A/N: Wow! I truly wasn't expecting this fic to be so welcomed! Thanks so much to all who read and reviewed Act I. If you are new to Shakespeare, or this play in particular, I strongly encourage you to watch the Kenneth Brannaugh version of the play. I was happy to see the movie is available in its entirety, free on youtube. Otherwise, you owe it to yourself to rent or buy it. It is really wonderful, and easy to follow, even if you are afraid of Shakespeare speak, and you will see why it inspired me to write this version.
This Act was a challenge to write. I'm trying to follow the basic plot of the play, but I didn't want to totally rip off Shakespeare, so the banter and other dialogue is all mine (perhaps only with a minor slip or two). I hope you like what I did here, and that Shakespeare forgives my liberties with his brilliant work.
Act II, Scene i.
Lanterns hung in the trees in the gardens behind the Minelli palazzo, and lively music floated on the warm night air. Masked couples laughed and danced in the moonlight, and the wine was sweet and plentiful.
Teresa didn't like masks on principle, so didn't wear one, but she enjoyed guessing the identities of the party-goers as they arrived at her uncle's home, and she did like to dance when asked. But as first the prince asked Grace, then her uncle found a partner, Teresa found herself alone amidst the crowd. She laughed and clapped to the music on the outskirts of the patio, until she heard a strange, obviously disguised voice behind her.
"You are not dancing, my lady, so I will risk making an ass of myself and ask if you would do the honor of dancing with me."
She turned to see a man dressed in a soldier's uniform beneath a dark cloak and wearing the full mask of a long-eared donkey. She laughed and covered her mouth, but then remembered herself and curtsied.
"Thank you, Signor. The honor is mine."
As the masked man took her hand, she felt the familiar stirring of feeling that had arrested her long ago, but for the fun to be had of it, she vowed to herself not to let on she knew him. As he twirled her round in a lively jig, he said in his high-pitched voice:
"You are Teresa, niece of Don Minelli, are you not?"
"Yes, Signor," she said with a wry grin.
"Aw, I have heard of you, Lady Teresa. I hear you disdain the company of men and slice any suitors to ribbons with your sharp tongue. Because of this, you will never find a husband. Indeed, you are thinking of devoting your life to God and joining a nunnery."
Teresa stopped in the middle of the dancers to stare into her partner's ridiculous jackass face, narrowly avoiding Grace and the prince as they twirled past. "And who related these disparaging and completely false words? Signor Jane, I presume?"
"Who is he?" asked the masked man, taking her hands again to pull her back into the throng of dancers.
"Who is he?" she repeated. "Why, he is the most vile, wretched excuse for a man you will ever encounter! He eats young maids for breakfast and old ladies for lunch. He has the heart of a tomcat and the mind of an ape. He thinks he has the respect of the men for this, yet he follows the prince around like a pup, waiting for him to throw some unwanted scraps his way. It would make me laugh were it not so pathetic."
"Oh, really," said Signor Jackass coldly.
"Yes," continued Teresa, his comments about the nunnery still burning. "And everyone laughs at him behind his back, but he fails to see that he is nothing more than an amusement to all, the prince's jester—"
"I will tell him you said this, my lady, should I ever have the misfortune of meeting such a buffoon," said her partner, cutting her off as the music ended. He bowed stiffly and left her at the edge of the excitement, just where he had found her.
Teresa schooled her features, trying desperately not to cry, and then her eyes were drawn to her cousin, Grace, deep in conversation with the lion-masked prince on the other side of the throng, and her heart lifted a little. At least her cousin was on the verge of happiness.
Scene ii.
Near a table laden with fruit, cheese, sweetmeats, and wine, Jane removed his donkey mask, tossing it over the nearby hedgerow in disgust, then wiped the sweat from his brow with the edge of his cloak. He grabbed a goblet and drained it in one gulp.
He had thought the mask a perfect disguise, the height of irony, after Wainwright had told him Teresa had referred to him as Signor Jackass. That she had recognized him immediately he had no doubt, which made her piled-on set-downs feel even heavier upon him. With his mask on, she had felt freer to tell him her true thoughts on his character. Not that he hadn't heard insults from her in a similar vein over the two years since their long-ago interlude beneath her uncle's fig tree. And yet, when he'd held her hand, a jolt of awareness had passed through him like lightning, and he hadn't been able to keep his gaze off her enchanting green eyes.
A nervous voice interrupted his troubling thoughts.
