Is the Law of Our Side?: Part Six

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"The sins of the father are to be laid upon the children."

November 20th

"De-e!" 

"She did it again, Desi! She knows your name!" 

The cheers and giggles ringing out from the nursery drew Cornwall closer. Lately, his daughter had become something of a pet to Goneril's younger daughters, Desi and Ariel. Though he didn't know his nieces particularly well, he was grateful for their attention to her. Tessa had no natural playmates in the family; the other children of her age were Hermia's or Juliette's. Plans were surely in place to eventually foster - or force - a bond between Tessa and Miralene, but Miralene would still be only one child. The fawning from her older cousins was saving Tessa from a sad, solitary existence. As far as he was familiar with the emotion, he was pleased.

But how long could this situation last? As soon as Tessa was old enough to be taught, the lessons from Regan would begin. An alliance with Miralene would be but a small, innocuous part of that curriculum. It would take a far better man than Cornwall to counteract that influence, and he felt uneasy to wish his daughter had a more neglectful mother. He couldn't make up for that. He wasn't cut out to be a father at all. He didn't know how to raise a girl to be a lady. He didn't have any wit or greatness to impart. In fact, the best thing he could do for her was try to ensure she wouldn't grow up to be like him. Slugging through the muck toward the grave was not any kind of a life.

So, he kept his distance. To be sure, he looked in on Tessa regularly, but he tried to be careful with interactions. He had overcome the fear of physically dropping her, which was the sad sum total of his achievements as a father. He could still break her in other ways. He wasn't meant to be a father, and she had done nothing to deserve that burden. Looking in on her now, when she had her cousins to distract her, was ideal. 

"Ladies." His uneasy bow was returned by his nieces in manners befitting their ages. 

Is the Law of Our Side?: Part Five

"I trust I may not trust thee."

November 17th

Surveying her courtroom, Lady Iden spotted a flock of fools.

The blustering debut of winter had been battering the roads, and sunlight grew more scarce by the day. Since yesterday morning, the conditions had been more forgiving - a slight warmth, roads that were not icy or even completely sodden - but they did not long promise to be. The sky-watchers predicted another storm would blow in after dusk. It was one thing to make the trek if one had a seat upon the floor, if present to give direct support. But to come only to watch? Lady Iden could not fathom such a thirst for drama, much less obeying it at one's own peril. There would be other, safer occasions to gawk at the Capulets.

Is the Law of Our Side?: Part Four

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

November 13th

Goneril sat alone in her study, basking in a quiet night, a warm fire, and a certain degree of satisfaction. She had fared reasonably well in court so far, both on her own merits and in comparison to her niece. Juliette did not know her place, but, with each passing day, the stupid girl was earning herself an ever-more painful reminder. Juliette, Hermia, and Tybalt had been born Capulets but chosen to be traitors. Goneril would make examples of them all. Verona would see what happened to those who tried to destroy the House of Capulet. After the traitors would come the Montagues. Although she would have enjoyed watching Antonio Montague humiliate and destroy his family across the years, she could not be so selfish. A safe and secure Verona would have its charms, too.

A knock at the door drew Goneril out of her thoughts. The only person who visited her study at this hour had returned home, though Goneril planned to call on her in the morning. Hal's grumblings had betrayed the seriousness of his intentions toward Bottom Summerdream. The response would have to be both swift and quiet; she and Regan would be safe from prying ears at Middleham. Goneril hoped this knock was not her son come to spew his feelings and test her patience. "Yes?"

"May I come in?"

Thank God. "Of course, dear." An evening's worth of Fae wine had warmed Goneril's manners considerably. She smiled at her child, who tarried at the door as she had so often done in the past. Tonight, however, she looked afraid rather than disdainful. "Come, sit with me."

Without a word, Miranda took her aunt's usual chair.

Mothers

"Never did, nor never shall, lie at the proud foot of a conqueror."

August 11th

Miranda regretted her grandfather's death, but she was pregnant and it was the height of summer. It was too hot to wear black. She shouldn't have to wear black. And yet, by her mother's command, she was baking in the only black gown that still fit her. Nothing else she could squeeze into had an inch of black anywhere. If she ever fell pregnant again, Miranda would have a full compliment of mourning attire at the ready for the ill-timed death of another relative.

My Man’s as True as Steel

"Admired Miranda!"

February 1st

One look at the street on which the Palamon brothel stood sank Puck's heart. If Hermia had seen where her beloved cousin had been going all these months, she would have lost her mind. It was hardly the worst place to be found in the Old City, but it was dark and lined with nooky buildings and alleys in which people could be easily lost. For all Puck knew, every building could have been filled by honest people. His gut told him otherwise, and his mind told him to keep walking.

The inside of the brothel was a relief: it was calm and relatively clean. Puck had aimed for the common supper hour, that the place might be as empty as possible. There was only one other person in the room. The young woman behind the counter had a gimlet eye turned on him. Self-conscious, he smoothed out his coat.

"Can I help you?"

Is Your Man Secret?

"And one man in his time plays many parts."

January 21, 1520

"Shouldn't you be looking after that husband of yours?"

