The Opera | Evening 24/12- Xmas 1677

[Guest]

John and Juliana, moving to the middle gallery

 

John noticed Juliana eying the King as well. The princess seemed to have a type.

 

John didn’t mind bluntness really. But it was dangerous in a way more polished speech wasn’t. Her comment reminded him of the entire debacle of his siblings and that hurt. He hadn’t thought he was alone. Nothing, nothing! John thought to himself.

 

He hadn’t just failed. What had happened was like Sophia striding onto stage only the King wasn’t there, her troupe had abandoned her, and she was about to be tossed into a pond. For the second or third time in a row.

 

The young lord had had a run of remarkable bad luck. And there was yet more to come.

 

“Gallery?” John repeated. He seemed to realize what Juliana said, “Ah, yes.” He valued boxes less for their prestige than their privacy. But if the galleries were quieter, more civilized, he would be better off. Still not comfortable but it would be tolerable.

 

John didn’t answer whether he was alone. He didn’t know anymore. Probably, John thought. He felt particularly so since even his family wasn’t much here. He felt a flash of bitterness at Basildon and Ernle who did have their families and were introducing them around. It appeared others had had similar thoughts to his. Their efforts had not been strangled in the crib. Of course.

 

Yes, John thought, I am alone. Cursed. Court is such a… John was too morose to even finish the thought.

 

Having hit the bottom, his mood actually picked up a little. He still had plans and trusted friends. Plans he had discussed and plotted and begged favors over for months. Plans he had worked and suffered for. Plans he knew were possible and reasonable because he’d seen others do the same.

 

Surely this was all just… another bad night. Surely tomorrow would be another chance, better used. Surely they wouldn’t all be for nothing. Surely things couldn’t just go wrong and get worse forever.

 

Surely. He thought with forlorn hope.

 

He decided to stay, or at least try to. Whether he would panic and leave would be determined by the ambiance of the crowd.

 

For the moment, though, he was being slightly rude to Juliana by not being fully present. John felt that sort of thing keenly, “My apologies, yes, of c-c-course you can… sit with me.” John normally kept up the facades of politeness. It was a testament to his state he had become nearly as blunt as she. “If it’s in… Italian you’ll have t-t-to tell me what they’re saying.” He smiled.

 

John moved towards the middle galleries. He had something of a talent for finding spots that were good to see or hear from but not very visible. He’d honed it by a lifetime of being kept in the background, of having to be present at events where people didn’t actually want him there.

 

He supposed, as he sat beneath everyone else, he'd been forgotten again.

 

So it was he found a nice spot with a good view of the stage and acoustics but that was out of the way. He took out a pair of theater binoculars. There was a sting of depression as he saw the others he’d brought to share and then anxiety as some ladies moved past them to get to their seats. John held out another pair to Juliana with a small smile. He looked slightly uncomfortable.

 

I wonder, John thought as he saw some other gentlemen taking seats in another gallery, if there're any other peers here. Nothing was on stage yet. In the meantime, he might observe the others taking their seats.

[Charles Audley]

Churchill & Chatham

 

A sly smile.

 

"We are... acquainted, yes."

 

Charles took no small satisfaction in the other man's surprise. It never hurt to reinforce your image, even amongst friends. Perhaps especially amongst friends. Speaking of which...

 

"A lesser man might almost be offended by your shock. I, however, shall most magnanimously forgive you. It has been some years since you have seen me at work. Which reminds me, we should be about yours."

 

Charles turned and cast his gaze deeper into the crowd, seeking out any sign of the countess. He was just tall enough to see over most of the press. (A practical use for his heels, at long last! Who would have thought it?) He spoke on as he continued his search.

 

"One would think it a simple matter to locate a lady with such distinctive hair, particularly given her height and figure." An idle thought struck him. "What is your mission, if I might know? Merely to deliver a gift or a message or to convey her to his highness's presence?" Charles frowned. "They aren't quarrelling, are they? Damned unpleasant things to be caught up in, lovers' spats."

 

Frequently profitable, mind you, but unpleasant nonetheless.

[Francis Kirke]

Francis, Lucas, & James arriving at Bucky's box

 

O'Neill's drawl was a familiar sort of a thing. Libertines tended to bat at one each other rather mercilessly sometimes. In your face wit did not take a great deal of intelligence; it was the subtleties that oft made a great wit.

 

The nonchalance of it all, and Francis obliviousness to that sort of male tension, made the rest of the undertow pass right beneath the blond.

 

"Indeed, a good evening it shall be in such company," he said, happily, beginning to lead the way toward Buckingham's box, the liveried servant clearing the way in front of them some. "And I daresay I owe you a good view!"

 

The Irishman had helped him with Mistress Davina and his French mademoiselle, and that was not likely to be forgotten by him, or by Buckingham, who had needed the distraction in order to speak to the King.

