Hero's heart patters a skittish beat as she walks with Don Pedro through the hedgerows. She likes the Prince; he is affable and has treated her with kindness. But she is concerned this is another attempt to press Claudio's suit.
She hoped the matter was closed, as Claudio has made little effort himself to win her favour. He keeps at a solemn distance and whenever they speak his answers are brusque. The only passion she has glimpsed in him is his disdain for John. She does not know if he is shy or disinterested, but he watches her like a hawk does a mouse. It makes her skin prickle and she avoids meeting his gaze.
"Your cousin is a most pleasant-spirited lady," Don Pedro says, and Hero's thoughts stumble.
Beatrice. He has led her aside to speak of Beatrice?
Hope and confusion collide within her and she answers with care. "Truth, she treats life as a jest and laughs often. I think her veins must run with sunlight, for she brightens a room whenever she enters."
Don Pedro hums. "Indeed, she has dazzled a few into giving up their hearts. Yet she cannot endure to hear tell of a husband."
Hero pauses, wondering if the Prince is among those who have lost their hearts to her cousin. How would Beatrice react to such a thing?
"No, those who beseech her are liable to be burned," Hero cautions. "I have yet to meet a man who could bear the scorch of her wit."
"Have you not?" Don Pedro's eyes twinkle. "She were an excellent wife for Benedick."
"Ooohhh!" Hero expels a rush of air, then hurries to school her expression. "Think you so? I fear they are more for the battlefield than the altar."
The Prince's smile does not dim. "They are like children tugging on each other's curls. They would not vex one another so great, if they did not care as much for the other's opinion."
"My lord, our minds are alike. But what thought compelled you to speak of this with me in private?
"You are shrewd, lady," he grins, showing his teeth. "I intend to undertake one of Hercules' labours; which is, to bring Signior Benedick and the Lady Beatrice into a mountain of affection, the one with the other. I would fain have it a match, and I doubt not but to fashion it, if you will but minister such assistance as I shall give you direction."
Hero claps her hands. "Oooh, an excellent undertaking! But no small feat. What is it you propose?"
Don Pedro leans in conspiratorially. "I will teach you how to humour your cousin, that she shall fall in love with Benedick. And I will so practise on Benedick that, in despite of his quick wit and his queasy stomach, he shall fall in love with Beatrice."
Hero hums. "It is deception then?"
"Does that weigh on your honest heart?"
Hero reflects on this. She feels a modicum of guilt for toying with her cousin and forcing the matter when Beatrice bid her leave it alone. But, she knows her cousin. She is stubborn to a fault. Unwilling to bend, even at a cost to herself. Hero loves Beatrice, and she wants to see her happy. Despite Beatrice's denial, Hero is certain Benedick is the key to this (soulmate or not).
"I will do any modest office, my lord, to help my cousin to a good husband," Hero answers, her resolve formed.
Don Pedro takes her hand and kisses it, a swift, familial gesture, squeezing her fingers. "If we can do this, Cupid is no longer an archer. His glory shall be ours! For we are the only love-gods."
Hero laughs, his jubilance contagious. "We should speak to my father. He will help."
"Ah, very wise, my dear Psyche." He twirls her, making her giggle. "Let us go in together, and I will tell you my drift."
:-x-:
Hero and Don Pedro return from their walk wearing giddy smiles, and are quick to usher Leonato inside for a private word. Claudio drains his cup and reaches for the bottle.
So, that is it. The offer has been made and the lady accepted. She belongs to another now, a prince.
Claudio refills his cup, blood-red wine sloshing over onto his sleeve. He gulps it down, the grape bitter on his tongue.
"Congratulations, sweet prince," Claudio sneers. "Though you won by false dice. I hope your prize be true. For I know too well how fickle is fair."
With this said, he pours himself another drink.
:-x-:
Hero lies in bed, hand cradled to her chest, replaying her moment in the garden with John. The memory of his words warms her through and she smiles into her pillow.
On the other side of the house, John does the same.
:-x-:
Pedro corners Claudio the next morning. "Good friend, I require your aid with a most noble venture."
Claudio had not attended breakfast, though in truth he was not much missed. He has withdrawn into himself of late, becoming sullen and reclusive. Benedick joked the other evening that he had mistaken Claudio's dour face for John the Bastard's. The quip had not gone over well and Pedro is not sure they have spoken to each other since. But Benedick and Claudio are good friends and Pedro knows the latter would move mountains to assist the former, even when the mountain in question is Benedick's own stubborn heart.
"What service can I render you, my lord?"
At this toneless response Pedro falters, his smile remaining in place.
