Nothing But the Reward of a Villain
“You used me,” says Margaret. “You were sweet with me, and I believe you meant it when we danced together, but you still…” Her voice trembles with disbelief but not anger. “You let me be a tool against my lady and friend.”
Borachio tilts his head down, eyes closed. “I cannot deny it. But I would be ashamed to repeat it.”
“Hmm…” He cracks his eyes open to find Margaret squinting hers at him. “Alright, I won’t make you tell me what we both already know. Tell me this, then: why did you do it? Can you really hate Lady Hero so much?”
He did it because he thought it would be fun, and it was until the circumstances grew more dire than anyone could have guessed. He did it because there was untold wealth in it for him and he hardly even had to ask for it. Borachio could say either of those and it would be the truth, but he couldn’t say so to Margaret and expect her to remain his friend.
“It’s not Hero I hated. It never was, she’s always been perfectly decent to me. But doesn’t it make you angry, Margaret, the way they all treat us? I know I’m smart, I know I’m a hard worker, but even if I do everything right the highest I’ll ever climb is the head steward and I’ll still be called ‘that lewd fellow’ behind my back. Because of my birth even my cleverness is a point against me, and I saw the same helplessness in my master, Don John.” He shrugs. “He wanted to get back at his brother through the noble Claudio and I wanted to get back at Leonato through the fair Hero. It only made sense to work together. But I should have known it wouldn’t make either of us feel better.”
“Are you really so angry all the time, Borachio?” He can’t stand the note of pity in her words, but then she laughs a little and this is the Margaret he adores. “I’m not. So maybe I’ll always live below stairs, but it’s not a bad life as long as I have good people to share it with, and you’re one of them.” She really believes that, and he doesn’t understand how she can. A little quieter she adds, “You’ve been crying for it, haven’t you?” He has been, and now he turns his face to the ceiling in a vain attempt to stop more tears from coming. “Borachio…” Margaret fishes in her apron for a handkerchief and won’t let up until he accepts it. “You don’t have to do that anymore, really you don’t.”
“I’d stop this if I could.” His smile is marred by a sniffle. “I have work to do and I have to look my best.”
“Will you listen to me?” Margaret scolds him. “Hero’s alive.”
“She— what? But everyone said she died on the instant of her accusation — her false accusation.”
“It had to look that way so everyone would realize how much they’d lost by rejecting my lady. Even I wasn’t told of the trick right away. But then by being caught you provided enough evidence to clear her name again. In a way, you saved her honor.”
“No, please don’t give me credit for something like that. I know what I’ve done and there’s no way to make that anything but a blot on me. But that Claudio…” He shakes his head. “Even Hero’s death wasn’t enough to make her lovely in his eyes. I saw how he was laughing about it right up to the moment he learned the truth.”
“Right.” Margaret nods. “And I saw how boldly he shamed her at the altar. It was too cold to be truly angry, that’s the worst part. But he did marry her in the end. It was a small ceremony a few hours ago. He really does love her.”
“Your problem is that you’re too forgiving.” He folds her handkerchief and hands it back.
“Maybe. But there are worse problems to have.”