 

"And, indeed, opera is a taste I acquired in Venice. My business partners and patrons there are great patrons of opera and theater; they own a great stretch of such places for shows on the canals. If you have not been, I highly suggest it." He winked. While one behaved at the opera house, one surely did not wholly behave in Venice. The canals, the streets, the balconies, and the houses where were everything of fun happened.

 

Turning his eyes to Lucas, he said, in a voice as if speaking of a boy being punished, "Master Cole shall have to take all his lauding tonight." He gave his musical friend a cheeky nod.

 

It was not long before they were arriving in the box of the Duke, even given a small announcement by the servant.

[Aria]

John and Juliana

 

Juliana's type was basically good-looking man or woman who drew breath. She was drawn to power, yes, but she'd also had a few dalliances with commoners, for she liked being the one treated with deference. Age didn't matter to her either. Her latest lover, a commoner, had been four years her junior. The father of her son, a noble, had been quite a bit older. She was an equal opportunity lover. All that mattered was that her partner was attractive and intelligent, and she was willing to forgo the latter for the former.

 

Lord Maldon seemed distracted again and she wondered what he was thinking about. But he did invite her to sit with him. “If it's in Italian, I'll have to guess what they're singing,” she laughed. “But aren't the composers English? That's what I heard … that it was an opera tailored to English audiences and performed by English nobles.” She was curious as to how noble singers would compare to commoners who had been trained specifically for the stage. If they couldn't carry a tune, she would leave early.

 

They found seats in the gallery and Juliana took the pair of binoculars he offered her. The last time she had attended an opera, she had been twelve and hadn't used them. Now she held them up to her eyes, blinking at the magnification they provided. “Thank you,” she said, lowering them to her lap and favoring him with an inquisitive smile. “Did you come to London alone as well, my lord, or did your family come with you?”

[Lucas Cole]

Francis, Lucas, & James arriving at Bucky's box

 

"Indeed?" Lucas wondered of James, when the Irishman named himself honored. He raised one eyebrow and inspected his friend from top to toe with the air of one appraising cattle. "Perhaps you should try harder."

 

How very like them both, to conduct this petty argument surreptitiously, in plain view of all of court. No, perhaps argument was too strong a term... it was something closer to a war of passive aggression, conducted entirely in covert quips and poisonous wit. Courtesy honed to the finest of points, and used to wound.

 

James soon gave Lucas caused to regret his defiance; in inviting the Irishman to join them, he had left the door open to the poet's commentary, too. And that proved both quick and merciless: a second accusation of cowardice to join the first, delivered from behind that exasperatingly pretty dimpled smile. The composer succeeded in holding his tongue, barely, though try as he might he could not entirely master his expression. The faltering of that false smile, and the slight narrowing of his eyes gave him away.

 

Diawl digywilydd.¹

 

He had nothing at all to say on the subject of Italy; Francis and James could natter about their collective happiness at visiting that fabled place all they wished. (The bastards.) And his only response to the pair of them, when teased on the matter of the evening's accolades, was this: "Remind me, when next you want for kindness," Lucas smiled that brief, lukewarm smile of his, the one that contained all the joy of a funereal procession, "To repay each of you in kind."

 

And with that, they had arrived at the box. The composer made a pretty bow to his patron, having collected himself sufficiently to seem the very picture of deference and decorum. "Your Grace," he murmured. "I pray I have not kept you waiting overlong."

 

Naturally, he did not even think of taking a seat, not until invited to do so.

 

 

1. Lit. insolent devil.

[Guest]

The Middle Gallery

 

John had only seen Juliana eying powerful men. At any rate, her type would only be a concern if her merriness found a target John would want to encourage. He drew breath but even underneath his twitching head and trembling demeanor he looked mostly frail. He was not ugly, at least setting aside his condition, but no one had ever called him good-looking.

 

That was probably fortunate. All the attention he had attracted had been in earnest. An unscrupulous young woman might fancy being a well-connected countess and John was experienced neither sexually nor romantically.

 

Juliana thought it would be in English. “The c-c-composer is… Welsh. He d-d-does speak English but I d-d-don’t know if it’s his native tongue.” John said, “And… the lead singer d-d-does speak Italian. And the writer’s… g-g-gone to Italy.” John hoped it was in English. He just wasn’t sure it would be. “But we shall see.”

 

There was a small stab at Juliana’s question. Still, his mood was recovering. "I c-c-came with my family. My b-b-brother and two sisters.” John said. “One of them is here t-t-tonight.” Though where she’d gotten off to John couldn’t say. He had shared his plan with his sister but his siblings appeared to have vanished into the ether. Perhaps caught up in the excitement, though that didn’t so much seem like her.

