CHAPTER 44

CHAPTER 44

Istared at the pebble, confused . . . but only a moment. I bounded to my feet, pain, melancholy, and exhaustion forgotten. I reached the railing, leaned over, and stared, searching . . . searching.

"Rosie!" Lysander's voice, speaking from the ground.

Half laughing, half sobbing, I sagged on the stone. "It is you I have longed to see."

"Don't," he begged. "Don't! Wait. Darling girl, don't cry." He shimmied up the tree, branch by branch. But the perch outside my window was gone, ruined by Titania's malicious acts, so Lysander stood on a broad branch farther down, straining to reach up to me.

I leaned down, straining also, but our fingertips could not . . . quite . . . touch.

In a voice of rampant indignation, he asked, "Did you hear that my jackass of an uncle refused to enter into negotiations for your hand in marriage?"

I tensed and withdrew my hand. "I did."

"Because of the dowry." He made the word sound like a curse. "Like we need the money! The Marckettis are the most prosperous merchant family in Venice. We're wildly, vulgarly rich."

I smiled at him in an unexpected and charmed gust of amusement.

"Listen." He crawled up the side of the tree, hanging on to tiny branches. "I've been here every night, waiting for you to recover."

Knowing he'd been here cheered me. "You were never caught?"

"I told you I'm a master at skulking. Although perhaps not the master I believed, for after the first two nights, I found a small repast waiting for me at that table." He pointed to the table on the terrace.

I looked and saw the remains of a small loaf of bread, some cheese, and a cluster of grapes.

He said, "So perhaps someone in your family suspected my presence."

"My parents like you very much."

He looked delighted. "Did they say so? I shall have a conceit."

"You may have as many conceits as you wish, but please remember, Romeo and Juliet hate only their mortal enemies, and if the Montagues make a deal with the Marckettis, that's another mortal enemy turned to ally."

"Your parents like everyone."

"Not everyone," I assured him. "But mostly."

He sagged. "You do feel better, don't you?"

"I do. Now." The sight of Lysander, working his way up that tree, trying to get closer to me, made me cheerful. And cheer made me stronger.

"Listen. Someone has to correct this situation. You and me are meant to be together."

I now expected to hear something about running away from our families, a wedding performed by a devious monk, a life of poverty and love until Lysander's inventive genius gave us wealth.

Instead he continued. "And you're the one to do it."

"Me?" What about his inventive genius? "What do you mean?"

"I love you. The first time I saw your face . . . after I ran into you and knocked you down . . . your face knocked me down, too. Not literally, but—"

"I understand." I loved the way he stammered. "I felt that way, too. You're so perfect."

"I'm a man like any other."

"Not true. I've never fallen in love at first sight with another man."

He hung by one arm on a narrow branch, his other arm wrapped around the trunk, grinning at me in the light from my room. "We love each other, you and me."

"We do, don't we?" What a delight this was.

"What we need is an intelligent mind working for us who has made other . . . matches. Betrothals."

He definitely was talking about me. "You want me to make a match for you?"

"With the proper maiden . . . whose name is Rosie." He crawled a little farther, managed to get to a branch above my head, and reached down toward me.

I reached up toward him.

We still couldn't . . . quite . . . touch.

I couldn't continue to reach. I remained weak, tired. I withered down onto the floor.

"Rosie! No, please, be well." He swung his legs off the branch. "I'll jump down to you!"

Nurse, a strong, hearty woman sworn to protect my virginity, charged out of the door where she had been listening. "You will not, young man! You stay where you are!" Reaching down, she hauled me to my feet and helped me to the chaise.

Lysander swung himself back up onto the branch. "Please, Nurse, you must help us."

"Yes, yes. True love. Young love. Blah, blah." Nurse's scorn could scour dried egg off an iron pan. "Rosie was the only person in the family not totally besotted by passion . . . then you came along. What do you want her to do?"

"I want her to figure out how we can wed." Lysander sounded so confident!

