Ach Tannenbaum! [Just Before Noon, 24th]- Xmas 1677

[Guest]

“All I mean is thuh-that the f-f-focus should be on you and my sister… when you p-p-present the gifts.” John would be glad to meet the Queen so long as it didn’t damage the gesture or its focus on the two ladies. But he had put himself in Sophia’s hands in this. He would be there or not according to her and the circumstances.

 

“It’s not.” John said simply of his trust. His ignorance of her deceptions made him fully assured. Nevertheless, his tone had a serious air it rarely took which then quickly dissipated.

 

“So you’ve d-d-done theater on the c-c-continent… then?” John inquired. It was a more natural presumption than that she had never acted before and had somehow stumbled into the lead role before the King. Though then again, Sophia seemed to be born under a lucky star.

 

John nodded to keeping each other informed. And to waiting on her husband to see what role she’d play. And to her more sober response to his challenge.

 

He’d presumed that Sophia would be eager to share in his more childish games. She was very excitable and young. And she did things like play Diana in an opera centered around Diana bathing nude. Yet her enthusiasm seemed to wane. It slowly drained after he reminded her she needed to ask her husband for permission to do something. And now she wished to ask his permission for everything.

 

Well, there was nothing wrong with that by itself. But John’s own grinning childishness softened and became a more opaque propriety.

 

Sophia missed half the point. John sighed and, blinking, looked down. “D-d-do you really think I don’t want to join in like everyone else?” Balls and dances were a central component of genteel life. John knew very well how to make the best of them in his state. He wished he didn’t have to though.

 

But John hardly heard Sophia’s promise to introduce him around and speak well of him. His face twitched, concealing a growing anger. “Why,” John asked, “d-d-do you say I’m… new to c-c-court?”

[Sophia de la Cerda]

“Your sister might feel more secure with you there. I will be a stranger to her.” Sophia would feel more confident with him there as well. She had met the Queen a number of times, but she was not completely comfortable in her presence. The young Baroness also thought that Her Majesty would like to meet him, since he was responsible for his sister and she might have questions that Sophia was unable to answer. Most of all, she wanted him beside her for the simple fact that he was one of her dearest friends.

 

There was a degree of seriousness in his voice when he assured her that his trust in her was not misplaced, and she smiled at him shyly. She acted more self-assured than she really was most of the time, hiding the vulnerability of her youth and inexperience. Deep inside, she felt inadequate in almost everything but her music. She was a foreigner in a strange land and still felt like an outsider in many ways. John's confidence meant a lot to her. She hoped that she wouldn't disappoint him tonight.

 

“Nobles are not allowed to perform in public in Italy, but the people I stayed with in Venice owned opera houses and my stepmother's brother was a composer. I was allowed to watch rehearsals and when a soprano had to miss one for some reason, I stood in for her so that the other singers could go ahead with their practice.”

 

Nothing that she told him now was a lie. Her first two and a half years in Venice had been spent observing the singers and standing in where necessary. She had been fourteen when a singer had fallen ill right before the beginning of the opera, which would have had to be canceled if she had not begged her step-uncle into letting her take the role. That was how her forbidden foray into performing for the general public had begun.

 

Sophia enthusiasm for the siege had not exactly waned. She was just becoming more and more aware how her life was changing and that everything she did would reflect either positively or negatively on Spain. The petite blonde wished she could do whatever she wanted and she envied Lord Maldon's freedom. She fully intended to help him build the platform, the snow castle, and the snowmen and participate in the snowball fight itself in whichever role Esteban was most comfortable with. With her impulsive nature, she would probably do much more than that, but she told herself that she would not go against her husband's wishes.

 

Had she said something wrong? He looked down and seemed unwilling to meet her eyes. Was he angry with her? All she had tried to do was reassure him that there was more to balls than just dancing. But like her, he wanted to fit in, and perhaps he felt that not being able to dance was preventing that, just as she felt that her poor understanding of English customs held her back from truly belonging at the English court.

 

“You only arrived last season, ja?” she asked. “Some courtiers have been here for decades. I consider myself still new to court as well. You can still enjoy a ball without dancing. Do you know Lord Kingston.? He doesn't dance but spends the evenings conversing with friends. And your event will be fun and exciting and I think it is a very creative twist on the usual parties that most people throw." Her shy smile returned. "You are intelligent, charming, witty, well-read, clever, politically inclined, fun-loving ... and so much more. You have many strengths that you can draw on."

[Guest]

“Alright, I’ll c-c-come too.” John said. Just as the Opera was Master Cole’s show this maneuver was now Sophia’s. And just like Sophia he would play his part as best he could.

 

Sophia rewarded his confidence with a shy smile. John smiled warmly at her and patted her hand briefly. John knew that Sophia hid deeper fears. Yet he saw something in the young baroness, or perhaps the seed of something. Something that he felt others didn’t. He could, he thought, be good for her.

 

“And that’s how you g-g-got your start with Venetian opera.” John filled in, though he again had no suspicion of the truth. He simply meant she attended their performances and perhaps sung with Venetian singers in private. In this way, Sophia kept another secret but this time said nothing untrue. The distinction would be important if he ever found out. But for the moment John still considered Sophia fully honest.

 

John actually paid a great deal of attention to his reputation. He minded Sophia’s as well where he could. This event was partly born of a desire to help his reputation in fact. Hopefully it would keep anyone from thinking he was stuffy or puritanical. Romantic innocence and virginity were flaws in men as much as they were virtues in women. Though it also was partly to soothe his annoyance at not having enough room in his London home for a treehouse.

 

“No.” John said quietly, his anger dissolving in the face of Sophia’s gentle understanding. She’d reminded him, though, how he’d been so often packed off to the country as an embarrassment. Or how he’d fled feeling himself so. How he felt excluded and foreign in his own country’s court.

 

So Sophia’s comment was blithely prodding a very deep and complicated wound. It didn’t help that Sophia seemed like exactly the sort of person accustomed to the opposite treatment, to being shown off.

 

Trying to convince John that being excluded wasn’t so bad, at least with words, was a lost cause, though John appreciated the effort.

