The Juliet Club (19 page)

On the other hand, he was going to try to win Silvia for himself. He considered, for a moment, what England's most valiant king might have done when faced with Silvia di Napoli. He had a feeling that even good King Harry might have said, “Better you than me, mate,” and run for the hills.

“Stiffen the sinews,” he said under his breath. “Conjure up the blood.”

“Not a bad motto,” a voice said from behind him.

Tom jumped, then cursed himself as he turned to see Dan standing by the computer.

“Sorry, didn't mean to sneak up on you,” the director said. “Just wanted to send a couple of quick e-mails.”

“No problem,” Tom muttered. “I was just, um—” He waved vaguely at the bookshelf.

“Trying out something besides
Romeo and Juliet
? Good for you.” Dan walked over to scan the shelf. “So, did you like
Henry V
?”

“Yes.” Tom tried to put everything he felt about the play into one heartfelt monosyllable, because he knew he could never, if he lived to be a hundred and twelve, find the words to explain in a way that someone like Dan would understand. At first, he had struggled with the language. He had to look up every footnote just to understand what was going on. It was hard, slow slogging, and he wondered what he had been thinking, to take on this task when he had never been that good at understanding difficult books, especially something as difficult as a Shakespeare play. There had been all that back and forth between lords and bishops about politics and then an incredibly long speech about honeybees. And that stupid chorus kept coming onstage and talking everyone's ear off.

But then a character appeared uttering wonderful curses (“O viper vile!” Tom would say while practicing his fencing. “Thou prick-eared cur of Iceland!”). Several lords were arrested for treason. And King Harry and his men invaded France. After that, the play really picked up speed, and then there was that scene with Queen Katherine of France near the end, when Harry so eloquently apologized for not being eloquent—

“It was really good,” he added.

But Dan was watching him with an astute eye. “‘I speak to thee plain soldier,'” he said with an understanding nod.

“Yeah, exactly.” Tom hesitated, then launched into another passage in turn. “‘For these fellows of infinite tongue, that can rhyme themselves into ladies' favors, they do always reason themselves out again. . . . But a good heart is the sun and the moon.'”

Dan clapped Tom on the shoulder. “Well said! I think you've stumbled onto a little secret that it took me years to discover. Shakespeare always tells you what you need to know when you need to know it. It's really rather spooky. I remember one time—” He stopped short and stared out the window. “My goodness.”

Tom turned and saw Silvia, changed into slim black pants and a black T-shirt, her hair pulled back in a businesslike ponytail. She was racing up and down the terrace with a sword, slashing furiously left and right, whirling to fight off imaginary attackers, then leaping onto the stone balustrade and launching a fast and ferocious counter-attack. She looked like a madwoman.

“My goodness,” Dan said again, his voice awed.

“Wow. She looks really good,” Tom said.

“Yes, she does.” Dan hummed thoughtfully, then added under his breath. “Yes, as I was saying. Shakespeare always offers a solution to every problem.”

“What?” Tom wasn't really listening.

“Never mind,” Dan said. “Just talking to myself. I'll see you later, Tom. Keep up the good work.”

The door slammed shut behind him.

Panting, Silvia slumped into a chair to rest.

After a few seconds, Tom forced himself to look away. He felt as if he were invading her privacy, somehow, by watching her when she didn't know she was being observed. He turned his attention to the bookshelf and ran one finger along the spines of the other plays.

Shakespeare always tells you what you need to know. . . .

It sounded a little New Age-y to Tom, but Dan was a smart guy. His eye fell on a title embossed in gold:
Two Gentlemen of Verona.
Tom grinned and pulled it off the shelf. After all, his mother was always telling him to act like a gentleman, and he'd been standing right here with Dan, who clearly
was
a gentleman, when Dan had told him the secret of Shakespeare, and then, at that very moment, they had been vouchsafed a vision of beauty.

With a devil-may-care spirit, Tom flipped the book open and read the first lines his eyes fell on.

What light is light, if Silvia be not seen?

What joy is joy, if Silvia be not by? . . .

