Vicious Attack Kittens [Sunrise 24th]- Xmas 1677

[Guest]

Portrait Gallery

The long hallway connecting the Banqueting House and the Great Hall is decked out in portraits, landscapes and sculptures from all the past masters. Stools dot the hallway, as well as a fireplace or two, to warm it in the winter months. Also scattered about are small nooks that lend an air of privacy in the open corridor, especially at night.

 

John often read abroad. He liked to be shut up in the library, certainly, but wandering around outside the house had meant he’d read under trees and on rocks and in stranger places still. Of course, it was winter and cold, so he would settle for the wilderness of the palace. He’d found, as the sun began to rise, a window with a ledge wide enough to sit on, and began to read through his latest acquisition.

 

But then a mother cat, leading her four kittens, wandered in and jumped up with him. John gave her a look as if to say, Really? Of all the windows you’re choosing this one?

 

The cat hopped up and gave him a look back, I’m a cat and a mother of four, it said, I don’t have time for your litter. She sprawled out under the rising sun in the lazy way of cats. Her children proved more energetic, mewling and moving about. This was, to say the least, distracting, and John almost left until he saw one of them batting at the reflection of the glass.

 

That gave John an idea.

 

Using the cover of his pocket watch to catch the light and make it into a little spot, he played with the kittens. They all went very quiet, hunting their quarry, and left the nook for the floor. They would pounce on the spot but the spot always escaped to be stalked again. The fact the spot shook slightly from John’s hand only seemed to make them more interested.

 

John, meanwhile, continued reading, only half looking up now and again to keep playing the little game. He might have noticed someone entering or that the spot wandered onto the lower hem of their clothes. His nose, however, was quite thoroughly in his book.

 

The kittens, innocent of such things, pounced, claws out. They were going to get that shiny spot…

[Hope]

Striding up the hallway, paying naught attention to the line of peers gazing vacantly from the canvas, walked Sir John. He had an intent to visit his mother at some stage today, but for now wished to make himself present in the Kings Audience chamber. He was aufait enough with custom that he understood such as a necessity to be seen, if not to see.

 

But what was this? Indolently sat in a window a man read with playing kittens at his feet, as though he was cut from a Shakespearean play rather than stationed in a great hall of Rank and Politics. Now I have seen everything. The baronet rolled his eyes. It was evident to him that the man was some manner of merry sort, here early angling for a naive maid. Kittens were a sure bait for ladies. Not the things for a serious man like himself, a man with goals, a man with ambition.

 

Upturning his nose, he intended to stride on past the windowsill-roue... when a playful kitten, and then three, attacked is feet. "Agh!" perturbed he frowned, and tried shake his foot free of the kitten that clinged.

[Guest]

John looked up, confused at the cry of distress, only to see the kittens had decided to make a nuisance of themselves to someone else. He realized what he’d done and horror crossed his face. He tried to stand up but failed and ended up falling back to his seat with a small thud.

 

“Ah, sorry, sorry.” John said, managing to come to his feet. Then he saw the man shaking his foot and said, “Stuh-stuh-stop that! You’ll only make them hold on tighter!” And he might hurt the kittens. John shut his pocket watch, making the spot disappear. He hoped that would make them lose interest in the gentleman’s legs.

 

He put the watch away and gently plucked the kitten off the man’s leg. His shaking hands gently pulled out the claws and brought her up to his chest, where he mollified her with idle petting. “S-s-sorry. I wasn’t paying attention.” John repeated. “N-n-now apologize.” John held the kitten towards the man, who meowed. “See? She’s suh-suh-sorry too.”

[Hope]

The shaking was not working, and so he held still. Frowning deeply both for fear of his stockings (he had little wish to trapise all the way back to the Inn to change), and for the childish quality of the adult scrambling before him.

 

"The kitten cannot understand you. Perhaps you would do better finding a sack than a book." he said flatly, though his eyes slid to the book discarded to discover the title.

[Guest]

John smiled apologetically at the man. "A suh-sack?" John said, not sure what the man meant by that. The book was The Anatomy of Ireland by Sir William Petty, a book about that country's politics and economy. "What f-f-for?"

[Hope]

The title of the book came as a surprise, causing Sir John to take a moments pause. Perhaps this 'kitten fellow' was not accurate to his first impression at all.

 

"Wherefore the race being not to the swift, etc. but time and chance happening to all men, I leave the Judgement of the whole to the Candid, of whose correction I shall never be impatient." he spoke a favored quote from Petty raising an eyebrow as he tested Maldon (meanwhile declining from further comment of sacks and closeness of the Thames).

