Chapter Sixteen

June 3, 1895
Thebe Manor, East Veronaville

At least the duck in the pond seemed happy, Juliette mused as she watching it float lazily about in the otherwise still waters. These perfectly square, perfectly leveled pools were otherwise just like everything else in her life, all carefully planned to the point of tyranny, each small detail having to be ‘just so‘–hell, even the lilies never moved, it seemed! Perhaps it was meant to be a physical representation of the Thebes’ own gene pool; Juliette wouldn’t have put that past Consort.

“Juliette?”

She turned around to see her Uncle Kent approaching her, veering off the walk and onto the grass. Juliette sighed; ordinarily, she quite enjoyed his visits, but at the moment, she just wanted to be alone.

“Hello, Uncle Kent,” she greeted him, both dull and resigned.

He cringed. “Please, Juliette… I insist. Just call me ‘Kent’. None of this–this uncle business.”

Juliette understood–and, actually, she was somewhat relieved. Kent was only about six years older than she was, considering that she would be fourteen soon; it felt strange, calling a twenty-year-old her uncle. She then realized just how extreme of an age gap there was between the two halves of the Thebe siblings–while thirty-three-year-old Goneril was certainly more like an aunt than a cousin, she considered asking if she could drop the title from the name of twenty-one-year-old Regan.

Today, however, Kent did not look so long. Instead, he held himself with all the caution and tact of a middle-aged man, socially conscious to the extreme, quite the opposite of the awkward, bumbling, slightly scatterbrained intellectual he usually was. “Is something bothering you?” she asked him.

Tilting his head slightly, his mouth slowly curled into a frown. “Well… I’m not sure if ‘bothering’ is the best word for it. Is Consort home, by any chance?”

Juliette raised an eyebrow; never had she thought that Kent would ever drop by unexpectedly to see Consort. “Yes. Why?”

“Well,” he began with a sharp breath, “no sense dragging it out, I suppose, so I’ll be blunt. Frankly, since your cousin Hal is far too young to be married–as are you yourself, of course, but obviously no one can convince Consort of that–I am here to ask for your hand.”

Suddenly, it seemed as though the generation gap had returned. Goneril’s constant yammering on about Hal–of whom Juliette would have never suspected her to be so proud–had made her very nearly believe that he was her only choice. Now, she had been reminded that he wasn’t, but it seemed so… odd. She had no qualms about marrying her cousin, but her uncle? This twenty-year-old man suddenly seemed all of sixty.

Her face must have told him something, for his eyes soon widened in horror. “Oh, I hope you don’t think I mean to do anything like that!” he exclaimed; it took her a second to realize that he meant the sort of thing Consort had always done to her. She hadn’t been thinking that–but now that he had mentioned it, she was.

“Believe me,” he insisted, “it wouldn’t be like… that. I was just thinking… company, more or less? And a roof over your head? Maybe a child or two if you want, but other than that… I mean, you’re my niece! My sister’s baby! I can’t even imagine… that…”

He stopped talking, for which Juliette was quite relieved. Then, his eyes darted about quickly as he muttered. “Besides, I… I have feelings for someone else. Someone I can never have. Perhaps you know what that feels like.”

Juliette nodded slowly, Romeo’s face coming into the focus of her mind’s eye. “Tell me about her.”

Kent shifted uncomfortably. “Well…”

“What color is her hair?” she demanded. “At least tell me that.”

“It’s black…” he answered softly.

“And her eyes?”

Her uncle sighed. “Gray. But…”

“But what?” pressed Juliette; she wanted to make sure this person was plausible. The last thing she needed was another man intent on molesting her.

“Well, firstly, he’s happily married to my sister,” he replied rather hurriedly.

Juliette blinked–several times.

“…he? Cornwall?”

Kent grimaced; suddenly, he was more or less a cousin again. “Yes, that would be the ‘secondly’.”

“So you don’t fancy women at all, then?” she mused hopefully; if she could not marry someone she loved, then marrying someone she could be friends with who was not a risk for unwanted sexual attention was certainly looking to be a pleasing alternative.

“Not in that way, no,” he admitted, shaking his head. “Please don’t tell anyone, though–I doubt they would understand. Regan knows, and now you, but that’s it. I don’t even think Cornwall knows… though I may have occasionally given him reason to suspect,” he added with a wink.

“So… we’ll just be friends, then,” concluded Juliette.

He nodded. “That’s the idea. If I find intimacy with someone, I trust you will allow me to take the opportunity–likewise, should you find yourself in the same situation, you have my full understanding and support. Does that appeal to you?”

For the first time in a good week or so, Juliette could not help but smile. “Yes!” she exclaimed as she embraced him. “That would be perfect. Thank you… Kent.”

“Not a problem at all, my dear,” he assured her. “I daresay that at this point, this is the most convenient solution for the both of us.”

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