 

Then Sophia said… well, many things, but they amounted to that she held him in high esteem. Despite himself a smile crept across John’s face and he seemed cheered. He took her hand once more and, after waiting a moment for a head twitch to end, kissed it gently.

 

“Thank you,” John said, quietly but without the sadness of before, “You’re a good friend.” He smiled at her, a happy little grin.

[Sophia de la Cerda]

Sophia couldn't hide her delight when he agreed to accompany his sister to meet the Queen. Their plans would be for naught if the King and Queen left directly after the opera or if the Queen did not attend at all. The story of Diana and Actaeon wasn't religious and had the potential to be racy. And she supposed that the King could decide he would rather have the company of one of his mistresses. But despite all of these possibilities, she hoped that Her Majesty would be there to show her support of the first opera to ever be held in London. To Sophia, that fact alone made it a monumental occasion.

 

“Yes,” she confirmed. “That is how I know so much about opera. My father allowed me to stay because it was the best place to train my voice, and he was friends with the family I stayed with. He knew they could take care of me and assure that I received the vocal instruction I desired.” She sighed, a brief but sad expression crossing her fair features. “He was never able to deny me anything.” And she had betrayed him so shortly before he died. The petite German would never forgive herself for that, yet if she had the chance to do it again, her choice might be the same. It was nearly impossible for her to deny the lure of the stage. She was a born performer.

 

Sophia breathed a sigh of relief when John finally smiled at her. She knew she couldn't begin to understand the challenges he faced, but she wanted him to know how highly she thought of him and that she believed that he could rise above the obstacles standing in his way and make something of himself at court. A soft blush colored her cheeks when he lifted her hand and kissed it. It didn't tingle the way it did when Juan kissed it, but she did feel a glow of happiness envelop her. “I believe in you,” she said. “And I always will.”

 

Standing up, she lifted the box that contained the Christmas pyramid and placed it on her chair. Sophia signaled for a servant to bring another small table and set it beside Lord Maldon. Anna, who was German herself, brought over a lit candlestick. “Now I will show you how this works.” Pulling off the lid of the box, she lifted out the fan, which was already assembled. “If the box is jostled, a paddle or two may fall off, but they can be put back on.” To show him how it was done, she pulled off one of the wooden blades and then stuck it back into its slot. “See? It is very easy.”

 

Setting the fan aside, she removed the pyramid itself, which was about a foot tall. It had a wooden rod in the center with three round platforms attached to it. The bottom and largest platform contained a beautifully painted manger scene. Arranged around it were the three wise men. The middle platform was decorated with shepherds and sheep and the top and smallest one held tiny figures of angels. After placing the fan on top of the rod, she carried it over and set in on the table beside John. “It is very pretty, ja?”

 

Returning to the box, she gathered up the candles and placed them in the holders that were arranged around the bottom of the pyramid. “Here comes the fun part.” Anna handed her the candlestick, and Sophia began to light the candles. The platforms started circling after the first three were lit and picked up speed with each new flame that was added.

 

Soon it was spinning merrily. The wise men rotated around the manger scene and the sheep rotated around the shepherds. The angels circled on the top platform. Standing back, she grinned at John. “There. What do you think? Is it a good gift for the Queen?”

[Guest]

John was becoming less concerned with the specifics of tonight than with the general theme of things. If this plan failed, he did not doubt they would come up with something else.

 

John’s eyes flashed with recognition as she spoke of her father in the past tense. A story came to his mind, of a girl whose father had died young and who had been quickly married off as a result. “Well, you’ll d-d-do him proud tonight.”

 

John smiled wider when Sophia professed she believed him. “Well, then you’ve g-g-got rather… more confidence in me than I d-d-do in myself.” John’s tone was still light. This was self-deprecation rather than the depression of a few moments before.

 

Sophia’s lingering thoughts of how John made her feel compared to her lover, or of the romantic possibilities of another life, had no equivalent in John’s mind. He’d never thought of Sophia in a romantic or erotic context. Her beauty was not enough to attract his attention in such matters unbidden.

 

Then again, Helene herself might have found John dispassionate unless she decided to encourage him a little.

 

John watched with a serious curiosity and nodded when she showed him how to repair the paddles if they fell. He looked in slight wonder at the pyramid, “Yes, v-v-very beautiful.” It was a work of art in miniature and reminded him a bit of a table centerpiece except mechanical.

 

But then Sophia lit it. A smile quietly crept across his face as the pyramid began to spin and it grew wider as it grew faster. His face had the awestruck and gleeful wonder of a child. If one was being uncharitable, they might see why he was sometimes thought stupid. “Oh, yes. A v-v-very fine gift.” The gleeful smile seemed stuck on John’s face.

 

“How d-d-does it spin?” John asked excitedly.

[Sophia de la Cerda]

“I hope he will be looking down from heaven and smiling at what I have achieved.” Lord Kingston had advised her not to mention the fact that the opera had not been the King's idea, but her own. He had said that it must look as if the monarch had come up with it himself. Those who had been there knew the truth, but Sophia suspected that they had conveniently forgotten. And so she could not tell her dear friend that she and Master Cole … who had offered his then unwritten opera … were responsible for the debut of the genre in London.

 

Would her father be proud of her for engineering a way for nobles to sing legitimately in a theatre at least for one evening? Or would he believe that this one production wouldn't be enough for her and she would find less honorable means to tread the boards? Sophia had no intention of doing that. There would be other opportunities to perform, such as the concert she had volunteered for only this morning. And her success tonight would also bode well for chances to sing in the future.

 

There would be no more disguising herself as a commoner and auditioning for plays, as she had done last spring.

 

“And you have more confidence in my success tonight than I do.” They believed in each other, which perhaps was more important than believing in themselves. Sophia cared deeply for him, but in a purely platonic way.

 

She found the childish look of wonder on his face adorable. With any luck, other English nobles would view the pyramid with similar awe. The Queen would be an exception, but would hopefully appreciate a religious gift from her homeland. Lord Maldon seemed to think it was a splendid gift.

 

“The heat from the candles turns the fan,” she explained. “The more that are lit, the faster it spins.” There were six candles on the base of the pyramid and she blew three of them out. The platforms moved more slowly now. “See? It looks particularly pretty in a darkened room.”

