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“Good madonna, why mourn’st thou?”
Olivia looked up from her embroidery and into the twinkling face of Feste. The clown had somehow managed to seat himself on the back of her bench without causing her disturbance. “Mourn?” she asked. “Dost think I mourn, fool?”
“Ay, madonna,” Feste replied. “You sit and sew and sigh and nothing that anyone says will please you.”
“I sit and sew because I can not stand and sew, fool.”
“And wherefore the sewing?” asked Feste, reaching down to grab the embroidery hoop.
Olivia deftly swatted his hand away. “To keep busy, fool.”
“And wherefore must you keep busy alone? Have you not a husband to amuse you, madonna?”
“He is visiting his sister.”
“And wherefore are you not with him?”
“I have sewing to do.”
“Ah!” With a swing of his feet, Feste bounced off the back of the bench and onto the seat, knocking Olivia’s pincushion to the ground in the process. “Now you have given me mine answer, good madonna.”
“And what answer is that, fool?” asked Olivia. She glared pointedly at the pincushion.
Guiltily, but still twinkling, Feste picked up the pincushion and placed it gently on the bench. “Why, the answer you have given me, good madonna.”
“Fool.”
Feste’s face instantly grew comically somber. “Yes, madonna?”
“If you have nothing more to say, fool, remove yourself from my bench.”
There was a slight change in Feste’s manner, and his somberness no longer seemed comical. “I know why you mourn, madonna.”
“Then tell me.”
“You mourn for Master Cesario.”
“There is no such person.”
“And so you mourn.”
“Have you seen the way he looks at him?” Maria giggled to Fabian over the chicken she was plucking. Though now married to Sir Toby, she still spent most of her time in the kitchen. So did Sir Toby, for that matter – perhaps Maria was just keeping an eye on her husband.
Olivia was sitting on the stairs, out of the way of cooks, servants, and errant knights. She rather liked the kitchen, she found. It was small and crowded and friendly, a relief from the airy, silent rooms upstairs. “The way who looks at who?” she asked.
Maria started, and a chicken feather fluttered to the floor. “No one, my lady,” she said.
“There is no need to be formal, Maria, you are my cousin now,” said Olivia with a smile. “Your gossip will not offend me.”
“I’m afraid it will,” said Maria, leaving the end of her sentence hanging.
“Olivia,” prompted Olivia. “Or ‘cousin,’ if that likes you better.”
“Cousin,” Maria decided. “You would not like such gossip, you are much too refined.”
“Come now, I am not so refined that I may not have amusement!” said Olivia. “Who is it looking at who, and how?”
“Might as well tell the poor wench,” said Sir Toby. “Thou’rt caught.”
“And you, sir, are drunk,” said Maria.
Sir Toby bowed. “But of course.”
“You avoid my question, good cousins,” Olivia laughed.
Maria, Sir Toby, and Fabian exchanged glances. “I haven’t heard yet either,” said Fabian. “I would like to, if it won’t cause undue distress.”
Maria finished plucking the chicken before speaking again. “Captain Antonio,” she said at last, her eyes cast down. “He looks at Master Sebastian, follows him around like a lost pup.”
“The boy doesn’t seem to mind,” added Sir Toby.
“He doesn’t seem to notice,” corrected Maria.
“Oh,” said Fabian. “I’ve seen that. Rather sad, don’t you think?”
“What’s sad about it?” asked Sir Toby. “If thou ask’st me, what’s sad is my wife not allowing me any ale.” He fondly kissed Maria, who even so noticed his arm snaking towards a half-filled mug and grabbed his hand before it reached his goal.
“What’s sadder is the Captain longing so for Master Sebastian, and him brains-over-boots with the Lady here,” said Fabian. Maria’s eyes darted towards Olivia, who sat serene.
“Thank you for the gossip,” said Olivia, rising from her seat. “I will see you at dinner, yes?”
“Of course, my- cousin,” said Maria.
“Until this evening, then,” said Olivia. “Farewell.”
