Is the Law of Our Side?: Part Three

"When valour preys on reason, it eats the sword it fights with."

November 12th

The validity of Contessa Capulet's will was expected to dominate the second day of the trial. Goneril had concluded the first day with a cautious switch of tactics, and she had begun the second convinced that the will was invalid and thus could not be contested or consulted. She believed a favorable resolution would come more quickly if her mother's will was set aside. Afterward, Goneril would be generous enough to return her portion of the profits, that the estate might be divided up legally (which, in her view, would be just as it had been) by the Court. She had no concerns there, not when all that was due Lady Capulet would finally be hers. 

Naturally, the opposing side was against invalidating the will. Though she believed a fair hearing from Lady Iden was possible, Juliette was not so green as to not see how the court's discretion could be bent to serve other considerations. Fitzwilliam expressed all the indignation of a scholar, packed to bursting as he was with information he believed must contradict such an abuse of law. Of course, there would have been no call for indignation if he did not know that facts could be overcome. Facts were the cornerstones of their argument. If facts were overlooked in this trial, Juliette's cause was doomed.

He had accordingly dedicated the day between sessions to refreshing and improving his understanding of intestacy. If he failed Juliette, it would not be for lack of trying. He had come to Court that morning feeling fully armored by knowledge, just as a warrior might shroud himself in plate and maille before battle. 

"I would like to now bring to the Court's attention the matter of Lord Roderic Jacobs's will, which was disputed in 1483 by his son, Lord Erec Jacobs." 

Regan took her turn to object, despairing of her niece's husband ever finishing. She longed for some conflict after sitting quietly for so long. "Your ladyship cannot be unfamiliar with any relevant precedent. What new point can be made at this juncture? This barrage of legal opinions is a desperate abuse of the Court's time."

Indeed, Lady Iden had not yet been presented a fresh legal thought, but she did not find the exploration of ideas to be so tiresome as a layperson might. The law was a natural interest of hers, and observing what each side brought into the case was itself enlightening. "Your sister was permitted to exhaust her views on this matter, Lady Regan. I will, however, caution Mr. Darcy that a foray into the pedantic will try the Court's patience and advise him to use prudent judgment when choosing his arguments."

"Thank you, Your Ladyship," Fitzwilliam replied, respectfully tilting his head. "The case of Lord Roderic's will is undoubtedly relevant to this question. His son and heir petitioned the Court to have his father, who did leave a written will, declared intestate over the matter of succession. Lord Erec had three daughters from his wife and a natural son outside his marriage. He wished his son to be his heir above his daughters and half-brothers, but his father refused and fixed his will to specifically prevent it."

Lady Iden stopped him there. "Might one not argue, Mr. Darcy, that this case is irrelevant? The late Lord Roderic's will was not contradicted by his behavior, and his son's objections lacked merit. Lord Erec's preference for his natural son did not erase his daughters and siblings from existence in the eyes of the law." 

"Indeed, Your Ladyship, but the pertinent information is the cause for the Court's refusal. It found that Lord Erec had demonstrated his faith in it by accepting a monetary inheritance as dictated by the will in question. He had no right to contest that which he had previously accepted after the age of majority. I would beg that Lady Goneril's acceptance of parts of the will be considered as an acknowledgment of its legitimacy. It cannot be up to the heirs to pick and choose which parts of a will they will obey or else there is no use in a will at all." 

"Nor can it be allowed," Goneril interjected, "for an honest and trivial mistake to obstruct justice. I freely admit that I did not accept the fatal flaws in my mother's will until they were made plain. That does not erase the truth." 

"Honesty is subjective, Your Ladyship. Lady Goneril did not approach the court herself about these grave, invalidating misgivings until the language endangered her reign. Now that it cannot be ignored, she wishes to wipe it out before it does her harm."

Lady Iden called a halt to this line of reasoning, lest the proceedings become an outright quarrel. This pained Fitzwilliam but little. Mindful as he was of the Court's warning, he had a great deal of essential information left to present. 

