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"Lady—"Maria is an island of serenity amid the tumultuous seas of Lady Olivia's household. Sebastian has had quite enough of the sea for one lifetime."I am no lady, my lord, merely maid to a lady."He reaches for the lifeline she throws. "You are deeper in my lady's heart than I. You know her thoughts, have been her loyal companion for I know not how many long years. I am new come to her house, and the circumstances of my arrival…" Sebastian trails off, awkward and discomfited.Maria holds up a hand. "I do understand, my lord."Of course she does. "Indeed." Sebastian clears his throat. He does not like to think himself as second to his sister, nor she to him. They are one soul in two bodies, as equals, and yet…And yet, Olivia took him to the altar believing him to be Viola.Back to the matter at hand. "I find myself adrift in my lady's house; neither stranger nor friend. Her eye sparks when it meets mine, yet fizzles quick as gunpowder flash when she sees not a smooth cheek but a beard." Sebastian rubs said beard with a fingertip. "I fear that I am not who she truly loves.""And she loves him who is a figment. I do grasp the issue, my lord." Maria looks up at him, and he could swear she sees right through him and out the other side. "You wish to be in my lady's graces." He nods. "Why not ask your sister? Who did her very best to avoid my lady's graces, and thus knows something of her charms?"Sebastian's stomach drops. "I would fling myself back into the tempest before I did that."Maria smothers a laugh. "Well, my lord. What do you propose?""Tell me of her," he says. "You have long served in her household, you know her well, and I not at all. Tell me of happier times, before her father's death. Tell me of the day you met her.""Very well, my lord."—There's a girl standing in Olivia's doorway. The girl is about her age, but there the similarities end. Her dress is a worn out disgrace, she wears no shoes, and her hair has clearly been jerked back into a hasty plait without aid of a comb. "Who are you?""Your new maid, my lady."Olivia eyes the girl from her nest in the windowseat. Her book, which she had just received for her fourteenth birthday, is very good and she does not want to put it down. "What's your name?""Maria.""Where do you come from?""The kitchen?"Olivia's brows knit in confusion. "You're from the kitchen?""No, well I mean yes, I—" "Who sent you here?""The steward. Master Flavius."Yes, Olivia knows the steward's name, thank you. "And the steward thinks you are the best candidate to replace Anna?" Olivia lifts a skeptical eyebrow. She would have to tell her father to have a word with Master Flavius.The girl tangles her fingers together. "Master Flavius said my lord requested me specifically."He would, too, Olivia thinks. Soft-hearted old— "Fine. Do you know how to sew and mend?" The girl nods. "Polish shoes and jewels?" The girl looks less certain. "Dress a lady's hair?" The girl bites her lip and shakes her head. Olivia sighs. "Do you know how to creep about a house and gardens and not get caught?"Maria smiles. "After my lord has visitors, Cook leaves the whiskey out for a sly nip. And I know how to get in and out of the kitchen without being seen."Olivia places a marker in her new book and hops off the windowseat. "You and I might get on after all, Maria."—Sebastian frowns. "That seems quite unlike the Lady Olivia. Was she truly so unfeeling when she was young?""She has grown much since those days, my lord," Maria says, a bit too diplomatically if one were to ask Sebastian.—"And during the galliard he might as well have been one of Hannibal's elephants galumphing over the Alps," Olivia says, kicking her shoes off and flinging herself onto her bed. "It was awful. He trod all over my slippers, and they just came in from Italy!"Maria picks up the abused footwear and brushes the worst of the marks away. "Don't fret, my lady, I'll have these looking like new soon enough."Olivia heaves herself upright. "Oh, Maria. How do you tolerate me?" She stands up and starts to remove her party frock. "I am fractious as a teething babe. Obnoxious and petty. I am sorry, Maria."Maria takes the frock from Olivia and hands her a fresh nightdress. "Sir Leonato's son is enough to send anyone into a madness." She coughs. "Or so I hear. I should not speak ill of my betters.""That boy is no one's better," Olivia says from inside her nightdress. She yanks it down and her head pops out through the collar. "He is rude, he dances like a barge, he laughs like a braying ass—" Maria muffles a giggle— "and he chews with his mouth flapping open. How Father thinks I might marry such a disgrace is beyond me.""Your father is only trying to secure your future," Maria says in the tones of one who has repeated something ad nauseum. "However. You truly wish to be rid of him?"Olivia nods so hard her hair starts to fall from its precarious style. "Oh, say you have something, Maria! Your maneuverings are always so clever!""Well," Maria drawls, picking pins from her lady's hair before they fall, "this is not 'clever' exactly; it's more 'uncouth yet straightforward'?""Tell me.""You must go riding with him tomorrow…"The next morning Sir Leonato's son stomps into the foyer. His smart riding outfit is covered in mud, and he demands to return home immediately. Olivia and Maria take over the horse's grooming to make it up to the stable boy. Olivia's father confines her to the house for a week, but she knows she saw him duck out of the foyer to laugh.—"I may have plotted something similar with my sister once or twice." Sebastian grins. "It involved a ghost story, an old sheet, a windy night, and a boy's distressing gullibility.""You are quite the gallant to deliver your sister from the treacherous jaws of matrimony, my lord," Maria says."And so I am," Sebastian returns, "for now she is wedded to her heart's desire, not some poxy anklebiting codpiece."