my sister, The Lady Regan Celia."
"Very well. And would Lords Hal and Tybalt Capulet show themselves?" She was relieved to see the two young men stand up; that was one worry out of the way. "My lords, you shall both remain at liberty until I am to render the verdict, but I will require that you attend every session. If you fail to appear, you will be enjoying my hospitality, is that understood?" It was, and so she allowed them both to sit again.
After a quiet order to her scribe, Lady Iden invited Juliette to present her petition.
You've made this speech a hundred times before. Do it just as you rehearsed it. Just as you rehearsed it...
"Your Ladyship, I come before the Court today to seek justice. I was, until the thirty-first of July this year, not of age to assert my legal rights or even to object to what was done on my behalf during my minority. Since the death of my beloved grandmother, Lady Goneril has been suffered to act in the role of Lady Capulet as per an agreement made with my late grandfather, The Lord Consort of the Houses of Capulet and Thebe, who was my legal guardian. Now that I am of age to do so, I reject the continuation of this bargain, while Lady Goneril refuses to cede to me my birthright or even acknowledge my claim. I am the one, true heiress to my grandmother. Her will, lawfully filed with this Court, named none but my late mother, The Lady Cordelia Hermia of the House of Capulet, as heiress to the title of Lady Capulet and all that belongs to the title-bearer. My mother predeceased my grandmother. As the eldest daughter, I have first claim on all the wealth and titles that would have passed to my mother if she had lived. I therefore ask the Court to order Lady Goneril and all who work on her behalf to immediately desist in her usurpation of my birthright and acknowledge me as Lady Capulet." Juliette performed the low, formal curtsy required the the Court's etiquette - no mean feat, encumbered as she was with a heavy gown and a growing babe - and sat.
Upon the invitation to do so, Goneril stood and rounded the table to make her reply. "Your Ladyship, I beg you to excuse my niece for her frivolous and ill-advised abuse of the Court's time. My beloved mother died more than five years ago, far and away from the three month limitation on challenges to wills. As neither of my late parents ever saw any cause to educate my niece in the laws of the realm, she should not be punished for her ignorance."
Fitzwilliam could hardly wait to register his objection. "With all due deference to Lady Goneril's undoubtedly excellent education, the age of legal majority has been written into our code of laws since the realm's days as a province of the Old Empire. As Lady Juliette could not act in her own favor in civil court until her twenty-first birthday, the period to contest the will only began on that day. The initial petition was submitted within the three months allotted."
"It appears the interpretation of the law taught at the Académie is as stagnant as ever," Goneril scoffed. "Putting aside the utter absurdity of considering a woman lawfully married and soon to be mother to two children as too young to speak for her own interests-"
"Or perhaps anyone too young to speak for their own interests ought to be too young to be married," Lady Iden quipped. "Regardless of your opinion, I retain sole responsibility for determining what is correct interpretation of the law in this courtroom. Move on."
Regan rose an inch out of her seat, doubting her sister's temper. She hovered for several moments before trusting Goneril to continue.
"Lady Iden, it is my niece's own admission that an arrangement was made on her behalf by my esteemed late father. If he had the authority to broker marriages for his granddaughters that all the realm consider legal and permanent, why could he not settle the will on one's behalf?"
"Lady Goneril has produced no evidence of such an agreement regarding the disputed title, but her conjecture also does not support her arguments. Even if the unique conditions of civil marriage contracts are set aside, the broader idea of a marriage in fact proves our point," Fitzwilliam countered. "Marriage is a sacred bond, and any affront to it imperils the immortal soul, the greatest treasure in all the world. The Church may be informed of obstacles that may invalidate consent by a timely, active objection from a parent or guardian of a person between sixteen and twenty-one years, but the consent of the persons wed is absolutely paramount, even in the case of a solemnized betrothal. God, the keeper of all souls, obviously may not have His judgment questioned or His guardianship subjugated to inferior powers. Marriage contracts are a civil matter regarding worldly possessions and constructs. Minors may be bestowed with the rights to their worldly goods and permitted to dictate the civil consequences of their marriage from the proper authority - in this case, the parent or legal guardian. However, the contract is not legal without the consent of the relevant persons, even if they are minors. Just as the Crown Court chooses not to engage anyone under twenty-one years of age in civil proceedings, a minor cannot be forced to participate in a contract against their will. In all cases, it is the clear intent that the overseeing party is charged with the protection of the minor. People cannot be given the same implicit trust as is give to God, so additional boundaries must be set to ensure a minor's future is not settled against their best interest by a flawed person. Many contracts of similar consequence, including inheritance of title and property, have been held to the same standard. Without such legal protections as a right to challenge upon majority, what is there to prevent a malicious person from impoverishing or otherwise harming their young charge?"