Some time later, Captain Fitzwilliam was struggling to remain awake at his post. He was a man of action, the Captain of the Guard. He was not meant to be idling in the back of a courtroom, pretending to his men that this was an honorable assignment. And yet, here he was and had to be. The realm could ill afford to have another Lady Iden killed by a lunatic. His eyes went most often to Goneril Capulet's half of the room. Lady Juliette's entourage was so heavily connected to Samuel's own family that he could not imagine the trouble starting there.

When he did look that way, his gaze often landed on the back of Katharine Gale's head. His pompous brother's latest decree was that Samuel had to marry the lady, despite her smugness and repellent ginger-gold hair. If she was to bring a large dowry into the marriage, the prospective bridegroom would have overlooked such faults. He had exhausted his own fortune, and no-one had ever grown rich on a guard's wages. All he had was Andrew's vague pledge to restore a portion of his inheritance if he cooperated. It had better be a large portion. 

The question of whether he could manage to go back to living in the barracks after the wedding was interrupted by a ruckus beyond the door. Samuel turned, gripping his sword.

"M'lord, you cannot enter."

"Stand aside!"

"It's Lady Iden's orders, m'lord, no-one can enter while the Court is in session. You'll have to wait!"

The Court could only barely be described as being in session at that moment. The arguments had stopped, and all attention had turned to the squabble at the door.

"Captain Fitzwilliam, what is that noise?" Lady Iden demanded from her perch, looking a touch more pale than usual.

After a gruff exchange with the guards outside, the captain hesitantly replied, "A party of three requests to enter the courtroom, Lady Iden."

The magistrate consulted Lady Juliette and Lady Goneril, who both confirmed that all their expected supporters were already present. She then looked at the seats across the back of the room - three each of four colors. The red seats were empty, as the right to sit in them was in question. Lords Nowell and Fitzwilliam had filled theirs, leaving only the teal unaccounted for.

Oh, blast! The Governors were guaranteed their three seats for any trial at the Crown Court, but she had not expected Lord Montague to be so brazen as to use his. The noble houses and the law needed each other to keep the peace, and so there was among the unspoken agreements one about feuds. Bringing the most notorious feud of all into her courtroom, flaunting its very existence, and even fanning its flames were serious violations of that pact. She could keep him out until after the recess; no-one was exempt from the laws of her courtroom. She preferred it to be sealed. If absolutely necessary, one could leave through a small door at the front of the chamber, but re-entry was not permitted for any but the four sitting at the tables.

On the other hand, Lord Montague laying siege to her courtroom for the rest of the morning would be, at the very best, a great distraction. Best to get on with it. "You may let him pass, Captain."

Accompanied by his sister and nephew, Antonio Montague entered the courtroom with his head held high. He was not intimidated by the rows of people insulted by his presence. He was not touched by the sea of red and its numerous pairs of narrowed, gray eyes. Down to the smallest child, he hated them all. Someday, a day drawing ever-closer, he would burn their house to the ground and piss on the cold ashes.

"Lord Montague, you will take your seat if you wish to observe," the magistrate warned. The man was already standing well beyond where he ought to be.

"I do. I also wish for these two squabbling women to look me in the eye. I would have them know that the victor is accepting responsibility for the heinous crimes committed against my family!"

Goneril's instinct only just kicked in quick enough for her to restrain her sister. A second later, Regan would have been lost to fury. "You dishonor yourself, Lord Montague, with your vulgar words."

"Would you have me lie, Lady Goneril? Lies are vulgar, like the one your mother told us all after she spilled innocent blood!"

She bristled, digging her thin fingers deep into Regan's arms. "I would be happy to address your concerns at another time," she strained, "but my family has serious business with the Court. I will not allow you to usur-"

"Enough!" Lady Iden cried. "I alone will decide what will and will not be allowed here. You've had your say, both of you."