—The new steward is polite and proper toward Olivia, her father, and her brother; solicitous almost to the point of fawning. He transforms the house into a nearly military outfit: daily meals at a precise hour, business in the morning, deliveries on Thursday afternoons, and heaven help those who miss Sunday mass.Life shapes itself to conform to Malvolio's dictates, none of which seem terribly unreasonable to Olivia. It's all a bit clockwork, but he always remembers her favorite cheese when he does the shopping.The house is also quieter. Olivia's father jokes about 'finally having some damned peace', but after a time she sees the reason. The servants— old Cook, the kitchen girl, Fabian the stable boy— all do their best to avoid Malvolio's attention. They seem muted somehow, subdued by the new authority.She does not think much of it; they are all becoming used to him. He and old Flavius are like night and day. When Olivia happens upon a red-eyed Maria, darning abandoned in her lap, she shares her sweets but does not question her. After all, Maria is young and pretty, and not at all required to share personal details with Olivia (though if she ever discovers that a callow youth has broken Maria's heart, there will be hell to pay).Something tells Olivia to pay attention, to not disregard what she sees. And she sees that Maria's light burns a little dimmer when the new steward is about. She asks her what he has said to her, what he has done, but Maria only shakes her head and gets on with her work.So Olivia observes Malvolio. She watches him interact with the staff, and then with her father, and notes the differences. She sees how respectfully he addresses the family, and how haughty he is below stairs, treating them as though they are his own servants. He never truly misuses them, but once she sees it she cannot unsee it. Malvolio has the kitchen girl bring meals to his room, he sends his own clothing to the laundry along with the family's, he expects to be obeyed perfectly and instantly. Finding Maria sweeping the halls is the last straw.Olivia finds it advisable to have a chat with the new steward. Simply to make him aware of household expectations, nothing more.She never brings it up, and Maria never mentions it, but Malvolio never demands that she pick up a broom again.—Sunlight stabs into the sitting room through the gaps left where the heavy curtains meet. Dust floats lazily through the shafts of light. Olivia absently thinks about dusting.She watches the dust motes drift into the light, then into the dark again. They swirl and swarm like flies as Maria opens the door carrying a tray with tea."I don't want any, Maria.""I know, my lady, but I won't have you waste away." Maria sets the tray down on the little table by Olivia's elbow. "Tea. Bread. Cheese. Fruit." She points an expectant finger at each in turn.Olivia sighs, flips her veil back, and grabs a pear. She takes an enormous bite while staring at Maria, who heaves a sigh of her own."Very good, my lady." She sits on the divan next to Olivia. "Shall I attempt a report on the day's suitors?""No." Olivia eats the rest of the pear. The juice drips down her hand and wets the cuff of her black dress. The pear is perfectly ripe, perfectly delicious. She tastes none of it. "Yes."It has not yet been half a year since her father died; four months since her brother. And already the men come flocking to her doorstep like worms to a carcass. Eager to burrow into her and decompose what little remains of her into the earth.Maria twists her mouth up. "Three this morning, two this afternoon.""And?""And nothing. You are not receiving visitors. I sent them away.""My dear Maria." Olivia has done nothing but sit in the dark all day, and she is exhausted.Maria pours a cup of tea, adds a dash of sugar, and hands it to Olivia while taking the pear core from her. "Drink it."Olivia obeys. She drains the cup and looks at the leaves clumped in the bottom. What do they say about her, she wonders. Better not to ask at all.Warm fingers graze her cheek, brushing away salt water. Olivia had not realized she was weeping, but now the tears fall freely and her breath hitches on a sob. Maria tugs her into an embrace, resting her cheek on top of Olivia's head. She magics a handkerchief from the aether and presses it into Olivia's hand."You care for me so well, Maria." Olivia sits up and blots her face with the handkerchief. "I do not deserve you."Maria gives her a hard look. "You, my lady, are Penelope, and I Laertes' shroud. Use me as your protector, I will guard your virtue and fend off all who wish to trespass upon your grief." Maria takes her lady's clammy hand in her warm one. "You deserve nothing less than what I can give. You are my mistress and queen of my little world, but I hope you are also my friend, as I am yours."The ever-present ache in Olivia's chest threatens to overtake her. She bursts into noisy tears and flings herself into Maria's arms.They sit together, arms around each other, for a few long moments, until Olivia's sobs subside. Maria kisses the top of her lady's head, then dampens the handkerchief in some water. "Press this to your eyes, lest you puff and redden."Olivia laughs weakly. "But I have no suitors before whom I may flaunt my beauty.""Press this to your eyes, lest you puff and redden and Malvolio make comment upon it.""Oh, Lord."The teacup thumps to the carpet, forgotten.—"I tell you this, my lord, to illustrate her mind and lead you toward understanding," Maria says, her eyes boring into Sebastian's. "I admit I feel uneasy disclosing such intimacies, yet I would that a husband knows something of his wife.""And she of him," Sebastian says. "Your words will fly no further than these ears. I am deep in your debt, good lady, for lady you are, and loyal friend, companion, and confessor. Tell me no more, I will seek out Olivia directly." He clasps Maria's hand between his own. "I thank you. And should the wife wish to know her husband better, send her to his sister.""Perchance she takes your twin for you, my lord," Maria says with a face as innocent as a daisy."I believe I shall cultivate a friendship with you, Mistress Maria," says Sebastian, "lest I find myself yellow-gartered."Maria just laughs and waves him off toward his wife.