 

“P-p-plus my f-f-foster family and several relatives came on their own.” John wondered if he should have invited his cousin to sit with him. His original thoughts had been born partly of depression and partly of the fact he presumed the King might see him. Now that he was returning to normalcy and outside the King’s view he wondered if he should seek them out.

 

Before he could decide a servant delivered three packages for John. Oh, they haven’t caught on fire, lovely. John thought. Well, there was one thing right. Perhaps the night could be saved. He already had ideas but there was no way to communicate them or where he was sitting. He would just have to trust in Sophia’s skills and luck.

 

His mood actually picked up slightly at that thought. No matter how cursed he felt Sophia seemed blessed. And he did trust her fully.

[Blackguard]

If John were to look around, he would see his sister speaking with Lord and Lady Cavendish over near the entrance still.

[Aria]

John and Juliana

 

So the opera might be sung in Italian after all. Some of the operas in Germany had been Italian as well. “You don't really have to understand the words to follow the story in most operas. The emotion in the singers' voices and their actions will tell you what is going on. The myth of Diana and Actaeon is well-known, which will also help if it is sung in Italian. I do rather hope it will be English, though.”

 

Juliana wondered why the sibling who had come tonight was not with him, but perhaps he or she had friends of their own whom they preferred to sit with. “It must be nice to have so many members of your family at court,” she said a bit wistfully. She had wanted to get away from the Swedish relatives who had imprisoned her on that estate. Although she didn't miss them, being alone in an unfamiliar country was a bit daunting.

 

Before she could say more, some packages arrived. Juliana eyed them curiously. “Did you bring gifts for the performers?” she asked, her eyes narrowing playfully. “Or are you planning some sort of mischief?”

[James O`Neill]

Buckingham and the Boys

 

"Try harder?" James' lips quirked sideways in what resembled humor, giving a roll of his eyes as he looked towards Kingston, expression warming almost instantly. "The opera hasn't even begun and already our poor friend veers from flight to glory-seeking. What manner of monster have you created, my lord?"

 

Typical libertine sparring aside, it was fortunate that Francis quickly launched into an exposition of his time in Venice, which was a topic both readily accessible to James and dismissive of their increasingly-uncomfortable brawl in its distraction. There was, it could be argued, a nigh-limitless reserve of energy within him, surely, but the bile had already begun to rise to his throat...

 

“I actually wrote to my lord father while in Florence, requesting the funds for a visit to Venice,” he revealed, tone hurried at its first notes and easing back into a more graceful slowness, expression light enough to bring a lone dimple to the fore. “His reply stated, in no uncertain terms, that I was there to learn the, ah, 'ways of the world'. I wished to tell him that such was the entire point.” A nonchalant shrug preceded a grin full of implications obvious among the less-proper set. “I did, however, still have my chance to attend a showing of Giasone.”

 

Unwittingly, he glanced over at Lucas, recalling their first non-inebriated meeting and their brief conversation on the subject, and unable to quite back from the challenge at hand... “Certainly, Lord Kingston, you and I will make excellent judges of these proceedings...and the lauding they entail.”

 

Later, James promised himself, hoping to placate the sudden knotting of his gut. This can...end later.

 

Blessedly, however, they reached the box of Buckingham, whose company was not to be treated lightly or with poor spirits. “Good evening, Your Grace. I do hope my intrusion isn't as abhorrent to some as our prior meetings.” With a suitably deferential bow and pristine courtier's smile, he addressed the Duke, thinking back to how Langdon had protested his involvement not once, but twice in a day.

[Guest]

John and Juliana, waving at the Cavendishes

 

Juliana explained how he could still enjoy an opera he couldn’t understand. “Still, I hope… so t-t-too.” John said. He did know the myth, though, and was curious to see his friend as a vengeful goddess. And a Mediterranean. She was as Nordic looking as Juliana. He knew there was to be something involving a wig and makeup.

 

John hoped his sister was enjoying whatever she was doing. “Yes, I suppose it is.” John very rarely thought of how enmeshed his family was in the politics of England. But when he did stop to think of it he was very lucky.

 

He didn’t miss her wistful tone and he’d already thought she was alone. Rather than answering her question about the boxes he took one. He held it out to Juliana with a smile, “W-w-welcome to England. I’m… glad you’re here. Ahh- Fröhliche Weihnachten.” He remembered Sophia’s words, though he pronounced them terribly.

 

Inside was a German nutcracker in the shape of an English King and some German nuts and sweets. It bore a mark under its base declaring it had been made in Heidelberg, the capital of the Palatinate.

 

Unfortunately a moment later a loud laugh came from the gallery and John jolted. He was still a bundle of nerves. He smiled apologetically.

 

John looked over his shoulder and saw his sister. He tried to wave them over but, realizing he was making a spectacle of himself, stopped after a bit. He did, however, put his cane across three seats to save them.

