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Viola didn’t like being wet very much anymore. Which is unfortunate, given that the weather in Illyria is very much like that of England. The rain is only light most days, but the walk to Olivia’s house is long. Sebastian’s wool coat was only so effective. It was, however, a comfort.
On this particular day Viola was very grateful to have said coat. The rain was light but cold and steady. Orsino continued to sigh after Olivia and send Viola back through the muddy path to Olivia’s house. Viola could have chosen a slightly less muddy path, granted, but she was taking her time. Dragging her feet through the mud was at least a little fun. Viola thought for a split second that maybe Olivia would stop her advances if she showed up with very muddy shoes, but that was silly and Viola did enjoy talking with Olivia. It was just the circumstances of her visits which made it all so awkward. Still, there wasn’t a good reason to get there early.
Olivia thought that the rain was cathartic. When her father died she thought it would be poetic to mingle the rain with her tears and she stared up into the heavens and imagined that only the layer of low lying clouds blocked her from seeing her father. Maybe it would have been, but the weather was unusually sunny when he died. When her brother died it was rainy, and maybe the rain was cathartic when she went out in it, but it didn’t seem quite so poetic anymore. She still went walking in every downpour after that.
The even darker clouds out over the cliffs portended a satisfying deluge on this particular day. Olivia was waiting for Cesario to come with some impatience, instead of being out in the already steady, and tempting, rain. He was often late with the rain. Olivia was torn between staying and waiting for him until he came and calming her agitation about him coming with a little rain walk, for which there would probably be time given his habits. Plus, Olivia thought her hair looked rather poetic after she’d been in the rain. The little strands around her face would curl up tight and perhaps a curl or two would stick to her damp neck as it escaped from the bun. That could be a desirable enough effect for when Cesario finally made his arrival. Cesario could be charmed, but that was silly. She decided to go out.
The deluge came just as Viola had started to turn in towards Olivia’s house. Sebastian’s poor old coat was no match for the downpour, and neither was the tree under which Viola ducked for shelter. She was almost close enough to make a run for Olivia’s house, but it would be a very wet run. As she waited in indecision, positioning herself under the base of one of the larger tree limbs, Viola saw someone running out from the house. The someone was still rather far away, but definitely wearing a dress.
Olivia, for her part, was spinning and gazing up into the heavens, arms outstretched, feet stumbling a little in the grass. She was very glad to have dropped the black silk dresses; that was not comfortable in the rain. This rain was cathartic and good and she wasn’t even thinking about Cesario. Until she saw him. He was standing under the big tree under which she and her brother had made forts when they were little children. Cesario had his arms wrapped around himself and his chin tucked into the collar of his giant blue coat. He looked small in his slightly oversized coat, but it looked cozy for the rain. Olivia had stopped spinning and started walking towards Cesario, although she couldn’t quite see him through the sheets of rain. As she got closer she had the pleasure of discovering that his hair was certainly becoming in the rain. It was getting wavy. How very beautiful.
Viola made a simultaneous similar discovery about Olivia’s hair. She hoped it wouldn’t be tangled. Getting such a pretty updo out after it was soaked through could be a nightmare. Viola could help with that; she was really very good at detangling. She would be very gentle with Olivia’s lovely curls. But it wasn’t her place and Olivia did really look very pretty now in the rain. Olivia might think it well worth the tangles if she could see what Viola saw. Viola was too cold, and wet, and slightly bewitched to think about how she should be saying something. Maybe Olivia just wanted shelter from the rain too, at least now that she was coming over. What would it have been like to accept getting all soaked again and dance about in her own meadows? Happy, probably.
“It’s a bit wet, isn’t it?”
Olivia had to raise her voice to be heard above the rain. She didn’t mean to say it loud enough to make Cesario jump, but clearly she had. Cesario started, and then bowed.
“Yes I think it might be, my lady.”
Olivia was now under the tree next to Viola. She was soaked quite through, more so than Viola was under her great coat. She was also looking at Viola with something akin to expectancy hidden behind her little smile. She looked like she was inviting something. The raindrops gathered in her hair and then ran down her cheeks, under the edge of her nose, into the corner of her mouth, between her lips, down the curve of her neck. The gentlemanly thing to do when faced with such a wet woman was probably to offer her his coat. That must be the expectation.
“You are a bit wet at least. Please let me offer you my coat. It’s a bit damp, but still warm.”
Olivia would’ve refused. She had come out into the rain on purpose to get wet and Cesario did not look particularly happy with the downpour. But Cesario already had his coat off.
“No, no, then you will get wet and cold too.”
“I assure you, I do not mind the rain, and I am less wet than you are.”
“If you insist, then we must both wear it. It is big enough for the both of us.”
Cesario wrapped the coat around them both. It was only almost big enough for two, and they had to squish together. This seemed like an excellent idea to Olivia. Although she was sorry to have her sopping dress up against Cesario’s still kind of dry shirt, genuinely concerned, it did make his shirt stick rather nicely to his skin.
Viola was keenly aware of how close Olivia was. It didn’t seem very gentlemanly after all to have a lady pressed against her. But it was soft, and it was warm, and Viola found that she didn’t really mind the cold water where Olivia was touching her. It at least counter acted the blush which was beginning to spread out over her body for some unaccountable reason. This whole situation was embarrassing. Hopefully Olivia just thought that Viola was warm because Viola was drier than the countess. That was at least partially the case, although Viola had been outside for much longer and her fingers felt very cold in contrast to the pieces of Olivia’s skin which they were touching. The deluge lessened into an ordinary rain.
“It is drier inside,” Olivia observed, not really moving towards removing the coat or walking that direction. She wasn’t sure if this was really a suggestion.
“I would hate to drip on your carpet, my lady; perhaps I should be going along,” said Viola. Olivia was of course much more wet than Viola was, but it was the only excuse which came to her mind.
“My brother’s clothes are unused in his room, and have been so for the last twelve months and fourteen days.”
“I am sorry for your loss.”
“It is alright. His clothes are likely musty and too big for you. But they are not wet.”
Viola really did not like being wet. And while Sebastian’s clothes gave her comfort, perhaps another brother’s could as well, if only for a little while. So she agreed. It was all very practical. It had nothing to do with how nice it had been to hold Olivia or any sort of confusion around that. Olivia led her back towards the house.