"Jane," said Rigsby from behind a feline mask. "Look at the prince. He's laughing and talking with my Grace. Do you think she will accept my suit?"
Kimball stood beside his friend, his own face that of Reynard, the fox.
"You are over-thinking this," said Kimball tiredly, as if he had said that phrase a hundred times.
At that moment, Don Mancini arrived at the buffet table. He poured himself a goblet of wine.
"I heard that my brother will soon have a princess at his side," he said, nodding toward the prince. "Look, he's on his knee before Don Minelli's daughter!"
"But—" Rigsby began, stunned at what he was witnessing with his own eyes.
"Nonsense," said Jane, popping a grape into his mouth. "He's speaking on your behalf, remember?" He shot Don Mancini an annoyed look, wondering if the man was purposefully upsetting the gullible young Rigsby. "The prince is not one to play another man false, let alone to break a promise."
"Ha," muttered Don Mancini. "I heard him myself tell Grace he was in love with her."
"You are most likely right," said Rigsby in deep despair. "I waited too long to tell her my feelings, and the prince is a longtime friend of Don Minelli—"
"You'd do well to try to talk her out of a marriage to the prince," said Don Mancini. "A girl like her is not up to the task of marrying so far above her station."
"Forgive me, Don Mancini," said Jane coolly. "But I fear you've misunderstood the prince's intentions entirely."
Don Mancini shrugged. "Believe what you will—I heard him talk of love with my own ears. And you should well know yourself, Jane, women are deceivers all—they drink deception from their own mother's breast." He inclined his head to Jane, RIgbsy, and Kimball. "Gentlemen, if you will excuse me…"
Then he left, goblet in hand, leaving a trail of doubt behind him.
Rigsby removed his mask, his true expression completely belying the grinning cat of his false face. "I knew I should have allowed the prince to speak for me. He is more powerful, wealthier—dear God, she will be his princess!"
"Don't listen to Don Mancini," said Kimball. "He has it in for his brother, and is still obviously jealous of him. He is trying to make trouble. Look, here comes the prince himself, with Grace's hand in his."
"He is coming to rub my nose in it. I'm not going to stay and listen to this."
Despite Jane and Kimball's attempts to get him to stay, the young man ran away from the well-lit patio, out into the darkness of the surrounding orchards.
"Where did Rigsby run off to?" asked Prince Walter. He grinned and kissed Grace's hand. "I have won him his prize."
"Don Mancini has filled his head with dark thoughts, my lord," replied Kimball.
Grace's smiling lips turned to a frown. "Has he changed his mind about me?"
"No, of course not," said Jane with a grin. "As a matter of fact, I think it best you go find him and tell him yourself what you and the prince spoke of. He'll be standing just outside the reach of the light, despairing alone beneath a willow tree, but not far enough that he can't see your every move."
Grace looked at the prince. "Do you think it's wise I go alone?"
"While I had hoped to give him the joyous news of your acceptance, I think it would come much happier from your sweet lips, my dear."
Grace blushed. "All right then, my lord, I'll go. And I thank you!"
She was off in a whirl of white skirts and flowing red hair.
Jane shook his head. "Love causes nothing but pain, in my experience. Why on earth would anyone bother with it?"
Prince Walter chuckled. "Lady Teresa would likely agree with you. Why, she only recently told me the man she danced with this night made some very disparaging remarks toward her. Any idea who that could be? She did say he was a jackass, in both manner and form. She was so angry when telling her cousin, I almost felt compelled to call the blackguard out." But the prince seemed more amused than insulted on Teresa's behalf.
Jane felt the hair on his nape bristle with his anger. "She is one to talk. When she opens her mouth, arrows tipped in poison shoot out, hitting every man in her path in the groin, and all they can do is stand there, paralyzed, and take it in stride. She had the gall to tell me I am a fool, a laughingstock, when everyone knows that Lady Teresa will never find a husband with the attitude of a termagant such as she has. I pity the man who ever falls at her feet over her beauty, only to be stomped on like so many grapes while he's down there. She'll not make wine of me, that's for sure."
Prince Walter only grinned knowingly at the man's diatribe. "Look, Jane, here comes the lady now."
"Oh, please, my lord," begged Jane. "Send me on some mission so that I might escape emasculation. I'll gladly climb high Olympus to retrieve a handful of snow to chill your wine. I'll wade through the fires of Vesuvius to forge your horse a new shoe. Please," he said, sounding almost panicked the closer Teresa came, "is there nowhere you can send me that is safer? Or come along with me. You should have a care for your own manhood, sire, for you'll be wanting heirs one day."