Sebastian did love her, Olivia was sure. He kissed her enthusiastically, touched her reverently, looked at her as if he still could not believe his good fortune. Whether she loved him was less certain. He was handsome and exciting, but he was not Cesario. The man Olivia had fallen in love with had disappeared, evaporated when Viola had removed her disguise. And yet Sebastian was a good man, one who perhaps deserved more than a wife who tolerated his caresses while pretending he had the mind of another. “Fool!” called Olivia as she entered the garden. “Fool!”
Feste dropped down from a tree and executed a perfect bow. “At your service, madonna.”
“I want you to do something for me,” said Olivia.
“Anything, madonna,” said Feste. He wiggled his fingers.
Olivia sighed and handed him a coin. “Fool, I want you to watch Sebastian and the Captain for me.”
“Oh, such a task could not be accomplished for such a small coin,” said Feste. “Yond young master hasn’t yet forgiven me for mistaking him for his sister.”
“He has forgiven me, fool,” said Olivia. “If he has not forgiven you, you must have done something to deserve his enmity.”
“Perhaps,” agreed Feste cheerfully, tossing and catching his coin. “Or perhaps it is only that you are a beautiful woman, and I a mere fool.”
Olivia took another coin from her purse. “Nevertheless, I wish you to watch them,” she said.
“What am I to look for, madonna?” asked Feste, pocketing both coins. “And wherefore have you assigned me to this task? Your noble cousin is an accomplished spy.”
“My noble cousin is an accomplished drunk,” said Olivia. “One can never be certain what he sees. But you, I know, will tell me the truth.”
“Indeed I will, if you tell me what truth I am to look for.”
“Love.”
“Love, madonna?”
“Yes,” said Olivia. “I have reason to suspect Captain Antonio of harboring certain feelings towards my husband.”
“Ah, and you wish me to see if his designs are sinister?” asked Feste.
“No.”
“No, madonna?”
“I wish you to find out if he has any chance of being requited.”
Feste was following Antonio who was following Sebastian who was following Olivia who was trying to find a quiet place to sit and think. Olivia ended up in the kitchen again, which, while not quiet in the least, was far more entertaining than the chase. With the chain broken, Sebastian happened upon Feste.
“Good fool,” said Sebastian, “where is my lady? I wish greatly to speak with her.”
“I cannot tell,” said Feste.
“How can you not tell?” asked Sebastian. “You will tell me, fool, or I will give bad report of you to my lady!”
“I cannot tell,” said Feste, “for that I do not know.”
Sebastian, who had drawn himself up to the most menacing height he could muster, slumped. “Oh,” he said.
“Is something wrong, good master?” asked Feste.
“Nothing that would require your assistance, good fool,” said Sebastian.
“As you wish, good master,” said Feste. “I leave you to your friend.”
“My what?” asked Sebastian as Feste disappeared. “Fool!” Sebastian spun around and found himself face to face with Antonio. “Ah, now I see his meaning,” he said.
“Whose meaning?” asked Antonio.
“The fool… never mind.”
“I never do.”
“I know.”
“Sebastian-” said Antonio, taking a step forward.
“Antonio,” said Sebastian, taking a step back.
“Sebastian, art thou happy?” asked Antonio.
“Happy?” asked Sebastian. “Why should I be other than happy? I have found my sister, and though she be in heaven, it is an earthly one, and one I share with my bride.”
“And thou art sure of this heaven?”
“Why should I not be?”
Antonio nodded sadly. “It is as I thought with thee.”
Sebastian laughed. “My dear Antonio, thou speak’st in riddles.”
“I pray my riddles come clear to thee in time,” said Antonio.
“I am sure they will,” said Sebastian.
From his favorite tree, Feste watched the dance. There were no more words, only steps, steps so small that Feste knew he was the only one to notice them. Forward and back, conscious smiles pasted on top of unconscious bodies. Imperceptible movements of the feet and fingers. Before the silence grew unbearable even for the clown, Olivia, Maria, and Sir Toby emerged from the kitchen.
