The Opera | Evening 24/12- Xmas 1677

[Lucas Cole]

The Street Entrance

 

The carriage that rolled up to the theatre's deep portico undoubtedly belonged to the Duke of Buckingham. One could easily tell by the coat-of-arms upon the side; and by the footman and driver's fine clothes; and by the lovely matched team of horses, lifting their heads regally and snorting plumes into the cold night air. But Buckingham had already arrived, so this could only be...

 

His pet composer, the one who had written the bloody opera in the first place. (Or, at least, written half of it... the librettist, one Samuel Greyson, had absconded to Italy some months before and not thought to return in time for the opera's debut, leaving the lion's share of the credit - or censure - to the composer. For better or worse.)

 

Once the footman had opened the door, Lucas stepped down from the carriage slowly and with deliberate poise, scanning the gathered nobles with the sort of practiced disinterest one might wear if unaccountably nervous, and fondly wishing to seem as though he were not. He wore a silk frock coat the colour of port wine, so dark as to seem almost black in the dim light, embroidered about its hems in gold thread; underneath, breeches and waistcoat of similar design, in a richer wine red. His lace cravat was tied with a certain meticulous care that either spoke of fastidiousness or anxiety; a gold cravat pin, adorned with a single pearl, held it in place.

 

Coward, indeed. Could a coward conjure this...?

 

Perhaps that was the brandy talking. Lucas stepped aside to allow the carriage's other occupant space to disembark and continued to scan the crowd, noting who had bothered to attend... and who had not.

[James O`Neill]

“There. Now, my fine Fergal, I must be off. London's burgeoning musical glory must be properly christened.” The glass of Scotch, raised and downed with a flourish, hit the table with a clink as emphatic as James' declaration was and nearly as empty of substance. Relishing the burn of the whisky as it moved down his throat, he fidgeted briefly with the rest of his ensemble, a teal frock coat embroidered with dark green waves over a grey waistcoat, quite admirably set off with a silver cravat pin adorned with a bead of lapis lazuli.

 

His audience, if the beleaguered, aging Irish footman could have been assumed to have possessed enough interest to be described as such, was less impressed, dull grey eyes watching the whole farce blandly. “This...liquor, sir, and the matter of your new jewelry. Expensive, is it not? I would not suppose you have a means to explain such expenditure to your lord father?”

 

“And why,” James countered, sly grin contradicted almost immediately by a contraction of his dark eyebrows. Suspicion was all but evident in his tone. “Would my lord father have any indication of my financial affairs? His eyesight, surely, is not that good.”

 

Fergal made no comment, only offering a modest bow as his master made for the door and gave a questionably authentic laugh before leaving to find his way to the grand debut of Lucas Cole, composer and current cause of a great deal of confusion.

 

The Street Entrance

 

Yet confusion was far from an unknown element in James O'Neill's routine, and so he entered -or more accurately, nearly sauntered- into the Dorset Theater after a long, steadying pull from a flask to steady what remained of his earlier nerves. It would be easy enough to lose himself amidst the crowd and in the opera- as for which he would have been enthused regardless of the personages behind it.

 

Ah, performance. The immersion of an audience entirely in one's own world... As he strode past those still milling in the entryway, he considered fondly what it would entail to hold such a power over one's audience. I ought write a play...a comedy, perhaps, something light. Or a libretto, such as the one that unpleasant Greyson wrote for...

 

Him. Of course.

 

He had paused in his meanderings only briefly before, glancing backwards in curiosity at some commotion, their eyes met. There stood his would-be friend; handsome, poised, a bejeweled serpent whose specialty was deceiving oneself. James froze immediately, expression caught between its previous smile and a shock of a scowl wholly inappropriate to the venue as he hissed in terse, pressured Gaelic, “Is teann madra ar a thairseacht féin.¹” Tendrils of guilt and want winded themselves around his stomach, an old, familiar tension, spurring him to say or do something. To reach out to Lucas and make him understand.

 

Instead, James merely stood there, hand half-raised to his cheek and gaze trying and failing to fall away from the composer's own and find somebody he recognized, praying to whatever God was paying mind to move Lucas onwards and away from this horrible, eternal moment.

 

¹: Every dog is bold on its own doorstep.

[Louis Killington]

Louis and Nicolette, along with the Duke and Duchess of Somerset

 

Though a social creature when necessary, the Earl of Basildon was a man who enjoyed using his eyes more than his tongue, except when provided an suitable audience. From their perch, Basildon hoped to watch who arrived with whom and who spoke with whom.

 

In the foyer, there was the nod to the Earl of Maldon. In Louis' mind he was one of Nicci's collection of stray lords and gentlemen. She had a knack for collecting an interesting followers.

 

Once in their box, Louis was content to see the close proximity to Buckingham's box. As for John Ernle, since the man had yet to arrive, it was hard to know who had the adjacent box. The gift baskets attracted attention, but Louis dared do little more than watch for reactions upon receipt.

 

His hands rested upon the top of his cane as he surveyed the crowd. His eye sought out Buckingham, York and the King. They were the most important fellows to Basildon's advancement. As for the rest, he was ever ready with a smile and a nod. He needed all the friends to could muster.

