Beatrice sat by her open window, hugging her legs, a book open in front of her. It was a beautiful, sunny day without a single cloud in the sky. Young Hero and Margaret had gone out earlier that morning to pick wild flowers and had yet to return. They had extended an invitation to Beatrice, but she had declined saying she had important letters to write. Instead, she had been sitting in the same position, attempting to read her book of poetry.
On most days she found the book a wonderful read. It was filled with humorous tales and romantic triumphs. Beatrice particularly enjoyed a lighthearted poem about a legless man who sprouted wings and flew to his destinations. But today her attention was not focused on entertaining rhymes. For over an hour she had been re-reading the same poem.
It was a short poem, one of the shortest in her book. Unlike the others, it did not carry the same whimsical expression, but spoke heavily about young dejected women overcoming their lovers. Beatrice probably read the poem only twice before today. But after the events from last night, she found it hard to tear herself away from the haunting words and how closely they connected to her own life.
"'Sigh no more, ladies, sigh no more,'" she read aloud, "'Men were deceivers ever.'" Signor Benedick certainly proved himself a deceiver. Despite accepting Beatrice's dinner invitation and swearing that he would attend, the young lord had not. His reserved chair, set straight across from Beatrice's own, had been empty all night. Her pride was damaged but would mend. After all, this was not the first time he had retracted his word. Recently he had spent time with a woman of questionable morals. "I'm growing tired of such antics. His apology had better be well rehearsed."
Tucking one of her blond curls behind her ear, Beatrice shifted her position and heard voices from outside. Grabbing onto the window pane, she leaned over and saw Benedick's familiar red head below. He was well dressed in a black suit and seemed quite jovial. She thought he was chuckling to himself when she saw another man approach, one she had never seen before. Judging by his fidgeting movements, the new acquaintance was younger than Benedick. The two of them were laughing loudly and clapping each other on the back.
"One of Benedick's new sworn brothers," Beatrice said as she watched one of the servants admit them into the house. She closed the window and leaned against it with her book in her lap. Downstairs the two of them laughed and talked loudly. She could plainly hear Benedick inquiring after her and she knew she would soon hear the familiar heavy rapping on her door. "Laugh while I'm upset will you? Fine, I will sit here and feign indifference."
Pulling her long white skirts down, she arranged them elegantly over her long legs in an attempt to hide the wrinkled hem. Fluffing up her petticoat helped a small amount, but Beatrice knew Benedick's probing eye would spot the puckering fabric. "Hey nonny nonny," she said angrily as she gave up.
Benedick's knocking came quicker than she was expecting. She pulled her shoulders back, raised her chin, and looked down at her book. Make him wait, she thought.
A second knocking came and without looking up from her book Beatrice asked, "Who is knocking on my door?"
Clearing his throat loudly, Benedick announced himself theatrically. "It is I, madam, the lord signor Benedick!"
She kept her composure although inside she was giggling. She could just imagine his wide arm gestures as he sawed the air. He was quite comical. "Oh, signor. Come in then."
Beatrice did not look up when he entered the room, though she secretly spied on him from underneath her eyelashes. She could see his well polished shoes and ironed pants. The chain from his gold pocket watch fell low enough to catch the sunlight and cast a glimmer about the room.
He stood there for a moment, shifting his feet from side to side, before once again clearing his throat and speaking. "Good afternoon Beatrice."
"Good afternoon lord Benedick."
Silence enveloped the room. Benedick tapped his foot against the ground and Beatrice placed her finger on one of the lines of poetry. With each tap she let one of her fingers go across the line.
"Enjoying the weather today?" He asked while crossing his arms.
"Very fine temperature." She said as she turned the page.
"Good for reading poetry indoors I see," he turned and closed the door behind him and returned to the same standing position. "You must thoroughly enjoy it."
"Quite."
He moved closer towards her and tried to grab the book from her lap. She pulled it back and finally looked at Benedick. "Excuse me sir, might I ask what you are doing?"
"Pulling your attention away from your book. You have company and it is rude to ignore me." He made a move to grab the book again and Beatrice slapped his hands while laughing. "Pardon me madam," Benedick said as he grabbed a ticklish spot, "but this is for your own benefit." He finally took the book away and flung it onto her bed before sitting down in a nearby chair. "Now, how are you today?"
Beatrice smoothed out her skirts again and fixed her hair back into place. "Well enough, sir. Pray, how well are you and your new bosom friend acquainted? I have never seen the likes of him before. He must be someone young and without a strong mind if he is enjoying your company."
Benedick scratched his ear and licked his lips. "Yesterday, we met only yesterday."
"And at what time? Perhaps around the same hour as dinner?"
"Yes, it was that time," Benedick crossed his legs and did not look directly at Beatrice. "But I talked a long while with this good gentleman. Like myself, he is a bachelor by nature. Although, he is only a bachelor because he cannot grow a full beard," He admiringly stroked his own stubble. "We spoke of many things: Don Pedro's quarrels with his brother, the possibility of war, fair women, love."