“Olivia!” Sebastian ran to his wife and dipped her into a kiss. Olivia noticed that it was somewhat rougher than usual. Feste noticed the theatricality of the gesture, and the relief in Sebastian’s eyes. Antonio looked away. Sir Toby whooped loudly, and Maria poked him. “Where hast thou been, my lady?”
“I have been seeing to our supper, my lord,” said Olivia smoothly.
“All this time, my lady?”
“Before that, my lord, I was seeing to the rest of the house. I have neglected things dreadfully since my brother’s death. The servants have gotten lazy.”
“Wherefore must thou see to these things now, with our marriage not a week behind us?”
Olivia smiled. “I have only just begun to come alive again.”
“But is the kitchen such a pleasant place to be?” asked Sebastian.
“Indeed it is, my good fellow!” bellowed Sir Toby, clapping Sebastian on the back. Olivia winced for her husband. “The wine cellar is also most excellent. Have you not seen it yet? Come, let me show you your house!” Sebastian threw Olivia a pained look, but she waved him on.
“Shall I look after them?” murmured Maria.
“Indeed, good cousin,” said Olivia. “They will need looking after, unless I know your husband less than I think I do. Go you.”
Maria nodded. “Will you come, Captain?” she asked Antonio.
Antonio glanced at Olivia, and then shrugged. “I will, thank you,” he said, and followed Maria as she trotted off to the wine cellar.
“Fool,” Olivia whispered when everyone was out of earshot.
“Speak up, madonna!” replied a voice from somewhere above her.
“If your ears are sharp enough to hear that I must speak up, they must be sharp enough to know that I want you.”
“Indeed they are, madonna, but they have not yet told my mind.”
“Fool, come down from there,” said Olivia. “We have little time before the others come back.”
“From the wine cellar?” asked Feste. “Sir Toby can spend hours showing the glories of it.”
“I beseech you, fool, come down and speak with me of what you have seen.”
“I hear thy heavenly voice and obey thy glorious words,” said Feste, and promptly jumped down from his tree.
“I thank you,” said Olivia. “Now tell me, what did you observe?”
“You saw the end of it,” said Feste.
“I saw my husband eager to return to me,” said Olivia. “So there is no hope?”
“That depends on who you hope for, madonna.”
“For Antonio.”
“Ah!” said Feste. “There, I did see hope.”
“Indeed? With such a kiss as Sebastian gave me?” asked Olivia.
“He convinced himself with that kiss,” said Feste. “But not me.”
That night, Sebastian reached for Olivia. “Not now, husband,” she said. “My head aches.”
“Does it?” asked Sebastian. “Sit up.”
Olivia groaned. “Sebastian…”
“Sit up!” Sebastian insisted. Olivia could hear the hint of a smug smile in his voice. “Here,” Sebastian continued, lifting Olivia from where she lay and settling her against his chest. Gently he massaged her shoulders, the back of her neck, her temples. “Does that feel better?” he asked into her ear.
“It does,” Olivia half-lied. She was sure such treatment would make her head feel better, if only her headache had been physical rather than mental.
She did like Sebastian. She liked his comforting presence behind her, the light fingertips on her forehead, soft lips on her eyelids. He was a good man, an intelligent man, a kind and sweet and gentle man. A patient man – he never minded when Olivia called him “Cesario.” And yet Olivia could not love him. “Not now,” she repeated as Sebastian’s kisses moved to her throat.
He was also an obedient man. “Art thou ill?” he asked as they both settled down on their pillows.
“I may be,” said Olivia.
“Sleep thee well, then.” There was a pause, and then the smug note crept back into Sebastian’s voice. “Thou hast not slept well these past nights.”
“Indeed I have not,” said Olivia. “Good night, Sebastian.”
“Good night, my love.”
“Sebastian?”
“Olivia?”
“What thinkest thou of Antonio?”
Olivia felt Sebastian shift slightly. “He is my dearest friend, save thee and my sister.”