[Aria]

John and Juliana

 

Juliana nodded when he explained his ties to the Nassau family. If they were related, it was very distantly indeed, so distantly that they could hardly be called kin. “My grandmother was Countess Juliana of Nassau-Dillenburg. She died before I was born and I have never been to Nassau myself. How did you like it there?”

 

She wanted to ask him what had prompted his visit, but she felt that he would think she was prying into her personal life. Juliana was quite curious, though, for it had never occurred to her that an Englishman would be interested in her homeland. Maybe he would volunteer the information. And apparently he had not heard of her when he was there, or he would know she was only a pretender. She was the daughter of a Landgrave and not a true princess at all. She just thought of herself as a princess since her mother was one and she had once been betrothed to a King.

 

“I attended operas when I was a child. I enjoyed them very much. Then I moved to Sweden. Opera has not made it there yet. I confess I missed it. So I couldn't resist attending tonight's performance. And I'm curious how well opera will be received here in London. Will this be your first or have you seen one during your travels?” She assumed he had been to other places on the continent as well, and had perhaps been to Italy where opera had originated.

 

Juliana thought it surprising that he had met so many people in only a few days until he said he had been at court a few months ago to attend Parliament. “Yes, I suppose you are right. I recognized their names but not their faces.” She wondered how much the English knew of Sweden. Had they heard of her disgrace? If so, it could work either against her or in her favor, depending on who she chose to socialize with.

 

A very pretty dark-haired lady passed by and smiled at Lord Maldon. He returned her smile and waved, but did not excuse himself to speak to her. Juliana surmised that the two of them were just friends or he would have excused himself to speak to her. She smiled at Mistress Vauquelin, who looked to be around her own age. Why was she not married? Maybe, like Juliana, she fancied women as well as men?

 

The elegant gentleman with the lady was also of interest. Lord Basildon was quite handsome, but unfortunately married, not that such things had ever mattered to her. The father of her child had been married as well. She also noted that they, like herself, were dressed in blue, which could serve as the opening to a conversation. “They are good friends of yours?” she asked Lord Maldon. Perhaps he would introduce her to the attractive couple when the opera was over.

[Guest]

John and Juliana

 

John had nearly infinite distant barely known connections. At least two of them had walked by the pair just recently. He was happy to cherish them if they proved friendly. “I stayed with Luh-lord Nassau-Dillenberg in Amsterdam.” John shared. He was curious to see her reaction.

 

As for Nassau, “Oh, it w-w-was very pleasant. A buh-bit awkward what with the… war, but I w-w-was understanding of course. I spuh-spent a g-g-good deal of time along... the Rhine. The Puh-palatinate seems to huh-have gotten the worst of it.” John shared. “Though I d-d-didn’t make it as far as Hesse.”

 

John knew she wasn’t a princess. There were no princesses of the House of Hesse except in the wider, non-royal sense of prince. The highest title in the family was landgrave so he also almost certainly outranked her.

 

But pressing her over the claims or explaining the finer points of the English rank system or challenging her on the title ‘princess’ was not John’s way. She was alone and new in a foreign land and John was doing what he could to make her comfortable. For the moment, she had the benefit of the doubt, though if he found out she was willfully trying to inflate her rank or deceive him that would be another matter altogether.

 

So she’d moved to Sweden and lived there for a while. "What's it l-l-like in Sweden?" John was eternally curious about the exotic. And he had a very low threshold for exotic.

 

John was curious why she'd move but didn’t want to pry. Still, he asked gingerly, “M-m-might I ask what brings you t-t-to England?”

 

John couldn’t resist a puff of amused air at reference to his ‘travels’. “N-n-no, I’ve never… suh-seen one before. It hasn’t ruh-really muh-made it this far either. We’ll suh-see whether there’s another.” More commonly such entertainments were done once. Sometimes they became fashions. Only rarely did those fashions cement themselves into culture.

 

Of course, most court entertainments were abandoned with no attempt to introduce them to the common folk. John knew at least one person would not let opera fade so quietly.

 

“F-f-friends, yes.” John confirmed. He noticed how the Killingtons seemed to draw her attention. They certainly were a pretty family. He suddenly felt very insecure about his attempts at fashion. He took out a handkerchief to dab at his nose.

[Sophia de la Cerda]

Backstage

 

The chair she sat on was uncomfortable, and it was difficult for Sophia to concentrate as fully as she had hoped. The furniture was definitely not made for nobles or it would be upholstered with soft cushions. After fidgeting for about ten minutes, she rose and left the dressing room again, dodging the stagehands until she found a corner toward the back where she could pace back and forth.

 

She let her thoughts meander aimlessly instead of trying to focus on her role. Had Lord Maldon been able to get the Queen's gift to his box? Would she even attend the opera tonight? Mistress Wellsley had expressed interest in meeting her before the opera in order to be introduced to some of the singers so that she would win a bet, but she had not come backstage. Maybe there would be time to make introductions afterward.

 

Sophia had no idea what would happen after the opera. There might be a reception, or everyone might leave immediately, especially if they were displeased. So much … so very much … depended on the success of this opera. Nothing could go wrong. It had to be perfect.

 

And she was determined that it would be. She couldn't hear the voices from the auditorium in her remote little corner, but she imagined that the theatre was filling up. Glancing toward the stage, she saw that most of the stagehands had left the scenery and moved on to other tasks.

