Much Ado about the Shrew

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Authors: Elizabeth May

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Much Ado about the Shrew

by Elizabeth May

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

MUCH
ADO ABOUT THE SHREW by Elizabeth May

 

COPYRIGHT
©2015

 

1st
Edition, August, 2015

Cover
design by A.M. Design Studios

http://amdesignstudios.net/

 

All
rights reserved. No part of this publication may be used or reproduced or
transmitted in any manner whatsoever, electronically, in print, or otherwise,
without the prior written permission of Elizabeth May, except in the case of
brief quotations embodied in critical articles and reviews.

 

NOTE:
This is a work of fiction. Names, characters, places and incidents are either
the product of the author's imagination or are used fictitiously. Any
resemblance to actual persons, living or dead, business establishments, events
or locales is entirely coincidental.

 

This
book is licensed for your personal enjoyment, and may not be re-sold or given
away. If you would like to share this book with another person, please kindly
purchase another copy.

Thank
you!

 
 
 
 

A
dying promise to protect her....

Benedick
Barrett's
only real problem growing up was that he was named after a character in a
Shakespeare play. After his best friend is shot in a senseless duel,
Benedick
Barrett makes his dying friend a promise to watch
over his sister, who just happens to also be named after the heroine in the
same play, and whom he has always hated.
 
When
Benedick
returns to London after the
Napoleonic Wars, however, he finds himself having to escort his nemesis
Beatrice from ballroom to ballroom.
Benedick
finds
himself attracted to the very woman he has despised for years, and if that
weren't enough, the very man who killed Beatrice's brother returns to London to
claim Beatrice for his own!
Benedick
must struggle
through his own feelings before Beatrice, and his very happiness, is lost to
him forever.

 
 
 
 
 
 

 

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

For
all of my English teachers,

who
helped me love Shakespeare.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

Table of Contents

Prologue

Chapter One

Chapter Two

Chapter Three

Chapter Four

Chapter Five

Chapter Six

Chapter Seven

Chapter Eight

Chapter Nine

Chapter
Ten

Chapter
Eleven

Chapter
Twelve

Chapter
Thirteen

Chapter
Fourteen

Chapter
Fifteen

Chapter
Sixteen

Chapter
Seventeen

Chapter
Eighteen

Chapter
Nineteen

Chapter
Twenty

Chapter
Twenty-One

Epilogue

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
Prologue

           

           
"You
don't have to go through with this, you know."

           
William
Everill
, the future Earl of Dorset, looked at Ben
with laughing eyes. "So much faith in me, Barrett?"

           
Benedick
Barrett, the second son of the Earl of Kendal, frowned
as he checked and rechecked the pistol. "This is idiocy and you know
it."

           
Everill
took the pistol gently from Ben and seemed to weigh
it in his hand. "It's all a show, you know.
 
Didn't Surrey's second tell you he was
planning to
delope
?"

           
"He
said he planned to," Ben said. "But perhaps his plans have
changed."

           
"Why
say as much if he didn't plan it so?"

           
Ben
sighed, and turned his back to
Everill
, who was
resting on the step of the coach.
 
He
surveyed the misty field, and a chill went through him that he didn't believe
had anything to do with the outside temperature. "I wouldn't trust
anything Surrey- or his second, who I have never seen before, by the way-
says.
 
Watch your back...
literally
," he warned.

           
Everill
looked up at Ben, who was still looking out across
the field. "Isn't that your job?" he joked.

           
Ben
harrumphed and crossed his arms across his chest. "I don't like
this," he growled. "I don't trust Surrey; I don't trust that he won't
shoot you when your back is turned, and then turn around and shoot me
second."

           
Everill
said nothing but bounced the pistol in his hand.

           
Ben
glanced down at
Everill
. "And," he said
slowly, "I don't understand why you feel the need to defend the honor of
some twit you've only just met."

           
Everill
sat back and laughed, driving the sides of Ben's
mouth even lower. "I knew it!"
Everill
exclaimed. "I knew you were upset over the girl!"

           
"I
don't understand why you would risk your life over a woman!" Ben
practically yelled, his frustration finally getting the better of him.
"And calling out Surrey, of all people! The man is a snake!"

           
"He
said he defiled Lady Susanna's honor,"
Everill
defended.

           
"And
he probably did!" Ben exclaimed, throwing his hands up.

           
Everill
coughed and stood, pacing a few steps away from the
carriage. "Still,"
Everill
said,
"that's no reason for him to announce it to rest of polite society."

           
"But
why you?" Ben insisted on pressing. "Why not let her brothers, or her
father, or her cousins, or her uncles... anyone even
remotely
related to her, to step up, instead of you?"

           
Everill
stopped pacing for a moment, and gave a nervous
cough.

           
Ben
narrowed his eyes. "No," he said emphatically.
Everill
shrugged and leaned against the coach, but did not look up at Ben.

           
"No.
No.
No, no, no.
Everill
...
Will
," Ben pleaded, "don't
tell me you... you...."

           
Everill
looked up and gave a half grin. "I wasn't the
first, no."
 

           
Ben
rolled his eyes and sighed. "So what does this all mean, then?"

           
"Do
you mean, do I mean to make an honest woman out of her?"
Everill
asked. "In that case, well, no."
 
He frowned and pushed himself off the side of
the coach with his shoulder. "This is the last favor I do for my fair Lady
Susanna."
 
He motioned with his head
to the approaching carriage. "And it looks as if my debt will soon be paid
in full."

           
Ben
felt his chest constrict as Surrey's carriage pulled up, followed closely by
the doctor in a hired hack.
 