“He is a good friend,” said Olivia. “He loves thee well.”
“Ay…”
“What is it?” asked Olivia.
“I fear he loves me too well,” said Sebastian reluctantly. “I fear he loves me as I love thee.”
“And you love him as I love thee?”
Sebastian laughed. “Nay, unless thou lovest me only as a friend!” Olivia made no answer. “Olivia?” Still no answer. “Dost not love me, my lady?” asked Sebastian, his voice small and scared.
“I am tired, Sebastian.”
“Answer me, I prithee!”
“I loved Cesario, husband,” said Olivia. “You are not the same. I cannot love you.”
For one stunned moment, Sebastian was silent. Then he smiled into Olivia’s hair. “If that is the case, I shall have to make thee love me.”
Olivia sighed.
Olivia appreciated what Sebastian was trying to do. Really she did. But the flowers were starting to make her sneeze and while the sentiments of the love songs were nice, Sebastian’s voice was not. It was amazing that Feste was able to play his pipe without breaking down into snorts and chuckles.
When Sebastian went off to find something to soothe his dry throat, Olivia found and cornered Maria. “Good cousin,” she said, “would be so kind as to have your husband distract mine for some time? I must have words with you.”
“Of course, good cousin,” said Maria without batting an eyelash. “Meet me in the servants’ quarters?”
“I will,” said Olivia, and headed below-stairs as Maria dashed away to find Sir Toby.
Maria caught up to her before long, red-cheeked, short-breathed, and mirth-eyed. “He’s teaching him to dance,” she said. “They’ll be busy for hours.”
“Who is teaching who to dance?” asked Olivia.
“Sir Toby teaching Master Sebastian, of course.”
“But Sebastian knows how to dance.”
“Not according to my Toby, he doesn’t.”
Olivia matched Maria’s grin. “I eagerly await the results, then.”
“As do I, cousin,” said Maria. “Now, wherefore did you wish to speak with me?”
“I have been thinking about your words the other day,” said Olivia. “Those about my husband and Captain Antonio.”
Maria hung her head. “Pay that no mind, my lady, I meant nothing-”
“No,” Olivia interrupted. “There was truth in your words, truth I would welcome.”
“Welcome, lady?”
“Cousin.”
“Welcome, cousin?”
“Ay,” said Olivia. “I believe that Sebastian and the captain would be more suited to each other than Sebastian and I.”
Maria stared. “But you cannot mean that, good cousin!”
“I can indeed, for I love not my husband.”
“You speak scandal.”
“You thrive on scandal,” said Olivia, and smiled to herself as Maria blushed.
“But cousin, surely you did not call me to you for mere gossip?” Maria asked.
“You know me well,” said Olivia. “I called you to me for that you know more of intrigue than myself.”
Comprehension dawned in Maria’s eyes. “Good cousin, just because I managed to baffle Malvolio does not mean that I can make your husband fall in love with the captain.”
“The fool thinks he is halfway there as it is,” said Olivia. “Perhaps you could provide a push?”
“I will think on it,” said Maria.
“I have faith in your invention,” said Olivia.
Maria modestly bobbed a curtsey. “Now cousin, while we contemplate, shall we watch the dancing lesson?”
“I believe we shall,” Olivia said with solemn voice and twinkling eyes.
“Write him a letter and sign it ‘Antonio!’” said Sir Toby.
“Nay, we used that one already,” said Maria.
“Besides, what use would it be?” asked Olivia. “Sebastian knows Antonio’s feelings.”
Olivia, Maria, Sir Toby, Fabian, and Feste were gathered in the kitchen for the first meeting of the Society of Eros’ Arrows. Maria had insisted that Toby and Fabian could be trusted, and as five heads were better than three, Olivia agreed. Most of the rest of the household was asleep, and the steward had been told to disregard any noise the Society might make. Refreshments for the Society were provided by Juliet, a pretty serving wench who alternated between giggles and exasperated sighs as she served the cakes, ale, and cider.