The prince laughed. "I need you here with me, my friend. Courage, man. I've never seen you this fearful, not even in the heat of battle."
"Believe me, sir, a Spaniard's blade is no match for the sharpness of Lady Sarcasm's tongue, or if not that, she'll twist a man's words into a knot and beat him about the head with them. I fear I've endured enough abuse this night, my lord; I bid you farewell."
Teresa slowed her progress upon seeing Jane in animated conversation with the prince, but as she neared, he left abruptly, leaving no doubt that he was no more desirous of her company than she was of his.
"Signor Jane seemed anxious to leave the party."
"Indeed, my lady. It seems you are to blame for that. You've put him in his place, but good."
She smiled, though it did not reach her eyes. "Were I to truly put him in his place, my lord, he would be on an island full of lepers—none of them women, mind you—that would not be fair to them. Or perhaps a monastery, where he would be forced to swear off the fairer sex. What better way for Signor Jane to serve God and womankind?"
"You are much too hard on Signor Jane, I think."
"Rather that than he be too hard on me," she quipped, but grinned to ease the implied vulgarity of her words. "But excuse me, my lord—have you seen my cousin? After you secured her hand for Rigsby, she disappeared."
"I imagine it won't be for long," said the prince. "See, here she comes."
Rigsby and Grace emerged into the light of the lanterns, holding hands, and sporting disheveled hair and lips swollen from kissing. Smiles lit their faces as they beheld the prince and Teresa, and then Don Minelli, who joined them in welcome.
"Thank you, my lord," said Rigsby happily. "I'm sorry I ever doubted you. Dear Grace has happily agreed to be my wife." He turned to her father. "If you also approve, Don Minelli."
The don embraced the young couple in turn. "But of course! You both have my blessing! Daughter, you have made me most proud in your choice of a husband. He will make me a fine son, of that I have no doubt!"
"Thank you, sir," said Rigsby.
"But Grace, have you nothing to say in this?" asked Teresa. "You show only a silly grin in response to these life-altering decisions made for you."
Grace blushed, looking down shyly. "I will happily call him husband, Father. And Teresa, you should try finding one yourself, for truly, I have found nothing more wonderful in life than true love." She squeezed the hand of her betrothed, looking up into his blue eyes, shining down on her with intense devotion.
"But I'm afraid you've found the last of the perfect husbands, Grace. The world is completely bereft of them now."
"You could have me," suggested Prince Walter. There was a wry rejoinder on the tip of her tongue, but when she looked up at him, she saw that he was at least partly serious.
"Oh, your Grace, pardon me, but you must have had too much wine. You don't want me; I'm not good enough to decorate your arm. I am too plainly spoken, and would be a constant source of embarrassment for you, and that would sadden both of us."
"I would hate to see you sad, my lady, for you were born to be merry and to feel free to speak your mind."
"Thank you, my lord, but I'm afraid even should I desire a husband, that is a trait that would not lend itself to procuring one."
"Don't give up, dear Teresa; one never knows what the stars might hold."
"They hold the heavens, my lord, and I will be happy to arrive there one day, still happily a maid."
She smiled at him for his kindness, her dimples flashing in spite of her melancholy. She turned to the rest of her kinsmen. "Good night, my lord. Good night, my uncle and cousins. My dancing slippers must now dance me into a soft bed."
Everyone smiled and waved as they watched her move gracefully through the dancers and into the doors of the palazzo.
"She will make a fine wife for Jane, I know it," said the prince.
"I still do not see how you will manage that," said Don Minelli. "Both are bound and determined to avoid the marriage trap."
"Then we shall build a better trap," the prince countered. "I have come up with a perfect plan. You, dear Grace, will tell Lady Teresa of Jane's abiding, unrequited love."
Grace gasped at the outright falsehood, but the prince just laughed. "It will be for the best, I promise, for at the same time, Rigsby, Kimball and I will convince Jane that Teresa merely hides her love because she is still nursing wounds he inflicted long ago. She lashes out at him only to hide her pain."
"I believe that is actually true, my lord," added Grace.
"And you might not be too far off about Jane," said Kimball, suddenly seeing the truth that had been right beneath their noses. The small party looked on one another in dawning realization. Rigsby, however, was still skeptical.
"It will be like tying the tails of two angry tigers," he cautioned.
"But if it is true love," said his fiancé, holding fast to his arm, "then it is meant to be."