Shadows bruise Claudio's eyes, his mouth a grim line. Pedro suspects the change in his mood is a result of the recent conflict. The youth performed valiantly on the field, vanquishing many foes. Although they were traitors, their deaths must weigh on his conscience. Pedro knows they do his own. But there is no place for such shades in sun-soaked Messina, with the constant flow of wine and cheer. They are here to relax and enjoy themselves, and Pedro's latest scheme is certain to bear forth a cornucopia of entertainment.
"We must draw a veil over our bullish friend Benedick's eyes, in order to open them to the wonder before him. I have a plan. We shall lead Benedick into believing Beatrice does pine for him. And for Beatrice, we shall have her thinking Benedick is in a consumption over her. Then, flattered by the other's favour, they shall look upon them in a warmer light and so form an attachment." He clasps Claudio's shoulder. "What say you? Will you take part in this trick?"
He expects Claudio to eagerly agree, but the youth surprises him again as the creases tighten around his mouth. "Love should not be won with tricks or disguises."
Wrong-footed, Pedro chuckles, "Come now, oh virtuous count, there is no malice in it. We may take some amusement, but by the end of it our dear friend shall be married and singing our thanks."
"You mean, you will not take the lady for yourself?"
Pedro draws back, the accusation shuddering through him like a physical blow. He shifts, uneased by the intensity of Claudio's gaze. It is true at one point he had been enamoured of Beatrice's merry heart and bold wit — but it was not to be. He had not realised his infatuation had been observed and answers with tact.
"Though my past actions discredit me, I do swear on Aragon's throne that I am sincere in my friendship and mean to honour Benedick and Lady Beatrice both."
Claudio regards him for a long moment, then his face falls and his shoulders sink. "Forgive me, my prince. I should not have spoken such. You are an honourable soul and will do right by your friends."
Pedro's head spins with the shift in the other man's moods. "Peace, Claudio. There is no harm. Then… will you assist?"
Claudio sucks in a deep breath and shakes his head. "I shall not reveal you, but nor will I aid you in deceiving another."
Disappointed, Pedro changes tack. "Lady Hero is excited for the plan; she is keen to assist her cousin to a good husband."
Claudio turns away, his jaw clenching. "How good you both are to share your happiness with others. I wish you joy."
He goes to leave but Pedro catches his arm, searching his features. "Are you… do you still covet the lady?"
Claudio's face turns pained and Pedro's concern spikes. "No… I… I accept her choice."
Pedro's brow furrows, mind racing. He had not realised Hero had rebuffed the count. She is such a sweet and sensible woman, he never anticipated her rejecting as excellent a man as Claudio. But it explains why the poor, downtrodden youth has been in such ill temper; he is nursing a broken heart.
"I am sorry. Truly, Claudio. You deserve better."
Claudio winces and extracts his arm. "Think no more of it, my lord. I do wish you every happiness. Sincerely."
Pedro frowns, confused by this speech, but nods his appreciation. Claudio is quick to depart.
Pedro stares after him in pensive reflection. He is sorry for his lovelorn friend; he truly thought Hero and Claudio a good match. If he succeeds in uniting Benedick and Beatrice, Pedro vows he will dedicate all his energies to finding Claudio the perfect wife.
:-x-:
Pedro has a notion to chastise Hero for turning down as worthy a suit as Claudio. He knows she harbours hopes for her soulmate, and seemed adamant that Claudio were not he — but to reject a noble man for a fantasy makes Pedro wonder if he misjudged her wisdom. Certainly, her father would not approve. Not that Pedro intends to taddle to Leonato. But he is disappointed in the lady.
He had been envisioning future celebrations in Aragon, with Claudio and Hero on one side of the banquet table, and Benedick and Beatrice on the other, while he sat at the head, the five friends laughing together. That image now fades and Pedro halts as he takes in the scene before him.
Hero twirls in a cotton dress, laughing along to something John has said. Pedro stares. His brother's focus is fixed on Hero, mouth crooked in what — unless Pedro is hallucinating — appears to be a genuine smile. Not one of those polite slithers, John sometimes musters, but an actual smile, full of mirth and admiration.
Pedro blinks, glancing around to see if anyone else is witness to this strange vision. But no, they are alone. He looks again; the pair orbit one another like the Sun and Earth, at ease in the other's company. Pedro has never seen his brother looking so relaxed… so happy.
He strides across to them. Pedro sees the instant John spies him, body tensing, his smile vanishing behind a steel front, and Pedro feels a twinge of regret amongst a coil of suspicion.
Hero, at least, is pleased to see him, calling out a cheerful "Good day, my lord."
