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  1. Fluff

    To send a letter...

    Dear players, In case you are wondering, I am adding some notes of the clerk called Johnson to letters for your amusement. It is a bit of background fodder. This was always going on in the background but now you can look into the mind of this civil servant. As OOC background information I want to remind you that all letters not delivered by hand are being read by authority, and yes I do mean all letters, by the office formerly occupied by Williamson. A giant operation, that cost the King a pretty penny but we actually have historical evidence for this. It is all part of the black budget of the Secret Service, funded in part by the Dover money. Now you know why being Postmaster is a political appointment For IC consequences you must realize that the King, and his government, have a pretty good idea what his courtiers are up to, including keeping dossiers on them.
  2. Rupert read the note by his adjutant with satisfaction. It was as it should be. The boy looked after things so he didn't have to worry about things, always thinking ahead to reassure his master. No reply was necessary and instead he called for a glass of wine as he joined Peg for a bit of family time.
  3. By the strangest coincidence the King was in the Tower, that evening. He had been visiting some of the other prisoners that needed persuading and the veil of darkness had provided him with some anonymity. He had earlier in the week hoped to pay a visit to the Oakhams, especially the lady concerned, to hear her tearful confession and perhaps assure her of his mercy. Oh, Charles could be very merciful to ladies, especially pretty ones. This lady in particular he had secretly lusted after for several seasons now and each time she escaped him. The timing had never seemed more perfect. His dark brown eyes watched the couple get into the couch, a tearful lady leaning on a rather stiff upperlip looking lordship. She was getting away again, always on flight. This time it had been Rupert's urging. Unwise talk about witchcraft. Both Rupert and he took more comfort in the powers of reasoning and science, but the dark magics of the colonies were unsettling even so. It would set his hysteria prone people to even larger agitation if they found out. Thus he could only agree with his cousin. Oblivion was the best path, and quickly too. The tower had too much of a high profile with several of his nobles. Charles sighed with regret as the coach sped away in the night. He could only just see the shape of it through the thick glass of the top of the tower. Escaped again, but not forever. Lord Oakham and his wife had been released from prison and urged to spend the remainder of the season at their estate, Lady Oakham to recover from her illness that had so obviously addled her mind. Lord Oakham had been told, by Cumberland, to consider how he could be of further service to his King, but not to decide too quickly.
  4. Brooke did not trust that his corrective action with his son was the end of it. There were two parties involved, and he knew he had to take measures to ensure that the succubus stopped toying with his son. So he found himself at Whitehall, waiting patiently as York did business. Those that thought the Duke was only busy with pleasure had it all wrong. There were many hard hours of work in a day, ensuring all his estates ran well, corresponding with supporters and talking about securing new places for them. Even though he had no office to run, York was the heir and he prepared for the day that he might be forced to take over. He should have everything in place by then. The Duke was sitting amidst several large piles of paper, with reports about a variety of people. James had just allowed George to finish a report, when it was announced that Lord Brooke begged an audience. The family St. Leger had been loyal to the Stuarts for several generations and Brooke himself was one of those very respected old Catholics. The Earl was admitted to his office. After a round of drinks and some pleasantries, Brooke raised a delicate issue. "Your Highness, I must apologize, profoundly, for my son. He's young, and entirely daft, alas, it is my failing. I have taken corrective measures to ensure he's focused upon other things." "Your son?" York raised an eyebrow "Lord Beverley.." He was a little slow on the uptake. "I am afraid he took up a passion that was neither wise, nor his place," Brooke sighed mournfully "He is my son and heir, yet he has allowed himself to be seduced to libertine quarters. As you can imagine my wife is beside herself, and I myself cannot allow him to continue in this vine. However, the powers of seduction of Lady O"Roarke are famed, so I'm afraid he fell from grace." Heather. Now this was embarrassing. York didn't like being confronted with the mischief of his mistress, especially as that mischief did not concern him. She should have a thought of other matters right now. "When was this?" the Duke demanded to know. "Last Monday," Brooke supplied. Now York's brows knitted deeply. The timing, what the deuce! His temper rose. "Rest assured, Lord Brooke, that I shall remind the lady of proper decorum," he grumbled "You should not have to worry about your heir." "Your Highness has my gratitude," Brooke bowed deeply as he took his leave.
