Much Ado about the Shrew (18 page)

           
Ben managed a weak smile. “Yes,
Mother. I just… I think I need to eat something.”

           
His mother smiled and passed over a
plate of cakes and sandwiches. Ben took a few of each and sat back, closing his
eyes as he munched one. “Mother,” he said between bites. “What do you think I
should do about Surrey?”

           
He was met with silence, and opened
one eye to see his mother staring at him with narrowed eyes. “What?” he said as
he sat up quickly, spewing some cake on himself.

           
“I believe that’s the first time
you’ve ever asked me for advice,” his mother noted.

           
Ben smiled and shrugged a shoulder
as he swallowed. “I’m not used to asking anyone for advice,” he offered as an
explanation.

           
His mother tilted her head as an
acknowledgement, then said, “I think the more appropriate question is, what are
you going to do about Lady Beatrice?”

           
Ben frowned and narrowed his own
eyes. “I’m going to marry her,” he said evenly.

           
“Excellent,” his mother smiled. “I
expected as much.”

           
“You did?”

           
“Of course, my dear boy. I just
wasn’t sure if you two would ever come around to that realization. I assume
you’ve asked her already.”

           
“Well, no,” Ben said. “You see….”

           
“No?” his mother looked at him
angrily and set her teacup quite forcefully on the small table. “Now, look here
Benedick. That poor girl has been rusticating in the country long enough while
you were out playing war. Now that you’re back, you should have the decency to
marry her.”

           
Ben's eyes hardened and he gingerly
set his cup on the table, lest he throw it across the room. “
Playing
war?" he said slowly.

           
"Oh, it's just an expression,
Benedick
," his mother said, rolling her eyes.

           
"It's not an accurate
expression, that," Ben told her, his own eyes narrow.

           
"Forgive me," his mother
sighed, and patted his arm. "I should have known better; it was not well
done of me. I apologize."

           
Ben frowned. How was his mother able
to apologize, but he was the one who felt guilty? "No need," he mumbled.

           
"Now, back to my main point,
Bee has been away from polite society long enough," his mother said, a
light scold in her tone.

           
"It’s not my fault she was in
the country. She was in mourning!” Ben tried to explain, wondering how he was
once again on the defensive.

           
“Oh, posh!” his mother said. “Not
for
years
. If I didn’t think you had
feelings for one another I would have brought her to London myself.”

           
Ben brightened and leaned forward.
“You think she has feelings for me?”

           
Ben’s mother make a clucking noise
that reminded Ben of a mother hen. “Oh, Benedick,” she said with a smile. “You
are so young.”

           
Ben gave a crooked smile. He didn’t
feel young, but he wasn’t about to tell his mother that.

           
“You will be asking her soon,
however, correct?" his mother asked. "I will need to meet with her
aunt and see about getting a trousseau put together."

           
“If I get a special license we could
be married by the end of the week,” Ben mused out loud, but more to himself.
Married in a week?
 
In just a few short
days Bee could be living here, with him, as his wife.

           
“Now, Ben, you can’t do that,” his
mother told him. “You need to call the banns.”

           
Ben frowned. “Why?”
 
Bee had very little family left, and it
seemed a waste of time to go through the church when they could be married
quite comfortably from his home.
 
By this
time next week, she could be sharing his bed.

           
“Well,” his mother sputtered, waving
her hands. “Because.”

           
Ben blinked, pushing an image of
Bee's naked body from his mind as he forcefully brought himself to the present.
He cocked his head and looked quizzically at her. “Because?” he prompted.

           
“Ben, you know how people will
talk,” his mother started, but Ben just laughed, and she frowned. “Oh, very
well. I supposed it would be better if they were talking about a wedding than
about Surrey.” She frowned.
 
“There is
quite a bit to do, then, but it all hinges upon you, my dear.”

           
“Me?” Ben asked. “How?”

           
“Well, first you must ask her,” his
mother reminded him.

           
“Oh,” Ben said. “Right.”

           
“And then you must convince her to
say yes,” his mother added.

           
“I thought you said she had feelings
for me?” Ben said.

           
“Yes, dear, but you’ve had feelings
for her as well, and it has taken you this long to realize them,” his mother
reminded him.

           
Ben grunted an assent and shoved
another sandwich in his mouth. His mother frowned but continued. “It’s up to
you to remind her of why she has feelings for you.”