"Love?" Beatrice repeated.
"Yes, love."
"I cannot imagine what you could add to that conversation topic." She gave him a side glance and the corners of her mouth upturned mischievously.
"Well, I thought of many different things. I thought of how a man becomes weaker, duller, and falls under the influence of a woman. How some become serfs to tyrant queens, working for the estate, but not of equal standing. I almost fell under the fear of being ruled by a such a wife. But then I thought, should I abandon my current living, it would have to be for a very special reason." Benedick leaned back in his chair and returned her wicked expression. "My friend shares similar sentiments."
Beatrice flashed a toothy smile and let out a bitter laugh. She was growing tired of Benedick's aversion to her well deserved apology. "I'm sure he does. But allow me this argument: my sex only knows how to defend itself from their misusing opposites by becoming proficient in their own game and making cuckolds of their husbands."
Her sparring partner's response did not come immediately. The muffled sounds from outside the room mixed with Benedick's tapping foot. She had vexed him by her last statement.
"And you," he said calmly, "you would do the same?" His blue eyes stared into her own and sweat collected on his brow. Without retracting his gaze, Benedick reached into his breast pocket for a handkerchief. He wiped away the moisture and clutched the small piece of cloth in his hand.
"I would, signor, if he wronged me."
"Good, then I have not wronged you."
Beatrice raised her eyebrows and pursed her mouth. She wished her book of poetry has not been flung across the room for right now she wanted to throw it at him. "Breaking a promise is not an offense then?"
"If you are referring to dinner last night, I thought it was a voluntary event. I did not think that my attendance was essential to the evening." Beatrice began to protest when he stopped her with a raised hand. "But if the night cannot be complete without me, then I shall make a better effort for the next occasion."
She bolted out of her seat and starred down. Her nostrils flared and she felt her teasing bitterness grow into something darker. "Oh, you would end a race lamely by hiding." She walked over to her bed and wrapped her hand around one of the posters. "And so many wonder why you cannot be caught."
"Caught?" He barked. Following her dramatic rise, Benedick stood up and spread his legs into a wide stance. Though Beatrice was tall for a woman, Benedick still towered over her. "As if I were a fox and you a hound?"
"No, Beatrice, you are not a fox. You aren't sly enough to escape capture. With your lovely plumage," she slapped his arm and pulled at his cravat, "you resemble a pheasant, keen to fly away at a moment's turn."
Benedick groaned loudly and put his hands over his eyes. "You are unfeeling!" He threw his arms into the air, seeming to surrender again. "I come here today, after a night of revelation, to appeal to you what tenderness hides underneath your cold exterior. And what do I find? The same chiding remarks and bickering. If your words were swords, my life would have been forfeit two minutes into our conversation."
"Would you have me demure, signor?" Beatrice raised her hand to her forehead and fanned herself with the other.
"I should think that you would find some flattery in my affections. That you would swoon, or cry, or fall upon your knees. Something that would indicate there is a heart beating in your chest."
"Since I am sitting I can neither swoon nor become a crumpled heap on the floor. And I haven't enough heart to shed tears for you."
Benedick rose his voice to a roaring limit. "Cold and heartless witch!"
"What did you expect? That I was a shivering girl desperate for her lover's affections. Do you think I would die without love from you?" Beatrice folded her arms. Indeed, part of what she spoke felt true. Her heart did shiver with an unfamiliar fear with every cutting word. But her pride urged her on.
"I'd hope there might be some unhappiness or regret. But no. You have grown to enjoy the taste of men's hearts." Benedick came close to Beatrice. His breathing was heavy and sweat once again clung to his forehead. For a moment Beatrice was almost certain that he would take his words back. If he made the first gesture of peace then she would follow, but not a moment before.
Instead he bowed his head and walked towards the door. "Is there not a single part of you made of human flesh and feeling that would beg me to stay?"
Beatrice arched her back and gave her face her familiar wicked grin. "No sir, I will not sigh bu let you go and be myself blithe and bonny."
Without looking at her again he swung open the door and left her chambers.
She dashed to the window to watch him walk away while she sobbed, "Hey nonny nonny."
Author's Note,
And so this is my interpretation of what happened between Beatrice and Benedick when they were young. Written as a final paper for my Shakespeare class, I wanted to explore the past relationship these two characters had. Throughout the play there are hints that they were once in love-Beatrice even confesses this to Don Pedro in Act II. I had to come to understand the characters even further and this assignment really helped. The main focus I wanted to make was that the chaacters are limited so much by their pride than it inhibits them for finding true happiness. If it weren't for Don Pedro's plan tricking Beatrice and Benedick into once again admitting those hidden feelings, they might never have gotten past the constant bickering.
But apart from that, I FREAKING LOVE THIS COUPLE.
Thank you for reading and reviews are always appreciated!
emmzly~