  5. Fluff

    Sons and Fathers | Notes for Brooke

    With a sigh Brooke flipped back the note on his desk, leaning back in his leather chair. It was disappointing to say the least, that his warning in regards to the lady O'Roarke had not gone heeded. He could not allow his son's descent into the libertine world, with their carnal pleasures, irresponsible indulging in drugs and drink, without a care in the world. He had other plans for his son, needed to ensure that Beverley would be able to meet his responsibilities once he was gone, safeguarding the estate and taking care of the family. A dark deep frown had furrowed itself on his forehead as he pulled open the desk drawer, and retrieved the rod that had been there for a good 4 years. He swished it experimentally, noting its flexibility. Then he looked around his study, nodding to himself as he decided how he would address his son on the morrow. It seems that once more I must press the point.
  6. OOC: This conversation is taking place in French "You utter fool. You imbecile," Le Roi freely muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose, his other hand in his side. He was wearing only his shirt sleeves, and his dark curled periwig lay abandoned over a chair, leaving his short crop of greyed hair bare. There was no need to stand on ceremony in this company. This entire situation was giving Louis a headache again, as it had not failed to do every time he was confronted with this idiot plot of his family members that had gone foul, wiping away all his hard work to encourage his English royal cousin to join his Catholic quest to the bigger glory of La France and Le Roi du Soleil. He ignored the fact that it was already gone afoul of late, after the Spanish intrigues, and his gambit to remove Danby by revealing the Treaty of Dover. It was never Louis' fault. Impossible! Non, it was the fact he was surrounded by imbeciles, like the one before him, who had come to beg for his mercy. "I hope Madam De Chartres will enjoy her stay in the convent for she shall not leave for the rest of her life. Now, the question is what shall I do with you? There is a nice room in the Bastille perhaps." The man before him flinched, knowing what le Roi was capable of in regards to family, even when he did not spill a drop of royal blood. Louis grunted with frustration, for simply locking him up and throwing away the key, however tempting, would not repair the diplomatic relations with England. "Bien, there is only one thing to it." He stared at one of the highest ranking peers of his kingdom, a prince of the blood no less. With satisfaction Louis noted that he cringed, lowering his head under his furious glaze. "You.Shall.Apologize." He paused for effect "In person, to Charles himself." His head shot up. "Not that," came the indignant protest, "Surely you can't expect me.." "I can and you will." And there was an end to it. Le Roi dismissed his errant familymember, then penned a letter to his diplomats, Ruvigny in particular, to prepare the visit to England, somewhere in Spring. Perhaps for the 1st of May, the King briefly pondered, then nodding to himself.
