Note: Welcome to this story! This one features Valentine, younger brother of Mercutio. Way back when, I decided to make him the same Valentine as in The Two Gentlemen of Verona, hence his best friend Proteus, who's cropped up before. I don't think this idea is entirely original to me - I know I must have seen it around somewhere - but it's fun and I decided to run with it. It also allows for things like this story, which addresses the ending of Two Gents, a troubling bit of writing, to say the least. Two Gents isn't the best known play (though it makes a guest appearance in Shakespeare In Love), partially because of its ending, and partially because . . . well, Shakespeare was a beginning writer back then, and frankly, it's not his strongest work. But Valentine and Silvia's romance stands out, even so.
Unfortunately, this also means that this story contains both a Julia and a Juliet. That's Shakespeare's fault, too.
And so we find ourselves in Verona, just a few years past the turn of the seventeenth century. A young man has ventured out into the world and found a fortune beyond his dreams. And now, a young woman is about to learn some of the complexities of life after the fifth act of the romantic comedy.
Enjoy, and I'll return at the end.
1. In Her Crystal Looks
Silvia sighed as she gazed out of the window of the carriage. The landscape passed by in an endless stream of fields and pastures. Her back hurt from the endless little jolts of the carriage and from sleeping in camp beds at night. On the seat next to her, her maid Ursula sat fast asleep and snoring, her head bowed on her bosom. Across from her, the lady Julia, who had recently been the page Sebastian, made a valiant effort at embroidery. Silvia shifted until she was half lying on her side, her nose pressed against the window. Sitting like this, she could just see the edge of the carriage in front of hers, in which rode her father, the Duke of Milan, as well as Valentine Rinuccini and Proteus Battistoni, the two young gentlemen of Verona who had tumbled into her life and upended it.
Silvia wished that her father had allowed her to travel with Valentine; after all, he was her betrothed, which was so close to marriage that there was surely no impropriety in traveling with him. She longed to ask him about Verona and about his family, which would be hers upon her marriage. She supposed that she could always ask Julia about the city, but Julia was a quiet companion, and Silvia was reluctant to engage her in conversation, for fear that the subject would turn to Proteus. That misunderstanding was resolved, yet Silvia still could not bring herself to speak to Julia as a friend. So she sat in her seat, bored and weary, counting the hours until the evening. They had been traveling for three days already, and according to her father, they would arrive in Verona a few hours past sunset.
The carriage rocked and swayed. Julia's stitches grew slower, until she laid the embroidery down on her lap and allowed her head to nod over it. Silvia tried her best to stay awake, pinching the soft skin on the inside of her wrist and making games of counting all the animals that they passed along the wayside. But eventually, weariness and boredom overtook her, and she allowed herself to slip into dreams of her future as a gracious matron of Verona.
Hours later, Silvia came awake with a jolt, and scrubbed at her eyes in confusion. Her entire body ached, and the light was wrong. Beside her, Ursula and Julia were also stirring. Julia yawned as she stuffed her embroidery into a little bag. Ursula prodded Silvia's shoulder.
"Awake, madam," she murmured. "We have arrived within Verona's walls."
Silvia sat up with a groan and looked out the window. The coach was rumbling over roughly paved streets, which must have been the source of her awakening. The night was dark, but pages rode alongside the coach bearing torches to light their way. Silvia could not see much of the city through the glare of the torches, but she did catch a glimpse of buildings here and there, and that was enough to reassure her that they were in a city, at least.
Ursula began to fuss over Silvia, fluffing her collar and patting loose strands of hair into place. "Would that our arrival had been more timely," she mourned, "for then my lady would appear more radiant, as befits the bride she is to be."
Julia pulled at her shoulder, trying to stretch the stiffness out of it. "I fear that we shall none of us be rival to great Helen this night," she said, "but Proteus and Valentine will doubtless be no rivals to Adonis, for they have traveled even as we have done."
"I care not for any beauty this night," Silvia replied, "save only the beauty of a well-appointed couch for my weary limbs."
Julia laughed. "How is it that a body may grow so weary from no more exertion than simply sitting in a coach?"
Silvia tossed a wry smile at her. "An I knew to answer that, I should shine above all the sages of the world."