"The nobility of one's blood," Goneril replied. "It takes a lesser breed to even imagine such an offense. Your Ladyship, there is no villainy here nor much cause for confusion. There is not one person who can say my mother intended for anyone but me to succeed her. There is not one person who can say they even doubted my position, for I was treated as nothing but my mother's rightful heiress for my entire life. If that is not proof of her will, what is?"
Juliette began to see the folly in sitting down at all. "I believe the written copy of her will might suffice."
"An outdated document which leaves my mother's legacy to a dead woman is not a proper will."
"If Lady Goneril wishes to bring popular opinion and unfounded expectations into the discussion, perhaps your ladyship would like to consider how it was 'known' that my grandfather expected this challenge to his dying day."
Lady Iden raised her eyebrows briefly but then replied, "I would not. And if all parties are quite satisfied with this performance, I should like to come back around to actual law. Since there seems to be some misinformation afoot, my scribe will refresh us all on the current statutes regarding the age of majority and lawful marriage, after which you may correct any opinions you have reconsidered." No-one dared groan, but the entire courtroom heard one all the same. "Following that, we shall move to discovering whether the late Lady Capulet's estate is subject to the clauses regarding intestacy in the Inheritances Act of 1391. That will determine how we proceed from here. Lord Felix, if you please?"
As Fitzwilliam took his chair after seeing her into her own, Juliette whispered, "Intestacy? Everyone accepts she had a will."
"Yes, but it is possible to argue that her choice to leave a will naming only your mother as heir makes the will impossible to execute and therefore invalid. Then it would be up to the Crown - in this case, the Crown Court - to apply the law to the estate to determine the inheritances."
Juliette frowned. "And that's bad for us."
"Depending on what Lady Iden's opinions of you and your aunt are, possibly. However, the Inheritances Act affirmed intestacy as an all-or-nothing condition. If the will is invalid, all of it is invalid."
"Every last copper would have to be re-addressed and accounted for after five years," Juliette realized to her partial relief. "That sounds like a great deal of work for Lady Iden."
"Indeed, it does. Let us hope she is not already bored of her new husband. Now, dearest, are you comfortable in that chair?"
"As much as I can be. Why?"
He nodded toward the scribe, who was making ready to start his readings. "You will be sitting in it for quite a while."
Next Post: "Admit me chorus to this history"
"Every last copper would have to be re-addressed and accounted for after five years," Juliette realized to her partial relief. "That sounds like a great deal of work for Lady Iden."
"Indeed, it does. Let us hope she is not already bored of her new husband. Now, dearest, are you comfortable in that chair?"
"As much as I can be. Why?"
He nodded toward the scribe, who was making ready to start his readings. "You will be sitting in it for quite a while."
Next Post: "Admit me chorus to this history"
And we're back. Most of this was written long enough ago that I'm low on commentary. If anyone is disappointed by the slant in screen time to Team Juliette, I'm sorry. The next time we go delving into Capulets' thoughts, it will be a Team Goneril affair, I promise.
ReplyDeleteAll the upcoming chapters until the trial ends are going to be related and thus be "ItLoOS?: Part Whatever" even if it's not set in the courtroom. Not every court day will be covered either. I'm trying to keep it interesting as well as use this as a venue to wrap up some loose threads. I won't commit to a certain number of parts just because things do change - Part One and Part Two were supposed to be a single post until they blew up on me. And speaking of Part Two, that'll be up now, so go check it out.
The Trial! :D
ReplyDeleteEh, I'm not worried about the slant in screen time. We did get into Regan's head (and I'm now hoping that Tessa and Mira won't gravitate toward one another out of sheer spite), and Goneril's thoughts assert themselves through her voice, body language, and prior appearances. Definitely loved Lady Iden shooting down her use of the titles! Even if Goneril does get those titles back, I doubt she'll ever really forget that moment. XD
I also loved Puck's musings on a massive Capulet/Darcy household, complete with Uncle Fitz sleeping in the garden.
:D
DeleteI can't say I've planned on whether Tessa and Mira would become close or not. Goneril and Regan are likely to push it when they're both old enough to make friends, but yeah, spiting them might be a lot of fun ;).
Yeah, that was a smack in the face Goneril will not forget. Her teeth are going to be permanently on edge with all the "Lady Goneril"s that Team Juliette will be rubbing in. Goneril does know it's a matter of form, though, so she'll be annoyed but not discouraged.
Hehe. That would be one crazy house. Fitzwilliam could start sleeping in the garden just to escape everyone else! The house is big enough for it, though, and Hermia does want her kids to grow up close with their cousins, so we might just see that happen if need be ;)
Thanks, Van!