 

Would it be possible to get a glimpse of the King when he arrived? With a mischievous little smile, Sophia edged quietly toward the curtain, intending to pull back a corner and peek out, if she was certain she could manage it without being seen. She had done it many times in Venice, and the thrill of watching the opera-goers in their finery had always added to the excitement of a show.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

.... pleased to have seen Johns smile, Nicolette determined she would seek him out at soonest opportunity. Perhaps that would mean they would kiss. Perhaps even more, now that she was an expert (in theory at least).

 

Louis and Nicolette, along with the Duke and Duchess of Somerset

 

While Louis was able to exhibit a great deal of restraint, Nicolette saw no reason why she ought to also.

 

"Cousin." she leaned forwards, putting hand atop his (atop is cane) "what is in the hamper? Who gave us this thing..." it was polite to assume it was for Louis, though of course Nicci secretly hoped it was for her.

 

"Come, let us look?" it was times like this that Nicolette rejoiced in being a woman, where allowing ones enthuse to show was considered 'charming'. Poor Louis, she belatedly realised he was too busy being important to deign show joy or even interest in the gift.

 

Flashing him a smile now, she did the honors for him, and happily tore it open to discover the contents.

[Defiance]

John Churchill and Audley

 

The dashing and accomplished Churchill was so intent on his target that he did not notice Audley approaching. Finding people in a crowd was a skill any gentleman of a royal household had to cultivate, and John had very good eyes, just not for his own purposes at that very moment!

 

"Ah!" He was pleasantly surprised. "But I will be old enough to censure you, my lord, for not writing of your arrival," he quipped.

 

As to the question, he replied, "I am attending, so my company is not my own, but I am on a small mission. Have you seen a pretty redhead with freckles?"

 

By default...GL continues looking for Heather since Churchill is taken out LOL

 

(OOC - more to come I'm going to do this in a few posts)

[Defiance]

James' wish is granted when Buckingham's servant approaches Lucas

 

Having just left a coach of the same livery, Master Cole was confronted with yet another of Buckingham's servants.

 

"Master Cole, His Grace wishes you to sit in his box, along with any friend you might wish to invite."

 

Basildon's box

 

The wily earl would notice that Buckingham walked some way with Sir John Ernle and what was likely his captain son and another young man behind.

 

As Nicolette was opening the package, it would become clear to Louis who had the box next to him.

 

Buckingham had taken up in his own box just as Nicolette would unwrap some bottles of wine and cognac, along with several delectable sweets and savories.

 

The Rest

 

York made his way to his own box, confident in his gentlemen to accomplish their mission. Due to the danger of the area, he had not brought the Duchess with, nor was the King bringing the Queen. The true reason was that both brothers enjoyed their theatrical intact without wives, who rather ruined the fun of such things.

[Charles Audley]

Audley and Churchill

 

Charles laughed delightedly. He was pleased beyond words to have found his old friend.

 

"Ha! Your censure is misplaced sir. I did write. No more than an hour ago, admittedly, but am I to be blamed for the sloth of the palace pages?" His nose wrinkled. "And no more of this 'my lord' business, I pray you. It has a queer sound coming from the mouth of a man who has quite literally plucked me from the cannon's mouth. Chatham will serve, if you absolutely must cling to propriety."

 

He nodded as John continued and then barely suppressed a fit of laughter as his friend described his quarry. It did not take a Newton to make a connection to his prize from the Fencing Hall, given the badge the lady had been wearing.

 

Ah, an opportunity for mischief. Truly, this has been a very good day.

"Pretty, red hair, freckles? Would she also possess a marvellous figure, green eyes and the title Lady O'Roarke? Haven't seen her since this morning. A pity, as she makes for a wonderful sight and most pleasurable company." Charles paused for a moment to let the obvious implication sink in (and savour any potential reaction) before pressing on, tone becoming slightly more serious.

 

"Does this mission allow for outside aid? I should be delighted to help, and three eyes are better than two." His voice lightened again. "And I've a talent for finding women, as you might recall."

[Heather O`Roarke]

The Red Bomb

 

The crowd pushed alongside the Countess as she stubbornly lingered in the foyer for a bit longer, her green envious eyes taking in the decoration, counting every little cherube as if it further condemned the place that was set up as competition to her beloved Drury Lane, the King's company that she had supported with a sizeable chunk of her money, throwing good money after bad. It wasn't the performers of tonight, but the owner of the theatre that damned the occassion in her eyes. Dorset. Bah.

 

Unaware of any possible hinting scent coming off her munition in her recticule, Heather wasn't focused on who was looking for her, or who sought to avoid unpleasantness. There was a brief wave to Nicci and Louis, though unfortunately for their shared ward she had not received the urgent letter that the girl had send along at the last moment. The crowd kept them apart.

 

Slowly, gracefully she thought, and quite deliberate, Heather moved from the foyer towards the boxes, her curls a red flag of trouble following in her wake. Perhaps I should sit in the pit, she thought with a flair of dramatics. To those that knew her there was a certain determined set of her jaw, a dangerous unpredectibility in her green eyes. Out of precaution she had left her precious brooche in her appartment. Instead pearls graced her neck, as pale as her skin.