The carriage slowed, then came to a stop with a jerk. Silvia peered out the window. Through the torchlight, she could see that they were in a courtyard, and that a group of people had gathered to greet them. Her father emerged from his carriage, followed by Valentine and Proteus, all three of them walking awkwardly on legs that had too long been idle. The Duke approached the waiting group, but Silvia had no time to see what he did, for a page opened the door of the carriage, and she saw Valentine's joyous face at last.
He extended his hand to assist her down from the carriage, and she was glad of it, for she thought that her legs would give way beneath her. Proteus offered the same assistance to Julia as Valentine led Silvia forward.
The Duke turned as they approached, and smiled to a tall, hawklike man in fine robes who stood at the head of the waiting group. "See where she comes! Lord Prince, I give you my daughter, the Lady Silvia."
"That is mine uncle, Escalus, the Prince of Verona," Valentine murmured in Silvia's ear.
Silvia attempted a graceful curtsey, but her legs were so stiff that she could manage only a rough bob. Nevertheless, Prince Escalus gazed kindly upon her.
"She is fair, and courteous as well," he said. "Be welcome in Verona, Lady Silvia." He turned back to the Duke. "Will you enter into my house, sir, and be pleased to accept the quarters that I have caused to be prepared for you and your household? It is passing late, and we will speak of business on the morrow."
Silvia smiled to hear those words, and allowed herself to be led up the steps and into the palace. A tall lady with a plain, kindly face detached herself from the group and put an arm around Silvia's shoulders. "I am the Countess Helena," she said, "who is to become kinswoman to thee in due course, I think. Come, I shall show thee to a chamber where thou mayst rest."
Silvia stifled a yawn and bade Valentine farewell. She followed Helena up a flight of stairs and through several corridors until at last a door opened, and she laid eyes on a sumptuous bed. Chambermaids stepped forward to undress her, and she was asleep even before she had fully laid herself down to rest.
When the chambermaid came to open the curtains in the morning, Silvia finally had the chance to see her new surroundings. Her bed was large and soft, clothed in white linen and veiled with curtains of velvet and gauze. Beyond the curtains was a friendly guest chamber, its walls covered with frescoes depicting scenes from the lives of the saints. A large chest of carved wood stood at the foot of the bed, and one of Silvia's gowns was draped over it. The ceiling was of dark wood, but was high enough that the room did not seem oppressive.
Silvia washed her face and hands in the basin that the chambermaid brought to her. Ursula was shown in, shook out Silvia's gown, and maneuvered it over her head. "Wilt thou stay in Verona, then?" Silvia asked.
Ursula pulled at the laces of the gown. "Ay, madam, if it be your will and that of the Prince of this city. Your lord father thought that you should have someone familiar with you."
"Ay, and I shall thank him for his kindness, and thee as well."
Ursula pulled the sleeves up over Silvia's arms and laced them to her bodice. Then she handed Silvia her mirror and picked up brush and comb. "If it please you, madam, I have spoken with Lady Helena's maid, and she has instructed me in the ways that the ladies of Verona arrange their hair."
Silvia examined her hair in the mirror. It was long enough, though rather a reddish blonde, and would be sleek after Ursula had brushed it. "Ay," she said after a moment. "I should enjoy seeing myself in the style of this city. Let my adventures begin!"
Ursula laughed. "Have you not had enough of adventure being captured by outlaws in the forest, my lady?"
"That was not an adventure, for I was terrified the whole time," Silvia replied. She adjusted her grip on the mirror, and nodded to Ursula to begin her work.
Silvia descended the stairs feeling decidedly regal in her new hairstyle, in which a coil of braids sat upon her crown as in Milan, but was softened by a veil of loose hair descending below it to curl about her shoulders. The first person she saw was Countess Helena, who was attended by her maid and a small, toddling child. Helena clapped her hands in delight when she saw Silvia.
"Oh, thou hast adopted our new fashion!" she cried. "It becomes thee marvelous well. See what a little sleep may do; thou art as fair as the morning and twice as radiant." She leaned over and kissed Silvia's cheeks in welcome.
Silvia thanked her, then glanced down at the toddler. It frowned at her and tried to hide behind Helena's skirts. Helena laughed, and scooped the child into her arms. "Fear not, Dionisio," she said. "Hast thou no kind greeting for thy new Aunt Silvia?" She smiled at Silvia. "This is my son, Dionisio. He is shy and ware of thee, but I think that will pass in time."
Silvia waved her hand at Dionisio. "He is lovely, so pink and healthy. I should like to give Valentine such a son."