 

 

OOC: Interesting find, may I assume that this economist Petty is where the term Petty cash comes from?!

[Guest]

John was surprised for a moment. He wasn't sure what to make of the quote, which seemed to be a call for wiser judgment. "A thousand acres that can feed a thousand souls is better than ten thousand acres of no more effect." John replied. It was another quote but also had meaning beyond its literal one. He examined Sir John, his distraction at the kittens giving way to observation of the man before him.

 

OOC: I don't know, actually. Petty means 'small' though, it's an Anglicized version of petit, so I think that's where it's from?

[Hope]

He'd not intended any particular relevance to the quote, plucked from the air at random. It had been more of a test to see if the other was actually familiar with the author, or was he holding the book with intents to mop up kitten urine with it's pages! Fortunately it was the former.

 

A smile broke out on his face. "It is a pleasure to meet a fellow admirer of Mr Petty. How I have lamented that he was no longer at Oxford when I attended, but then he surely attending to the greatest need. " he offered the other his hand to shake. "I am John Lucas*, Baronet, from Longview Manor Hertfordshire. Now what is the deal with these kittens?" Kittens which he now thought were some sort of awful mistake. Perhaps the academic had been tricked into minding them by his meddlesome mother... these things did happen.

 

 

 

 

* FYI the correct form of address for the baronet is Sir John

OOC: I shall like to think of it as William Petty Cash from now on!

[Guest]

John often read into things. It was the price of an overactive mind and the subtlety to which he aspired.

 

John smiled in reply. He was not quite an admirer, his inquiries had been very recent, but he was always willing to occupy common ground. He shook the proffered hand. "The L-l-lord Maldon. He has... b-b-been a great help to me in my duh-desire to learn more about p-p-politics and truh-trade." John had already met Sir John's mother. They were distantly connected, though in truth John was starting to believe he was related to everyone.

 

Sir John asked after the kittens and John smiled, petting one, "Oh, they d-d-decided they'd have me for company. I d-d-do not... know whose they are, or why they're huh-here. They're quh-quite... d-d-distracting really." His tone seemed to recoil from admitting they were an annoyance, and he still treated them with affection.

 

OOC: Haha. Go forth and make it a thing!

[Hope]

So names were exchanged, though John Lucas remained uninformed that they had any relation. "Well met," he replied, and then elaborated, "I have been attentive to the study of politics myself, and to diversify into trade seems only prudent. When one considers the men, such as Petty, that have survived from one rule into another, there seems a common denominator in that Politics was not their primary field. Their true talents lay elsewhere. And so what field of Trade are you intent towards?"

 

Of the Kittens, there was not much story. Certainly nothing that interested the self important Sir John, "Well I had expected to see the Royal Menagerie at The Tower, and even a few wild things here in Whitehall, but a scourge stray kittens? It is rather an anticlimax."

[Guest]

John found that point of view curious. He was reminded that he came from a very special sort of family. For most people what Sir John said was probably true, but John very much felt that even the Protectorate hadn’t really threatened his family’s survival in politics.

 

“F-f-foreign trade mostly,” John said, “P-p-petty makes much of the Scottish and Irish trades.” Those were foreign countries in John’s mind. “And some c-c-concerns have reached my…ears about how these fuh-foreign policy changes m-m-might affect trade with the continent and cuh-colonies. And how the wuh-war will affect d-d-domestic... markets. So I’ve thuh-thought a little about what I m-m-might do for the national wealth.” And his personal wealth, but John would not admit to that.

 

Sir John didn't seem overly impressed by kittens. “If you p-p-prefer, you… could suh-say you n-n-narrowly escaped an army of Whitehall Tigers and their c-c-cruel beastmaster.” John offered. He still had a taste for fanciful stories as well. John petted the kitten still in his hands, smiling at the joke of it. "P-p-perhaps we might train an army of thuh-them and r-r-rip the stockings of England's... enemies."

[Hope]

It was now that the stutter of the other became more obvious, perhaps John Lucas had expected it was nervousness previously, but it cant have been, for it did not go away. Still, the other seemed to hold some further information "Truly? What concerns would those be?" to Maldons 'teaser' he asked.

 

"Hmm... as to war, now there is a topic which shall always divide opinion. I myself have been spending more time of late in researching opportunists in the Colonies, is it not a law of good sense that to grow one must consume. If nearby geography were a pie at the family table, there is only so much that can go around, fighting shall inevitably ensue -- but in the Colonies there is great opportunity for the forward looking gentleman to move forward at speed.