[Aria]

John and Juliana

 

Juliana had never met her relatives in the Netherlands and held no opinion of them. She wasn't even certain who the current Lord of Nassau-Dillenburg was. That was how out of touch she was with her grandmother's family. She considered herself more Swedish than German. “I plan to visit Amsterdam eventually. I've heard it is a lovely city.” Maybe this Lord Maldon could help her ingratiate herself with her relations there. One could never have too many connections.

 

“It seems that everyone is at war these days,” she commented with a nonchalant shrug. 'It is something one must get used to, I suppose. At least it did not ruin your visit. I'm glad you found it pleasant despite the devastation there.”

 

Juliana was not attempting to deceive John. She truly thought of herself as a princess, but was aware that not everyone would share that opinion. Nor did she care. She didn't know the stuttering Earl's thoughts on the matter, but he had not confronted her about it and seemed accepting of her as she was, which spoke well of his character.

 

“I spent most of my time in the Swedish court in Stockholm,” she explained when he asked about Sweden. “It is much like any other court, I believe. Sweden itself is cold, but beautiful, and over the years, I became accustomed to the temperature. I don't think it is all that chilly here.”

 

Her smile faltered briefly when he inquired as to her purpose in London, but the change was nearly imperceptible. “I am just visiting, much like you visited my homeland. I needed a change of scenery and I have always been curious about London. I thought Christmas would be the perfect time to visit. It has always been one of my favorite times of the year.”

 

So he had never seen an opera. “I don't think it will catch on everywhere. It is not a form of entertainment everyone enjoys. I have friends who think the performers screech instead of sing, especially the sopranos. I have a weakness for tenors myself.” Juliana could listen to a tenor sing all day long, particularly if his face and form were as stunning as his voice.

 

As the handsome couple were friends of his, maybe an introduction would not be too much to hope for. “Do you know what other events will be held this season?” she asked him. “I imagine that there are many exciting things planned. Christmas is a time for celebration.”

[Guest]

John and Juliana

 

“Lovely, but I p-p-prefer London.” John shrugged with a smile. He knew he was biased.

 

John didn’t have a negative opinion of Juliana or think she was deceiving him. He still thought Juliana to be making an honest mistake. Perhaps they would discuss the particulars of rank at a later date. Juliana didn't seem overly fond of Sweden or its court. Apparently she was used to cold. He made a small 'hmm' of curiosity at her evolved resistance to cold but no other comment. He thought she wanted to move past the subject.

 

John didn’t notice any shift from his question, “You have c-c-connections here then? Or am I... it?” John asked. Since she compared it to John’s trip he imagined that part was the same too. John smiled as she brought up Christmas. Yet for him the holidays were tied to family and he wondered what brought her away from hers.

 

John listened to her description of her preferences. She used words John didn’t really understand. He understood what they meant, but only in a very literal sense. ‘especially the high. I have a weakness for holders myself.’ He couldn’t make sense of that. John nodded politely. He simply couldn't talk intelligently about something he'd never seen.

 

John watched the next procession. No royal women so far or, it looked, at all. John had been aware the Queen might not come. The plan had been an if, a chance. He’d actually sort of expected it. Everything John had tried at court so far had failed or fallen apart. This was just one more stitch in the sorry pattern. It had little emotional impact.

 

His first thought was to tell Sophia. She’d asked him to keep her informed after all. He briefly pulled aside an orange girl He smiled apologetically to Juliana and asked the girl to run a message to Lady Toledo. But the orange girl replied that such a thing was completely impossible and refused to even try. He briefly debated beating the girl for insolence but let her go. It wasn’t really her fault.

 

That did get to him. Ah, there we go. Nothing can go right of course. Now his contingency had failed as well. That familiar feeling of court being rude and that attending it was a worthless endeavor welled up. He could have withstood his maneuver failing, or perhaps Sophia being out of contact, being without his family, maybe even not having a box, but all of them together…

 

Turning back to Juliana she asked him about events, “Mmm?” He seemed distracted rather than despondent, as if the failure of his message sent him into thought. “Oh, yes, yes.” John said, “A g-g-great many celebrations and… entertainments.” He seemed distracted.

 

John slowly pieced together what she was getting at. When he was melancholy his mind didn’t work at its usual pace. His full attention turned back on her, “Ah, sorry, how r-r-rude of me. G-g-give me your address and I'll send something... over." The idea of bringing her up to Basildon’s box didn’t occur to John. He had missed Juliana’s rather subtle request. He wouldn't be opposed to introducing her to him though. He doubted Basildon needed much protecting. "Oh, and there's rumors of a b-b-ball tomorrow night." He wasn't sure if the letter would reach her in time for that one.

 

Meanwhile, John quietly debated slipping out. He certainly wasn’t going to sit with the crowd below. Not unless he could be surrounded by friends and family. Alone in a crowd. The fearful lord’s nerves frayed even at the thought of it.

 

"Do you... intend to p-p-present... yourself to the King?" John asked Juliana. Perhaps they could worm their way into the royal box. If she were royalty that wouldn't be unusual. Even just as a pretty blonde that wouldn't be too unusual. And that would allow him to at least accomplish something with the gifts.