[Aria]

Juliana was usually confident to the point of arrogance. She was a social butterfly and the life of any party. When she had arrived in London, she had expected to be adored for her beauty and immediately accepted into the highest circles of court. Yet that hadn't happened, and she was uncharacteristically subdued. She was no longer the future wife of the King of Sweden and didn't command the respect she once had. And there was something sobering about being completely alone for the first time in your life.

 

She would adapt. It would just take some time. Soon everyone would know her name and wish to be seen with her. Meeting Lord Maldon seemed to be a good start. He knew a lot of people and seemed to be well-connected. Maybe she would even meet some of her long lost relatives because of him.

 

She wanted to make a new start for herself and leave behind the stigma of scandal that had followed her since the birth of her illegitimate son. It was just going to be harder than she had thought.

 

Confusion blossomed across her face when he handed her one of the boxes and wished her a happy Christmas. He wasn't actually giving her a gift, was he? Less than an hour ago, he hadn't even known she existed. He probably just wanted her to show her what was in it.

 

Lifting the lid, she smiled when she saw the nutcracker nestled among an assortment of nuts and treats. “I haven't seen one of these since I was a child.” She took it out and studied it, completely missing the way John jumped at a sudden bark of laughter. Loud noises had never bothered Juliana. It was easy to tune them out.

 

She did see him waving, but had no idea who he was waving to. “It's very nice,” she said of the nutcracker. “Who do you plan to give it to?”

[Raconteur]

The young woman dressed in rose colored brocade had thought to make her presence known to her Devonshire Cavendish cousins but they had arrived ony by themselves and so her plan to slip into that group fell flat.

 

She would be recognized as the daughter of the Duke of Newcastle Upon Thyne and the sister to Elizabeth, Duchess of Albemerle amd her standing alone for the moment would not be viewed as unusual for many were scattered about still in converstions and greetings before the performance commenced.

 

Her brown eyes caught the figure of the red-headed Countess and slowly began to follow her but with what intent? She was stepping outside the boundaries that were placed over her and perhaps it was the fault of the conversation she had shared in the stables that had set her on this course of rebellion. With no prospect of a husband anytime soon she was growing worried that another Season might pass and then she would be eighteen and still unwed!

 

The Countess walked with an unhurried Grace that Frances could only hope to emulate plus her taste in dress was, well, wonderful too. What was needed was something to make those unattached gentlemen sit up and take notice and perhpas being seen with the Countess might be beneficial. And also Francis Kirke!

 

Her thoughts had failed to point out that there were other less ... questionable ... figures to attach herself to and that her presence might compromise her own reputation.

 

Winding her way evidentually led Frances inside where Heather was stopped by George Legge and she slipped closer but not within listening distance. Within her sights too were John Churchill and another Gentleman who also it appeared wished to find the Countess.

 

The sudden arrival of the King had them all in reverence and Frances, with her color heightened, crossed her fingers behind her back that tonight would be the Start!

[Defiance]

Buckingham's box

 

"Ahh! The man of the hour. Welcome, Master Cole," Buckingham said, holding out his arm in a gesture of such. No comment was made on timeliness, for in this moment not much seemed to be bothering Buckingham.

 

"Well Master O'Neill, I daresay I hope our future meetings are just as objectionable to some!"

 

It was clear the Duke was in good spirits. It was the Arts and it was his artists. The King had commanded it. Opera was a first here. It was like the Holy Trinity of artistic patronage, and His Grace, who no man could think better of himself than George Villiers, was at the blasphemous top of his game.

 

"His Majesty, my master, shall be most jealous of our fun," he said this rather loudly, a jesting lilt to his voice, as if he wished the King to hear.

 

"And Kingston," he put an arm briefly around the cub and added, "We can almost pretend to have been in Italy together, enjoying the sweetmeats of the psyche, eh?" He had done so with his brother.

 

It seemed the Duke was already merry, likely into the cognac some.

 

THe King could be heard to call back, challenging gaily the exchange, "But His Grace has given me such an enjoyable gift to partake of here!"

 

Apparently the King knew the giver of the baskets to a select few of the boxes.

 

Churchill & Chatham

 

"Quarreling? Pfft. No, man, she just gave birth to a boy, and she has a strange way over his highness and he over her," Churchill laughed. "Plus her brother has kept her fresh in the Prince's memory."

 

He made no mention of the insinuation that his friend may have a bit more knowledge of his master's mistress than probably he should. That was always something of a dangerous ground, because a royal could choose to be slighted or change their mind at their fickle fancy.

 

Heather & Legge

 

"Happy Christmas," he returned with as much of a bow as could be expected.

 

"Dorset?" He appeared confused. His master was not close with the new Dorset, who was much more around the King. "I confess although I know we are cousins of a fashion, there is no particular closeness between us aside from certain circles." Certain Libertine circles. "Nor, as you know, is the Prince, who was close to the father..." Sniff.