  7. Long after all guests had departed from Windsor the Northern Secretary remained to wrap up the last details and coordinate efforts from the castle while Prince Rupert took the military situation in hand, stopping a possible passing of French troops over the channel with a show of force, assisted by several lords that had followed him to Dover on horseback or by ship. Joseph wasn't too fussed. He didn't think the French were really going to cross. In fact, he didn't think it was Le Roi himself who was behind this heinous attempt at the King's life and, for all appearances, his heir the Duke of York, in one foul sweep. The French King ruled his country with an ironfist and so likely there would be repercussions of which Williamson's sources, especially the well hidden one who had warned him this time, would keep him abreast, while the prisoners in the dungeons would be kept alive for months till every last fact was tortured out of them. Interrogations were not to be undertaken with haste, especially after the crux of the matter had played already. There would be executions this spring perhaps, no sooner. Something nice and public, reassuring everybody the King was in full control. Something else had happened at Windsor. Something of far larger import than most knew, Joseph reflected as he walked through the stormy weather towards the graveyard to inspect the anonymous grave his men had prepared. He checked the body, wrapped in a sheet, once last time. A young face, blond, handsome, with particular family traits for those who knew where to look, including a birthmark. Upon his sign the body, was thrown into the grave and the two men started covering it with dirt with their shovels as Williamson watched. The body, which had been found in the library, was no surprise to him as he had, reluctantly, ordered the death. It had been an execution, of an agent gone rogue. For decades the Seymour family had served his office well. In fact, some members were still contributing from time to time. Yet in their blood themselves they carried the combined taint of ambition, treason and adventure. When the 2nd Duke of Somerset, son to the protector of Seymour fame, had secretly married and bedded Arabella Stuart, it had not stopped with her being locked up and dying in the Tower. Her twins had been smuggled out, their line continued. Only by cooperating with authorities in legal and illegal ways, had the duke been able during the Interbellum and afterwards to protect his children and grandchildren from annihilation. Being part of the Secret Service had been passed on from generation to generation, suited to their temperament, while the Duke made play at having his own heirs in a more public second marriage. For a moment he nearly lost it when his hidden daughter died in childbirth, insisting on bringing the girl grandchild of the next generation of twins into his own family as his granddaughter. Arlington had allowed it, the fool. Williamson shook his head as the wind pulled at his hair. Here in this grave lay one of the last potential heirs of the throne, ironically close to his own grandmother, and unbeknownst to many his mother and uncle buried in the same tomb in the chapel. He had signed his own death warrant as he had gone rogue, information that had been confirmed by both Mountjoy and Graas. He had not choice but to act, even against royal blood. It was something he dare not inform His Majesty over, knowing that such a thing went against royal instincts, for they dare not set precedent. There was one other heir hidden among the gentry, the last of a treasonous line, that he trust would not openly show his ambitions, lest he had to take similar measures. It would be years yet before he had to worry about it though. Something for the next spymaster perhaps. OOC: A bit late but on request a final episode on this mystery that touches more people than immediately apparent
  8. Fluff

    Guidebook: East End

    Creechurch Lane Synagogue The synagogue of the small Jewish community in London is located at Creechurch Lane, ironically leasing it from the Parish of St. Catherine Creechurch. It has recently been enlarged due to the growth of the congregation. The synagogue’s façade is elegant, with a transom window at the doorway, a pediment, and a stoop with benches. The main hall of worship is located at the large front room of the building’s upper floor. After being increased to 48 by 27 feet, it can now accommodate around one hundred and fifty men. The hall has wainscoting six feet high, arcaded Doric columns supporting the galleries, and a coved ceiling. The attic was converted into a gallery: the north and south galleries are occupied by women and are screened off with wooden panels of standing height. The west gallery is fitted with banisters of leaning height, and is mainly used by the poor – who were given free seats at the synagogue – or by young boys. Only the western gallery could be approached by stairs from the main hall, while the other two galleries had a separate staircase from the outside. The synagogue is designed according to Sephardi traditions, even though it also accommodates the Ashkenazi members of the Jewish community. In the eastern end of the synagogue stands the Ark, containing the Torah scroll – a copy of the Five Books of Moses, handwritten on parchment with special calligraphy. The Ark is made of walnut, and lined with damask with fringes of silver and gold, and curtained with taffeta. In the western end, one may find the seats of the synagogue’s wardens. In the space between stands the bimah or the tebah – an elevated platform on which the reading of the Torah is being conducted. The tebah has copper knobs at the corners, and a cover of scarlet satin with fringes of garnished silver. The tebah and the Ark are both lit by two silver candelabras, and two more are added to these during the High Holidays. The rabbi sits in the back of the tebah, while in front of it there are seats for young boys. The rest of the men sit on benches along the north and south walls. The prayer takes place in Hebrew. For Protestant visitors it might seem to be loud, rowdy, and uncivilized, something completely foreign to their own worship and much more choatic.The Jewish congregants in Creechurch Lane, of course, probably have a different understanding of what worship is and what it might look like.