 

In truth, John expected failure with a bitter superstition born of his negative experiences at court. But Devonshire had bought another season of trying with a father's credit. He faintly wondered why he hadn't been in touch. John hoped he wasn't ill again.

 

OOC: Unhelpful orange girl et cetera per Defiance.

[Blackguard]

More Arrivals

 

William Cavendish, son of the Earl of Devonshire, and his wife Mary might be seen entering the foyer. None of their many offspring were in their company.

 

Charles Sedley and the Earl of Rochester arrived in fine rainment as well, interested to see whether this opera phenomena would catch on with English audiences. Neither had female companions.

[Francis Kirke]

Francis arrives with Lucas

 

"Egads that took forever," Francis commented as they exited the coach, wearing his same baby blue and silver ensemble from earlier. The blond Kingston was growing more used to the interest and looks Buckingham's equippage garnered from others, so while Lucas feigned disinterest after a nervous fashion, Francis was far too focused on taking in the surroundings to notice any looks of appreciation.

 

There had been quite a line of carriages which boded very well for his friends.

 

Then again, who misses an opportunity to be seen at an event of His Majesty...

 

Similarly, Francis did not notice the look between James and Lucas. While the servant approached he and Master Cole, Francis sighted James, who he had become rather fond of in a short time.

 

His Grace owed Master O'Neill for his aid, as well.

 

"Ah, there is Master O'Neill," he said, giving a nod to his composer friend, not knowing at all anything between the other two.

[Louis Killington]

Louis and Nicolette, along with the Duke and Duchess of Somerset

 

Before one opened a hamper, one liked to observe the audience to search for signals as to the identity of the benefactor. Though there was little doubt, it was possible that the gifts came from below, rather than above.

 

Nicolette, in feminine zeal, opened the first basket and then the other. She was correct that he was looking too serious, so he slipped into an easy smile. His seriousness was born of a desire to project gravitas.

 

Without a signal from another it appeared that his benefactor was Buckingham. As such, once the Duke had taken his seat, Basildon gave a friendly nod in his direction.

 

As for Ernle and his family, the man's presence was noted in passing, but no reaction crossed the face of the Earl. He seeks to parade Ernle for one of three reasons: to indicate it is his preference to replace Danby; to mislead others into thinking the same; or to send me a message that I should not take his patronage for granted. Louis was prepared to address any of these alternatives. Were Buckingham a simple fellow, it might be more likely that the first alternative was likely. Basildon did not think the Duke to be a simple lord. In fact, it encouraged him that Buckingham was meaning something else. Perhaps the young lord was seeing what he wanted. Perhaps Buckingham had two levels of deception at work.

 

"I think we have our friend to thank," Louis whispered to his cousin as he looked towards Buckingham. He then turned to review the gifts in the nearest basket. He did not expect to find the King's heart or the office of Lord Treasurer inside, but it would have been nice.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

Louis and Nicolette

 

Nicolette gushed as though she'd never seen a bottle of wine before. The workings of her mind were another thing however; the fellow's adjacent hamper was an exact duplicate. Her eyes met Louis, and in the brief glittered exchange an appreciation of the game afoot was given.

 

"Yes." she replied to Louis, with a feminine echo of his nod of appreciation to the Duke. An idea had launched itself into her mind, Louis needed to trump Ernle here tonight somehow, and she.. she had come to think of herself as his (and even the Duke's) tool. "A level playing field simply shall not do... there is no time to waste with ambition yes?" she gave Louis a little smile as she arose, her arched eyebrow an invitation for him to join her if he deemed it strategic.

 

Either way she was intent to...

 

Fraternize with the enemy

 

It was a simple thing, elementary, to stand and exit their booth, to reapear in another with girlish giggles. Here she was in Erlne & Sons booth

[Lucas Cole]

Francis, Lucas... and James?

 

Lucas was not in the least surprised to see James O'Neill there. Perhaps, in the back of his mind, he'd wondered if their earlier set-to might have given the young poet doubts, (and perhaps, though he'd never have admitted it, he had been scanning the crowd for that very reason)... but there he was, bold as brass. Staring.

 

Was it fear that caused his heart to turn over? The composer could not tell. But deeper than that, something within him stirred... some primal emotion, possessed of entirely too many teeth. Perhaps it was a kind of denial, after all; it denied him the leisure to flinch away, to skim over James as he might any other feature in the crowd. Instead, he found himself returning the Irishman's stare defiantly, as though he had something to prove. (Though to whom he wished to prove it remained unclear).

 

This dreadful, breathless moment was broken only by the Duke of Buckingham's servant, whose words allowed Lucas to finally tear his eyes away... and gave the composer a perfectly terrible idea. He nodded to the servant companionably, and replied, "Of course. Please tell His Grace I am honored, and shall be there directly."

 

As for the friend... the composer pursed his lips, we'll soon see which of us is the coward. Lord Kingston's remark gave him the opening he needed: the leisure to pretend this was nothing more meaningful than the convenience of proximity. He managed a thin, private smile, pretended to notice James once more, and then:

 

"Master O'Neill!" He called, raising one hand as though he fondly imagined he needed to do anything to attract the gentleman's attention. But the pretense was important, wasn't it? "Would you care to join us?" That smile upon the composer's lips was friendly, sure... but there was something sharp about the eyes, something ever-so-slightly too pleased. It was more of a dare than a kindness.