 

He felt that there was some hidden meaning in that question, but it totally did not strike him. Females were sometimes hard to anticipate and the smell was distracting.

 

"Nor is he the man of the hour. I think far more could claim that!" The artists, the King for commissioning it, Buckingham...The smell was becoming too much to think.

 

"What is that abominable smell?" Sir George said, his nose scrunching. "Do you smell that?"

 

He began looking for a source, but there were no commoners, and despite people moving and squeezing by them, the smell lingered.

[Francis Kirke]

Buckingham's Box

 

"Encouragement is a bitter physic indeed! How dare a friend do such a thing." Francis' brief burst of a laugh probably attracted a few eyes for it's naked jubilation. Lucas was sometimes the most contrary fellow. There was nothing which seemed to make him happy sometimes, or perhaps he was afraid of finding his own happiness.

 

"Ha! Well, that was certainly the very point for my time there! His Grace had a similar experience, so you should mention that," he suggested in amusement.

 

"Aha, so our box shall be full of those best suited to the experience of an opera, especially with the composer there with us. His Grace shall enjoy that thought! He enjoys being best at anything."

 

Speaking of. they were shortly introduced and entering said box.

 

He chuckled along with the Duke's merry mood, content to allow him to give attention to his two friends; after all, he lived with Buckingham. Not to mention, it was rather good for him when his artist friends that he had brought to his uncle succeeded. Master O'Neill had already proven he had potential worth as well, and the elder blond had clearly taken a liking to O'Neill's wit from Francis' own observation.

 

"Indeed, Your Grace, all such sweetmeats," he joked, after he gave a nod to a servant to pour them all some drinks. The blond had gained some more knowledge about court manners and how the Duke preferred things. He would rather Francis spare the energy to orchestrate such background things, much like he did for the King when he was attending.

[Lucas Cole]

Buckingham's box

 

Yes, everyone's seen an opera. Except for me.

 

When James glanced sideways, he would find Lucas preoccupied... eyes turned down, one thumb briefly tracing the crooked bridge of his nose. Reflexive reassurance; if there had been some disinterest about the man before, real or feigned, it was quite gone now. If anything, he seemed tired; worn thin and frayed about the edges.

 

And I... well, I wrote one.

 

Lucas had only ever attended an opera in his mind; conducted only orchestras of his imagination; kept time only in the monochrome of black notes scratched upon white score. He'd pored over these poor imitations into the small hours of the night with the sort of compulsion only cultural poverty could create. And then, then he'd had the temerity to imagine he could understand it well enough to write his own.

 

The composer found himself wondering if he had been quite wrong in that. If he'd... overreached. He'd spent so much time trying to ensure his music was perfect that it had never occurred to him that it might be, well... impossibly, humiliatingly flawed, in ways he could not even begin to imagine.

 

What vanity, to imagine I could write something I've never heard... His hands clenched, fingernails digging painfully into his palms. What arrogance. I'm a blind man, assuming he understands the beauty of a sunset, because he's heard tell of them. Uffern gols.

 

After all, what was a masterpiece without a last minute crisis of confidence?

 

Perhaps it was as well that they reached their destination, then; it was far too late, now, to do anything about it. The Duke seemed in high spirits: confident, as he ever was; ebullient; expansive... Lucas managed a smile as Buckingham named him man of the hour, remembered himself enough to reply; "None of this would have been possible without your generous patronage, Your Grace. The accolades are yours."

 

The failures...? Those are mine.

 

He took his seat as soon as he was bid, sliding down to its comfortable limit and folding his hands before him primly, as though he hoped to hide the white of his knuckles from view. Arranging his expression with care to seem like something other than abject terror was all very well, but it would not undo the knot in his stomach. For good or ill, he simply wanted this night over.

[Heather O`Roarke]

Heather & Legge

 

Heather's eyes narrowed, unbelieving, her temper previously causing her to loose sight of more rational considerations. Could George be speaking the truth or was his smooth tongue once again trying to sooth things over. It was the redhead's curse that she sometimes acted in the moment. "What jest is that, Legge? Whether it is my Prince or the King that is being hosted, is this not Dorset's the..."

 

Afore she could end the sentence Legge was sniffing around her and defensively Heather swung her recticule behind her back, unwittingly in the direction of Churchill and Chatham. Ladies, in this time and age, did not as a rule carry small or large bags. One had servants and skirt pouches to carry around pomanders and other luxury items. This did not smell like pomander.

 

"Offensive smell? I know not what you mean," the lady protested, all of a sudden rethinking her plan of action. It was one thing to throw a rotten vegetable, or fruit as the case may be, to land plumbly on the fat little putti's on the wall in the anonymity of the crowd, quite another to be found in posession of such weaponry redhanded. "Should you have taken a bath before coming to the theatre, Legge? Or perhaps something is wrong with the building," Heather improvised.