A Simple Choice

"They have tied me to a stake; I cannot fly, but, bear-like, I must fight the course."

October 23rd

Nerissa glared at the ledgers, threatening them with general doom if they didn't give her happier numbers. A sweep of summer illness had dented their profits in August. Now, the neighborhood was hiding from a rumored action by the Ducal Guards. Brothels were not illegal in Verona, but there were plenty of traps in the relevant laws. Everyone at the Palamon brothel had agreed it was best to wait out the witch hunt. Nobody would starve on Nerissa's watch, but some fresh income wouldn't have hurt.

Not the Flower of Courtesy

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**NSFW**

"There is no vice so simple but assumes some mark of virtue on his outward parts."

February 23rd

Pan was determined not to be bored. Business was slow tonight, surely because of the weather. Snow and ice made sneaking out for a screw too much for most people. He understood. He had never liked to be outside in the snow himself. If he ever decided to uproot again, he was going someplace warm. He hadn't had much choice last time.

Younger Than She

"For what is wedlock forced but a hell?"

February 19th

As the sun set on her eldest's birthday, Goneril had retreated into her study. Children's birthdays were even worse than her own for reminding her of her age. Miranda was twenty-two, which meant Goneril was forty-four. She would be married twenty-five years come May. Twenty-five years was more than half of her life; in turn, that meant she had spent more of her life married to Albany than not. For all of that, she hadn't even the consolation of a married heiress; Miranda was as stubborn and childish at twenty-two as she had been at sixteen.

That, unlike age, was something Goneril could change.

To Sort Such Needful Ornaments

"But small to greater matters must give way."

Disclaimer: All opinions are the characters' and not mine. I love all of my CC!

October 19th

Mistress Starveling was overseeing the evacuation of her dominion: the seamstress' workroom at Capulet Manor. She was a fastidious but nervous woman. Lady Juliette had asked for use of the room to debate styles of gown with her friends in secrecy, and the seamstress was fretting over the works-in-progress and the general condition of the wardrobe.  Almost every piece was to go out, even the lowliest scrap of fabric. Likewise were to go the many needles and bobbins and other tools of the craft. What couldn't be carried out would be pushed aside and carefully stacked.

"I hear there are ten gowns so far," one of the needlewomen whispered to another. "Ten, can you imagine, when anything she wears on one day is better than any of our church best?"

The Night Before Christmas

December 24th

'Twas the night before Christmas when all through a duchy,

Known for its people who were often quite touchy,

Every pillow hid coins that glistened and gleamed,

A trick to help sleepers control what they dreamed

Bitter Conduct: Part Two

"But wonder on, till truth make all things plain"

July 6th

Past midnight, Capulet Manor was wide awake and full of people. When it was announced as certain that Hermia would be giving birth, Juliette dispatched urgent notes to the family. Goneril and Regan had arrived with children and brother in tow, respectively. The children were sent to keep their own company, and Kent went with them, preferring his nieces and nephew to his father. Their husbands were not present; Albany was at home, asleep and ignorant, and Cornwall was still taking every bit of business that kept him out of Regan's reach. Consort, despite his daughters' protests, planted himself among them to wait out the birth. After four children and seven grandchildren, nothing he heard was likely to shock him.

Bitter Conduct: Part I

"Two such opposèd kings... in man as well as herbs: grace and rude will."

July 5th

A long July day was winding down. The week had been unseasonably warm, driving everyone indoors for relief from the sun. Consort Capulet remained in his bed most of the day. After recurrent fits, including the first, unfortunate episode on a staircase that had endangered his life, he was slowly convalescing. Hermia and her cousin, Miranda, fled to the front room where the family sat on summer evenings. The cousins still spent a good amount of time together. With Puck slaving in his mother's shadows most days, Hermia was as in need of company as ever. Miranda, in disgrace with her mother for disloyalty, was perfectly happy to provide it at all hours.

A Stolen Marriage Day

"Now join your hands, and with your hands your hearts."

April 12, 1518

Hampton Square was empty. It was well past the normal hour of business for the attorneys and other professionals who were the main tenants of the buildings on the square. The shops that sat below the offices were also closed. These shops and offices, as well as the square's proximity to the great building where the Council met, drew large crowds during daylight hours. It was odd to see such a bustling place so dead, Puck thought.

Access to Breathe Such Vows

"Sweet mercy is nobility's true badge."

April 12th

Hermia was not happy with the thought of how big and round her stomach would soon be.

Here Come the Capulets

June 1515 (Three Years Earlier)

"Uneasy lies the head that wears the crown"

Contessa Capulet, mother and matriarch, was admired by many in Verona. She was known as a fair and strong woman, one whom one did not need to question or wish to cross. When provoked, she acted decisively, but rarely in anger. She did not hesitate to be forgiving or harsh when it was the right course, whether in her home or the Council Chambers. The wisdom that came with age had seen her through the dark and turbulent period following her daughter's murder, and many blessed her for doing so without plunging the country into war. The loss naturally made her value peace and family more than she previous had, but she remained sharp and vigorous. Everyone, including Contessa herself, expected her to live to a ripe old age.