[Aria]

John and Juliana

 

Juliana had not met many Englishmen in Sweden, but those she had spoken to had mentioned how much they loved their island homeland. What she had seen of it so far was charming, and if she became fond of London, she might stay indefinitely. She did miss her lover, but she could always invite him to join her. He was the secretary of the Dutch Ambassador in Sweden. Perhaps he could work for the Ambassador here. First, though, she wanted to be free to do as she pleased for awhile. She wasn't ready to be tied down and she certainly had no intention of marrying, which was probably what he would expect.

 

She did indeed want to move past the subject of Sweden and her sordid past and she was glad that Lord Maldon let the subject go. As for connections: “I do know a few people here, but I wouldn't call them connections. Acquaintances would be a better description.”

 

He apparently knew little about opera, which wasn't surprising. At first, she thought that he wanted to be rid of her when he pulled aside an orange girl, but his apologetic smile told her that he planned to rejoin her. Juliana had no idea why he wanted to speak such a lowly creature, but she supposed he had his reasons. When he turned back to her, he looked a bit distracted. Maybe he fancied one of the singers and had tried to send a message to her?

 

His answer to his question was rather vague. Nobody she had spoken to so far knew much about what kind of entertainment the season would bring. When he asked for her address, she figured that he was throwing a party and wanted to send her an invitation. “Of course,” she said with a nod, and gave him the location of the house she was renting. “I hope there will be a ball tomorrow. It would be a lovely way to celebrate Christmas.”

 

He asked if she planned to present herself to the King, and Juliana shrugged nonchalantly. “Not tonight.” She wouldn't mind meeting the English monarch, but she would need to ingratiate herself with somebody who knew him well and could introduce her to him. The disgraced daughter of a German Landgrave was beneath his notice otherwise.

 

“Are you acquainted with His Majesty yourself?”

[James O`Neill]

Francis, Lucas...and James

 

Look away.

 

As was characteristic of their earlier interaction, Lucas met James with a defiance that was as sickening as it was painfully intriguing. Like a wound rubbed open, flashes of what had been said and done burned through him, though whether it was want denied or Lucas' own denial that brought a bitter taste to his mouth and a scowl to his lips was a question as profoundly difficult as the one pulsing through his mind. Why can't I look away?

 

It was only the familiar face of Kingston -pleasant company in the best of times, but now nearly miraculous in his appearance- that brought James to the moment in which he could don a wan smile, revealing only a faint hint of a dimple. And it was Lucas' own words, in that damnably endearing Welsh lilt, that brought some semblance of life back to the stony marble of James' features, one eyebrow shooting up at the summons before he nodded briskly and inhaled sharply. “Why, Master Cole,” he drawled back over the low din of the crowd, indulging the composer in his charade with all the willingness of a soldier assigned to the duty of a forlorn hope. “I couldn't be more honored if I tried.”

 

The sentiment was not entirely dishonest. Lucas, presumably, would be given a place of honor, and Francis' presence confirmed as much. The invitation was there, and even now, James couldn't afford to pass up the opportunity.

 

He made his approach with a feigned leisure hiding tension, each step a nonchalant death march. Upon arriving, Kingston would have found himself greeted in turn with a slight bow and addressed in rather buoyant tones. “And a good evening to you, Lord Kingston. Is a taste for the opera one you've acquired on your voyages?” A dry chuckle accompanied this line of questioning, along with a broadening, bland smile and slight glance in Lucas' direction. “Or are you here to ensure His Grace's prized composer doesn't turn tail in the sight of all this glory?”

 

A jest as light as a summer breeze, and an implication that hung as heavy as a storm cloud. It was a game James was quickly growing weary of, and yet remained entirely necessary simply for the chance it implied. And so I profane myself further, just to see that spark...

[Defiance]

Churchill & Chatham

 

"Indeed! You know the lady? Why am I not surprised."

 

John laughed a bit, marveling that his friend had managed to meet Lady O'Roarke so quickly! Even she was only recently arrived back at court.

 

"So, yes, I shan't refuse some assistance in my duties. The lady is his highness' mistress." It was not even something to bother whispering. It was well-known.

 

GL sees Heather

 

Ah, finally. Sir George would much rather be enjoying a drink in the box than wading through courtiers looking for a lady. I'faith at least she is tall.

 

Heather was much easier to spot than the diminutive ladies, and George was no short man himself, having inherited the Villiers height from his mother's side instead of the muscular thickness of his father's stout stature.

 

"Lady O'Roarke," he called over the hideous hat of one particularly smelly lady*, seeing Heather ahead of him, with a small throng of people in between them.

 

"On royal business, if you please," he said impatiently, to help part the waters** and move toward her. If only he knew all the rather biblical allusions that accompanied events for Lady O'Roarke. Had he known Buckingham had once compared her to Mary when pregnant, he would have been thoroughly amused.

 

*He thinks it's some old fuddy-duddy matron, not Heather's tomatoes LOL

**Like Moses I wasn't sure if that was an American colloquialism or if it was universal and, thus, Dutch-friendly

[Defiance]

Louis & Nicolette

 

It was not hard to communicate from one box to the next, really, so Basildon could do more then nod. In his younger years Buckingham had leaped after the stupid Killigrew boy from one box to another and had nearly taken out His Majesty in the process. It was a testament to the King's affinity for the mercurial duke that he risked being knocked to the ground to have a theater box next to Buckingham ever again.