  9. The London Gazette Published by Authority 22nd of April in the Year of our Lord 1677 From the Court There are increasing rumours of an engagement of William of Orange & Mary Stuart with a wedding being set for autumn 1677. With an alliance with France being out of the question under the circumstances of the leaked treaty of Dover and the recent assassination attempt, the Duke of York has been forced to agree marriage to the Dutch stadtholder is the only viable option. +++ The Duke of Monmouth has returned from exile to the Netherlands. In his company one mistress Henriette Wenworth who is said never to leave his side. There are still those who would argue that the King ought to declare him heir Apparent over his brother the Duke of York. +++ The 2nd Duke of Newcastle, Henry Cavendish, is said to be soon appointed to the Privy Council. Competition between the Cavendishes and the Howards is said to be fierce, though both are considered Royalist. +++ Despite having produced no heir to date, palace watcher say the Queen's influence on the King is considerable. To appease her affronted sensibilities the Duchess of Portmouth, The Dowager Countess of Alyth and mistress Gwynn have been asked to resettle in Chelsea. At Home The 5th Duke of Norfolk, Thomas Howard, has died peacefully in his sleep in a monastery in Italy some time during the winter of 1677. The next Duke of Norfolk is Henry Howard Sr, his younger brother. To the shock of the Catholic congregation Henry Howard, upon assuming the Ducal Seat of Norfolk, has converted to the Anglican Church. Some say upon the urgings of Henry Compton, bishop of London, some on the urgings of the King himself. It is expected that the Duke will be appointed to the Privy Council at some high position. +++ The Earl of Shaftesbury, who spent some time in the Tower together with the Duke of Buckingham, Lord Wharton and the Earl of Salisbury, but was released in an effort to quell the rise in fervour over the Papish Plot, is said to have prepared a second Test Act which would exclude James Stuart from the throne for being Catholic. Meanwhile Whigs are said to have documented proof that Danby is in league with the French and may demand his impeachment. +++ The Statue of Frauds will be brought up this season. Some royalist are said to be working on an Act of Toleration in an attempt to counter the extremism by the Whigs. +++ Lord Danby has personally taken the investigation in hand of the charges brought by Titus Oats against the household of the Duke of York, saying that a Catholic conspiracy to kill all English protestants may be afoot. Abroad Accusations have been levelled that English agents are stealing and/or kidnapping art and selling it in London to the highest bidder. The Privy Council has denounced this as utterly false and nothing of the sort has been initiated by government. +++ Despite French denial of involvement with the assassination attempt upon the royal couple at Windsor, foreign newspapers write that a war with France is likely, now that Dutch-Anglo ties have strengthened. "The cloud of war above London", writes the Amsterdam Courier, "is almost palatable with French strangers attacked in the streets." +++ Amsterdam - On Saturday last put to Sea four Men of War fitted out better for the service of the Elector of Brandenburg ; it it believed they are designed to Cruise in the Baltics. From Flanders we have the certainty that St. Omers surrendered to the French, the Garrison having with great difficulty obtained liberty to march out, and to be conducted to Brughes or Ghent. Notices The Countess of Shrewsbury is pleased to announce her engagement to Master Brydges, a younger but 2nd surviving son of Sir Thomas Bridges (d. 1707) of Keynsham, Somerset by his wife Anne Rodney, daughter and coheiress of Sir Edward Rodney MP of Stoke Rodney, Somerset. +++ Sir Henry Howard Sr. has been raised to 6th Duke of Norfolk and it pleases His Majesty to also appoint him as Knight in the Order of the Garter. His son Henry Howard Jr. has been raised to the Earl of Arundel. +++ Henry Cavendish Sr. has been raised to 2nd Duke of Newcastle-upon-Tyne. His son Henry