 

No, he was not at all impressed with the kittens, while h'ed made an effort to say something about them, he certain was not going to encourage the topic. so it was he simply frowned and made a nasal noise to Maldons suggestion. Perhaps John Bramston, who was an insightful fellow, might see that John Lucas would rather shoot himself in the foot.

[Guest]

“Oh, what you’d expect.” John said. “If we are t-t-to go to war, or c-c-cut trade with France. If yes, when. Whether new t-t-trade treaties will come with Spain or the Netherlands. If there is to be m-m-more production of iron, or wood, or medicine to make up the nuh-new demand. What suh-supply will be granted the King. Etcetera.” Uncertainty was the chronic bane of merchants.

 

“Oh?” John knew relatively little about the colonies. “I hear there’s all suh-sorts of fascinating plants over there.” Lord Melville had been out of touch but that mattered little. There were many merchants who might supply ships, especially if they smelled profit. And if he managed to pull off his part of it there’d be plenty of that. “Have any… experience with t-t-trade, sailing, or… b-b-botany?”

 

John chuckled at Sir John’s response. He didn’t put the kitten down, but nor did he do more than gently pet it. But a man who didn't like kittens could hardly like their more savage American cousins.

[Hope]

"Aha, arranging the links in the chain of supply." he gave a nod, "all to be ready at a moments notice, or to remain on standby for months, perhaps years. Oh to be privy to those who plan behind closed doors. I have long yearned for a visit to the famous Woolsack, it is invitation only, and harder than that to actually become a member." he spoke of the plotting arena, a London the Gentlman's club to which a great many powerful men belonged.

 

"But for now the King Presence Chamber must suffice, I am upon my way there currently." and he gave a glance at his clock. His Majesty was known for early morning walks, was it also his habit in Winter? Would he be due to arrive soon, if so, he might catch a glimpse of him? Sir John, like most others, had an agenda he wished to press.

 

"Only academic." He confessed to Maldon, "unless one counts the management of ones own estate." The Baronet was hardly scared of the kitten, he was a man of study stuff; he'd gratefully face down a native. But ask him to goo and gar over a baby cat, and, well he simply would not.

[Guest]

John had never heard of the club. To him, it seemed there was endless number of them.

 

And in truth, he suspected that even the highest men didn’t know the answers. The King wished to try and prevent the war but even he couldn’t know if he would succeed. As to the more immediate matter of the club, “Then g-g-get an invitation?” John suggested, his tone ginger but he clearly didn’t understand the problem. “Or m-m-make your own cluh-club.”

 

“Ah, d-d-don’t let me keep you.” John said as the man looked at the clock. John definitely didn’t want to see the King. Nor did any of his plans run through the king’s household. Last season had rather cemented his opinions and crystalized a rather negative opinion of the King and especially of those around him. He'd almost not returned to court.

 

“Ah, more’s the p-p-pity.” John said. Perhaps Sir John would meet someone to send John’s way. But if the man had no experience except managing an estate there was little to be done.

[Hope]

"Yes that is what I hope for." So it seemed that Maldon was not a member, or if he was, he was coy of giving out invites himself.

 

Maldon was polite enough, but it did not seem he desired an association at all. John Lucas had wondered for a moment if the other would express an interest in joining him in the Presence Room. But no. Ah well. "That I shall." Sir John said aloud, and with a further nod of head, he continued on down the hall.

[Guest]

John had been seeking assurance he wasn't keeping the man. Looking at a clock without excusing himself for the gesture was a clear signal to John that the baronet wanted to leave.

 

Apparently he had, as Sir John said something John couldn't make head or tails of. That he shall what? Let John keep him? No, he moved to stride off. "G-g-god speed you." John said a polite goodbye as Sir John left. What a curious family.

 

The kittens had quieted and now cuddled their mother. John placed the one he was holding back into the fur pile. Then he sat and returned to reading. "The English invaded Ireland about 500 years since; at which time..."

[Hope]

Put it down to nerves perhaps. Perhaps he'd misunderstood. It had sounded to him like Maldon (on the topic of the woolsack) had essentially told him to go play politics with himself. Sir John felt judged, and was not wanting to stay for the verdict.

 

Nerves.

 

Ambitions,without the know how to achieve them, had this bitter baronet highly strung.

 

 

 

OOC: ha, well not an instant friendship, but good to have John Meet John none the less

~ Fin