[Guest]

“I’m sure he’d b-b-be happy with where you’ve ended up.” John thought Sophia was referring to her marriage and life rather than the opera. Then again, family was the center of John’s world. He had no experience of performance. And he still thought of Sophia’s marriage as the central relationship of her life.

 

John chuckled at her response, but nodded. He smiled, “You know, if t-t-tonight goes poorly, I won’t… think less of you. I know you w-w-won’t give up.” It was one of the things he admired about her. She seemed so hard to discourage. Perhaps because, unlike John, her parents had indulged her. John’s worlds had always been one of trying to find happiness within limits.

 

So was everyone’s, perhaps, but John had been constantly aware of it.

 

Realizing it sounded like he was backing off from his earlier confidence, “I d-d-do have every confidence in you, I mean.” John added hastily, “But it’s in you, n-n-not… tonight, not this plan.” John explained. He looked over for assurance. He was afraid he’d said something that would go over poorly.

 

John, still smiling widely, had let his head begin to drift in circles following the pattern of the pyramid. It still held his attention in thrall. “The heat t-t-turns the fan?” John said curiously. “How?” John had a child’s habit of asking why too.

 

John nodded quickly. It was very pretty. “It’s r-r-really something. Thank you for showing me.” He had something that might match it, or so John hoped. But that he would be giving at the formal ceremony on New Years.

[Sophia de la Cerda]

Would her father be happy with the way her life had turned out? He had sent her to England because the scandal had not reached its shores and he had thought she would be more likely to find a suitable husband than in either Germany or Italy. Now that a year had passed, her folly was likely forgotten. Sophia planned to eventually write a letter to Signora Grimani, not only to apologize but to inform her of the path her life had taken.

 

Her father had probably intended her to marry an Englishman, but she had never heard him speak ill of Spain. What would he think about her becoming the wife of an Ambassador at such a young age? She knew what his views would be on her affair with Juan, but she tried not to dwell too much on that. Not even his displeasure would have stopped her from becoming his mistress.

 

Sophia appreciated John's faith in her and she understood what he meant before he clarified his statement. He was certain that she would do well tonight, even if the opera crumbled around her. “Thank you,” she said sincerely. “I doubt I will be able to sing on the stage of a theatre again, unless the King wants another performance or commissions a second opera, but I will not give up on my dream of making opera popular in England. I told a few courtiers last spring that London needed its own opera house , but none of them seemed very excited about it. Tonight's success could change all that.” She didn't know how wealthy John was, but perhaps he would like to invest in the venture himself.

 

Her head tilted sideways when he asked how the heat of the candles was able to turn the fan. Sophia was insatiably curious herself, but the pyramids had been a part of her childhood and she had simply accepted the way they worked without thinking too much about it. She didn't have a very scientific mind, and might not have been able to understand even if she had been told. “I don't know,” she replied thoughtfully. “It just does.”

 

Blowing out the rest of the candles, Sophia started to dissemble it and place it back in the box. “I am glad you like it. Tonight after the opera, you and your sisters can either put it together yourselves or I can do it once I leave the stage.”

[Guest]

“Oh, there are wuh-ways if you like it.” John said a bit dismissively about this being her last time on stage. John was not a Puritan. Performing on stage was improper but so were novels and John loved those. It just had to be done with care. And as a married woman, Sophia actually had more latitude if her husband permitted it.

 

“It c-c-could.” John said. “I’m currently trying to p-p-press some bills through Parliament. If I muh-manage to p-p-pass them as they are, I’d be glad to buh-build one and commission an opera to celebrate.” If they passed as they were John would certainly be wealthy and powerful enough to do so. “The first showing m-m-might be private and you might p-p-perform for… court again. And then one for the… wuh-wider public.”

 

“Though it muh-might be faster to simply b-b-beg the favor of Buckingham.” John added. The duke had already invested more into the art of opera. John hadn’t even seen one yet. He just trusted Sophia’s tastes.

 

John often pondered about even mundane things. He sometimes looked up and wondered why the sun burned. And something new and exotic like the pyramid drew his attention even more intensely. John frowned when she said ‘it just does’. “Would you luh-like to t-t-try and find out why?” He asked, offering her a little intellectual adventure.

 

John nodded and said, “We’ll t-t-try to put it together so it’ll be ready.” One less detail for Sophia to worry about.

[Sophia de la Cerda]

“I think my only chance is if this starts a trend and more operas and plays are performed in theatres just for the nobility. It seems to me that courtiers will enjoy themselves more if they don't have to mingle with commoners just to watch a show. I imagine they can be quite rowdy and they probably reek. I doubt that it will ever be acceptable for nobles to perform for the general public, though.”

 

Did he know of another way? If so, Sophia would be interested to hear it.

 

And he seemed quite interested in building an opera house in London. Maybe she had finally found an investor. Even if he wasn't able to finance it on his own, he could combine his funds with those of other wealthy nobles who were fond of opera. With her luck, though, Esteban would decide that they should move to Madrid around the time it was completed. “I do hope your bills are accepted then,” She grinned. “Perhaps when Master Greyson returns from Italy, he and Master Cole can collaborate on another opera to be debuted during your celebration.”

 

Sophia did want opera to grow in popularity among the general public even if she would not be able to sing herself. She enjoyed watching it as well. And perhaps she could train the singers, if that was not frowned upon. The young Baroness adored teaching others to sing.

 

“Hmmmm,” she mumbled when he mentioned that begging Lord Buckingham might be faster. “I don't believe I have ever spoken to him about it. It is worth a try.” She could ask Lord Kingston if he thought the Duke would be willing to meet with her. If she impressed him tonight, maybe he would even send for her himself. She had offered to sing for him before.

 

“Are you acquainted with him?” Perhaps John would be able to put in a few good words for her as well.

 

“Oh yes!” she exclaimed, her eyes shining with the prospect of learning something new. “But how do we figure it out? It just happens. You light the candles and the fan begins to turn.”

[Guest]

John was confused by the strength of her response. He felt like he'd stumbled. “Whuh-what, p-p-precisely, do you want?” He asked for clarification. “T-t-to be an opera… singer in a t-t-troupe and p-p-perform for the public? Have you ever b-b-been on stage… b-b-before?” There was a deep confusion in John’s voice but no judgment.