"I am sure that thou wilt do so," Helena said. "Wilt thou come now and greet thy new family?"
She led Silvia through the corridors to a day salon. Valentine was there, accompanied by three other gentlemen whom Silvia remembered vaguely from the night before. "Where are Proteus and Julia?" she asked.
"They have gone to their families," Helena said. "They are to be married in a ceremony along with thee and Valentine." She gave Silvia a little push, and Silvia stepped into the day salon and curtsied.
Valentine immediately rushed to her side. "Nay, gentle Silvia, rise, for thou art in the company of my kinsmen." His smile lit the room, as it had done from the first moment she had laid eyes on him at her father's court in Milan, and he took her hand and kissed it with such reverence that she might have been the Pope himself.
The oldest of the accompanying gentlemen stepped forward and gave a gallant bow. "I am County Paris, cousin to Valentine," he said. "I look forward to welcoming thee into our home." At the door, Dionisio squirmed in Helena's arms, and Paris excused himself. Silvia noted the resemblance and realized that Paris must be Dionisio's father and therefore Helena's husband. That was good to know. She turned her attention back to Valentine.
Valentine paused, and his cheeks flushed. Silvia's heart melted at that blush, as it had done since the first time she had laid eyes on him, and she smiled. Encouraged, Valentine indicated the other two young gentlemen in the room. "I would present to thee Mercutio and Benvolio, my brothers."
Both men bowed to her in turn. Mercutio was the taller, and resembled Valentine in many points, though Silvia was relieved to see that she had chosen the handsomer of the two. Benvolio did not resemble either one in the slightest, and was dark where they were fair. Silvia puzzled over this for a moment, and then recalled a lord in her father's court who had gotten a serving maid with child and had raised the bastard girl along with his legitimate sons and daughters when the maid had not survived the birth. Having had all of those children as playmates, Silvia felt that she understood the particular trials of bastardy, and resolved to treat Benvolio with particular kindness.
"Thou art welcome here, Lady Silvia," Mercutio said, "and it will be my joy to name thee sister. I am sure that thy charms must be potent, to inspire one so retiring as Valentine to the heroic deeds that he has recounted to us."
He winked at Valentine as he spoke, and Valentine's blush grew fiercer. "Perhaps I spoke rashly," he murmured, and Mercutio, Benvolio, and Silvia all had to laugh. "I did dwell with a band of outlaws," Valentine said, "and they did declare me their chief, for a brief while."
"That much we know to be true," Benvolio replied. "The Duke of Milan's pardon of those men will cause many letters to be sent between the Duke of Mantua and our Prince. I do not envy the secretaries."
"Another joy that the Hospital has brought to thy life," Mercutio said. To Silvia, he added, "Benvolio and I have charge of the Innocents' Hospital, a home where the orphans and undesired children of this city may find refuge. We will show it to thee when thou hast accustomed thyself to thy new home."
Silvia smiled. "I should enjoy that," she said. It struck her that, once she was a married lady, it would be appropriate to become patroness of some charitable organization. She thought back to her bastard playmate Agnella, whose kindly disposition she saw mirrored in Benvolio's easy laugh, and decided that she would be pleased to give her favor to a place that gave shelter to children of unfortunate birth.
The Duke of Milan declared the Veronese court a fine home for his daughter, and spent several hours closeted with the Prince, emerging with an agreement that named Valentine temporary heir to the city until such time as Silvia produced a son, who would then become heir, with Valentine to serve as regent should the necessity arise. Silvia worried that Valentine would feel himself slighted by this arrangement, but he quickly put her fears to rest. "I do not desire to rule a city," he explained, "and I shall be happy to hand that task to a son . . . whom I am eager to create," he added quietly, his blush accentuating his shining blue eyes.
Silvia turned modestly away as her own face burned. "So long as thou dost not feel thyself deprived," she murmured.
"I count myself a wealthy man," Valentine assured her, "for all that I have ever desired in life, I have in thee."
Something melted pleasurably inside Silvia at those words, and she took Valentine's face in her hands to kiss him as thoroughly as maidenly modesty would allow. Valentine shifted against her, and they might have tossed decorum to the four winds had Ursula not appeared in the doorway.
"Beg pardon, madam," she said, "but the seamstress has arrived to attend to the final details of your wedding attire."
With a sigh and a final kiss, Silvia disengaged herself from Valentine and followed Ursula to her chamber.