"Good day, my lady. John." He nods to his brother, who returns the gesture with evident distaste — as if he does not owe his life to Pedro. "May I have a word with you, lady?"
"Of course. About Benedick and Beatrice?" Before Pedro can prevent her, she whirls to John. "We are plotting."
She announces this with such conspiratorial glee, cheeks dimpled in a smile, that Pedro has to assume no one has ever embroiled her in mischief before. And for good reason, as she has just revealed them to a man who has earned his reputation as untrustworthy.
"I hoped to keep the matter between us," Pedro murmurs, rubbing his forehead.
"Oh…" Hero deflates, glancing at John. "But what harm is there in John knowing? He may be able to help."
John preens, a glimmer of interest peaking through his aloof façade.
Pedro does not miss Hero's use of his first name. When did they become so familiar?
With deliberate nonchalance, John slides his hands into his pockets. "I do have experience in plotting."
Pedro grits his teeth. "Yes. I remember. Strangely, that does not entice me to trust you."
The corner of John's mouth quirks and Pedro is amazed at his gall. But also… this is the most animate he has seen his brother since battle, expressing emotions other than rage and hate. It reminds him of a different time, a headstrong youth.
"I trust John."
Pedro's gaze snaps to Hero. Her voice is soft but her words fork lightning. John stares at her too, his mask fracturing, and Pedro can almost hear the thunder through his brother's heart. Perhaps Benedick was onto something when he joked that Claudio and John have traded places. In this moment, Pedro swears his brother is in love with Hero.
John regains composure and fixes his brother with such an irritatingly smug look that Pedro wonders if he imagined the slip.
"We believe Beatrice and Benedick's sparring is a disguise for deeper tender feelings," Hero explains to John, who scoffs.
"That is no secret."
"Yes, but we will force those feelings to the surface by convincing them that one is enamoured of the other and suffering for their unrequited love. But here is the true cleverness—"
Hero's hands flitter as she outlines their plan to John. While she speaks, the two of them gravitate closer, leaving Pedro feeling like a chaperone, unsure if he should get in-between. He is agog at how comfortable they appear with one another. He has never seen John this at ease with anyone, or anyone this at ease with John. How has Pedro existed in such a dreamlike state these past weeks not to have recognised the fondness developing between the pair? That he should awaken and find the wind so changed?
Is John why Hero rejected Claudio?
The thought flashes across his mind, so amazing that Pedro loses track of the conversation — launched into a reality where his sour-tempered half-brother has charm — and only returns as Hero is concluding.
"—and, thus, our trap is sprung. What thinks you?" She looks at John, eager for his approval.
Pedro is assailed by the image of a lamb batting its lashes at the wolf. Should he intervene?
John tilts his head. "A cunning scheme."
"The credit goes to your brother, the plan is of his making."
John's face hardens, his gaze cutting to Pedro. "That does not surprise me. I remember the elaborate tricks he pulled when we were children."
John's venom is familiar and Pedro responds, his own voice tight, "All in good faith, brother. There was no malice in my mischief."
John's eyes are as dark as a starless night. "No?"
"Goodness, between the two of you, it is a miracle Aragon is still standing," Hero titters, voice a pitch higher than normal.
John releases a sharp exhale and unclenches his fits, shoulders sagging. When he speaks his voice is low and begrudging. "Perhaps that is why father kept us apart."
He glances at Pedro then and it frustrates the latter that he cannot discern the gleam in John's eyes. His brother is an infuriating enigma, he will never let Pedro know him, no matter how hard he tries.
"Benedick and Beatrice's stubborn wills shall be no match for your joint machinations," Hero chimes, her skirts swishing as she moves.
Pedro purses his lips, less certain of the merit in involving his brother.
As if reading his thoughts, John gives him an apathetic shrug. "They shall never suspect us of working together."
"That is true," Pedro admits. And it is not as if he has Claudio's help. He sighs. "At least if you are beside me, I can be assured you are not wreaking trouble elsewhere."
John returns a devilish grin and Pedro feels his hair turning grey. And yet — the smallest modicum of amusement stirs in his chest. If only all his brother's mischief was as harmless.
Pedro looks back to Hero, who is watching them with such open hope she should never play cards. "Sweet lady, what miracles you work. If my brother and I can be united in common cause, then I have no doubt Benedick and Beatrice shall be in love by tomorrow's dusk."
Hero throws out her arms, fingers weaving with the sunlight. "Huzzah!"
Pedro watches his brother's face transform in gentle awe. Ah, the corner of Pedro's mouth twitches, not such an enigma, after all.