[Defiance]

Ernle's box & Basildon's box

 

Ernle was an older man and not so easily charmed as the libertines, although he was by no means particularly dry, so Nicolette's flirtations made him wonder if perhaps she was into her cups already! Her glance to his groin did not have much particular impact, although one of the younger men chuckled a bit to see his father so flirted with. He missed many amusing things at sea.

 

"I am indeed the Chancellor of the Exchequer," Ernle said, some amusement on his lips. "At it is Sir John. I am only one of the Lord Commissioner of the Admiralty, not a peer." The French were different creatures with different titles. "My son, Captain John Ernle, and his friend Lieutenant Aubrey."

 

No sooner was that said than no less than 2 more young men and 4 more young ladies joined the booth, accompanied by two other ladies of varying ages, making their courtesies but looking at Nicolette curiously.

 

As to Ernle Sr, he replied to Basildon, "I shall look forward to it, my lord." He was still smiling about the impromptu visitor. Young ladies, as he clearly would know, were sometimes unpredictable and strange creatures.

[Charles Audley]

Churchill & Chatham

 

"Reassuring news. I should like to build up to getting caught in a quarrel between a Royal and his mistress, say by duelling Monmouth or denouncing Buckingham as a treasonous Papist."

 

Charles smiled as he spoke, tone so dry as to be positively arid. Ordinarily, he would think it charmingly innocent to assume that a couple would not fight purely because of a child but John was perhaps the most competent man Charles knew and if he thought York and the countess at peace, then at peace they were.

 

Which likely means that I was not used as a pawn this morning. Excellent.

 

Charles turned back to John and mock-frowned.

 

"Well, come along man! I said that I would help, not perform the task in your stead. Let us be about our search, or the performance shall be over ere we find her." Charles moved deeper into the press before pausing, nostrils flaring.

 

"Ye gods, what is that smell?"

[James O`Neill]

Buckingham's Box

 

Lucas' look was recognizable enough to James, brief as the contact may have been; in other circumstances, perhaps, it could have even been construed as reassuring in its familiarity, a moment of honesty where none could have been found previously. Truthfully, a small part of him may have found itself with a newfound sense of vindication, of being proven right after an increasingly bitter (as well as peculiar) war...only for that small triumph to be swept away by the disconcerting nature of such a realization. And that, naturally, was to say nothing of the fact that -yet again- Lucas Cole remained beyond the reach of his help.

 

Fortunately, there was respite to be found in the rhythm of Kingston's banter and the vivacious free spirits of Buckingham, where James could let his thoughts wander and drift away from the toil of regret and wonder that Lucas brought in his wake until the mindless mirth of the libertines occupied his total attention. If ignorance could indeed be bliss, than the cacophonous madness of a mind running double-time could be considered the world's most peculiar nepenthe. Later.

 

“Accolades upon accolades,” he observed, easing into the conversation with a smirk more natural than any of his prior, forced expressions. “Modest as my own opinion is...I daresay such congratulations seem wasted without a proper celebration. A triumph, even, like the Roman conquerors once had.” Certainly, James could have named a few ideas, as evinced by the mischievous look in his green eyes as he took a seat, tone breezy despite the sudden sense of opportunity in the air. “Preferably, a properly objectionable one.”

 

It seemed obvious that there were few finer ways to get oneself introduced to the libertine set via the favor of the Duke of Buckingham, and where there were libertines, there were bound to be numerous patrons of the arts... I may owe Lucas some gratitude before the night is through.

 

Or so went the mindset of a James already racing through a half-hundred plans and schemes, mind devising in suitably grandiose manner all sorts of ways to rise higher than the bland political aspirations Iveagh had in store, each possibility more endless than the last... “Sweetmeats, Your Grace?” He queried suddenly, distracted. “Are these the learned ways of Venetian men that Lord Kingston was telling me about? With all due respect, I would have pegged you both as men fond of something with a bit more bite.”

[Guest]

The Middle Gallery

 

With no signs to the contrary John expected his sister to seek him out for her seat. She needed to sit with him since Sophia knew how to recognize him but not her. If there was a box, John hadn't been informed of it. He'd rather been told the opposite. So he would need to be invited.

 

John had thought he was waving at his cousins and sister but perhaps he’d mistaken them for someone else? Or maybe they hadn't seen him, or had and decided he was best left on his own. This night really was becoming a depressing mess.

 

Juliana was something of a focus to keep him away from that. Perhaps all of his plans, preparations, work, and initiative would be forever doomed to come to nothing. There was solace in making her a bit happier.

 

John wasn’t quite sure what to say when Juliana asked who it was for. “You,” John said, “It’s yours. A g-g-gift.” John repeated with a smile. “Wuh-welcome to England. I’m g-g-glad you’re here. Merry… Christmas.”