Cavendish Jr. has been raised to Viscount Mansfield. Advertisments Stolen on the 7th of April in Northampton, by a tall slender man abou tthe age of 17 years with freckles in his face, short red hair and a short flaxen Perriwig, with white hat and white riding coat, a handsome chesnut coloured Mare, with bridle and saddle, about 6 years old, 15 hands all her paces, her far fore and hinder feet both white. Whoever gives notice of said Mare at the Red Lion Inn shall be well rewarded. +++ A Negro named Robert Moore aged about 18 of middle statured, clothed in fawn coloured livery with crimson bayes, having lost his thumb from his right hand, has gone away from his master Raul Nicol, esq, from Middlesex, on Easter Sunday. Whomever apprehends him and gives notice to his master through the Earl of Middlesex shall be given full satisfaction. Recipe Weak Honey-drink. Take nine parts of warm fountain-water, and dissolve in it one pint of pure white Honey, by laving it therein, till it be dissolved. Then boil it gently, skimming it all the while, till all the scum be perfectly scummed off; and after that boil it a little longer, peradventure a quarter of an hour. In all it will require two or three hours of boiling, so that at last one third part may be consumed. About a quarter of an hour before you cease boiling, and take it from the fire, put to it a little spoonful of cleansed and sliced Ginger; and almost half as much of the thin yellow rhind of Orange, when you are even ready to take it from the fire, so as the Orange boil only one walm in it. Then pour it into a well-glased strong deep great gally-pot, and let it stand so, till it be almost cold, that it be scarce lukewarm. Then put to it a little spoonful of pure Ale-yeast, and work it together with a ladle to make it ferment: as soon as it beginneth to do so, cover it close with a fit cover, and put a thick doubled woolen cloth about it. Cast all things so that this may be done when you are going to bed. Next morning when you rise, you will find the barm gathered all together in the middle; scum it clean off with a silver spoon and a feather, and bottle up the liquor, stopping it very close. It will be ready to drink in two or three days; but it will keep well a month or two. It will be from the first very quick and pleasant.
  10. Fluff

    Guidebook: Pall Mall

    Brooke House The sandstone Brooke House on Pall Mall is the London residence of the Earl Brooke, Sir Robert Thomas St. Leger, and his family. Set on a few acres with a walled and tiered garden, the house sits on the rise of a small hill which slopes in the back to small fashioned pond. Climbing roses and berries grace walls and terraces interspersed with ivy with the occasional cluster of manicured fruit trees. It boasts a large royal oak just off the back corner of the mansion with two wide swings which used to be a familiar playsite of the younger Lord Beverley, Robert St. Leger and his sister Lady Doneraile. Now it is a frequent site of play for the lady's 3 little boys when they are visiting their grandfather although they most often stay in Battersea a few miles down the Thames. The garden wall and various garden half-walls are a familiar haunt for Lord Beverley to lay about and read or nap. Brooke House itself is a large, thick rectangle. While wingless, the set of rooms on the second floor to the right rear, belong to Lord Beverley, the Earl Brooke's heir. The second floor to the left going down to part of the first floor are the rooms of Lord and Lady Brooke who traditionally keep separate bedchambers. Lord Brooke's rooms go down to his study and an anteroom on the first floor. Facing the garden between those apartments on the second floor is a garden room which is popular for a morning meal or tea. The rear of the first floor is dedicated to entertaining space with a large hall/dining room, library, and a gallery. Guest rooms are found on both floors but most specifically on the second floor facing the front of the property. When arriving in front, there are always blue liveried servants with badges of the Earl's arms on their coats to greet you and attend to your needs.