Except I be by Silvia in the night,

There is no music in the nightingale.

Tom felt the hair rise on the back of his neck. He slowly lowered the book, then turned to stare out the window at Silvia, who was now practicing lunges with her sword. She looked terrifying, deadly, and completely gorgeous.

She stopped suddenly to look at her watch. Then, between one breath and the next, she had run down the terrace steps and was gone.

Tom stood still, watching the now empty space where she had been and saying the words over to himself. “Except I be by Silvia in the night, there is no music in the nightingale.”

Lucy danced. She danced with her hand resting lightly on top of Benno's, which he held out shoulder-high, and glided across the ballroom's polished wooden floor, her long silk skirt swaying to the rhythm of the music. She twirled, she turned, she curtsied. She took three quick steps to the left and clapped, then three steps to the right. Then, along with the other dancers, she swept across the floor in a wide circle, until she was back at the beginning, ready to move through the pattern again.

Lucy danced, catching quick glimpses of herself in the mirror: her head tilted at such a charming angle, her arms held out so gracefully, her movements so fluid and quick.

Lucy danced, and she watched herself dancing, and she wondered, somewhat petulantly, why no one else seemed to be watching her at all.

“
Perdonami,
my fault, I'm sorry—”

Benno had missed a step. Again. She gave him a warm and forgiving smile (again). He looked away.

She bit her lip. It was so strange. Benno was her dancing partner, yet he could hardly meet her eyes. He was always staring at the floor or over her shoulder, as if he wanted to be anywhere else but here with her.

It made it very difficult to dance together. And she was beginning to feel snubbed.

He's probably just embarrassed, she consoled herself. We've been practicing forever and he still can't take three steps without tripping.

“Down, down, and
up
, down, down and
up
.” Dan had noticed Benno's mistake, of course. He began counting the steps again, the way he had when he was first teaching them the dance. It seemed to steady Benno, and the dance continued.

As Lucy curtsied to Benno's bow, she glanced to her left and saw Giacomo and Kate smiling into each other's eyes as they did the same move. Then it was time to do the little sidestep that brought each couple close together. Lucy turned, still watching, and saw Giacomo whisper something that made Kate smile.

Another sidestep, and it was time to dance the length of the room once more in a stately double line.

“One, two, and
up,
one, two and
up
.” Lucy danced, not bothering to listen to Dan's counting; she had learned these steps in the first five minutes of the first day. She moved automatically, her thoughts still with Giacomo and Kate.

It was so amusing to watch them, trying to pretend that they weren't falling for each other, when everyone could see that Giacomo couldn't keep his eyes off Kate and that Kate stole a look at Giacomo whenever she thought no one was watching. It was delightful to think that Silvia's scheme had worked, and that they had been able to bring true happiness to two people who would have never found it otherwise. And it was charming to observe Giacomo and Kate together, so happy and in love.

Lucy sighed as Benno twirled her around. This move had been difficult at first, since she was an inch or two taller, but now, as she glanced in the mirror, she saw that they were doing it perfectly. This should have made her happy, but Lucy was twirling with a heavy heart. The golden summer days were slipping away, and all her dreams about an Italian romance seemed to be slipping away with them.

In order to banish this thought, Lucy smiled even more brightly as she turned to face Benno. He gave her a stunned look in return, then tripped. The trip was even more impressive considering that he was standing still at the time.

“Never mind, Benno, keep going,” Dan called. “Remember, learning to cover a mistake is as important as getting everything right.”

Benno nodded, frowning in concentration as he led Lucy in the circle back to the beginning. They made it back safely and started through one more round. Tom and Silvia were in front of Lucy; she had to repress an unworthy stab of jealousy when she saw how well they danced together. It had come as something of a surprise to find that they were the best dancers in the room. Both were graceful and had a natural sense of rhythm, and Tom's pale gold hair and Silvia's raven black hair make them a striking pair.

Tom was gawking a bit at Silvia, Lucy noticed thoughtfully, but Silvia was intent on watching Giacomo and Kate. She would turn her head as she moved through the dance to keep them in her line of sight. Then she would frown or snap at Tom or just look downright peevish, which Lucy didn't understand at all, since it was clear as day that their matchmaking scheme was working beautifully.