 

Therefore, the duke returned the looks of Nicolette and Louis with one of his own, the generous plumes of his hat fluttering before he took the hat off and tossed it at a servant. George Etherege soon joined him, along with Doctor Sprat. Buckingham always kept eclectic and varied company. Both gentlemen were writers and would enjoy such a production; neither had the opportunity to see such a thing before.

 

Ernle's Box

 

Sir John did not see Basildon as an enemy in any shape or form. They were both, so far as he was made to understand, allies of Buckingham, so Nicolette might be strangely surprised by a friendly reception or at least friendly nods and smile. Buckingham had made certain they were placed next to each other and given gifts to encourage such fraternization.

 

It seemed that the gentlemen were merely surprised by her arrival and looked to her expectantly, as if she was there specifically for some purpose; plus, none knew her...yet.

 

ALL

 

His Majesty arrived in some merry company, including Captain Herbert, Denbigh, and Ranelagh. The Duke of York showed up in his box along with Lord Feversham and George Churchill. Seats and boxes were filling in. Servants ran here and there inviting various people to join them in their boxes, since such prime seats were limited.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

Ernle's Box

 

Yet in the dramatics of a female's mind, and indeed her diary accounting of the evening, Nicolette saw herself as an intrepid heroine venturing into the lair of a dragon - armed only with feminine guile and charm (which was more than a match for any man, as history could testify).

 

"You must be Lord Ernle," she smiled warmly, her English entwined with the romance of French accent. "The whispers of you for the Exchecker... and also you are a man with on the raise." she pursed lips at the innuendo of that word, with a provocative look at his loins, then adding, "surely a way to catch a ladies interest mmm?" Her eyes then slid off to the side to the younger man, a son surely. She was a clever enough woman to know he was the more prudent target than the battle seasoned veteran of court. Her eyebrow rose, hoping he perceived her as a worldly woman he might want to know.

 

Nicolette flirted the best she knew how, intent to insert herself somehow, with a view to longer term and perhaps learning something of value to her cousin.

 

"Mademoiselle Vauqulelin..." she offered her name then with an elegant extension of hand, dipping a curtsy to the gentlemen 1, 2 & 3 - being sure to go low enough to distract them with a pleasant view.

 

Yet as she arose from pretty formality, she caught a glimpse between the men of the latest arrivals. Sacre bleu it is him! Lucky that she was well practiced at composure, for the moment she saw the King (and Ranelagh too) her heart did a jump. Immediately she wished her attention could be upon them. But here she was in Ernle's box. There was naught that could be done. Had the King ever worked out who sent all those letters, was she remembered or forgot? Near enough to the same might be asked of Lord Ranelagh. Did either man remember the girl who was absolutely fixated upon them - and did they see her now, either one?

 

Nicolette's eyes upon them still, she made another curtsy to the Royal Box yonder of acknowledgment, lashes lowering with flush of cheeks, yearning evident.

 

Returning her attention to present company, she expressed, "His Majesty makes a riveting show, quite aside from the promised Opera." Her mind whirred, wondering how best to play the cards she had in her hand. "Your ladies have not arrived yet?"

[Sophia de la Cerda]

Backstage

 

Sophia reached out and ran one hand over the heavy green fabric of the curtain. The jovial sounds of the growing assemblage were louder now that she was on the stage and she couldn't resist pulling back the edge ever so slightly and peering out. Everyone looked so happy, glittering in their evening attire.

 

Her gaze rose to the King's box when a flash of movement caught her eye. She only got a quick glimpse of him before she heard some stagehands approaching. Unfortunately, she had not been able to tell whether the Queen was with him or not.

 

Releasing the curtain, she glided backstage again and continued the process of getting into character, letting the goddess Diana's thoughts slowly take over her own.

[Caroline Despanay]

Backstage

 

Satisfied her instrument was properly tuned and any further practice was out of the question at this time, there wasn't much to do now but sit there and wait for the opera to start. Without seeing the crowd, the sound alone told her and everyone else behind stage the crowd was steadily growing and their hopes the place would be filled certainly seemed about to become true.

 

Suddenly the word spread thru the backstage the latest exciting news. The King had arrived! His royal majesty was present in his box. Whispers and smiles were exchanged amongst the musicians. Caroline was also smiling but she realized something else too, it upped the stakes of it all. For if the King did not like the show, then it would truly be a fiasco. They must all be at their very best. Caroline looked down at her cello and fingered the bow, she so wished for the curtain to rise and the opera begin.

[Guest]

John and Juliana, still near the entrance

 

Juliana was vague about who she knew. John just smiled idly. He wasn’t sure if she was exaggerating to avoid admitting she was alone or telling the truth. Either way, he wasn’t going to press her.

 

John noted where she lived. He was going to send her a list of half a dozen events. He simply didn’t want to sit there and list them. And frankly he was a bit out of sorts. But as to the ball, John found balls unpleasant usually. Now John wanted to move away from a topic. “Yes, it w-w-would.”