Standing a few steps behind his uncle, Mercutio could feel the tension in the room. The grievance his uncle had revived was one Verona wished would remain buried. No-one wanted to know why the old Lord Montague had revived the feud, though he had taken the reason to his grave. Mercutio himself had been orphaned by Contessa Capulet's 'measured' response, and even he couldn't find a worthy reason to revive that particular pain. If his aunt's death had been avenged, the entire family likely would have been destroyed. Peace had been snatched from the jaws of war by his grandfather's acceptance of his enemy's innocence in that one matter. Tonight, many a lord and lady would lie awake, wondering if the new Lord Montague had snatched it back.

Mercutio had first tried to prevent this plan. Whenever possible, he placed the good of the family before his personal ambitions. His rule wouldn't do a lick of good if the House of Montague had been returned to the dirt beforehand. Respect for the family was slowly eroding. The worth of an alliance had dipped. If tempering Antonio's self-destruction would help to stem the bleeding, Mercutio would gladly do it.

This time, Antonio had refused to be helped, and the trial would go on for too long for Mercutio to create an obstacle every single day. He had resorted to salvaging something from the folly. Despite Paulina's caution against being involved, Mercutio had secured his attendance via a pretty speech about family unity, perfectly timed to catch his oft-inebriated uncle at his most vulnerable. Those in attendance would have an opportunity to observe the stark contrast between the two and to be reminded that Mercutio was the heir. When dealing with the Montagues in the present, he wanted the nobility to remember that a time was coming when it would be a great boon to have been a loyal friend in lean times.

He approached his uncle, who had taken several significant steps toward the Capulets, and rather loudly whispered, "You have done your duty to her memory, uncle. Do not be drawn into a display beneath your dignity."

Antonio cast a last, hard look at Goneril. Then, with but a perfunctory bow to Lady Iden, he turned to take his seat.

Mercutio bowed more respectfully to the magistrate. "We beg your pardon for the intrusion, Your Ladyship."

"Your entire party will be begging my pardon from the Tower tonight, my lord, if you do not take your seat at once." Lady Iden went on to extend this invitation to enjoy her hospitality to everyone in the courtroom.

As he turned to obey, Mercutio thought it had gone about as well as it could have. Then, he caught sight of Lord Nowell's face. The Senior Governor was not amused.

---

After the supremely stressful morning session, the crowd was generally eager to go as far as their legs could carry them and discuss the extraordinary happenings. Lady Nowell was among the few who were not much interested in what Lord Montague said or did. Her husband was the politician, and his interest would be enough for them both. However, Octavia was desirous of some exercise and lighter conversation. She knew the look on Orsino's face well after thirteen years; it promised nothing of the sort. 

"Fabian, dear," she said, turning to her stepson, "would you care to take the air with me?"

Fabian would have preferred not to. Typical November chills and throngs of people were not appealing, and, while he made a point of being respectful, he had no warm feelings for Octavia. On the other hand, he didn't want a smack on the back of his head for rudeness or to be trapped with his father and quizzed on his perceptions. "Yes, of course, Stepmother." He offered her his arm, and they were soon lost in the retreating crowd. 

Orsino was only too happy to see them go. Moments alone with his thoughts felt few and far between at home lately. Though their mutual grandchild was not due to arrive until February, Lady Catherine de Bourgh was a constant plague upon his house. He could shut himself away from her better than anyone else, but the unrest found him in the end. His wife had recently advised him to increase the servants' wages to nip some general discontentment in the bud. He had done as she asked and hoped that a lifetime of considerable wealth had skewed his value of money. He couldn't imagine a payment large enough to entice him to silently endure Lady Catherine.

And, naturally, Henry wanted to marry his way into another troublesome mess. Intermarriage between the governing houses could and did happen without incident, but the hitching together of fortunes had to be avoided. That was very likely to be what Lord Montague would want. Convinced as he was that Lady Beatrice was not interested in the politics of her family, Orsino had lived too long not to consider that she could change her mind. Her father's need of alliances would only grow if his unsteady behavior continued unchecked. Henry was an intelligent young man, but love had a way of making men stupid. Orsino would have to safeguard both his family and the realm against that folly before he could sanction any marriage.