Rigsby smiled at Grace, and kissed her sweet lips for all the world to see.
Scene iii.
Beneath a blood orange tree, hidden from the lights of the party, Craig brought his mouth down once more upon the tempting lips of Summer, Lady Grace's handmaiden. He pinned her body to the trunk of the tree, his hands wandering over her gently curved body.
"When will you give in to what you know you want?" he whispered huskily in her ear.
She chuckled softly, allowing a few liberties, but holding out in the hope that this might be true love at last. Summer vowed she wouldn't make the same mistakes she had again and again in the past—giving herself completely to boys who were only using her for their own needs. She was not in love with Craig, but she thought that she could be, and the ardent way he kissed her seemed somehow different from the fumbling youths of her experience. Craig was a man, a soldier with the prince's army. If she held him off long enough, perhaps he would make her an offer before he went back to the wars, and she would find herself mistress of her own palazzo one day.
"No," she said, gasping as she felt the strings at her bodice loosening beneath his deft fingers. She pushed him gently away, both of them panting passionately. "It is getting late, and Lady Grace will be looking for me to help her prepare for bed."
"Someday soon, I hope you will allow me that same liberty," said Craig, a wicked gleam in his eye.
She smiled. "That remains to be seen, Signor."
And before he could reach for her again, tempting her further with his kisses, she ran barefoot through the orchard, back to the beckoning music. Her eyes scanned the crowd, and her pounding heart clenched in dismay to see that her mistress had already gone. She brushed past a group of soldiers, smiling warmly, when one of them accidently stepped on the hem of her skirts. She would have fallen, had not one of them caught her in time.
"Pardon me," said the owner of the offending boot. He smiled and lifted his foot, freeing her. And then she looked into the dark, fathomless eyes of the man who had saved her from the embarrassment of sprawling on the floor.
"Thank you, Signor," she said breathlessly, as he righted her with confident hands.
Her fingers slid down his arms, feeling the heavy muscles beneath his soldier's uniform. "Oh," she said, eyes widening. "What a strong man you are!"
The men around them chuckled with good humor, and Summer blushed, something she hadn't done in years. She smiled in thanks at the unsmiling man who still held her, but in his eyes she saw the faintest glimmer of humor. Impulsively, she kissed his cheek before slipping from his firm grasp and skipping away like a fairy amidst lantern fireflies.
Kimball watched her go, feeling as if someone had struck him in the heart. His eyes followed her until her silvery white head disappeared into the crowd, the scent of oranges lingering in her wake.
Scene iv.
"Have you heard the news, my lord," asked Craig, upon returning to Don Mancini's rooms. "Rigsby will indeed marry Don Minelli's daughter in a week's time."
"That doesn't give us much time," replied the prince's brother. "We must spoil this match and embarrass the prince at the same time, but how?"
"I spy a way," ventured Craig. "You remember my mentioning Summer, Lady Grace's handmaiden?"
"Yes, a lovely little trollop, if I recall from our last visit to Messina."
Craig laughed. "Yes, that is the one. She is now less free with her favors, perhaps hoping for a marriage proposal from me, but whores tend to fall back on their old ways, and I predict she'll warm my bed before the week is up."
"What does this have to do with spoiling Rigsby's marriage?" said the don impatiently.
"I will arrange to meet with Summer in Grace's rooms, the candles unlit, and make love to her at the window. Knowing her, she will find it amusing to pretend that she is Grace, and I am the smitten Rigsby, come to court her in the cover of night. Meanwhile, you go to Prince Walter. Tell him he has made a mistake in matching Rigsby to a lady he assumes is a virgin. Tell him you have proof of this, and then lead him and the unfortunate Rigsby to spy on Grace's room."
"Aw," said Don Mancini, impressed with the brilliance of the plan. "This will surely bring dishonor to my hated brother, and disrupt the wedding completely. Indeed it will set the entire household on its ear, and any trouble I can cause to that disgustingly merry lot will be sweet revenge indeed."
"Then you wish for me to proceed in this?"
"Yes, my friend. As soon as you can make the arrangements, let me know, and we will set the wheels in motion. Should you accomplish this feat, your reward will be a handsome one."
"I promise to succeed at all costs, my lord," said Craig with a bow.
A/N: Yes, the plot thickens. In Shakespeare's play, there is much more to Act II, but I will continue those events in Act III. Since I am leaving out a considerable amount, it should all conclude rightly by Act V. I hope you are enjoying this, and that you kindly leave a review to tell me what you think.