“The fool might say something,” said Fabian.
“Indeed I might,” said Feste, “but I must have some guidance.”
“Well, cousin, what did you say to make Sebastian fall in love with you?” asked Sir Toby.
Olivia blushed. “I only treated him as if he were Cesario, and was… rather forward with him.”
The Society considered. “Fool, could you fool Captain Antonio into being forward?” asked Maria.
“I might well try, but I do not believe such an approach would work in this case,” said Feste. “‘Twould be more like to scare Sebastian off and send him running back to our lady’s arms.”
There was a collective “hm,” followed by quiet munching. “Oh, why don’t you just lock them in a room together and be done with it?” asked Juliet, whisking away the cake plate to be refilled for the fifth time that night.
Sir Toby choked on his ale. “‘Sblood, I think the wench has got it!”
Olivia looked at Maria. “Would that work?” she asked.
“It could,” said Maria. She cleared her throat loudly, noticing Sir Toby looking a little too admiringly at Juliet’s backside.
“What think you, fool?” asked Olivia.
“Perhaps the forward approach may work after all,” said Feste. “Lock them in the shed where Sir Topas the curate visited Malvolio the lunatic and do not let them out until they agree to behave.”
“There is very little space in that shed,” said Fabian.
“Precisely,” said Feste.
“How can we get them to go in there together?” asked Maria.
“You leave that to me,” said Feste.
“That’s settled, then?” asked Olivia. The rest of the Society nodded. “Then I declare this meeting of the Society of Eros’ Arrows adjourned.”
Juliet came back with new cakes and found the table abandoned. With a sigh of mixed contentment and disgust, she put up her feet and began devouring the cakes herself.
Feste was on a mission. Not that anyone noticed. No one did notice Feste, unless he wanted them to. Or unless they were seeking him out, as Sebastian was. But being noticed by Sebastian was part of the mission, so Feste didn’t mind.
“What ho, good fool!” called Sebastian, looking up into Feste’s tree. “Come down from there, we must prepare to accost my lady!”
“Ay, I come,” said Feste. He sleepily climbed down from the branch where he had been resting, landing in front of Sebastian with a flourish and a yawn.
“Wherefore do you yawn, good fool?” asked Sebastian.
“Good master, for that I was up to all hours,” said Feste.
“And wherefore were you up to all hours?”
“Why, for that I was writing a new song for you to sing to your lady!” said Feste. “She does so enjoy your singing.”
“Ah, many thanks!” said Sebastian. “Quickly, you must teach me this song. Olivia is still abed, and I mean to awaken her with music.”
Feste’s face betrayed no trace of his inner mirth. “As you wish, sir. Pray come with me to the tool shed.”
“The tool shed? Wherefore?”
“For that I may teach you the song without the lady Olivia hearing, of course!” said Feste. “Now, will you come?”
“I will,” said Sebastian, and he followed Feste through the garden and into the shed.
“Ay me!” said Feste once Sebastian had stepped into the tool shed. “I have forgot my pipe and tabor! I will fetch them, you wait here.” The door was shut before Sebastian could say a word, and Feste zipped off to find Antonio.
He found him in the orchard, wandering around aimlessly and whistling tunelessly. “Captain Antonio!” he called.
Antonio turned around. “Yes?”
“Sir, I must beg a boon of you,” said Feste. “It had slipped my mind till just this morning, but it really is of dreadful importance. You see, some weeks ago Malvolio took my favorite pipe from me, and placed it on a high shelf. No one else in the house could reach such a great height, and as you are tall, I thought you might be so kind as to help me.”
“Why not ask Sir Toby?” asked Antonio. “Is he not also tall?”
Feste sighed dramatically. “Sir, I do not mean to judge my betters, but Sir Toby is forever stooped with drinking. Therefore is he not tall.”
Antonio smiled. “Then I will help you, good fool, though I fear you are making a fool of me.”
“Never, good Captain!” said Feste. “Come then, to the tool shed.”
“The tool shed?”
“Where lies the shelf, good Captain.”