Oh, for God's sake, I didn't mean right now...

Though he expected a stiff, formal greeting, Orsino had nothing but silence. The other man didn't even glance his way - which, normally, would be a blessing. But Lord Montague expected to sit in silence, not to account for his stunt? Orsino almost had to laugh at the absurdity. "My good Lord Montague, I was sorry to see this morning that you have taken leave of your senses."

"I can think of few things more sensible than reminding whoever may be elected head witch that she shall be held accountable for her crimes against me."

"As I recall it, one of them was newly delivered of a baby at the time and the other was an orphaned little girl. I cannot believe either committed the offense you ascribe to them."

"But their mother and grandmother did commit it, in their name. For them, an innocent woman, my wife, who did no-one and nothing harm in her whole life, was murdered." Antonio glared over at Orsino. "I will not forget it or let them forget it, simply because the world at large would find it more convenient. She will not be forgotten!"

You mean your grudge will not be forgotten. But Orsino didn't want to say it. Lord Montague had suffered a tremendous loss, one that he believed was needlessly unavenged, and had never found a way out of his despair. Someone had to get through Lord Montague's thick skull before he started a crisis. "She has two fine children who will never forget her nor let their children overlook her memory. She also has you. A man more devoted to his wife's memory could not be found. Do you truly want that tainted by this wild spectacle?"

"Spare me your lectures, Lord Nowell. I have no need or want of advice from a man who cannot begin to understand what my children and I have gone through."

Orsino just managed to refrain from boxing the man's ears. "I know your grief well."

"Another of your arrogant presumptions," Antonio snapped. "I loved my wife, and she loved me - freely, without obligation, without condition. My heart and all my joy went to the grave with her. A man who, in four attempts, could not be faithful to his lady, who hasn't met a wife he couldn't replace, could not understand my grief."

"Believe that, if it gives you comfort."

"It gives me none."

It seemed a change of tactics was in order. Orsino made the most prudential shift and asked, "What of the comfort of seeing a daughter happily settled?"

"My dau-"

"Maria was seventeen," Orsino continued smoothly, "when she married - younger than your girl, I believe. Maria wanted to be a grand lady. That husband of hers was the best option she would have. I wanted my girl at home with me. She is the only daughter God left me with, the only living piece of her mother. But Frances wouldn't have wanted her to be locked away, and Maria is a good girl. She deserves to have the life she wants."

"And mine deserves to have the life that will ensure she's happy and cared for when the fancies of youth settle. Her cousin could have provided that, would have provided that, until his father withdrew his agreement to be betrothal. Clearly, you will stop at nothing to bend the world to your son's wishes," Antonio accused. 

He hadn't spoken a word to Lord Arlecchino, but if Antonio wanted to think Orsino was all-powerful, then he would let him. "My son means a great deal to me."

"And reconnecting my house and my wife's would have meant a great deal to the future of my family. My nephew is no blood relation to the Arlecchinos, and his wife's is not much better. The alliance between our houses, which has spanned generations, could disappear in a matter of years."

That was not strictly true. After many a long, haunted night, Antonio had decided that his father and his wishes for the family could burn in Hell. His father had started the trouble that ended with Hero's death and never even once explained why. He always preferred Claudio and guarded him more closely after the Capulet fire, though it had ultimately done him no good. Sometimes, Antonio wondered if Hero had been overlooked because his father couldn't swallow the bitter truth: his favorite son's death was his own fault. It didn't matter in the end. The next Lord Montague would be Benedick; Hero's blood would be the future of the family. Their son had not been a remarkable boy, but he could yet be a great man. 