  11. Windsor shut down like a clam after the initial chaos. While some may have scattered to safety directly after the assassination attempt at the King on the Thames, soon enough none could escape. Guards refused exit to all, but Prince Rupert who rode in the night with a small brigade of Life Guards in the direction of the South of England. Far smaller than he would have liked for as it turned out the Life Guards had been pulling double shifts and so were ill prepared for a follow up. Meanwhile a methodical search of Windsor Castle was attempted. Soldiers accompanied by shadowy men in cloaks went from room to room, securing them one by one. It appeared they were looking for secret passageways, rogue doors and other things most only read about in books. Rumour spread that they had caught a Frenchman that even now was being questioned under torture in the deepest dungeons. Others said it was an Englishman. Three dead bodies had also been confiscated for a coroners report. Word came by midnight that while suffering a wound to the left leg, the King was out of danger and would yet live. He gave out a statement himself, praising Prince Rupert and His Grace the Duke of York for their quick actions, adding that naturally the King's Life Guard had acted with distinction. It was a short declaration, read aloud by Baptist May, the King's Privy Purse. A curious spectacle beforehand had one of the troopers race to a lady in waiting who had been sitting next to the Duchess of Portsmouth for hours, to whisper something in her ear, just moments before May spoke to all.
  12. Ruvigny sat himself at the fireplace, already started earlier that afternoon for despite the enduring good weather, there was a chill in the air, autumn having arrived. No doubts storms would soon follow. England was a dismal country. "You called for me," the soft spoken blond stepped from the shadows, showing the Ambassador he was not alone as he lowered the hood of his cloak. He had come through a secret passage that he had been shown by the Duke of York on one of his tours for merriment. Ruvigny regarded the man before him, an Englishman, yet dressed to the latest Parisian fashion. As the young man moved he winced, making Rugvigny's eyes narrow as he had seen it before on his countrymen. So, the rumours were correct. Never would he, as a Huguenot, understand what motivated Catholics to subject themselves to constant painful reminders of the suffering of Christ. To him it signalled an unhealthy radicalization, turning young men into zealots. He had seen first hand what damage that could do. "I have heard rumours," Ruvigny drawled, not inviting his visitor to sit, so that he might feel all the more that he was lower in rank "That greatly disturb me. Is it true that you've visited Monsigneur this summer?" "It is true," the blond said simply, finding no sense in denial, instead reminding the French Ambassador "Is not Monsigneur working on behalf of France as are we all?" "I will not be party to this," Rugvigny suddenly hissed with vehemence, slamming down his glass of cognac on the sidetable so that it splattered all over his hand "When I accepted this commission I did so with honour that I earned on the battlefield for La France. I shall not demean her like this. Call them off. I don't care what they are planning, but it must not be allowed to continue. The consequences for France and all of the English Catholics are greater than you can imagine. You will fail and the subsequent revenge shall be on your head." "Impossible, all the pieces are in place. Do not lose heart now, your Excellence," the blond smoothly reassured the ambassador "We will be victorious and the day shall be celebrated for centuries to come. You will be celebrated. None shall question your honour, I reassure you." "I should go to Williamson," Rugvingny spat. "But you will not," the Englishman observed with a thin smile. It would be certain death to the family of Rugvigny back home, his wife and other young children, only his son and some cousins having come with him on this tour. Such was the penalty of treachery to the French reasons of state.
  13. The passion was out of it, Finch noted as he called for order again. Most Lords already had their attention on the next season, or the upcoming trip to Scotland that the King had announced. The normal political fights were left to the Commons this week and he gave personal prayers of thanks to the Almighty that he was not speaker of that particular house, full of the lowest common villains. The Whigs in the Commons had roared before that the King had not given in enough to their demands and should consider the Exclusion Act, but that Act had not been submitted to Lords last session, instead delayed till autumn. Word had just come through though that the King was proroguing parliament till Spring '77, thus preventing any further mishaps that could interfere with his marriage. "ORDER, ORDER," Finch shouted with a calm authority, hitting his wooden hammer on the ledger 'THIS HOUSE WILL COME TO ORDER." It was no use, there was muttering and chaos and nobody raised a sensible point. He would be glad when it was over. In the end he managed to secure the final legal details on the setting up of the Bank of England, this great financial experiment that was supposed to solve all of England's problems. Exclusion, and a further expansion of the Test Act to include membership of the House of Lords would have to wait till the new political season and that was a long ways off yet.