           
“So, just act normally?”

           
His mother raised her eyebrows. “No,
my dear,” she said, putting her teacup down and shaking her head. “That’s
exactly the opposite of what you should do.”

           
Ben sighed, torn between throwing
the plate across the room and smashing it on the table. As it was his mother’s
favorite pattern, he merely set it down on the service. “Well, I don’t know what
I’m supposed to do, then,” he said testily.

           
“Dear, I’m not saying you shouldn’t
be yourself, but perhaps you could be a little… well,
nicer.
”

           
“I’m nice,” Ben grumbled. His mother
raised her eyebrows at him.

           
“Fine,” Ben said. “I did try today.
We were doing well for a time,” he acknowledged.

           
“That’s excellent!” his mother said.
“What happened?”

           
I
kissed her wantonly in the middle of a public park.
“Nothing,” Ben said.
“We went driving. We talked about novels. It seemed to go well,” he added.
"For a while."

           
“See?” his mother smiled and patted
his knee. “I knew you had it in you,” she told him.

           
Ben gave a half-hearted smile back
to his mother.
 
"We ended up arguing
again by the end of the ride," he admitted.

           
His mother sighed. "Why?"
she finally asked.

           
"I... I don't remember,"
Ben mumbled. "It isn't as if I
plan
to argue with her... it just... sort of... happens."

           
"I wouldn't worry about it too
much, my dear," his mother said. "Just continue to be on your best
behavior, and I'm sure that things will end up working themselves
out."
 
She gave him a reassuring
smile.

           
Ben looked at his mother, and the
thought that she had manipulated him from birth by naming him
Benedick
, to this moment in discussing his marriage plans
flashed through his mind. He remembered his advice to Lennox and realized that
not only did he not have the reins, but he had never truly been in control in
the first place. He would have to ask Lennox for advice about dealing with
overbearing females. What had Lennox said? Something about spending copious
hours in his study.

           
“Well, Mother, I thank you for the
lovely conversation, but I must review a few things in the study before
dinner,” he said.

           
“Of course, dear,” his mother said,
and turned her cheek for him to give it a peck.

           
As he slipped out the door, however,
he somehow felt that even his escape had been managed.

           
Ben stood stock-still as Chambers
made his last-minute adjustments to the jacket and cuffs. Staring into the
mirror, Ben had to admit that he looked just a little more polished than when
he dressed himself. "That will do, Chambers," he said, starting to
get annoyed as the man tugged and pulled at his jacket of green superfine. His
valet immediately stood up and moved back. "Yes, of course
m'lord
," he said reverently.
 

           
"Please see that my boots are
ready for my ride tomorrow morning," Ben added, looking at himself again
in the mirror. He
did
cut a fine
figure, if he did say so himself. Chambers had done an excellent job of
trimming his hair, so it parted and fell just above his eye in an almost rakish
fashion. He wondered if Bee would like it; he had chosen the jacket and
waistcoat in anticipation that she would also wear green tonight, although he
knew it was rather presumptuous of him.

           
Realizing that he was staring quite
stupidly at his own reflection, he excused Chambers and made his way down to
the parlor to wait for Bee and her family. His conversation with his mother
played over and over in his head. Did Bee truly have feelings for him? Had she
been in love with him all this time as well?
 
Would she want a large wedding, or would a special license do?
 
Should he talk with Lennox about the marriage
documents before or after asking Bee?

           
Mulling over these thoughts, Ben did
not hear Simmons announce Welles and Milford, but merely stood, staring out the
window at the darkened gardens below. His friends looked curiously at one
another, until Milford shrugged and walked to the sideboard and poured himself
a sherry.

           
"I say," Milford mused as
he fell into a chair by the fire, "there must be something quite
interesting outside for Kendal to be so intently focused."

           
Ben turned around quickly, looking
guiltily around. "Welles, Milford! When did you arrive?"

           
"Just now," Welles said, his
eyebrows raised. "You seem especially preoccupied this evening."

           
Ben blinked, trying to bring himself
back to the present. Preoccupied? He had a picture in his mind of Bee slowly
undressing for him in front of his tall mirror. That thought could occupy him
for quite a while, but he shoved it away and walked resolutely towards the
sideboard. Pouring a glass of sherry, he turned around and offered it to Welles
before pouring himself one.