Still, a stronger blood tie between Montague and Arlecchino would have been a comfort. Benvolio and Valentine were both much more friendly with Mercutio and Romeo than with Benedick, Antonio had noticed. Marrying Beatrice to her cousin would have ensured that someone was there to keep the Arlecchinos loyal to their blood, not their friend. That was out of the question now. Balthasar, Hero's only brother, would not reconsider his withdrawal from the betrothal. He had been very pleased to welcome Beatrice (and her dowry) into the family not so long ago, and Benvolio had been eager to marry his cousin. This change in attitude had to be due to outside interference; Antonio couldn't think of a more powerful meddler than the old man whose son was chasing Beatrice.

Furious as he was with the old dragon, as often as he loathed Lord Nowell's impositions, Antonio understood the value of an alliance. The balance of power could soon put the House of Montague at a disadvantage. Lord Nowell's only son-in-law could well be the uncle-by-law of the next Lady Capulet, whose cousin was conveniently married to Lord Nowell's only granddaughter. Something had to be done to at least re-balance the scale, if not tip it in the Montagues' favor. And it would make Beatrice happy...

"Therefore," Antonio continued after the long pause, "I trust you will understand that I require some concessions to negate those losses if I am agree to this marriage."

After a brief moment of relief, Orsino braced himself for the torrent to come. "Such as?"

He could have predicted most of the list. Antonio wanted a political alliance, including mutual support against adversaries. The modest fleet the Montagues still commanded would be available to the Nowells to transport men and goods around the duchy - a service which would be worth even more if the Nowells were to lend support to stronger action against the pirate incursions. Lady Beatrice would be endowed with a considerable dowry, including the estate of Illyria Park. Antonio's only condition was that Illyria was passed on to one of Beatrice's children or, failing that, back to her brother and his children. Lord Montague also wanted a bride for his son to be found among Orsino's kin. (Even a lady of low fortune would be acceptable so long as she was closely related.)

While drumming his fingers on the arms of his chair, Orsino declared this to be a worthy start. "As you know, Cecily is already married, and as I have no other suitable female relations, your son will have to look elsewhere for a bride. Your stipulations for your daughter's estate are perfectly acceptable so long as they are acceptable to Henry and Lady Beatrice. As for the rest, I have a duty, as Senior Governor, to do all I can to keep Verona peaceful and prosperous, and that includes preserving the balance of power. Thus, I have spent a good deal of time considering terms for this marriage that would contribute to that effort. I have in mind a bargain that I believe to be more than fair: You will give your blessing to this marriage. In return, I will not go out of my way to let your enemies crush you into the dirt."

Orsino continued right over Antonio's sputtering response. "If you thought your allies were wavering before, my God, what do you think they will do after this farce? Ships, land, wealth, vassals and knights and peasants... no-one needs you for any of that. If one Lord Montague is threatening the peace, other lords and ladies will want to see some less dangerous take the title."

"My wife-"

"Is gone - too soon, too cruelly, but false vengeance cannot change that fact. Neither your father nor Contessa Capulet denied what they had done to each other. When she told us that her family was not responsible for your lady's death, we all believed her, and your father was the first to say it." Orsino had captured Lord Montague's gaze and held fast. "If you continue on this path, your pain will make you the contempt of the land and for nothing. Accept the truth, if you can. If you cannot, then at least let go of the past and think of the future. Think of the legacy you will leave to your children.

"Do not be deceived, Lord Montague. Heeding my advice will not lead to the grand alliance you seek. I will not make enemies of the Capulets for the sake of a marriage, and I find your behavior to be quite close to an unacceptable risk to me, both as Lord Nowell and as Senior Governor. If, however, you agree to this marriage between our children, I will give you a chance to right your ship. The father of my son's wife would be due that consideration. If you will not consent to the marriage, then another young lady's family will be due my consideration. The choices is yours, Lord Montague. Think on it."

Watching the old man leave the courtroom, Antonio's main thought was a prayer that the Almighty smite Orsino Nowell with a bolt from the heavens. 

Alas, he lived.