The line of dancers stopped. Time to curtsy and bow.

Tom bowed to Silvia as if he were a lovesick knight paying tribute to a courtly lady.

Lucy found herself sighing again. Not that she was interested in Tom, of course. He was like every boy she had ever dated back home. She hadn't come to Italy to date another Tom.

But still, it would be nice if he noticed her once in a while, if he let her know, even by just a glance, that he thought she was pretty. Of course, Lucy didn't harbor any real doubts about her charms; she had been told about them often enough. She was fairly sure that she was adorable.

But then, that had been back home. A sudden dark thought struck her. Maybe she was only pretty by Mississippi standards! Maybe her charm only worked in a town where everyone had known her since she was a baby! Maybe in Italy
she wasn't adorable at all
!

This thought was so dismaying that Lucy felt quite dizzy. Only muscle memory, years of ballet training, and pure Southern grit helped her make it through to the end of the dance.

“Ha! Take that! And that! And
that,
you dog!”

Tom stood with his back against the wall, watching from a safe distance as Silvia, dressed in black tights and tunic, apparently took on ten swordsmen and won. “She looks good,” he commented.

“She looks lethal,” replied Benno, who was standing next to him.

Tom glanced over at him. “Are you sure you don't mind the recasting?”

Benno gave a little snort of amusement. “No, Signor Renkin is right. I am terrible at fencing, even pretend fencing. And now”—his face took on a beatific look—“I get to play Romeo opposite Lucy!”

“True.” Tom was happy for his friend, he really was.

“And you get to rehearse with Silvia!” Benno went on, bright as a button. “What fun for you!”

“Yeah.” Tom watched from across the room as Silvia lunged across the floor, darted forward with a series of rapid feints, whirled around, and finished with a savage thrust, straight through the heart.

Benno thought he knew who she was imagining as she dealt the death blow. Their adventure in the maze had not pleased her at all.

“Why are you so angry?” he had asked her as he walked with her across the bridge that evening. “Everything is happening as you planned it.”

“Yes, I know!”

“Giacomo has been totally duped! He will feel like a complete fool when he learns the truth!”

“Yes, I realize that!”

“All that remains is to tell Kate and Giacomo how thoroughly they have been tricked and enjoy a good laugh—”

But at that point they had reached her apartment building. She snarled good night and slammed the door in his face.

Now, as he watched her whip her sword back and forth in a menacing fashion, he felt great sympathy for his friend Tom.

Even Dan had backed away a bit, but he called out cheerfully, “Very good, Silvia, nicely done,” and gestured for Tom and Benno to join him. “Now I'll take you two through the choreography, slowly at first. Once you've got the moves down, we'll work on speed.”

“All right,” Silvia said. “I'm ready.”

“Yes, excellent, the readiness is all, as they say.” Dan hesitated, then said, “So, Silvia, I don't know if you've managed to read through the entire scene yet”—he grinned to show he was joking—“but you do know that you lose this fight, right?”

“Yesss,” Silvia hissed. “I know.”

“Excellent. So, no getting caught up in the moment and trying to fight back, right?” Dan raised his eyebrows meaningfully. “No spontaneous rewrites on the night that would result in a Mercutio victory.”

“No,” Silvia agreed through clenched teeth. “I will lose.”

“Not that Mercutio could win,” Benno put in. He was standing in front of the mirror, trying out various poses with his sword. If he couldn't actually fight, he thought, he could still look dashing. “Not against Tybalt.”

“Exactly!” Tom thought it was about time to assert some authority here. He tried a quick thrust, parry, and counter and was pleased to see Dan give him an approving wink. “You don't have a chance against me! Ha!”

“Only because you are sneaky!” she said hotly. Dan had spent some time explaining to them that most of the play's characters objected to Tybalt's style of fighting, which was more like fencing than an honest Elizabethan knife fight. “Otherwise I would win. I am sure of it.”