           
"Do we congratulate the happy
couple?" Milford asked.

           
Ben had to smile; Milford had a way
of cutting through to the particulars. "Not yet," he said, swirling
the amber liquid around in the fragile glass. He took a sip and sighed.
"I'm leading up to it."

           
Welles sat down in a chair close to
Milford and shook his head. "Just do it, man," he told him.
"You've been leading up to it for years now."

           
Milford nodded. "I agree with
Welles, Kendal, and you know how much I hate to do that."

           
Ben frowned. "As if either of
you have any personal knowledge of marriage."

           
Milford shrugged. "If you find
a good wife, you'll be happy. If not, you'll be a philosopher," he quoted.

           
Welles raised his eyebrows.
"Socrates?"

           
Milford nodded. "Indeed."

           
"Well done," Welles told
him.

           
"Thank you for that," Ben
said sarcastically. "When you two are happily married then I'll come to
you for marital advice."

           
At that moment his mother entered
the parlor and Milford and Welles rose quickly and bowed to her. Ben was
gratified at least that his friends had some social graces.

           
"Lady Kendal," Milford
said, "it is a pleasure. I thank you again for extending your invitation
to invite me and my fustian friend."

           
Ben's mother smiled warmly.
"Lord Milford, you are always welcome. You know that. Lord Welles, a
pleasure, as always."
 
She walked
over to Ben, who gave her a peck on the cheek. "Now, my dear, why are you
asking your friends for marital advice?"

           
Ben colored and glared over the top
of his mother's head at Milford, who was, of course, smiling widely at him.
"Sherry, Mother?" he asked.

           
"Yes, thank you," she
said, and Ben guided her over to the loveseat and handed her a glass.
"Welles, perhaps you can tell us how your visit to Lady Julia went,"
he said, taking a seat himself. He smiled at his own maneuvering of the
conversation.
 

           
Milford, however, refused to be
maneuvered, something Ben should have realized. Sitting back down in the chair
by the fire, he said, "Lady Kendal, Welles and I were just stating that it
was unfortunate that Kendal has a lovely lady dangling, but has not asked her
to marry him yet."

           
Ben's mother set her sherry down on
the table in front of her and frowned. Ben smiled to himself; his mother would
give Milford the set-down he was deserving. "I completely agree with
you," she said. "I was saying the same thing to him this
afternoon."

           
Ben looked over at his mother in
shock. His
traitorous
mother.

           
"We were just telling him as
much before you came in," Welles added, but at least had the wherewithal
to look guilty.

           
Ben glared at him. "Perhaps we
could have a double-wedding?" he suggested lightly.

           
Welles' eyes grew large as he sat
back in the chair and took a large swallow of his sherry, and Ben stood and
walked over to the fire, stoking it angrily. "I thank you all for meddling
in my life, but I will ask Bee when I am ready," he said. He stood against
the mantle, facing the three individuals who should be supporting him, but
instead were just pushing, pushing, pushing him into a direction he was not
entirely comfortable.

           
Milford just grunted and Welles
looked down at his shoes.

           
"Ben, you're making your
friends uncomfortable," his mother chided.

           
"Well, that's just fine, then,
because they were making me uncomfortable," he retorted.

           
Milford coughed; Ben figured it was
to smother a laugh, and he took a deep breath and raised his hands in
surrender. "Fine, then, I'll ask her tomorrow. Everyone happy?"

           
Welles and Milford's voices
resounded in cheers and Ben rolled his eyes and shook his head. His mother,
however, beamed and held out her hands. Sighing heavily, Ben walked over,
taking hers in his. She squeezed them tightly as tears sprung to her eyes.
"Oh, Bennie, I just wish your father were here to see what a wonderful man
you've become."

           
Ben smiled. "Well, she hasn't
said yes, Mother," he reminded her.

           
"Oh, posh," she said, and
Ben laughed, retaking his seat next to her.

           
"Welles, what's this about a
double wedding?" Milford asked.

           
Ben was about to retort when Simmons
entered and announced Lennox and the rest of the family. He stood in
preparation of their arrival, as did Milford and Welles. His mother smiled and
looked up at him, gently taking his hand and squeezing it. He looked down,
puzzled, but squeezed back. When the group entered the parlor, they strode to
the middle of the room for introductions.
 
