Here in a stately chateau situated in the countryside of Belmont is a beautiful young woman between the ages of 18 and 21. She is walking to her lady's chambers, where we find her, the mentioned place of which, she is to assist the mistress in choosing a ball gown.
"What say you, Nerissa?" The mistress Portia says admiring herself at the mirror. But the girl remained silent, she stood upon the well-polished floor unable to respond, she had been in a daze for the past couple of days.
"Nerissa?" the voice again came upon her.
"Y-yes?" her eyes fluttered, escaping her sudden reverie.
"What say you?" the mistress held up a selection of gowns in both of her hands.
"Green."
The lady once again put on the forest green, satin ball gown she's been comparing with the yellow and examined herself once more.
"Perfect! You've always had a taste in fashion, Nerissa." Portia chuckled.
Just then the door opened to reveal a dashing Lord Bassanio and his good friend, Signor Gratiano. Both had just returned from their journey to Venice, in order to inspect the growth of income there. "My darling!" Portia greets her husband with a loving kiss.
"Love?" Gratiano walks over to Nerissa, holding her hand and rubbing her arms. She's staring at oblivion again. A single touch removes all her worries. He's now stroking her cheek, and suddenly…she couldn't take it any longer, she throws her arms around his neck, succumbs to him and kisses him with all the passion inside her, pouring it all into one kiss. Not very long after which, she parts, panting. "Don't you ever leave me again, do you understand?" He is taken aback. "Ay me," he says, "Sometimes words aren't enough." and then he swoops her into his arms, spinning 'til unsteady, they collapse on the marbled floor unable to restrain their laughter.
"Ehem." the mistress Portia is staring at them with quite a stern look. They look at each other and realize that they were supposed to maintain decency in front of her lady and his lord. In an instant they're up on their feet, both red with embarrassment.
"Terribly sorry, madam." Nerissa finally says with all the poise she could muster.
"I don't blame you, Nerissa. After all, it's not your fault you got carried away." Bassanio pipes up.
"And you're saying it's my fault?" Gratiano begins; a retort worthy of his garrulous self.
"Yes!" Nerissa interjects, and before her husband could utter another word, replying "Exactly who was the one who touched me?"
"I did."
"Right," she gives a small scratch on her head, "And who was the one who swooped me into their arms and spun 'til unstable?"
"Me."
"Mmm…so as far I'm concerned, I did nothing…whatsoever."
"You didn't do 'nothing', you were crestfallen."
"Crestfallen?" she shifts her hip to one side with a brow raised to a perfect arch.
"If you weren't crestfallen I shouldn't have—"
Nerissa laughs, a melodious song to Gratiano's ears. "Oh, darling. It's in your nature."
"And my nature is a fallacy, now is it?"
She thinks for a second and then a smirk spreads across her lovely features "Well frankly…yes."
"Why?"
"Because in simple terms, it's in your nature to have me swooning over you when I'm meant to be prompt and composed."
"Well by Jove, I do suppose, it is." Gratiano replies, defeated.
Many days pass, and Gratiano tells his wife about his plan of moving to another house in Tuscany. Nerissa was overjoyed, but still couldn't escape the feeling of worry and the fact that it's been haunting her for ages.
It wasn't long however, when she asked for a resignation, informing her mistress, friend and in more ways than one, sister, that they've been together enough to nurture them both into women brave enough to face the world and its trials.
It is now here, under the Tuscan sun that Nerissa and Gratiano lay on the grass, draped in bliss and bound in affection. It was in the middle of this playful banter that Nerissa got the same sensation creeping onto her spine again, making her shiver. She realized then, she had to tell him.
"Gratiano?" she turned to face him, her face etched with seriousness.
"Yes, love? Something the matter?"
She tucked a strand of chestnut hair behind her ear, and resumed talking.
"Do you love me?" she peered into his eyes seeing worry embedded in them.
Why? Why did I marry him? Why did he marry me? Was he was after money? But then he would have to be a complete idiot in order to have been after her money, especially since she didn't have much. Or maybe it was because of her mistress…beautiful and wealthy; while she, unlike her lady, was inferior. She was but an easy target.
How? How could she have been blind? He wooed her, amassed promises and vows of affection, willing her to be his. It was new and exhilarating, most notably since it was always Portia. Suitors would cross uncrossable seas, emerge from unemergable feats, and think of unthinkable ways to win the beauteous maiden's heart, each suitor a newfangled method along with the unforgettable caskets. And what was she to all these? She was a sculpture, standing beside her mistress, remarking and laughing at the suitors, but Gratiano was different. He was handsome, and charming and humorous with wonderful intentions; respecting her wishes…he wanted her. Or at least, that was what she thought.
"Yes, by Jove, how dare you ask a question of the sort? Haven't I told you many times, I do?"
"But do you, really?"
"Nerissa, I—"
"Don't avoid the question. Be honest, look me in the eyes and tell me the truth. Tell me what you really feel."
"Nerissa, I never want to hurt you--"
"So you're in love with another woman?"
"Nerissa—"
"I should've known."
"Could you—"
"I was blinded by you."
"Nerissa, stop! What is all this rubbish you're blathering about? 'You're in love with another woman', 'I should've known', 'I was blinded by you'? What was that supposed to be? Lyrics to a song? What are you talking about?"
And then…she succumbs to her own emotions, she disintegrates, sobbing frantically, and like the man he always was since the very beginning, he takes her in his arms, whispering words of comfort telling her never to lose faith in him, and like all troubles should end, he cups her face, brushes the tears off her cheeks and kisses the fair maiden in his arms, parting with a smile he reserves only for her. It was in his kisses that Nerissa confirmed true love to be long-established in her own heart, never to battle nature with it ever again.