  14. It was all part of the circle of life that the Roman Catholic Church held so close. Baptism. Communion. Marriage and many more Baptisms. Finally, the Funeral. Each marked a stage in the life of a soul, till finally they were reunited with their heavenly father. Today two such ceremonies dedicated to eternal life as well as the present took place in the small Queen's chapel that was well packed with people. The chapel was decorated with white roses and blue delphynnias. Muted, yet bright. Despite no longer having a Queen to lend them status, the Catholic community at Court was growing. The sign of the times was that you either confessed being a Catholic all your life, or you renounced it for now and ever more (as one Howard was rumoured to have been doing, though it could not be proven. He was not here now though, which the priest marked silently). The Royalist Courtiers, unlike the majority of the English populace, were increasingly proving to follow the French lead, perhaps a result of the majority of their parents having spend time abroad during the Civil War. Several in recent days had come out and pronounced that they acknowledged the saints and the sacraments, a growing number. With full pride the Duke of York had chosen to attend today with his wife, with not a mistress in sight. They sat in front of the congregation and briefly York allowed himself to imagine his future, then blushed. That was another sin to confess, that of pride. He did not wish his brother dead for he truly loved him, but how he longed for the day that he would set matters aright for the repressed Catholics at court, a gross injustice in his eyes. He had been appointed by God to set it aright. With renewed vigor, such as he always felt during Mass, York looked up at the ceiling as he prayed. The priest called for prayer, and there was prayer. There was hymn singing. The celebration of life. With suitable tenderness, in a simple but meaning full ceremony in front of the entire chapel, Alexandra Rosewyck married Francis Neuville. The bride looked young and blushing, resplendid in her silver dress with seed pearls and ancient gold threads as the embroidery but overall rather elegant despite the simplicity. A flower wreath rested on her red curls. Neuville, looking damn fine in blue sapphire velvet, had brought the Baron Radcliff as his best man. During the ceremony Radcliff tried to capture Davina's eyes, but quickly averted them as he noticed Braintree's scowl. After the couple had said "I do", rings and pinmoney exchanged, they faded back into the congregation and time was made for another duty. A service was said for the dead, that final phase to eternal life. The body would be interred at a Catholic graveyard nearby, in fact the same one were Caleb O'Roarke rested his dark soul, and many others of the Irish community so that Boyle had arrange for a family tomb there. Before today, cards and flowers had started to fill the house of Boyle, as well as some food and drink to serve at the traditional Catholic Wake, where George and Peter Boyle had welcomed guests. There were pale cream roses with the merest hint of pink on their tips and many bouquets of Lilies. There were yellow roses, lilies and lavender. Such a sea of flowers, both at the graveside and in the Church. Some parishioners were seen afterwards offering condolences. Among them Lady Davina, Lady Rebecca, Lord Tredegar, Lady Diana and the Baroness Nebitt. Most did not attend to the funeral at the grave site, a much smaller affair of true Catholics with the interring in the tomb and the last prayers said. Some of the graves nearby had been recently attended to. The great absentee was of course the Earl's sister. OOC: George has been informed of all the private attentions you have sent me, but I decided a summary was necessary. Thank you all for your kindness! Please be aware that there is a reception of Alexandra's wedding for all well wishers that shall be started soon, noon 24th.
  15. "Does he know?" "Who, Ruvigny? Non. None of the big players do. Two words pour vos. Plausible Deniability. Besides, le Roi likes to gamble at more than once horse in the race. If the other measures do not work, this one will. The English are fools to think they can ignore the most powerful hand on the board of Europe's Chess game. " "Is he French?" "Not even that, though he has a contact at the Embassy." "Blessings on his swift hand then." "Not so swift. Fall at the earliest." "How?" "Best you don't know. Plausible Deniability."
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