 

John smiled as she wished his political ventures well. In truth, she’d already struck a major blow against one. Possibly a fatal blow. But he didn’t blame her for not being as close to the new Spanish leadership as he’d thought. That had been his mistake. “Speaking of, d-d-do you know anyone who’s… g-g-got Prince Rupert’s ear? And d-d-do tell your husband we ought to tuh-talk.”

 

John had his own motives in supporting opera. There was an English folk tradition of sung stories. If he could get involved he could see the old stories, music, and characters survived into the new form. He imagined these new operas based on old ballads as a counter to Italian influence and a way to see his favorite stories on stage. Hopefully Sophia wouldn't mind the Anglicization of her beloved art.

 

“We’ll see. I’d need L-l-lord Buckingham’s permission to… use them, though.” John nodded that he knew the duke, “I am, b-b-but he’s been ignoring… me of late.” John said. His tone was unconcerned. Buckingham was probably just being inconsiderate and self-important which, to John, were among the duke’s chief traits. “Asking Mademoiselle Vauquelin would be fuh-faster.”

 

John smiled at her eagerness. He didn’t fault that her didn’t immediately go to how to think analytically. It was something that had to be taught. “Why d-d-do things… turn?” John asked in reply. He didn’t know the answer to why the pyramid worked actually. But hopefully she could learn a bit of experimental philosophy.

[Sophia de la Cerda]

Sophia shook her head vehemently. “Nein. I have no desire to perform for the public, but only for the King and other nobles.” This was true. When she had first arrived in London, she had thought that disguising herself as a commoner and getting a part in a play was the only way she would be able to perform onstage again. Now she had a respectable outlet in which to satisfy her passion for entertaining which would not ruin her reputation or disappoint her husband or royal lover. Even if she returned to Venice, she would not attempt to take on the persona of Giuliana Fiore again. That part of her life was over.

 

What she hoped was that the opera would lead to more opportunities for nobles to show off their talents to their peers. Court was like a little world unto itself. Why should it not have its own entertainment? Perhaps the Dorset Theatre could be dedicated to producing shows exclusively for the nobility. If the opera was a success, the possibilities were endless.

 

“I might not even like singing on the English stage,” she said with a little shrug. “But it is something I have always wanted to do.”

 

The petite blonde was about as close as one could get to Spain's new leader, but only personally. Her husband was the person to speak to about political matters. Sophia had his love, but Esteban had his ear. One reason she wanted to learn more about politics was to understand what he was talking about if he spoke of such things and to give him intelligent opinions if he asked for them, but whether she would become influential in Spanish affairs was as yet unknown. “I will tell my lord husband that you wish to speak to him. Tonight after the opera might be a good time.”

 

She wished she could say that she knew Prince Rupert, a fellow German, but they had only spoken once at a ball when she had asked him to help her convince Lord Kingston that she should marry Esteban. “Do you know Lord Beverly? He works for the Duke of Cumberland. I can point him out to you, but I am afraid I do not know him well enough to introduce you to him.”

 

At one time, the shy Viscount had once been her friend but they hadn't spoken in months. Maybe he didn't think that socializing with other ladies was appropriate now that he was married. He had always struck her as the proper sort.

 

So Lord Maldon was ignored by Lord Buckingham, but Mistress Vauquelin was not. She remembered her French friend gushing over the Duke at the House of Lords. Perhaps he was intrigued with her as well. She was a beautiful woman. Sophia would bring him up the next time she spoke to Nicolette. If both she and Lord Kingston spoke about her, maybe the handsome but intimidating Duke would be willing to converse with her if she approached him at a ball or banquet.

 

She gazed at him thoughtfully when he asked her how things turned. “They have to be pushed by something,” she replied. “If I set it outside, the wind might make it rotate, and I sometimes turned them with my hand when I was too young to light candles. So the heat from the candles must push them in some way. Or maybe the flickering produces some kind of force?”

[Guest]

So she didn’t want to perform for commoners, nor even gentry, only nobility and royalty. “Then… why d-d-did you bring it… up?” John was thoroughly confused. He made no efforts to hide it either. His face looked as confused and lost as he felt. Worse, for John her vehement aversion to anyone less than the highest of court seemed vain, snobbish, and to hint at the harsher sort of ambition.

 

He couldn't make sense of what she said next either. Realizing he was becoming hopelessly confused and that this was leading nowhere John just smiled, "Well, I huh-hope you have fun tonight." He hoped too she would not be too shocked by the damage it would do her reputation. Sophia's outlet was not respectable at all in John's mind. He had no doubt praise and favor would be heaped upon her. He also all but knew she'd be subject to all sorts of matronly sniffing.

 

“At your luh-luh-leisure. J-j-just tell me once you… know.” John said of meeting Esteban. Perhaps her husband could win his trust and provide that honest conduit John would need. John thought it unlikely but he would give it an honest try.

 

John shook his head. He didn’t know Lord Beverley. “If you c-c-can tell me where to send… a note and a b-b-bit about him that’ll be enough.” John said. “Duh-does he have any hobbies?”

 

John smiled widely as she was able to reason through at least a basic part of it. “So you have t-t-two ideas for the source then. The flickering or the heat. How c-c-can you test whether… one c-c-causes the motion?”

[Sophia de la Cerda]

Gentry, to Sophia, were nobles without titles. Before she had married Esteban, she had been gentry, but she was still noble-born. Therefore, she included them in the general term 'nobility.' It was only commoners that she couldn't perform for, and she knew that common actresses were thought of as little more than prostitutes. She didn't want to be regarded as that type of entertainer.

 

Lord Maldon looked confused and she didn't really blame him. She no longer felt comfortable lying to him, and so she evaded the truth as best she could in a language she was still in the process of learning. “It is considered scandalous for the nobility to perform for commoners. If that ever changes and it is thought of as respectable, then I would love to sing for the public. Now I must obey the unwritten rules of propriety so that my reputation … and my lord husband's … remain untarnished. Maybe this opera will be the turning point and those unwritten rules will no longer apply.” She grinned disarmingly. “I don't really believe that will happen, but a girl can always dream. Music is meant for everyone.”