[Aria]

The Middle Gallery

 

One pale eyebrow arched upwards when he told her that the nutcracker was for her. Did he always give gifts to total strangers or had she charmed him with her beauty and elegance? Juliana did hope that he didn't want anything … intimate … in return. He didn't seem like that type of gentleman, though. She saw him more like a kind soul who wanted her to feel welcome in a foreign land. Had she really looked that lonely when he had asked her to share his company?

 

She had never considered that appearing lonely might work to her advantage when it came to meeting people. Perhaps she would use that angle in the future. It was certainly worth a try.

 

“Thank you,” she said with a genuine smile. “You're very gracious.” Setting the nutcracker on her lap, she picked up a nut and expertly cracked it open. Popping the nutmeat into her mouth, she smiled. “Would you like one? They are certainly less messy than oranges.”

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

Ernle's box & Basildon's box

 

Neither the the King nor Ranelagh saw her to respond at all, Nicolette kept her smile in place, though her fears read the worst into it. August was so long ago.

 

"I am so pleased we are now met, Sir John" she chatted to Lord Ernle, pursing her lips to his son. For a moment she had them all to herself, she'd seen a chance to meet them and has seized it! "Mmm and your son so accomplished too," she crooned and curtsied with offer of her hand to the Captain, "Enchantee Captain, and Lieutenant." yes for the moment she felt spoiled for choice between the three.

 

That was till her mention of women brought down a plague of them like locusts!

 

As the box became crowded Nicolette pressed closer to Captain Ernle, frontwise, through a deliberate 'mistake'. "Ooo!" she gave a squeal and then a giggle, before looking up into the young mans face, "la, such an adventure!" biting her lip, she caught hold of his arm as though steadying herself from being tipped over amongst all the hustle and bustle.

 

Louis was calling out to Sir John, and the Chancellor was replying cheerfully. Meanwhile in the background Nicolette was whispering to the young Captain, "is one of these ladies yours?" How did the english saying go, a bird in the hand being worth two in the bush?

[Blackguard]

The Middle Gallery

 

Once the gift was made, John might see his sister arrive in the company of Lord and Lady Cavendish. "There you are," Catherine declared. Smiles adorned the trios faces as they found him, but there was a pregnant pause as they studied the lady beside Maldon. They seemed to be together and introductions were in order.

[Guest]

The Middle Gallery

 

Fortunately for her fear, John was blissfully unaware that some men expected intimacy for gifts. If he had wanted to sleep with Juliana, he wouldn’t have known how to go about it anyway. He wasn’t actually sure how men and women came together at all. To John, seduction was a foreign art and attraction seemed to wink into his perception of women at random.

 

John thought they might become friends. Or she would at least remember him as helpful and kind and treat him similarly. While he’d taken her as a bit of a rogue that didn’t necessarily mean they couldn’t get on.

 

John smiled back happily at her praise. “Thank you. I really d-d-do hope you like it here.” That was genuine, though he thought she was a tourist rather than a refugee. “Yes, p-p-please.” He said to her offer of nuts.

 

John saw them coming and stood as they approached, smiling. If Juliana had noticed he’d seemed nervous before, she might notice that he now seemed much more relaxed. Being around family did that. “It’s g-g-good to see you.” John said with genuine happiness to his cousins. And he waved at his sister.

 

As for introductions, “This is Princess Juliana von Hesse-Eschwege,” John’s pronunciation of the German was flawed. “This is the Lord and Lady Cavendish, and my suh-sister, Lady Catherine. C-c-come, sit, sit.” He removed his cane and gestured to the seats.

 

Emotions were funny things. Nothing had really changed, he still thought he'd have to take Sophia up on her offer of trying another night. But just being around family had made John’s mood rise tremendously.

[Defiance]

Churchill & Chatham

 

"Well, if you are to make an enemy, best to make it one you can outwit and vanquish, Monmouth might have been well and good, but he is gone."

 

Churchill did not have much to say about the eldest natural child of the King. He had fought with him before, but it was impossible not to think the young man did not have the shrewd mind of the King, even if he was good in a battle.

 

"I honestly think I would favor York as an enemy than Buckingham," he added with a laugh, as he began to walk again, continuing his duty of finding the red-head.

 

She likes Legge better, he postulated, so he rather hoped the other man found her.

 

"I'Faith I have no idea, but there are not supposed to be commoners here..."

 

If Chatham looked for the source of the smell, he might see Heather and Sir George deep in conversation, or so it seemed to be

[Defiance]

Heather & Legge

 

Sometimes the rather new baronet wondered what it was which made his master so smitten with Heather and why Francis seemed so close to her, but perhaps that was because he also saw her epic moods and rows with York.

 

"Well that is a piss-poor attempt for you, my lady," he said of the bath joke. Rather overdone and far too simple for this particular lady's wit in this particular scenario.