 

John nodded at her reply. It had been a faint hope to begin with and but little steam is made by dousing embers. In a more generally depressed mood he simply didn’t feel it. When she asked if he knew the King, “Yes, but not well.” John replied.

 

Their conversation seemed to be slowly suffocating. John smiled awkwardly. In an already dour mood he began to feel his social skills too were hopelessly inadequate. Fortunately, more arrivals gave him something to say. “The King and l-l-lord Ranelagh. I do… not know the other two.” John was not a man of sufficient artifice to try and cover his own ignorance in such a matter.

 

It’s a pity Nicci’s already gone upstairs. John thought idly, She might have a good chance there.

 

“L-l-lord Rochester and someone… I don’t know,” John’s voice failed to conceal his bitterness at the man. He hoped he didn’t laugh at him again. John and Juliana had not moved too far away from the door so it’d be an easy matter to spot him on entry.

 

“Lord Cavendish and Lady Cavendish.” John said. Though he doubted she knew them if she didn’t know her Dutch connections. He smiled a bit on seeing them. Still, he didn’t approach. Just because they were family didn’t mean Cavendish would want to spend time with him this particular evening. He did want to know if Devonshire was well though. The fact he wasn’t here implied a bad answer.

 

As the great press of people began to move towards the general seating John didn't move. He really did not do well with crowds. He had only seen boisterous groundlings outside the boxes at plays, standing and rowdy.

 

John would bear that hell if he had reason. He didn’t anymore. He certainly wouldn’t be able to enjoy the opera while he was a bundle of stress and nerves.

 

His mind still turned to find ways out. There were incomplete boxes, blessedly empty. Perhaps he could go to one of those…

[Heather O`Roarke]

Legge and Heather

 

The redhaired lady turned mid stride as the familiar voice called out. For a moment Heather felt a pity for the household gentlemen, always taking the brunt of her ill thought out actions. Poor George.

 

"Legge... Merry Christmas," she managed with an attempt to innocence, trying to contain her impulse to do something, anything to draw attention herself.

 

It was not fair, she knew at a deeper level, to many of her good friends, friends who were performing tonight. However, Heather felt slighted and that was difficult to swallow. She had been helpless for many months, and in that space of time Dorset had built this abomination. Unfair competition. You did not keep low did you ? No, you never needed to do that.

 

"Should you not be at Dorset's side tonight, Legge? Surely he is the man of the evening," the redhead demanded airily, trying to dismiss him. The mouldy smell of rotten fruit remained in the vicinity.

 

The King arrived and without wanting to Heather's head moved in the direction of his box, taking in his company, eyes searching but not finding Dorset. Then she saw her lover's box.* James.

 

OOC: I might be an atheist but I do know my Bible, and my English as it turns out to be We don't use the phrase in Dutch though.

* adding a small detail because I overlooked it last night.

[Aria]

John and Juliana

 

So Lord Maldon would not be able to provide her with an introduction to the King. But perhaps he knew somebody who could. Juliana's eyes followed the King's tall figure with interest. She had heard a lot about him and reality lived up to reputation in his case. He was and regal and larger than life… and quite handsome in a mature sort of way.

 

Her companion continued to point out new arrivals, and she filed their names and faces in the back of her mind in case she should run into them at one of those events he had spoken about. He looked rather uncomfortable now, and she wondered if any of the courtiers he had mentioned were on bad terms with him. Juliana thought he was an amiable fellow, but she had only just met him.

 

“It looks like it is about time to find a seat. I think the gallery would provide a good view.” She had no interest in sitting in the pit, even though it was reserved for nobility tonight. To the stately blonde, it was still a place for commoners and she was reminded of the rowdiness that went on there in the theatres of Sweden. It was unfortunate that there were such a small number of boxes or she would have rented one of them.

 

“Are you meeting someone here or did you come alone?” Many years of living in Sweden had not curbed her German bluntness. If he did not have friends or family to sit with, she she wouldn't mind keeping him company during the show.

[Davina Wellsley]

Baintree Box

 

With her brother still unaccounted for Davina turned to the nearest neighbors in the boxes on both sides for conversations when the arrival of The King made them all stand and reverence the Royal box. Every eye took note and soon there would be whispered conversation shared by both sexes on looks, dress, who was absent/present, who sat where and then moved again!

 

Inwardly she cursed her brother and Charles for their abandonment as well as her own struggle to be polite to that whore Needham who was no doubt the very reason for his lateness but in so Public a place it would hadly benefit and besides her instinct was telling her that SHE would benefit from the sympathy that many would feel for her placed within that Company.

 

Indeed.

[Louis Killington]

The Basildon Box

 

Nicolette had slipped out of the box, upon a task of intrigue no doubt. His cousin had a knack for charming people and bringing home strays. Basildon had little doubt that she would fare well on her own. She would not need his assistance.

 

He watched her enter Ernle's box after he received the acknowledgement of Buckingham. The arrival of the King and York caused the Earl to pause so that bows might be offered in their direction.

 

Once his attention returned to Ernle, Louis decided to call out to his rival. "Ernle, when you return my cousin to me I will introduce you to my sister and His Grace the Duke of Somerset." His mood was jovial. Nicolette was likely scouting the enemy, as she should; but, she needed to free herself to charm the larger fish.