 

She hoped she had not confused him even more. Her comments were a bit inconsistent, which wasn't unusual when she was as nervous as she was now.

 

“Maybe he will approach you tonight.” Esteban planned on accompanying her to the theatre, even though she had to be there unfashionably early. Sophia could inform him that John wished to speak to him in the carriage, unless she forgot. The opera would be foremost in her mind, almost to the exclusion of everything else.

 

“I will give you his address before you go.” Sophia assumed that Lord Beverley still lived with his father, but if he had moved into his own place, the letter could be forwarded to him. “He is in the military and he was married a few weeks after I was.” The young Baroness had long since forgotten his wife's name. “He likes to ride and is very good with horses.” He had told her he would help her figure out why Acapella had been behaving strangely, but they had not been able to make arrangements before court had adjourned in the spring. The Lipizzan had not given her trouble since she had ridden him during her trip to Amsterdam. Maybe he had just needed more exercise.

 

John seemed quite pleased with her answer, and posed yet another puzzling question. This one took a few more moments of thought. “The candles flicker when they are lit. I do not think they can burn without flickering. So perhaps we could see if it turns with another source of heat.” A contemplative pause. “Maybe hot water?” It was the only other form of heat she could come up with.

[Guest]

John had been willing to leave the confusing knot behind but Sophia seemed intent on explaining herself. Sophia was under the impression, wholly false to John’s mind, that tonight would be seen as respectable. The King was not an arbiter of propriety. If anything he was the arbiter of libertinism. Performing dishabille in front of powerful men brought many benefits but respectability and propriety were not among them.

 

John was torn. He ought to tell her that she would tarnish her reputation and probably humiliate her husband tonight. He also didn’t want to disturb her before her performance. And there was the added complication this was her husband’s domain and John was not her husband. And on top of this, Sophia, going back and forth and contradiction herself and rambling half-answers, was acting very strangely.

 

But then Sophia grinned with the nervousness of a caught child. The sort of smile used by very pretty girls used to indulgence. That was when it clicked for John. She was keeping something from him. “You aren’t telling me everything.” John stated plainly as fact.

 

His tone turned serious, perhaps even paternal. “T-t-tell me everything and let me huh-help as… a trusted friend. Or tell me you d-d-don’t wuh-wish to t-t-trust me with a secret and trust at least I will respect that. But choose one. I’ve already t-t-told you I can’t dance.” He was solemn but there was nothing resembling anger in his voice or countenance. Perhaps disappointment.

 

“I w-w-will be available.” John said simply of her husband. Then she described Beverley. John nodded in thought, “Thank you.” He said. He wasn’t sure what he could do with riding but the description was helpful.

 

Sophia was actually progressing rather quickly. It confirmed John’s suspicions that she was untaught rather than unintelligent. That wasn’t too surprising considering she was young, pretty, and a woman. “It’s important to change as… little as possible. Because everything you chuh-change… could be a cause.” John said, though he wasn’t telling her she was wrong. “Why d-d-don’t you try it?”

[Sophia de la Cerda]

Sophia did believe that singing in the opera would be seen as respectable. After all, the King had commissioned the opera with the provision that she sing the title role. Or that's what everybody would think, since she could never reveal that the idea was initially hers. But it didn't matter. Her bold request had been well-received and her wish to show off her voice to its full potential would be realized tonight.

 

There had also been another opera performed only a few days after her arrival at court. That one had not been produced in an actual theatre but in the palace at Windsor, but nobles had sung all the parts. Then again, one of the principal singer's had been the King's mistress and the other had been Buckingham's. Their reputations had already been sullied, although they had both seemed to find favor with everyone at court.

 

Esteban had also given his permission for her to sing tonight. If he thought her role would dishonor him, he would have forbidden her to take it. Sometimes she wondered if he had allowed it because the King had commissioned the opera before they had been married and to pull her out of it would have displeased His Majesty. Would he let her perform onstage again if another opera followed this one? It was impossible to predict what he would do in that situation and Sophia was too afraid that his response would be negative to ask him.

 

John guessed that she was holding something back from him. She probably shouldn't have said anything on the subject at all, but it was done now. If she refused to share her secret, he might believe that she didn't trust him and their friendship would suffer. And she did so want to tell him. He was intelligent and clever. If the truth every came out, he might be able to help her save her reputation and her husband's honor.

 

Sophia sighed and her eyes met his. “Very well, but you must promise not to tell anybody else.” She wished she could make him promise not to hate her, too. “One night in Venice, a soprano fell ill right before an opera. I had watched rehearsals and stood in for her a few times and I knew her part nearly as well as she did. People were already taking their seats and the opera would have had to be canceled if I didn't step in. I wore a black wig and dark makeup so I would look Italian and I pretended to be a commoner and sang for the public that night.” That was not all of it, but she wanted to see his reaction to her revelation before she disclosed the rest. If he did not condemn her, she might tell him her other secret as well.

 

“The heat source is all that I think I can change,” she responded. “I do not wish to accidentally spill hot water on the Queen's gift or it might be ruined. But I have some older pyramids from my childhood. I could use one of them. Maybe the kitchen would be the best place for that experiment. One of the servants can boil the water and it can be placed in bowls around the pyramid. Do you think that would work?”

[Guest]

John looked back at her but he just looked confused when she asked him to promise not to tell anyone else. “D-d-don’t you trust… me to keep your secrets?” If she didn’t, were they really friends? They weren’t in John’s mind.

 

John was glad she decided to share. He placed his hand on hers as she started to speak. But John didn’t have much of a reaction. If she expected John to become a moralizing Puritan and scream sin and harlot she would be disappointed. He just listened carefully. When she looked over at him, as if begging to know if he hated her now, he smiled and squeezed her hand briefly. “And you were c-c-caught?” He asked. If she wasn’t, and if it only happened once, he imagined it would be too minor to matter.

 

Back to the experiment, “It’d be a g-g-good idea to use another.” John agreed. The present was best kept as pristine as possible. “You should t-t-try it.” He gestured that he would follow if she wanted to go to the kitchens. The point wasn’t whether it worked or not. It would be instructive even if it didn’t. And, frankly, John didn’t know.

