Violent Delights & Midsummer Dreams by Cassandra L. Thompson

Author:Cassandra L. Thompson
Language: eng
Format: epub
ISBN: 9781958228425
Publisher: Quill & Crow Publishing House

Benedick did not always make himself visible to Beatrice, but she grew increasingly aware of his presence. A flicker in a mirror’s corner, a shadow behind Don Pedro at dinner, a cold wind blowing through a corridor.

They had no time for conversation, much to her distress. She longed to speak to him again. There were, regrettably, wedding preparations to attend to and Don Pedro’s attentions to humor. He was a good man, and though she was not eager to be forever manacled to him, she could not ignore him outright. Still, whenever possible, she removed herself from the business of the house to be alone.

It was such a time now, and she strolled in the garden. The morning was gray, but no rain fell, and the air was fresh and invigorating. She had not walked long, though, before she heard voices through a hedge.

“Are you certain Benedick was in love with her?” Ursula was asking.

“Yes,” sighed Hero. “My own Claudio reports it, and Don Pedro says it is partly out of friendship that he feels the duty to see after her, with Benedick gone.”

“Does she know?”

“No, and she never will,” Hero said. “While Benedick lived, she was too proud and contemptuous to notice him; and now that he is dead, she wrestles with her mournful heart. It would only plunge her deeper into darkness to know that her love was requited.”

“If she had known it in time, she would only have made endless sport of it,” Margaret said wryly.

“You speak true,” said Hero. “In any case: it is best that she never hear of it. I worry for her, but still hope she will emerge with close to the happiness she possessed before. We must do all we can to bestow her affections now on Don Pedro. Come, let us inside. I would like your opinion on some jewels.”

Then the three were gone. A slow smile spread across Beatrice’s face. “I grow ever surer my ghostly Benedick is real, and he speaks truly,” she muttered. “Benedick, love on. I do requite you entirely.”

After a while, Margaret returned, calling Beatrice’s name. She did not reply but allowed Margaret to find her. Seeing the hedge by which she stood, alarm colored her face.”How long have you stood here in the garden?”

“Only a few moments,” Beatrice said, smiling faintly. “Why do you seek me?”

“Your wedding gown is nearly finished. You are needed for another fitting.”

Beatrice’s smile, and the levity of her heart, sunk at the reminder of her impending marriage. She had all but forgotten, Benedick’s love so imposingly to mind. “Of course,” she said. “Lead on.”

The pair just beat the rain as they reached the glass doors from a parlor to the garden; fat drops began to fall heavily. Margaret pulled the doors against the swiftly gathering torrent. “How quickly the weather turns of late,” she whinged. “I only wish for some sunshine.”

Beatrice allowed herself to be led through dim halls and to the fitting room. When they arrived, the room was in an uproar.

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