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Olivia did not much mind when her husband ran off with his pirate friend, not until she realized how lonely a house is with no friends in it. Malvolio had not returned for his revenge, Toby and Maria were off honeymooning, and Feste had gone wherever it was that Feste went. The servants who remained in the house tended to whisper and snicker about recent happenings, and none were interested in conversation with their mistress. Olivia could feel herself dying again, slipping behind the veil she had assumed upon the loss of her father and brother.
As had happened before, it was a visit from Viola that lifted the veil. She brought Orsino with her, of course, but Olivia no longer minded him. In fact, now that he was not wooing her at every opportunity, she found she rather liked him. The duke and duchess enlivened the house, and when they rose to leave, Olivia felt she could not bear it. “May I come visit you?” she blurted out desperately.
“Of course, countess,” said Orsino after a brief, silent exchange with Viola. “Our home is open to you whenever you would wish it.”
“I wish it now, if I may,” said Olivia. “I feel myself going mad in this house.”
Another silent exchange. “Of course,” Orsino repeated.
Olivia curtsied. “I thank you, my lord. My lady.”
“Shall we go, then?” asked Orsino, holding out his arm.
Viola laughed. “My lord, the countess cannot leave her house as she is.” She turned to Olivia. “If you will now pack, we will send a servant for you as soon as we reach our home. How does that suit you?”
“Very well,” said Olivia.
“Then we shall leave you till then,” said Viola. She smiled warmly, and walked away with Orsino as Olivia smiled back.
That night, Viola showed Olivia to a spare room, and kissed her cheek when she wished her a good night. Olivia felt a thrill which should have vanished with Cesario.
Olivia was not quite sure what she was doing, living with Viola and Orsino. They entertained her when they could, never said a word about her going home. Olivia knew she was intruding, felt it, but the thought of going back to her own house became unbearable.
So she laughed and listened and spent hours alone in her room so that Viola and Orsino would not grow too tired of her. But she was always greeted with smiles when she emerged.
The smiles grew as necessary to Olivia’s existence as air and water. Viola’s, serene and mirthful and nothing like Sebastian’s. Orsino’s, regal but with a touch of childlike wonder.
When the smiles were turned to each other, Olivia felt a strange tugging at her heart. When they shone on her, she wanted to throw herself at her hosts’ feet and pray to be worthy of them. Instead, she smiled back, and was rewarded when the smiles widened.
Orsino was virtuous. Orsino was noble. Orsino was of great estate, of fresh and stainless youth, in voices well divulged, free, learned, and valiant. Orsino was, in dimension and the shape of nature, a gracious person.
Olivia had realized quickly that she loved Viola as well as she had ever loved Cesario. Orsino came as a surprise.
One day, Viola knocked on Olivia’s door. “My lord is busy with matters of state,” she explained. “Wilt thou keep me company for a time?”
“Madam, I will,” said Olivia.
“Come, then,” said Viola. She offered her arm, and Olivia took it. “I thought to show thee my new gowns,” she continued as they strolled through the halls. “The tailor hath finished his work at last, and I need no longer wear usurped attire.”
“And I will be glad to see them,” said Olivia. “Is this one new? It suits thee.”
“Ay,” said Viola, blushing a little. The gown was a pale gray-green, it matched her eyes. “‘Tis my favorite, I think.”
When Cesario had first turned into Viola, Olivia had stared at her constantly, trying to see the boy within the woman and wondering how she had missed the woman within the boy. She had taken note of all the differences between Viola and Sebastian: the smile, more delicate hands and wrists, a slighter frame. The face a touch thinner, the lips a touch fuller, the nose a touch longer. By the time the differences had been memorized, the staring had become habit. Viola noticed, Olivia was sure, but she never said anything. Perhaps now she was glad to give an excuse for the stares.
The two women entered the chamber that Viola shared with Orsino. Olivia was careful not to look at the bed.
“I have had a letter from my brother,” said Viola as she smoothed out a deep blue gown.
“How does he?” asked Olivia, watching Viola’s movements.
“He is well,” said Viola. “He and his sailor friend.” She turned towards another gown as she asked, “What think’st thou of my brother and his friend?”
“I am fond of Sebastian,” said Olivia, “and the Captain Antonio seems a good man. I wish them well.”
Viola’s face was half-hidden when she turned back to Olivia. “What think’st thou of the manner of their friendship?”
“I think it hath made them the happiest men alive, and I wish I had such a friendship.”
“Then thou dost not think it strange?”
“Strange perhaps, but ‘tis a strangeness that suits them,” said Olivia. “And thou, my lady? Dost not approve of thy brother’s choice?”
“Nay,” said Viola. “I do admire his courage. I wish-”
“Wish, my lady?”
Viola deliberately set down the gown she had been clutching. “This,” she said, and quickly kissed Olivia’s lips.
Olivia, startled but by no means displeased, smiled. “Why then, it seems we have the same wish.”
“Do we?” asked Viola, who was looking at the floor.