[Sophia de la Cerda]

“Of course I do,” Sophia said with a little sigh and a shaky but reassuring smile. Now that she had set herself upon this path, there was no turning back. Nor did she want to. Her secrets had been bottled up inside her for too long. She needed to share them with somebody. While she knew that it was risky, she believed that John would not judge her for past indiscretions. “I am so nervous I am not thinking straight today. I have never told anybody else what I am about to tell you, not even my lord husband. If I did not trust you, I would keep it to myself.”

 

As she spoke, he placed his hand on hers, and that comforting gesture encouraged her to go on when he asked if she had been caught. “Ja, I was caught.” Her gaze dropped to the burgundy and gold rug on the floor. “About a year and a half later.” Sophia raised her eyes to his again. “Because, you see, I didn't stop performing. I was given other roles and I lived a double life until my own father recognized me. He had come to Venice without my knowledge and decided to attend an opera the night he arrived and surprise me the next morning. But he was the one who was surprised.”

 

A single tear slipped down her cheek. “It caused a small scandal and all along, my father knew he was dying. He arranged for me to live in England where I could begin anew after he passed away. It has been over a year now. I doubt that anybody remembers."

 

He seemed eager to help her with the experiment and she stood up, firing off a few sentences to Anna in rapid-fire German. “Then let us go to the kitchen. My maidservant will bring one of my other pyramids.” Sophia led him out of the room and through the corridors to the kitchen, which was fragrant with the spicy scents of a meal in preparation. Lunch was almost ready to be served.

 

The cook looked surprised to see her mistress, but she nodded after Sophia spoke to her in Italian. Anna brought in a box and set it on a long wooden table and then went to collect some small bowls. Sophia opened it and pulled out a simpler Christmas pyramid. This one was quite a bit older and only of one level, with a manger scene on the platform and a star above it. She placed the fan on top of it. “Now we wait for the water to boil,” she said, smiling at John. Her ice-blue eyes sparkled with anticipation. “I cannot wait to see if it works. Have you ever tried any experiments yourself?”

[Guest]

John felt some guilt at having pressed her when she explained her nerves. But he was very glad she did trust him.

 

John listened to the rest of her story in respectful quiet, hand still on hers. It’s a bit like something out of a play. John thought. But then she misted and a tear slid down her cheek. John’s face sunk with concern. He squeezed her hand again and took out a handkerchief. It was clean white and had been embroidered in his heraldic symbols. He leaned over and dabbed the tear, his hand shaking as always, before offering it to her.

 

“But you do.” John said, his voice deep with sympathy. He knew what it was like to disappoint. It had been a common theme of his childhood and even today he felt like he disappointed his family. He knew what it was like to want something and have it taken away in the name of values he was too young to understand. And he knew a little of secret identities too. Memories of burning paper flashed through his mind.

 

Unfortunately an ill-timed head twitch kept him from looking her in the eyes immediately but after that he did. “I’m g-g-glad you shared this with me. You’re still my f-f-friend. I don’t think an atom less of you.” He said solemnly. That wasn’t to say his impression didn’t change of her. But it didn’t get worse. She was still kind and charming.

 

John followed along as she left. He couldn’t understand what Sophia was saying but waited quietly and patiently. He felt a bit inferior at really only speaking English and a few academic tongues.

 

Sophia asked him if he’d ever tried an experiment. “Oh, yes.” John often forgot that most women weren’t educated. John had mostly been kept inside the bubble of his family where most women were. And such small experiments were commonly used to demonstrate lessons. “M-m-mostly with plants, gardens, and… farming these days.”

[Sophia de la Cerda]

Sophia was afraid that her confession would change his opinion of her and that he would stand up and storm out of the house. If he did, then that would prove that he wasn't her friend at all and never had been. But he stayed seated and did not remove his hand from hers. His touch was comforting and perhaps prompted her to reveal a bit more than she would have otherwise.

 

She was a bit surprised when he produced a handkerchief and dabbed the lone tear from her eye. The petite singer had not meant to cry but it still hurt when she thought of how she had betrayed her dying father for a bit of illicit fame. More tears welled up behind her eyes and she took the handkerchief from his shaking hand and wiped away the few that managed to escape.

 

“Yes, I do,” she choked out. “My former guardian, Lord Kingston, is the only other person in London who knows what I just told you.” Sophia was about to add that she regretted performing on the Venetian stage, but that would have been a lie. She had adored every moment of it. All she lamented was disappointing her father and giving him so much to worry about during his final months.

 

John didn't look at her directly, and she feared that his sympathy only went so far. Yet then his eyes met hers and she reveled in the acceptance she saw there. And his words made her heart dance with joy. “Thank you, my friend.” She gently squeezed his hand and then held the handkerchief out to him, her gaze wandering to the symbols embroidered onto it. “I'm glad I told you. I will never attempt to sing in public again, unless it is a production commissioned for the King for the entertainment of the court. I have learned my lesson.”

 

In the kitchen, Anna placed four small bowls around the pyramid and then went over to the hearth where the cook was boiling water in a large kettle. “What kind of experiments do you do with plants?” she asked. “And where do you farm? On the lands around your estate? What do you grow?” Sophia knew that he didn't participate in actual farm work, but maybe he had designed ways to cultivate crops more efficiently.

[Guest]

Sophia’s actions made sense now. John wished he could embrace her as she choked from grief. But he knew he shouldn’t so he only kept his hand on hers. John took back his handkerchief with a small smile. Sophia swore that she would never sing in public again without the King’s commission. He still wasn’t sure about the manners of it all but such thoughts didn’t come easily in the face of tears.

 

He wasn’t sure she’d learned the right lesson either. But then, John had come to a different attitude from his own experience. Maybe Sophia had the right of it. At any rate, he nodded, “I’m here for you if you… need me. For your sadness or your d-d-dreams.” He promised. “A b-b-burden shared is a burden… halved.”

 

As for the handkerchief he now returned to his pocket, this one had a swallow carrying a seax and a galloping white horse.