And, obnoxious as he was, it was perhaps for the best. It should not have been possible for Lord Nowell to come between the Montagues and Arlecchinos in this matter. Even putting their political history aside, there were blood ties and practical interests to consider. Beatrice was Balthasar's only niece and the key to returning Illyria Park to the Arlecchino fold. Benvolio very much wanted to marry his cousin. These considerations alone should have been enough to stop Antonio's most natural ally from stepping back - and yet, he had. And he was not the only one. Antonio didn't agree with the judgment against him; if he was mad for wanting to avenge Hero and secure his family line, then he wanted to be mad. But it was possible that it would be advisable to put off being mad for just a little while longer.

Lord Nowell was an old man who would certainly die sooner rather than later. His heir was as weak as water, destined to be nothing better than a figurehead. Lord Henry was more likely than anyone to be the man actually leading the family. If he was in love with Beatrice, if he had been friendly with Benedick at school, then the young man could be a very valuable asset once his father was gone. He would be bound by marriage and affection to Antonio's family line and could surely be convinced to lend his assistance when the time came. And, of course, Beatrice being won by Lord Nowell's impassioned son would be a much better image than her being passed over by her own kin. 

This plan would require remaining in Lord Nowell's good books until both of the old man's feet were in the grave, but this, too, was not without its advantages. With some political shelter, Antonio could breathe, re-chart his course, and win back what he had lost. It would cut deep into an already aching heart to stand down, but it would be a slumber, not death. The perfect time for revenge would come, and when it did, Antonio would smash his enemies for their crime and spit on his traitorous father's wishes. 

And Beatrice would be happy.

---

After the recess, Lady Iden reminded the litigants that their final list of persons who may be called to testify would be due when the trial resumed next week. She then asked the parties to wrap up their arguments regarding the will's validity in the afternoon session. 

Lady Goneril, of the opinion that turnabout was fair play, presented her own bit of dusty legal precedent. The de Sarras family died out before living memory and had lost their noble status to unpaid taxes another fifty years earlier. A few generations before that, the now-forgotten family had brought an interesting case regarding wills to the Crown Court. "Genevieve de Sarras brought her brother, Ethan, before the Crown Court to dispute the execution of their deceased father's will.."

High on her perch, Lady Iden nodded in appreciation of the reference. The case of Lord de Sarras's will was old, but it was also relevant and interesting. Whenever it came up, she spent a few minutes wondering what it would be like to be such a monumental idiot. The man's later life had revolved around schemes to increase his family's fortunes, which only hastened their demise. The dowry gained by marrying his son to a most incompatible bride had been nearly erased by the inordinate sums paid out to the two sons-in-law and one convent who took his daughters off his hands, lest he appear poor. Rather than secure the fortunes he did have for the coming generations, he left behind a will of three lines and such vague language that her own ancestor had invalidated it. It was eventually discovered that he had put off writing a proper will until he had a satisfactory purse because putting his penury into writing was too degrading for 'a man of his station'. This ultimately led to the entire farce of his life being committed to the public records of the Crown Court. 

"Their father had left a will, but it was three lines in total. Those lines were so vague that the magistrate could not use them to direct the execution of the estate. The will was set aside and the late Lord de Sarras declared intestate. My mother's will," Goneril admitted, "was far more than three lines. However, the crux of it relies upon the identity of Lady Capulet, and that is completely unresolved. As did Lord de Sarras, my mother failed to name an eligible heir. Knowingly or not, she thus submitted herself to the prevailing wisdom of the day - the means by which the de Sarras estate was settled."

Lady Iden nodded and looked at the opposite table. "Lady Juliette, I expect you or your husband have a response to this?"

"I will address my aunt's point," Juliette replied. She had spoken but little in the morning session and had worried that this would make her appear incapable. She herself saw nothing wrong with assigning roles according to ability, but it was not her judgment that mattered here. During the recess, she had informed Fitzwilliam that the next legal point would be hers to make, and he had (hesitantly) deferred to her. The moment the name 'de Sarras' had been uttered, he had pulled a page out of a small pile stuffed in the back of a book and whispered a torrent of information to her. She prayed to God she could remember it all. "Genevieve de Sarras brought her case to the court not for money but for custody of their younger siblings. Her father was not vague about that important issue but silent." 