“Ay,” said Olivia, and returned the kiss she had been given. The second kiss was less hurried, somewhat deeper, and in the middle of it Viola’s arm found its way around Olivia’s waist.
There was a third kiss, and there would have been a fourth, had not Orsino chosen that moment to open the door.
Viola gasped, tore herself away from Olivia, and dropped to her knees. “O! My lord, my love, forgive me! Forgive me!”
Orsino looked at Olivia, his expression unreadable. “Countess, will you leave us?”
Olivia bowed her head. “I will pack my things, my lord.”
“You mistake me. Leave but the room, not the house.”
“You are too generous, my lord,” said Olivia, and she fled, leaving the sounds of Viola’s soft sobs behind her.
Olivia stayed in her room for the rest of the day. A servant brought her supper, apparently under the impression that she was sick. Perhaps she was.
Late that night there was a knock at her door. “Who is’t?” Olivia called. She had not been sleeping, but staring at the wall and wondering and trembling and cursing herself when she dared to dream.
“Orsino,” said Orsino’s voice. “May I come in?”
Olivia leapt to her feet and grabbed her dressing gown. “You may, my lord,” she said once she was decently clothed.
The door opened. “You see before you a tortured man,” announced Orsino. He carried a candle, and he shone in the light nearly as brightly as he shone in Olivia’s heart.
“I will not ask for forgiveness,” said Olivia, “for I know I deserve none. But I pray you, forgive your wife, for she is not to blame.”
“My wife loves you,” said Orsino, setting his candle on the table beside Olivia’s bed. “Do you return her affections?”
“What an if I do, my lord?”
“Do you?” Orsino took a step closer to Olivia.
“I do love, my lord,” said Olivia, not daring to look at Orsino’s face.
Orsino sighed. “As do I.”
“My lord, Viola loves you dearly. Worry not.”
“Ah,” said Orsino, “but ‘tis not Viola that worries me.”
“My lord?”
“I did think, when I learned to love Viola, that I had unlearned my love for you. But ‘tis not so.”
“My lord!”
Orsino raised a finger to Olivia’s lips. “Let me speak. I know you ever scorned my love, and I expect no change in your opinion. I have no reason to expect, and no right. I would not impose on you for the world, and yet I could not continue in silence.”
“Good my lord,” began Olivia. Something in her was fluttering, while something else screamed and something else found the whole situation terribly amusing. “I told you I love, but I did not say who.”
“Then you do not love my wife?” asked Orsino.
“Nay, I do,” said Olivia. “But I have also love for you.” She smiled apologetically as the expression on Orsino’s face grew even more bewildered. “Had you not worked so hard to woo me, and made yourself such a fool, mayhap I would have sooner fallen.”
“I fear ‘tis now I am the fool,” said Orsino. “Do you mock me, my lady?”
“I would not do such a thing,” said Olivia. “I have come to love both you and your wife – and in those last words is my sorrow writ.”
“Mayhap not so,” Orsino murmured. He gently stroked Olivia’s cheek, twisted a stray lock of her hair. She allowed the caress. “Sleep well, dear countess.”
“And you, my lord,” said Olivia. Orsino nodded, retrieved his candle, and left Olivia once more alone in her room.
Unsure whether she should laugh or cry, Olivia slept.
The morning came, and still Olivia did not leave her room. Instead, she waited for the knock which was certain to come, be it from Viola, Orsino, or a servant.
It turned out to be Viola at the other side of the door. Her eyes were bright, though there were circles beneath them. “Wilt thou not come to breakfast?” she asked.
“I thought perhaps I would not be welcome,” said Olivia.
“O! Thou art welcome always, my- most radiant, exquisite, and unmatchable beauty,” Viola said with a laugh. “My lord and I have had a talk,” she continued. “He did tell me what passed between you last night.”
Olivia blushed. “And this – I have not upset you?”
“Nay,” said Viola. She took Olivia’s hands and said, shyly and a little hurriedly, “He loves me and thee, and I love thee and he. If thou wilt love he and me, we may be happy all three.”
“Dost truly mean this, sweet Viola?”
“With all my heart,” said Viola. “And all Orsino’s too. If thou wilt have us, we are thine.”
“Then I will,” said Olivia. She tightened her fingers around Viola’s, smiling, and then leaned forward to kiss her.
When the two parted, Viola grinned and said, “Now wilt thou come to breakfast? Orsino will be waiting.”
“Gladly,” said Olivia.
Orsino was indeed waiting for them, standing outside the dining room with anxious eyes. He relaxed somewhat when he saw Olivia and Viola walking arm in arm. “How now, my ladies?” he asked.
Olivia released Viola’s arm and curtsied. “Quite well, my love.”
Orsino raised his eyebrows and looked at Viola, who nodded happily. “I am glad of it, sweet Olivia,” he said, and kissed Olivia’s hand.
“Be not so formal, dear ones!” said Viola, and she threw her arms around both Olivia and Orsino.
Looking up, Olivia could see Viola and Orsino smiling at her with the smiles they had previously saved for each other, and for the first time since her father’s death, she felt perfectly happy.