 

And in the kitchen, “Oh, I breed new p-p-plants, play around with soil type and… field distribution, land use, w-w-water distribution, that sort of thing.” John was a farmer and a gardener more than a biologist or botanist. He was empirically minded though and did have some scientific knowledge. He’d had no major breakthroughs but his estate had seen some benefits simply from active management.

 

He nodded when she said he did it on his estate. Like most lords, especially in the south, his income came from being a landlord and farming. And taking a few acres for personal use was not a serious blow to his income "The usual, g-g-grains, vegetables, fruits.” John said. “I d-d-do grow peppers.” He remembered she’d taken an interest in them.

[Sophia de la Cerda]

Sophia watched him put the damp handkerchief back into his pocket. “I do feel better now that I've told you about my sordid past,” she said with a wry little smile. “I am here for you as well, whenever you need me.” Her other secret would remain unvoiced for now, not because she thought that John would hate her for it, but because she was afraid he might get his hopes up and think she had political influence over Don Juan if she revealed that she was his mistress.

 

She thought no more of secrets in the kitchen, nor did her nervousness bother her. The young Baroness was excited about their experiment and could hardly wait to discover if it would work. She just hoped that the pyramid wasn't harmed. It had been chosen because it was the smallest of the ones she owned and therefore more likely to spin by heated water. But it was also one of her favorites. She remembered it sitting on a table by her bed when she was a child. Every morning, it reminded her that Christmas was soon to come.

 

Most of what Lord Maldon said about farming went right over Sophia's little blonde head, but it did sound to her if he was involved in devising new ways to improve the process of farming, and not actually pushing a plow through the fields. “You can breed new plants?” she asked. “That sounds like fun. There are farms around my estate in Germany, but I don't know how much my father was involved in them. I guess the steward takes care of that now.”

 

She grinned when he mentioned peppers. “I hope the ones I brought you from Spain will grow well. Then you will have several varieties to choose from.”

 

Anna returned with a small kettle and poured boiling water into the bowls. Pale ribbons of steam rose into the air, enveloping the pyramid in an ethereal mist. Sophia stepped back, holding her breath in anticipation.

 

Nothing happened.

 

The petite blonde sighed in disappointment, her gaze traveling from the pyramid to her friend. “I guess not just any heat will turn the fan. Can you think of something else to try?”

[Guest]

John still thought Sophia to be genuinely honest and that she trusted him. Despite what had just transpired he still didn't think she'd lied or buried other secrets. John was trusting of his friends and so easily deceived by them.

 

So he went down to the kitchen with a light heart. John nodded when she spoke of cultivating different breeds. Laws of heredity were still far in the future but plant reproduction was well studied. John noted her interest for later. Such things were relatively complex and, more importantly, took a long time. He would see how she did caring for fully-grown plants or planting new ones before he went to that.

 

Sophia was apparently not very active in managing her estate. “Yes, no d-d-doubt.” John agreed. John was especially active but the topic interested him. Most men left it to their stewards and wives. And most wives left it to their stewards. It was a character flaw but a venial one. He imagined both the steward and peasants were probably taking advantage of her negligence.

 

And she had brought him foreign plants. “So do I.” John said with a smile. He was ever eager to get his hands on new and exotic plants. Over the course of a decade he’d exhausted most of the native ones.

 

As to the experiment. John found a stool and sat on it, half moving and half pulling his bad leg into place. He smiled at Sophia's intense look and was a little disappointed too when it didn't work.

 

Still, rather than directly answering her question John continued on with a little lesson. “What are all the d-d-differences between boiling water and a c-c-candle?” John asked. John knew what he would do next but he wasn't trying to teach her how the pyramid moved really.

[Sophia de la Cerda]

She didn't like to think about it, but Katzenberg Castle and its surrounding lands belonged to her husband now, unless her father had wanted her to have her childhood home and Lord Kingston had insisted that she keep it when he negotiated the terms of her marriage. Sophia had never asked Esteban about it, and it rarely crossed her mind. Maybe after their recent visit, he was taking care of things there now.

 

In a way, she didn't want to know, for if was his now, she would worry constantly that he might sell it. However, he had seen how much she loved it and she didn't think he would be so callous to take it from her. He seemed to care about her happiness, and losing the home that reminded her so much of her beloved father would destroy her.

 

Sophia could hardly wait to show Lord Maldon the plants she had brought for him, all native to Spain or perhaps to its colonies in the New World. She knew that most of the pepper plants came from that land far across the sea. Maybe the cannibals who lived there used the peppers to season their meat so it would taste better. That unbidden notion made her cringe inside but was not so horrible that she would swear off spicy food forever.

 

Instead of presenting a possible way to make the pyramid turn, John asked her yet another puzzling question, and again, it took a few moments of thought before she came up with an answer. “The candles' heat is produced by a flame. Maybe it is fire that turns the fan?”

[Guest]

John looked forward to the plants as well. He hoped they would be useful and knew they would be interesting. He’d seen some pictures in books but to him exotic meant a much smaller world than it did to Sophia. He was still envious that she crossed into distant realms so easily. Even his trips had not gone nearly so far as she had. Perhaps one day he would.

 

John smiled as she theorized again rather than answering his question. She would need a bit of polishing it seemed. “Why d-d-don’t you try as much as you… can think of and we’ll pick up another t-t-time?” John suggested. She might be able to do better exploring on her own. Besides, he did want to see those plants and it was growing a bit late.

 

"And I c-c-can look at the plants before I go. And g-g-give a bit of advice." He added.

[Sophia de la Cerda]

Either he was bored with their experiment or he wasn't sure what else besides candles would turn the pyramid. Or perhaps Sophia had kept him too long and there were other things he needed to do today. “I will do that,” she promised him, although she wasn't sure how she would be able to test her fire theory. She certainly wasn't going to put one of her beloved pyramids in the hearth. It might prove that flames spun the fan, but the pyramid would be destroyed in the process. Maybe once the opera was over and she could think clearly again, she could come up with something less damaging. “And if you think of anything else that might work, we can try it when we meet again.”

