love. But if he will, why then you take him, even if he is a Montague.’
I stared at her. This was the one marriage in all the world I could not have. No romantic dreams would serve me now. Nurse could marry where she wished. But I, a Capulet …
Reality slipped over me like cold water. I had been a moonlit girl. It was time to be a woman. Had Guigemar’s lady let herself die in that dungeon? No, she had soughtout her love! Who said I could not marry a Montague? Was it the Church, or the Prince? No. The Holy Church liked two lovers wed. As for the Prince …
My skin prickled. This marriage could be an answer to all his woes.
Who better to marry than a Capulet and a Montague? Our marriage would heal the Prince’s city. Romeo’s parents and mine would forbid us if they knew. But what could they do once we were married? My father had one child only, as did Lord Montague. They would have to forgive us. The quarrel would be mended, and by my hand.
It was as though I had turned the page in Marie’s book, and found it ended happily. A girl would bring two broken families together. A girl hand in hand with her true love, just like in the stories.
I kissed Nurse quickly on her fat cheek. I stepped back through the curtain. The moon shone like a golden plum hanging over the wall. I knew he would still be there.
His face broke into happiness as I looked down. ‘My lady?’
‘Three words, dear Romeo, and goodnight indeed. If that your love be honourable, your purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow by one that I’ll ask to come to you. Where and what time you will perform the rite; and all my fortunes at your foot I’ll lay. I’ll follow you, my lord, throughout the world.’
Would he agree? A girl did not propose marriage, and such a sudden one. But he had let me come to him, had let me choose if we should kiss or not. I looked at his face and saw my answer.
Nurse called from within. ‘Madam!’
Was she regretting sending me out?
‘By and by, I come,’ I called to her. I looked at Romeo, his hat off in the moonlight. I smiled, and felt him smile with me. ‘Tomorrow I will send,’ I whispered.
He bowed his knee, but kept his gaze on mine. ‘So thrive my soul.’
‘A thousand times goodnight!’ I slid back inside. I heard him say, ‘A thousand times the worse, to want your light!’
Tomorrow … tomorrow we would be wed. Tomorrow Juliet Capulet would change the world. I floated on weariness and the scent of roses …
Nurse took my arm. ‘You haven’t found when your messenger will meet him, girl! Tell him I’ll come to him to take a message from him to you. But he must say when, and where.’
Dear Nurse. Kind Nurse. I ran back out. ‘Romeo!’
He was still there. ‘My dear?’
‘At what o’clock tomorrow shall I send to thee?’
He giggled. Guigemar would never giggle. Somehow I fell even more in love. ‘We are poor conspirators. By the church steps, at the hour of nine.’
‘I will not fail. ’Tis twenty years till then.’
I stared at him, the square solidness of his body, the shine of his dark hair, his moonlit face. It was as though my whole life had been in waiting, just for this.
I said at last, ‘I have forgot why I did call you back.’
He smiled. ‘Let me stand here till you remember it.’
I shook my head. ‘I shall forget,’ I said solemnly, ‘to have you still stand there, remembering how I love your company.’
‘And I’ll still stay, to have you still forget, forgetting any other home but this.’
Suddenly I was aware the moon had sunk below the garden wall. ‘’Tis almost morning. I would have you gone, and yet no further than a wanton’s bird —’
‘I would I were thy bird,’ he said dreamily.
I smiled at the idea of a small Romeo perched upon my shoulder. ‘Sweet, so would I.’
The moon shadows had turned to black. The sky would grow grey soon. The watchman would be here. If Romeo would not go, then I must send him away, to keep him
I stared at her. This was the one marriage in all the world I could not have. No romantic dreams would serve me now. Nurse could marry where she wished. But I, a Capulet …
Reality slipped over me like cold water. I had been a moonlit girl. It was time to be a woman. Had Guigemar’s lady let herself die in that dungeon? No, she had soughtout her love! Who said I could not marry a Montague? Was it the Church, or the Prince? No. The Holy Church liked two lovers wed. As for the Prince …
My skin prickled. This marriage could be an answer to all his woes.
Who better to marry than a Capulet and a Montague? Our marriage would heal the Prince’s city. Romeo’s parents and mine would forbid us if they knew. But what could they do once we were married? My father had one child only, as did Lord Montague. They would have to forgive us. The quarrel would be mended, and by my hand.
It was as though I had turned the page in Marie’s book, and found it ended happily. A girl would bring two broken families together. A girl hand in hand with her true love, just like in the stories.
I kissed Nurse quickly on her fat cheek. I stepped back through the curtain. The moon shone like a golden plum hanging over the wall. I knew he would still be there.
His face broke into happiness as I looked down. ‘My lady?’
‘Three words, dear Romeo, and goodnight indeed. If that your love be honourable, your purpose marriage, send me word tomorrow by one that I’ll ask to come to you. Where and what time you will perform the rite; and all my fortunes at your foot I’ll lay. I’ll follow you, my lord, throughout the world.’
Would he agree? A girl did not propose marriage, and such a sudden one. But he had let me come to him, had let me choose if we should kiss or not. I looked at his face and saw my answer.
Nurse called from within. ‘Madam!’
Was she regretting sending me out?
‘By and by, I come,’ I called to her. I looked at Romeo, his hat off in the moonlight. I smiled, and felt him smile with me. ‘Tomorrow I will send,’ I whispered.
He bowed his knee, but kept his gaze on mine. ‘So thrive my soul.’
‘A thousand times goodnight!’ I slid back inside. I heard him say, ‘A thousand times the worse, to want your light!’
Tomorrow … tomorrow we would be wed. Tomorrow Juliet Capulet would change the world. I floated on weariness and the scent of roses …
Nurse took my arm. ‘You haven’t found when your messenger will meet him, girl! Tell him I’ll come to him to take a message from him to you. But he must say when, and where.’
Dear Nurse. Kind Nurse. I ran back out. ‘Romeo!’
He was still there. ‘My dear?’
‘At what o’clock tomorrow shall I send to thee?’
He giggled. Guigemar would never giggle. Somehow I fell even more in love. ‘We are poor conspirators. By the church steps, at the hour of nine.’
‘I will not fail. ’Tis twenty years till then.’
I stared at him, the square solidness of his body, the shine of his dark hair, his moonlit face. It was as though my whole life had been in waiting, just for this.
I said at last, ‘I have forgot why I did call you back.’
He smiled. ‘Let me stand here till you remember it.’
I shook my head. ‘I shall forget,’ I said solemnly, ‘to have you still stand there, remembering how I love your company.’
‘And I’ll still stay, to have you still forget, forgetting any other home but this.’
Suddenly I was aware the moon had sunk below the garden wall. ‘’Tis almost morning. I would have you gone, and yet no further than a wanton’s bird —’
‘I would I were thy bird,’ he said dreamily.
I smiled at the idea of a small Romeo perched upon my shoulder. ‘Sweet, so would I.’
The moon shadows had turned to black. The sky would grow grey soon. The watchman would be here. If Romeo would not go, then I must send him away, to keep him
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