“Ah.” Antonio followed Feste, who was rather pleased with the success of his mission. “This shed does not look tall enough to have a shelf so high,” said Antonio as he opened the door to the tool shed.
“Oh, it does, believe you me!” said Feste. “In you go!”
In Antonio went. “Antonio? But where is the fool?” Feste heard Sebastian say.
Feste closed and locked the door.
“My lady! My lady!” said Maria, gently shaking Olivia.
“Not your lady anymore,” Olivia mumbled.
“Good cousin, you must wake up!”
“Wherefore?”
“Our prey has been caught! Your husband and the captain are in the tool shed!”
Olivia gasped and threw off her covers. “Already?”
“Ay, already! We must hurry!”
“Indeed,” said Olivia. She hopped out of bed, then paused. “Good cousin, I know it is now beneath your station, but-”
“This is an extraordinary situation,” said Maria. “Of course I will help you dress.” And a few minutes later, the two women raced down the stairs and out of the house.
Feste was waiting for them by the garden gate. “Why did’st thou capture them so soon?” asked Olivia. “The Society is still half-asleep!”
“Thy husband wished to waken thee with his singing,” said Feste.
“Oh,” said Olivia. “In that case, thou art forgiven. Well done!”
“What has happened since last we spoke?” asked Maria eagerly.
“Nothing very exciting,” said Feste. “Master Sebastian ranted and raved and blustered a bit, but Antonio convinced him the plot was none of his making, and now they sit quiet. By the by, I think they now both blame me, and I do not see how I can recover from the heartache.”
“I did not bring my purse with me, if that is your meaning,” said Olivia.
“How well you know me, madonna!”
“Hush, fool!” said Maria. “We must proceed! What now is our plan?”
“Perhaps the princess should speak to her prince,” said Feste. “If he sees this is what you wish for him, madonna, perchance he will love the captain out of love for you.”
“Perhaps you are right,” said Olivia. “Come, let us go.”
“How now, good masters!” called Feste as the better part of the Society of Eros’ Arrows approached the tool shed.
“Good fool!” came Sebastian’s voice, and then his face appeared at the barred window. “Thou wilt let us out, thou knave!”
“Speak not to me, master Sebastian,” said Feste, “but speak to thy lady!”
“My lady! Is she here?”
“I am here, my lord,” said Olivia. She stayed away from the window, out of Sebastian’s line of sight.
“Sweet Olivia, wilt thou make this fellow see reason?”
“Indeed I will, but first I would make you see it.”
“Why, what reason have I not seen?”
“There is someone in that shed with you, is there not?”
“Ay, my friend Antonio has also been cruelly used by the fool.”
“Will you look at him, husband?”
“Look at him? Wherefore?”
“For to see him, husband. He is your reason.”
“Madam!” protested the gruff voice of Antonio.
“What dost thou mean, Olivia?” asked Sebastian.
“You told me that Antonio does love you well,” said Olivia.
“Madam!” Antonio said again.
“I told thee that in private, not to make a spectacle of it!” said Sebastian.
“I know,” said Olivia. “But I think me you spoke truly, and it would be good if you could return such a love.”
“But my lady, I love thee!”
“Ay, and I love you not. That I told you,” said Olivia. “But while I do not love you, I do care for you, and I have come also to care for you, Captain Antonio. You are both good men, strong and true, and ‘twould be selfish of me not to allow you true love.”
There was a long pause. “Olivia,” said Sebastian, “come to the window. Let me see thy face.” Olivia obeyed, but stayed far enough from the window that Sebastian could not touch her. “This is truly how thou feel’st?”
“Yes, Sebastian.”
“And thou wilt not believe I have true love for thee?”
“How can you? We do not know each other.”
“But-”
“No,” said Olivia. “Now, you two will stay here until my husband comes to his senses. Is this agreeable, Captain Antonio?”
“Yes,” came Antonio’s voice from the depths of the tool shed. “I thank you.”
