CHAPTER 14

CHAPTER 14

Iopened my eyes, turned my head, and saw my sisters lined up beside the bed, oldest to youngest, staring fixedly at me. I turned my head the other way and Cesario began bouncing on the mattress beside me.

"Rosie, what happened last night?" he begged.

Katherina said, "Yes, Rosie, last night, what happened?"

I looked at Nurse, who spread her hands as if she was innocent of their presence. Like I believed her. Nurse was an early riser, regardless of the circumstances, and if she had spent the night in that chair guarding my virtue, she was grumpy enough to let the kids in to wake me before I knew what happened.

Being the oldest was sometimes enough to make a stallion cry.

I pulled a pillow out from underneath Cesario's rump and stuffed it behind my head. I patted the mattress and asked, "What have you heard?"

Everyone piled on, shoving and sitting on my feet until I pulled them back, and when they were settled down, Katherina said, "In the garden, Duke Stephano was dead of a knife in the chest. A convocation of noblemen led by Prince Escalus discussed the evidence and although it was believed you had motive and a weapon to stab him, Prince Escalus testified that he stopped you before you went into the garden, and it was agreed you must be innocent. Thus whoever killed Duke Stephano is still at large."

I flung back the covers. "There's been no more disturbing discoveries, then. Nurse, has aught come to your ears?"

Nurse looked at me sideways. "The kitchen gossip this morning is all about you and your ill-fated matches. There is some argument about how many there have been. Apparently some of our less astute staff have lost track."

"We'll have to see what we can do to turn that tide." I turned on her. "A branch on the tree outside my window seems to have broken last night."

"So I heard." When she chose, Nurse could sound dry as an old bone in the mouth of a hungry wolf.

"Rotted, I deem. Someone could get hurt."

Folding her hands primly in front of her apron, Nurse said, "Only if they climb the tree."

Picturing Lysander's inert body, I put my hand on Cesario's head. "No one will climb the tree. Will they, Cesario?"

Cesario exchanged horrified glances with Emilia.

I exchanged equally horrified glances with Nurse. How many times had those two climbed that tree? "Perhaps the tree should be removed."

"No!" "No!" "No!"

I gazed, startled, at Imogene, then turned to Katherina. "You too?" She was so sensible, the sister most like me! So of course she had scaled that tree.

She shrugged. "The branches are broad and face outward. We can shimmy up and down and watch from above."

"We play in the storage room," Imogene boasted.

"And eat what you want!" Nurse cried.

"Maybe." Katherina grinned. "All right, yes."

I turned to Nurse. "Perhaps we now have an explanation for the incident with Aunt Gemma and the infestation of cockroaches in her bed."

Cesario said fiercely, "That yappy little dog of hers bit Imogene and Aunt told her it was her fault because she was a hoyden and a disgrace to the Montagues and if she wasn't careful—"

Katherina cut him off. "And other stuff."

And if she wasn't careful, she'd be forever unwed like me. I could hear Aunt Gemma saying it now."Next time Aunt or anybody says anything that deserves cockroaches in the bed, please let me know and—"

Nurse cut me off. "And I'll make sure the cockroaches are delivered."

My sigh was loud enough to make a statement, and I seated myself among my tumultuous siblings and gathered them in my arms. "However, you must promise you won't climb that walnut tree, the one that grows against the house." It was good to be specific when extracting a vow from these children. "That branch was rotten. Another branch could fall."

"Don't take it down, please, please, Rosie. We love that tree!" The clamor from the children deafened me.

"I can't promise anything. If it's rotten to the core, there's no saving it." Rotten to the core brought Duke Stephano to mind again. "But I love that tree, too." In days of yore—and by yore, I mean last week—I'd climbed the trunk, dreamed in the branches, and found quiet from the constant tumult of the household. "Nurse, please tell Gardener to check the condition of the tree and do everything he can to preserve that magnificent old wood and give it health." Before Nurse pushed for more strenuous measures, I pointed out, "The offending branch close to my room is sadly gone. There will be no more balcony scenes for me. No one lurks in the garden, do they, to play the part?"

"Any lurkers have departed, apparently on their own two legs," Nurse assured me. "They've gone elsewhere, and may they stay elsewhere so someone's nurse can rest her weary bones in her own bed!"

Lysander had regained consciousness and left the Montague estate and was . . . somewhere in Verona? I didn't know, but he was alive and relatively unharmed and that gave me hope and comfort.

Katherina watched us as if her dark eyes could see the undercurrents between us. "All the gossip has been about Duke Stephano and his death and the knife you had and the knife in his chest. Is that really all?"

"What else could have happened?" I asked.

"We also heard you fell in love with Lysander of the Marcketti." Katherina gave a forced laugh. "You didn't, did you?"

When I didn't answer right away, Emilia pronounced, "Ha! I told you it was true, Katherina. The rumor has never before been bandied about. Not about Rosie! Look at her. She did fall in love!"

My complexion did not oft reveal my thoughts, so when my color bloomed and my eyes fell, my sisters reacted in all the ways little sisters should, with laughter and jeering and thumping.

Cesario stared, horrified. "No. No. No! You can't. You're the Montague keepsake!"

The girls stopped cheering.

Imogene shoved at his shoulder. "Shut it, boy."

Startled, I said, "What? Cesario, what did you say?"

Cesario sidled away from Imogene and kept talking to me. "That's what Papà says. You're the sister we get to keep."

I was the one who would remain in the backstage and at home forever, unmarried, childless, the aunt, the sister, the female goddess of wisdom who answered the questions and advised on relationships.

Was that what I wanted?

Previously I'd been insistent on that role, then . . . last night happened. Then love and passion had struck like lightning, setting all aflame, showing me a different Rosaline who could use her gifts to command an onstage role. I would be goddess and heroine and lover all in one, and one man most of all would worship my glorious being.

I rose and began to dress. "Perhaps Papà is right. Perhaps not. Now I should go to our mother, who has borne up so bravely in the face of murder in her own home."