"I . . . can't. Not right now." Beside my head, I made a fluttery motion with my fingers. "I haven't the ability to connect one thought to another and"—I was embarrassed to admit this—"I still suffer from weakness."

Nurse sighed loudly. "Fine. I'll do it." She pointed at Lysander. "Two nights hence, Lord Romeo is having a dinner party wherein he'll discuss with your father, Duke of the Marckettis of Verona, the possibility of selling wine to them as a fine export across the known world."

"I know this is true. I arranged that meeting."

All was now clear. "When you met with Marcellus?" I asked. "In the public house near Friar Laurence's shop?"

"Yes. I was hoping to see you, but I guess bad timing." Lysander hung his head down to look right at me. "I'll be a good husband to you, Rosie. I'm more than a pretty face."

I tried to look solemn as I agreed, "I fear this is true."

Nurse continued on in an authoritative tone. "On that night when Verona's clock strikes eight, you'll meet Rosie in the Montague garden at the fountain. The two of you will proceed to the grotto near the swing. You know where I mean."

Lysander and I both nodded.

"There you will indulge yourselves in a passionate embrace."

"Sounds good!" I felt better already.

"But her virtuous reputation!" Lysander was plainly worried.

Nurse bent a glare on him that should have withered him like an autumn leaf. "I have Rosie's virtuous reputation well protected and well documented, and I'll be the one who runs to Lord Romeo and cries that my charge has disappeared into the garden with Lysander of the Marckettis and he must come with me to save her virtue."

"We'll be caught in the dark together," I said.

"I'll beg forgiveness and her hand in marriage," Lysander said.

Now we comprehended the brilliance of Nurse's plan!

"My father will be the guest of the Montagues. He most sincerely wants to be the exporter of Montagues' fine wines. When Lord Romeo points his sword at my throat and declares me a dead man, and I beg to wed his daughter, my father will yield for love of me—and for the profit he foresees by this union. Oh, Nurse!" Lysander swung down from his branch, his hand outstretched.

My nurse, heartier, taller, and stronger than me, reached up and slapped his hand.

They smiled at each other, and I smiled at them both. Two people who loved me, dedicated to creating the life I desired for me.

I adored them.

As if something had caught her eye, Nurse jerked her head and looked over the railing.

"What is it?" I asked.

"I thought I saw someone down there, skulking in the shadows." Nurse swept her gaze all around.

Lysander used his perch to view the garden.

"What is that?" Nurse pointed at a black silhouette that loomed in the dark hedges.

"Nothing." But Lysander slid down the trunk much faster than he'd climbed up. As soon as he reached the ground, he stalked around the perimeter of the light, looking into the shadows and paying special care to the area Nurse had indicated. Looking up, he spread his arms wide. "We're alone in the night."

Nurse shushed him.

He lowered his voice. "Farewell, my sweet Rosie. Two nights hence, we'll meet in the garden and I'll at last hold you in my arms and kiss your sweet lips, and before the night is over, you'll be betrothed to a man worthy of your clever self."

I kissed my fingers and watched him kiss his, and he disappeared into the depths of our yard.

"He's right," Nurse said. "He's good at skulking." Yet before she helped me back to bed, again she scanned the shadows, and as she did, she shook her head.

I spent the next two days in bed, eating nourishing foods, drinking watered wine until I sloshed, stretching and regaining my strength. I had to be able to meet Lysander in the garden at the proper moment, and I had to go by myself so Nurse could alert my father, Lord Romeo, that I was in danger of losing my virtue to Lysander. After we were caught, the rest would play out. My father would point the sword at Lysander's throat. I would kneel and swear he respected me still and beg for his life. Duke Marcketti would be forced to agree to our betrothal. And we would live happily ever after.

That night, I thanked Nurse with all my heart for the brilliance of her foolproof plan, and in my prayers I thanked the blessed Virgin Mary herself and all the saints that I'd soon be properly wedded, bedded, and rid of this irksome virginity.