 

Ahh, so maybe he was just eager to see the plants she had brought for him. “I will take you to the orangery.” She led the way out of the kitchen and through the corridor until they came to the door that led to the enclosed glass garden. It was not spacious, but it was larger than the one at her previous house and contained many specimens of plants and small trees that were indigenous to Spain as well as some from England.

 

Twenty-four small pots sat on a rustic wooden table in a corner … twelve for him and twelve for her. She had asked the gardener at the palace in Madrid to gather what he thought would grow in England. None of them were in good shape, having survived a long journey and a change of climate. Her gardener had been taking care of them, but he was English and as unfamiliar with them as she was.

 

“Here they are,” she said, picking one up and studying it. “I do not know their names or which ones are flowers, herbs, or peppers. I brought you some of each. Do you think they can be saved?”

[Guest]

John wasn’t bored but he wasn’t acting as a partner but a tutor. He did have a few ideas but he was purposefully avoiding giving her answers. Sometimes the best way to teach was to allow someone space to try things. No doubt she would ask him to practice outside his lessons as well.

 

John followed along again. Spanish gardening was a distinct style, though not popular internationally. He’d hoped to see one but this appeared to simply be an English orangery full of Spanish plants. Well, one day perhaps. John thought.

 

“I d-d-don’t know.” John admitted. He was also English and had very little experience of foreign plants. He couldn’t even identify them really, though he could tell roughly what each was. But he was certainly willing to give it a try. “D-d-do you have any gardening tools?”

 

He reached out to touch a flowering cactus and pricked his finger. A bit of blood blossomed on the tip and John shook his hand. He didn’t seem bothered at all by the slight pain. “And I’ll p-p-probably want to… leave them here until they’re… healthier.” The cold air wouldn’t be too much of a problem for a healthy plant but for a dying one any shock could push them over the edge.

 

“You w-w-wouldn’t mind me coming over to look after them f-f-from time to time until then?” John imagined not but it was better to ask.

[Sophia de la Cerda]

Sophia let out a little sigh that ruffled the leaves on the plant she held. “Maybe I should not have brought them.” She sat the pot back on the table. “I do not like to watch them die. It is so sad. I hope that we can bring them back to life.”

 

He asked about gardening tools, and she shrugged. “The gardener will have some, but I do not know where he keeps them. What do you need? My maidservant will bring them to you.” Anna had, as always, followed her mistress, and Sophia knew she was friends with the gardener. She had seen them together a couple of times. Sometimes she wondered if they fancied each other.

 

“Oh!” she exclaimed when John pricked his finger. “Please be careful!” From the hidden pocket in her petticoats, she produced a handkerchief of her own, a square of white edged in lace and embroidered with multicolored flowers and leaves. The young Baroness had embroidered it herself. Reaching out for John's hand, she wrapped it around his finger.

 

“Of course you can leave them here and you may check on them whenever you wish. Just let me know ahead of time so that I can tell my lord husband when you will be visiting.” She glanced back at the plants. “Is this a good place for them, or should they be moved somewhere else in the house?”

[Guest]

“They’re n-n-not so far gone.” John assured her. “If the r-r-roots are healthy and I c-c-can figure out what they’re like they might just need care and t-t-time.” John wasn’t sure who’d prepared them for the journey but they didn’t seem too competent. European botanists had brought back healthy specimens from as far away as China. I really should consult one… John thought. Another reason to pay a visit to the Chelsea Physic Garden. They were piling up.

 

“Thick g-g-gloves, a dull spuh-spade, and clippers. T-t-two of each” John replied. “You d-d-don’t mind getting a little… dirty, my Luh-lady?” John’s tone was entirely innocent.

 

John was surprised at the strong reaction. He looked frail, perhaps even a bit sickly, but the truth was that John was neither. Long days spent outdoors or in the garden meant minor pricks and scratches barely registered. Before he could say anything Sophia’s handkerchief was around his finger.

 

Surprise melted into a smile, gratitude and esteem in his eyes. “Thuh-thank you.” A small dark red stain appeared in the handkerchief. Blood didn’t wash out easily. “I”ll keep this and suh-send you a n-n-new one.” After a moment he tugged on the handkerchief so the stain was bleeding into a rose. He let out a small puff of amusement and held his finger to show Sophia.

 

“Of c-c-course.” John had no intention of visiting Sophia behind her husband’s back. The idea of stealing a hat and cloak had been patently silly but secretly meeting with a man’s wife was a more serious matter. “I d-d-don’t know yet. I need to examine them.” John said to her question.

[Sophia de la Cerda]

Sophia hoped he was right. She feared that anything she touched would die. It was what had happened whenever she had tried to grow plants in the past. Perhaps gardening was like singing. Anyone who could carry a tune could sing, but you needed proper instruction in order to sing well. She had hoped that she could learn by involving herself in the Gardening Society, but it was unlikely they would meet during the Christmas season. And she would rather learn from a friend than a large group. When they did meet again, maybe she would be well on her way to becoming proficient at gardening.

 

Anna didn't need to be told what to do. After Lord Maldon specified what he needed, she curtsied to both him and her mistress and left the orangery in search of the gardener. “She will fetch them,” Sophia said. “And no, I do not mind a bit of dirt.” She had never heard sex described as dirty, so even if innuendo had been intended, she would not have understood. It was a good thing that her husband didn't walk in at that moment, though.

 

Sophia had not been referring to his condition when she admonished him to be careful. The young Baroness was a compassionate young lady and did not like to see anybody get hurt. She thought that John's look of surprise was because he had pricked his finger.

 

A splash of crimson marred the snowy surface of the handkerchief and she chuckled when he maneuvered it so that his finger stained a bright red rose. “I have many others,” she assured him. “There is no need to send me another one.” That particular handkerchief was one of her favorites but she could always embroider another one in the same pattern. She still had some of the lace and that could be sewed around the edges.

 

She didn't think that Esteban would mind if John checked on the plants every now and then. Gardening was a hobby that would keep her out of mischief and he should know from the harvest festival that she and John were only friends. Sophia was completely devoted to Juan. She was aware that gentlemen believed ladies were fickle with their affections, but nothing would ever tempt her to stray from her handsome royal lover.

 

Anna returned with the tools that he had requested and placed them on the table beside the plants. “So what do we do now?” Sophia asked.