"And surely a point in favor of declaring the late lord to be intestate. Money is but one part of a lord or lady's estate, and all points are magnified when the deceased is as consequential as my beloved mother."

"Lord de Sarras's will was invalidated, Your Ladyship, but his wife's was not. The lord and lady had perished together in a carriage accident, and so..." So... so... they perished together, and so... Juliette relented and consulted the paper on her table for a rebuttal. "They perished together, and so it was impossible to determine who had been the surviving parent. Although the lord's will was invalidated for its inadequacy, Lady de Sarras had a complete will that included provisions for her children should she be their surviving parent. She willed custody of her youngest children to her daughter and son-in-law, and it was thus awarded to Lady Genevieve."

"Which is of no significance in this matter," Goneril interjected, "as my mother left no such directive for her title."

"Your Ladyship, your own ancestor invalidated the lord's will, but she upheld Lady de Sarras's." Juliette paused here to breathe and compose her next thought, but she left it too long. Instinct made her look over at her aunts, whose faces were dominated by predatory smirks. Damned if I do, damned if I don't! Just as she was choking down her pride, she heard a familiar drumming. She turned looked down. Her husband's fingers were carefully situated beneath the word 'specific', which was underlined twice. That's it! "She held up Lady de Sarras's specific wishes for her children, though it could not be proven that she was the surviving parent. The agreement by omission present in Lord de Sarras's will could not override his wife's express directive."

Goneril's smirk disappeared. "My lady mother, the only person entitled to designate succession, left no valid specific wishes."

Juliette stalled, a response on the tip of her tongue. Something brilliant had occurred to her that wasn't in any book or on any paper. Had she been merely listening to her husband navigate this argument, she would have known it instantly. Oh, think, think... 

"Lady Juliette, if you have nothing further to say, we may concl-"

"My mother!" she cried with relief. "My mother's will is not vague in the slightest, and my grandmother was its executor. No-one could argue my grandmother did not know my mother's wishes for her estate, and my grandmother-" 

"My sister's will made absolutely no mention whatsoever of dynastic issues!"

"My aunt is mistaken, Your Ladyship. My mother's will disposed of all the marital assets, not just her personal wealth. My father's portion went to-"

Lady Iden held up her hand. "Lady Juliette, your mother's will is not relevant at this time nor will it be unless your grandmother's is deemed valid."

Juliette pleaded, "I believe we can discern from my grandmother's knowledge of my mother's wish-"

"That will be all." 

"But, Your Ladyship!"

"The Court is sufficiently informed on this subject at this time, Lady Juliette. You may sit."

Annoyed and struggling mightily to hide it, Juliette sank into her chair. She hoped against hope to find a reassuring look on her husband's face when she turned. Instead, she beheld a man trying to straighten a waistcoat he wasn't wearing, a man wearing an anxious and forced smile for her benefit.

Lady Iden had heard enough from all parties. She called for a half-hour recess, after which she announced her finding on the matter of the will. 

"It is undeniable that the late Lady Capulet's will named an impossible heir to her title, and that the will was her final word on the matter. It is clear that her will was otherwise sufficient. I find that the will of Contessa Capulet, as a whole, does not meet the requirements for invalidation. Viable heirs to the title exist; none at all were excluded. Her successor can be determined through applicable civil and house laws, of which none can deny the late lady was aware. Lady Goneril and Lady Juliette, I expect a list of any persons you may call upon for testimony no later than the opening of our next session. Proceedings to determine the rightful successor to the title of Lady Capulet will then begin. Until that time, the Crown Court of Verona is in recess."

Next: "I have done nothing but in care of thee, o thee, my dear one - thee my daughter, who art ignorant of what thou art."