 

He often found he saw and had to deal with things he'd rather not in his household duties, and as he sniffed out the problem, he realized this was likely one of those moments.

 

While if it were not a performance for the King, he might have been heartily amused at the throwing of rotten veg, this was not particularly the time or place. With York's lack of popularity, all the man needed was more complaints about York's mistress, the one fresh with child.

 

"What is that," he hissed quietly. "You wish to mess up HIs Majesty's first opera in front of all of court because it's Dorset's bloody theater? It's more his father's than his, rest in peace." Sweet Heavenly Father......

[Defiance]

Nicolette & The Captain

 

The younger Ernle laughed, enjoying the sport of court, the constant search for diversions. His sea stories and success for his country on the open water had amused the King since his return late in the summer, so he was yet high on that feeling of improved position. Combined with his father's favor, it was something he was sure to capitalize on.

 

As to the women, Ernle laughed, "All of them are, after a fashion, and I shall confess but one belongs to Aubrey." He had a sly grin for a moment before he leaned in and said, "They are all family, mademoiselle, mostly my sisters."

 

Such might explain the senior Ernle's prime reason to maintain royal favor. He had many girls to see married off, and while he had the money, all of their prospects could yet be improved.

 

"I see His Grace sent you a basket." He waggled his eyebrows in question, even if he knew it had not been for her in particular, but sometimes it was fun to play games. Or perhaps that was the reason Buckingham also wished to bring Basildon into their plans. One never knew.

 

Louis & the Somersets

 

His sister seemed bored with the sudden lack of female company, but since the Queen was not attending, she could hardly flee her brother and husband.

 

As for the young duke, he said, quietly to Basildon, "Is that from Buckingham?" Making a nod toward the basket. Very strange, indeed, when Nicolette appeared in Ernle's box. It seemed something of an intrigue.

[Defiance]

Buckingham's box

 

"You do not need to lay it on so thick amongst friends, Master Cole," the Duke said with a little laugh, "although I do not wholly refuse any accolades, I am happy for your credit to this venture."

 

High praise from Buckingham, who was quite particular about his music and about the dismissing of formalities, even temporarily so.

 

"Let us enjoy the evening. It should begin before long as it seems most have made way for their seats.

 

"A placeholder for whatever your particular vice my dear boy," Buckingham, with a chuckle. "The Venetians have it to an art, and I do very well mean an art, for all such seductions require a multitude of capabilities." After another laugh he added, "Perhaps you shall shortly see what I do like."

 

He was no stranger to the brothel. Nor was he a stranger to brothels with what might be considered gentlemen of lesser status. He relished in what others thought his low associations. There was a freedom in such things, a freedom he and the King both had tasted and craved remembrances about from the younger generations.

[Defiance]

The King's Box

 

"Basildon's cousin is rather charming," the King noted to Ranelagh. She was too busy in Ernle's box to realize that he had been paying attention.

 

The young earl raised an eyebrow and said, "Indeed she is, Your Majesty. I met her once in the gardens in Chelsea adjacent to mine, she has a fondness for flowers and physics I think." Ranelagh knew when it was in his favor to compliment someone, and the King showing any such interest in a woman was generally one such occasion.

 

"Ah, I see, I see, that is very well." The King kept the knowledge in his mind for any future needs at flirting with the girl. He did like to be gallant in that way. Very innocently, the King asked his company, "And have you seen Lady Toledo's bosoms when she sings?"

 

Truly he had wrangled the errant Dorset into hosting this partially because he wished to see those bosoms again, center stage. That Masters Cole and Greyson wrote such a wondrous thing was truly a tribute to his great court and Kingship, and they would be rewarded for it, but the King was a red-blooded man who enjoyed women performing.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

Nicolette & The Captain

 

Oblivious to conversations that might involve her, Nicolette was all eyes upon Captain Ernle, and quick to show disappointment then confusion as he claimed all the women as his.

 

Then just like that her confusion was replaced with a giggle, "La, you are a playful tease!" she happily scolded, eyes sparkling, "I nearly sulked, and now I want to sing. What emotions, what a the high the low." she admired, "You are master musician, and I your instrument."

 

He was enjoying the attention she could tell. He did a funny thing with his eyebrows, as though it was suggestive in some way, though he was only talking about the hamper. Nicolette nodded in agreement to whatever, "We are in the same case, your Papa, my Cousin, la these circumstances that have thrown us together mmm? It is like the fates intend it." She bit her bottom lip, while batting lashes.

 

She and Louis had discussed the Ernle situation, with not a great number of specifics settled upon how to outmaneuver him. This current play she made upon the younger seemed a clever thing, and something Louis had suggested many months ago popped into her mind. Louis had suggested a plot with Lord Ashely that would give him leverage. The problem had been that Lord Ashely was very happily married -- however Captain Ernle seemed very happy to flirt.