The Slaying of the Shrew Read Online Free PDF Page B

down the field considerably, but Elizabeth herself narrowed it down still further.
    For one thing, she was tall for a woman, though not as tall as Smythe, who stood over six feet, and most gentlemen who were conscious of appearances—and what gentleman was not?—would not wish to have a wife who towered over them. For another, she was rather willful and independent—some would say spoiled, though Smythe did not find her so—qualities generally far less desirable in a gentleman's wife than compliance and amiability. And then there was the matter of her age, which could give a prospective suitor pause.
    With most young women being betrothed at eleven or twelve and married at fourteen or fifteen, unmarried women of seventeen or eighteen were often considered to be approaching spinsterhood, especially if they came from a good family. And for prospective suitors, aside from the obvious desirability of a more youthful maiden, there was also the lingering question of why Elizabeth was still unmarried at nineteen. A man of position had to wonder what could be wrong with her that she was still unmarried, despite her dowry and her beauty. Immediately suspect would be her disposition. No gentleman of means and social prominence wanted to be married to a shrew.
    For her part, Elizabeth did not hesitate to exploit such masculine concerns, for the truth was, as Smythe knew, she had no great desire to be married, unless it were for love. Even then, she had her reservations, especially after the near disaster of her betrothal to Sir Anthony Gresham, which at least for the present had cured Henry Darcie of his desire to see his daughter quickly married off. But if he had become more cautious concerning potential suitors for his daughter, Henry Darcie had become no less so concerning Smythe's involvement with her.
    While he was grateful for the service Smythe had performed in saving his daughter from a terrible fate and himself from playing an unwitting part in a devilish foreign plot against the realm, which could easily have destroyed all hope of his advancement, Darcie was nevertheless not so grateful as to lose all sight of propriety, so Smythe and Elizabeth had to arrange to see each other on the sly.
    "Elizabeth!" Smythe said, taking her hand in his and raising it gently to his lips.
    "I have missed you," she said in that forthright manner that he found so absolutely charming, lowering her mask so he could see her lovely face.
    "And I you," he replied. "I was so glad to get your message. I trust that nothing is amiss? Your family is well?"
    "All is well at home," she said. " 'Twas kind of you to ask about them, as they do not inquire about you." She smiled, mischievously. "You have heard about the wedding of Godfrey Middleton's eldest daughter, Catherine?"
    He nodded. "I have. The Queen's Men have an engagement to entertain the wedding party with the performance of a play."
    She gazed at him anxiously. "I know. So then… you are going to be there?"
    "Yes, I shall." He frowned. "Why? Are you not coming?"
    "Of course I will be there," Elizabeth replied. She took his arm and they started walking slowly down the aisle, past the busy market stalls. "I am to be the maid of honor to the bride. Catherine Middleton is my very good friend. But the last time that you and I spoke, Tuck, you seemed uncertain about your standing with the company and I did not know if things had changed for you since then."
    "Well, they have not dismissed me from their service yet, if that is what you mean," Smythe said. "For all of my appalling lack of talent, it appears I am still useful to them, albeit mostly in roles that do not require my presence on the stage."
    She rolled her eyes. "You know, I do not think that you are nearly so inept as you portray yourself."
    "There is an entire company of players who would give you a good argument upon that score," said Smythe, with a self-deprecating grin. "And as my Uncle Thomas used to say, ' 'Tis a wise man who knows