“Good, then I leave you to your discussion. Fare you well.” Olivia stepped away from the window, paying no attention as Sebastian’s sad, thoughtful eyes followed her.
Before Olivia, Maria, and Feste reached the house, they were waylaid by Sir Toby and Fabian. “Why did’st thou not wake me?” Sir Toby demanded of his wife.
“Did it work?” asked Fabian. “What have we missed?”
“Merely some admirable fooling by our lady,” said Feste, bowing towards Olivia. “Do you know, madonna, with some training I think you would make a splendid fool?”
Olivia smiled. “Well sir, now that I am to have no husband, perhaps I will have time for you to train me.”
“There could be no greater honor,” declared Feste.
“Sebastian…”
“Antonio.”
“What think’st thou of our predicament?”
“Leave me.”
“Thou know’st full well I cannot.”
“I did not mean by the door.”
“Nor did I.”
“Oh.”
“Sebastian, why did’st thou marry thy lady?”
“She was beautiful, she seemed to love me, I was drawn to her.”
“I know I am not beautiful, but did I not also seem to love thee? Wast thou not also drawn to me?”
“Such things are not proper!”
“But wast thou? I have seen much in my time, Sebastian. Not everyone is so concerned with propriety as thou art.”
“My wife certainly isn’t.”
“I would say thy wife is a wise woman.”
“Why dost thou not?”
“Can anyone be wise who does not love thee?”
“Thou speak’st like the fool.”
“Perhaps. The fool thinks thou can’st love me, and I cling to the same belief.”
“And if thou cling’st to a dream?”
“Do I?”
“I think so.”
“If it is so, I will go and leave thee to thy bride, if she will have thee. But wilt thou first grant me one favor?”
“Of course, dear friend.”
“Let me kiss thee.”
Feste decided that the silence that followed was a good sign.
“You want what?” asked Orsino.
“An annulment,” repeated Olivia and Sebastian. They exchanged a smile.
“But why?” asked Viola. “Do you not love each other?”
Olivia had dreaded seeing Viola again, but she should not have worried. The self-assured woman before her, glowing with a happiness not completely masked by her gentle concern, was no more Cesario than was Sebastian. “We do not,” said Olivia. “I had not realized when we married that Sebastian would not be Cesario.”
“But my brother is a better man than I,” said Viola. “I do not see how you could love Cesario and not Sebastian.”
“Pray pardon me for saying so, dear sister, but I do not see how anyone could love your husband,” said Olivia, and smiled sweetly when Orsino glared at her.
“Does Sebastian agree to this plan?” Orsino asked.
“I do,” said Sebastian. “The gracious Olivia has helped me to see that I love another.”
“Another! And who might that be?” asked Viola.
Sebastian coughed. “‘Tis Antonio,” he said. “The good captain who saved my life.”
Viola’s eyebrows shot up. Orsino’s furrowed. “You encouraged this, countess?”
“I did, my lord.”
“And you expect me also to encourage it?”
“I expect nothing, my lord. I merely wish you to honor our request.”
“Hmph.”
“I should have suspected this,” said Viola. “Antonio was so passionate in his language when he mistook me for Sebastian, I thought him mad.”
“And I thought everyone mad I met that day,” said Sebastian with a laugh. His voice grew soft. “Dost thou hate me, Viola?”
“Hate thee, Sebastian? Nay, never! I admit I am…surprised…but if thou truly lov’st this man, I will not say against thy choice.”
“I thank thee, Viola.” Sebastian leaned over to kiss his sister’s cheek, and she threw her arms around him.
“What say’st thou, husband?” Viola asked after giving Sebastian one last squeeze. “Wilt thou grant Sebastian and Olivia their freedom?”
“Would it please thee, sweet mistress?” asked Orsino.
“It would, beloved master.”
“Then I suppose I must.”
“I thank you, my lord,” said Olivia.
“And I, also,” said Sebastian. He hesitated for a moment, then grinned and kissed Olivia deeply. “For old time’s sake,” he explained to the once again raised and furrowed eyebrows, and Olivia tolerantly shook her head.