Ben bowed reflexively until he saw Bee.

           
And immediately rushed to her
side.
 

           
“Bee, what it is it?” he asked,
grabbing her hands. “What’s happened?”

           
Bee stared up at him, then buried
her head into his waistcoat and burst into tears. Immediately his arms flew
around her. “What’s wrong, pet?” he asked quietly, but was only met with sobs.

           
He looked up into Lennox’s guilty
face. “What happened?” he bit out.

Lennox frowned. “Perhaps we can retire
to another room,” he suggested.

           
“Fine,” Ben said, trying to curb the
anger that had overwhelmed him the minute Bee had run into his arms. He had
seen her red-rimmed eyes and had known she had been crying, and immediately
wanted to lash out and whoever and whatever had caused her grief. He never
wanted to protect anything or anyone more in his life. He relaxed his hold on
Bee. “Come, pet,” he said, “through this door,” and led Bee through the door,
followed by her aunt, Lennox and his mother.
 
His mother gave a small, apologetic smile to Julia, Welles and Milford
before saying, “Oh, Lady Julia. Let me ring for my maid to come down.”

           
“If you wish,” Julia replied. “But
see to my poor cousin first. I knew this would happen, but Lennox insisted.”

           
Ben’s mother frowned, but nodded,
and gently shut the door.

           
“Lady Julia,” Welles said, breaking
the silence, "would you care to have a seat?”

           
“Honestly?” she gave a shaky laugh.
“Not really.”

           
Welles smiled. “Well, perhaps a tour
of the gallery, then? I don’t know all of
Benedick’s
ancestors, but I could most likely come up with some imaginative stories about
them.”

           
Julia gave a more genuine laugh.
“That sounds wonderful, my lord,” she said, and took the arm he offered. “This
way,” Welles said, leading her out into the main hallway. “See, here is a
picture of a family member,” he said, gesturing to a picture of Benedick in his
military uniform. “I have no idea who this person is, but he looks frightening
indeed.”

           
Julia smiled. “That’s Lord Kendal,”
she giggled.

           
Welles narrowed his eyes. “Why, so
it is. He does look ferocious in this painting, however, does he not?” and,
heartened by Julia’s giggles, led her off.

           
Milford, left alone in the parlor,
rolled his eyes and shook his head. “Abandoned so quickly,” he muttered,
pouring himself another glass of sherry from the sideboard. “And while they woo
their prospective brides, who thinks about Milford? No one, that’s who.”
 
He sighed and returned to his chair. “I
suppose I’ll just wait here, then,” Milford said to the air.

           
Several minutes later, still alone,
Milford found himself in deep conversation with the nearby empty settee. “Yes,
yes, I know. I feel as if I am abused by asses as well,” Milford commiserated
with the chair. “Alas, it appears to be our fate.”

           
Welles walked back into the parlor,
then stopped as he noticed Milford having an animated conversation with… well,
he wasn’t sure with whom.

           
“Oh, dear,” said Julia quietly, “is
he talking to a chair?”

           
“Um… Milford,” Welles interrupted.
“Who are you talking to?”

           
Milford looked up and frowned. “See
what I was saying?” he addressed the settee. “Just interrupts at any given
time.”

           
“Have you gone insane?” Welles asked
slowly, advancing carefully on Milford.

           
Milford furrowed his eyebrows.
“Well, I would hope not. I think that would be one of the perks of
being
insane, don’t you think?
 
The not knowing. It would be just bloody
awful- oh, pardon me, miss, for the language- it would be awful
being
insane and
knowing
you were, as well. Much better to be completely off your
nutter
and believe that was just the way things were
supposed to be.”

           
Welles sighed deeply and smiled.
“That’s my Milford.”

           
“Of course I am he. Who else would I
be? I say, Welles, you are acting terribly strangely. Scaring Lady Julia, I do
believe. Now, dear settee,” he said, turning to the furniture again, “I suggest
sitting up straight and not letting the world bother you a bit. There you are.
That’s a good lad.”

           
“That’s not insane?” Julia
whispered.

           
Welles smiled and shrugged. “That’s
just Milford,” he whispered back to her. “Milford!” he said loudly. “Simmons
told me on the way in that they’re going to start serving dinner in a few
minutes.”