           
"Surrey,"
Everill
said in a bored voice when a figure stepped
out of the carriage, "I was afraid you were too much a coward to
show."

           
Lord
Surrey did not respond immediately to
Everill
, but
waited until his second exited the carriage. Ben studied his second's face, but
confirmed that he had never met the man. He wondered if he was his valet or
even steward, with his simple dress. Odd, he thought, that Surrey would not
choose someone more prominent, but he also could not recall Surrey having
many-or any- friends.

           
"
Everill
," Surrey said evenly. "Do you insist on
pursuing this charade?"

           
"That
depends,"
Everill
said with a curious tone.
"Do you take back what you said about Lady Susanna?"

           
Surrey
barked a laugh. "That tramp? Of course not!
 
She spreads her legs for any male who comes
sniffing around. Something," he paused, "you appear to know about
firsthand."

           
"Enough,"
Everill
said with a curt tone. "Where is your
pistol?"

           
"You
don't want swords, then?" Surrey said.

           
"Your
second told me pistols," Ben interjected, and Surrey smiled.

           
"So
he did, then. Just wanted to see if you had another preference."

           
Ben
saw
Everill
grow redder by the moment. "Your
pistol, if you please," he asked Surrey's second. He barely managed to pay
attention as he was given Surrey's pistol to check, and his mouth was so dry
could barely manage a "good luck," to
Everill
before the men paced out on the field. He wasn't sure how
Everill
could be so calm, when his own heart felt like it was beating out of his chest.
10...9...8...7... he felt dizzy and he could barely hear the count- and he
wasn't even the one in the duel!
 

           
He
felt his chest constrict as the count wound down.
 
He saw, rather than heard,
Everill
turn and fire his gun up into the air, then crumple
to the ground in a heap.
 

           
Ben
felt the world spin, and looked over at Surrey, who had his pistol pointed at
Everill
still. He knew he would not forget, for the
remainder of his life, the evil look in Surrey's eye, nor the grin that
overtook his face, that never faltered, even as he put his hand slowly down and
stared at the body in the grass only a few yards from him.

           
Ben
could not be certain if he yelled, although he was screaming in his mind as he
scrambled for
Everill
. The doctor rushed quickly over
as well, as Ben tore at
Everill's
coat, looking for
the entrance wound.
 
"Will,
Will," he panted, "where are you shot?"

           
Everill's
eyes fluttered open, and he grabbed Ben's
shoulder with his right hand. "Barrett... Ben... I need to ask you
something," he said faintly.

           
"What?"
Ben said, still pulling clothes away.
 
"Will! Where are you shot?"

           
"Ben,"
Everill
repeated, "please listen."

           
"Yes,
yes!" Ben yelled, still trying to rip aside
Everill's
waistcoat and shirt while moving to the side as the doctor arrived and kneeled
down in the grass next to the men. "What, what?"

           
Everill
moved his hand down Ben's shoulder until he got to
his arm, and then finally his hand, which he gripped tightly. "Please,
Ben, you have to promise me," he said in a strained voice.

           
Ben
stopped when
Everill
grasped his hand.
"Anything, Will. What?" he swallowed as he looked at his friend's
pale face.

           
"Bee...
promise me you'll watch out for her. She's... she has no one else... Father...
he won't..."
Everill's
coughing stopped him from
talking and Ben noticed that he was coughing up blood.

           
Ben's
face blanched at what that meant. "Will?" he asked, gripping his
friend's hand tightly.

           
"Promise...
me..."
Everill
said, and again coughed up more
blood.

           
Ben
looked frantically over at the doctor who caught his eye, and shook his head
slowly.
 
Ben felt the tears come into his
eyes, but he did not feel ashamed.
 
This
was not how things were supposed to go- they were both sons of Earls, coddled
and carefully molded over their entire lives. They were supposed to manage
their estates, beget heirs, and finally die at an old and respectful age in
their bed.
 
Not, Ben thought, on a grassy
field still wet with morning dew.
 

           
"Please,"
Everill
whispered.

           
"Yes,
yes," Ben said, blinking back tears, "I promise, Will. I
promise."

           
Everill
smiled and put his head back on the grass and
closed his eyes. "Thank you," he murmured, and breathed his last.

           
Ben
felt his friend's grip go slack in his hand, but he did not release his hold on
the soft fingers. He stayed kneeling by his friend for several long minutes,
until he heard Surrey's bored drawl from behind him.

           
"Is
he dead, then?" Surrey asked.

           
Ben
felt his entire body shake with anger as he rose to face Surrey. "You
bastard!" he yelled. "Your second said you were planning to
delope
!"

           
Surrey
shrugged. "It's possible I was thinking that for a time."

           
Ben
launched himself at Surrey, striking several blows before strong hands pulled
him back. "Let me go!" he demanded. "Let me kill the
bastard!"

           
"Please,
m'lord
," the doctor said, "It's getting
light, and this will not be hidden for long.
 
Lord Surrey," he added as an afterthought, "you had best be
going.
 
I hope you have some contacts on
the Continent, because you just killed a man."

           
Surrey
sighed as if the entire scene was quite boring. "Of course," he
admonished. "I am headed to France this afternoon."

           
"You
planned this!" Ben yelled, trying to free himself, but the doctor and
Surrey's valet were surprisingly strong. "You planned to come here and
kill
Everill
!"

           
"Of
course, you fool," Surrey said. "It was a duel. Why else show
up?"

           
"I
swear to God, Surrey, if you
ever
come back to England, I will kill you myself."

           
Surrey
smiled, stepping into his carriage. "I look forward to the
challenge," he said, then called out to his driver, leaving the rest of
the men on the empty field.

 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 
 

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