The house was quiet, or at least as quiet as any house can be wherein resides Sir Toby. Once the annulment had been made official Sebastian and Antonio had left, off for a honeymoon of adventure on the high seas. Olivia drifted aimlessly for a while. For the first time since the death of her brother, she had no immediate goal in life. Time that had been taken up with mourning, avoiding Orsino, pursuing Cesario, and matchmaking for Sebastian was now open. Occasionally she entertained, occasionally she visited, but Viola and Orsino were really rather nauseating together. Sir Toby and Maria were still spending most of their time below-stairs, and Fabian was making eyes at Juliet. The steward and the housekeeper ran the household. Olivia found herself spending most of her time alone.
One day as she sat sketching in the garden, a shadow fell across her paper. “Good day, fool,” she said without looking up.
“You know my shadow so well, madonna?” asked Feste from the back of the bench.
“I know no one else in this house who can approach so quietly, fool,” said Olivia. “Will you sit where I can see you without strain? I have never had a person in my drawings, and you have as good a face as any.”
“And better than some, madonna, dost think so?” asked Feste, obediently slipping off the bench and seating himself by the rosebush Olivia had been engaged in drawing.
“Indeed,” said Olivia, “your face does please me more than did that of Sir Andrew, or of Malvolio.”
“Ah, two parasites now rid from this Eden,” said Feste, and Olivia did not contradict him. “And the face of the good Duke?”
“He has a good face,” declared Olivia. “It is the man beneath I care not for.”
“And Master Cesario?”
“There is no Master Cesario, fool.” Olivia dipped her pen in the inkwell.
“Dost still mourn him, madonna?”
“I mourn perhaps a memory of a dream.”
“Art thou contented, madonna?”
“Contented, good fool? I think so.”
“Dost not know so?”
“I am alone,” said Olivia. She started sketching Feste’s outline. “I have never been so before. It feels strange.”
“Alone, madonna?” asked Feste. “Hast thou not thy cousins?”
“Ay, but Maria is kept busy looking after Toby.”
“What of thy steward and gentlewoman?”
“I do not know Balthazar and Anita as I knew Malvolio and Maria.”
“Thou hast also me, madonna.”
“I know, and I thank thee.” Olivia continued sketching, filling in the features of Feste’s face. “What is thy name, fool?”
Feste blinked. It was the first time Olivia had ever seen him express surprise. “My name, madonna?”
“Ay. I think I knew it once, many years ago, but it has been forgot.”
“It is Feste, madonna.”
“Feste,” said Olivia thoughtfully. “A good name. Now, if I am to call thee by thy name, thou must call me by mine.”
“Of course, madonna.”
“Feste.”
“Lady Olivia,” said Feste with a grin. He gave a graceful sitting bow.
“Feste, thou told’st me once that thou would’st teach me to be a fool,” said Olivia.
“And so will I, Lady Olivia, if such be thy wish.”
“It is,” said Olivia, still busily sketching. “I also wish to learn to climb trees.”
“And I will teach thee that also,” said Feste. “But is such a thing proper for one of thy station, Lady Olivia?”
“I believe I have officially disgraced myself already, and tree-climbing will not do further harm to my reputation.” Olivia put down her pen and turned her paper towards Feste. “What think’st thou of thy portrait, good Feste?” she asked.
Feste stood, brushed himself off, and examined the paper. “The skill is better than the subject,” he said.
Olivia laughed. “Nay, thou liest! The skill is small, and the subject great.”
“Bless thee for saying so!” said Feste and, with another bow, handed the paper back to Olivia.
She took it graciously and put it, along with the pen and inkwell, into her drawing box. “Now then, sir, shall we to the trees?” she asked.
“Indeed we shall, sweet Lady Olivia,” said Feste. He held out his arm for Olivia, who stood and took it. Arm in arm, they strolled through the garden, searching for an appropriate tree for a first lesson.
And Olivia ceased to mourn.