The Opera | Evening 24/12- Xmas 1677

[Blackguard]

The Middle Gallery

 

Catherine Bramston curtsied to the German princess, impressed with the company her brother kept. "A very great pleasure," Cavendish remarked politely as he reached to kiss Juliana's hand in greeting. His wife gave a curtsey, knowing that Juliana's House was an important one within the Empire.

 

The trio moved to take the seats John reserved. Catherine chose the seat nearest her brother and the Cavendishes moved further down, with Mary taking the seat next to Catherine, forcing her husband to sit further away from the German beauty. "What brings you to London Your Grace," Mary Cavendish inquired. Was it her imagination or did the princess take give her husband a long look. She thought she hid her jealousy well, but she did not.

[Blackguard]

Dorset's Box

 

The Earl of Dorset had the box next to the Royal Box. Given it was the owners box, it was furnished opulently. Two servants stood ready to serve or fetch drinks for the occupants of the large box.

 

The Earl sat between Nell Gwynn and Peg Hughes. Nell was dressed nicely while Peg was attired as a princess. Rupert showered her with gifts and she had very expensive tastes. Sitting next to Nell was the Duchess of Richmond, Le Belle Stuart. Behind the four sat Rochester, Charles Sedley and Alexander Merriweather. The latter was freshly back from the Continent.

 

Dorset had chosen to surround himself with the Merry Gang and Frances Stuart, a rare wit and gossip. Not only was he comfortable in their company, but they might send a message to that redhead former wife of his. Merriweather was something of a prick but he knew O'Roarke hated him. York's mistress prided herself on being a wit, so it was with deliberate purpose that Dorset surrounded himself with the best known wits at court. Let her go to her lover, if she was brave enough to attend. The man was without wit but was smart enough to seek it in his mistresses.

 

Was that a flash of red hair down below with one of York's men? Charles Sackville looked away purposely. "More wine," he commanded.

[Louis Killington]

Louis & the Somersets

 

Though he might appear to be distracted, the Earl of Basildon was not. HIs eye watched carefully the royal box and his cousin's sally into Ernle's box. Knowing quite well the ways in which men would sneak looks at pretty women, Louis sought evidence that the King was casting such looks in the direction of Nicolette.

 

It was then that his brother-in-law spoke. "Yes, it is a gift from Buckingham. He is trying to win my favor, and I his," he chuckled. "The Duke seems to be on the rise again in the King's esteem, so it is a good alliance to have," he explained. There was no reason to reveal all to his sister and her husband. He did not yet know how freely they might let loose with a secret unwittingly. "Buckingham has given baskets to others as well, so that he can demonstrate a greater circle of friends and allies, and to keep his enemies guessing." If the Somersets wanted to think an intrigue was afoot, Louis preferred that they thought there was a game of obtaining and hiding alliances with Buckingham. It was an actual intrigue, so it was easier to sell. Nicolette's part in the family's fortunes needed to be hidden a while further until she could gain her perch.

 

"Lucy," he urged "what can you tell me of the Queen? Is she truly with child? How is she treating you? Does she treat you like a duchess? And, how does this compare with the other ladies surrounding her?" Lucy was looking bored. She was little more than a child, so he needed to give her some of the attention she desired. Further, he needed to be protective of his sister. If the Queen was not treating Lucy with suitable respect, he and her husband would need to do something about it.

[Heather O`Roarke]

Heather & Legge

 

If one was to be completely honest about it Heather had not, for one second, considered the implications of her actions to other people than Dorset. It was not that she was inconsiderate by nature, but her temperament and the situation of the last few months had made her singularly focused and not paying attention to what else her friends and loved ones were up to. Naturally nobody had thought to inform the Countess of the Dorset theatre either (not wishing to risk her ire) or she would have been better prepared to what she perceived was a monumental insult.. the raising of the Dorset Theatre as the one place to be for the arts without even a second glance to Drury Lane and the King's men, the group that the Countess so generously supported. All that she had gained, come to naught. If nobody had noticed, he had, she was sure.

 

The Countess, when faced with a matter of pride, was willfull and not always graceful in offering apologies or withdrawing from a fight. This was even before she could have possibly spied a gloating Dorset up in the rafters. That would really have send her through the roof. A small comfort to poor Legge who once again faced a misbehaving, irate mistress of York. Story of his life?

 

"Piss poor? " Heather echoed in a soft hiss that equaled his own, her red eyebrows raising " Why, sir George, I do believe you are fast loosing your manners. Artistic criticism is a fine art and so what if that involves rotten vegetables. It is all tradition."

 

She threw her chin up, her red manes moving with the effort "It is all that he should expect. Now tell me, how many of you gentlemen pointed out that Drury Lane was a much more politic venue for this performance, mm? Instead of leaving it to ruin, which is a disgrace. No, out of sight, out of mind I think. Let Dorset have his little fun, what harm is there, why wasn't his father a charm? No thought of how to rebuild other venues. " Oh, oops, there was a little stamp of her foot.

 

The rotting vegetables behind her back were all but forgotten as Heather went head to head with George Legge, unaware of all the spectators she was fast gathering "I tell you Legge, he does this on purpose... to humiliate me. Should I take it lying down? It is not be born!"

[Charles Audley]

Churchill & Chatham

 

"Now, where's the fun in that? If I am to have enemies, let them be men of greatness! Crushing insects underfoot grows boring rather swiftly. No, give me a challenge, let me teeter on the knife-edge 'twixt glory and disaster, with naught but my wits to save me." Charles bared his teeth in an expression that was to a smile what a wolf was to a lapdog. "Of course, I shall have to deal with Shaftesbury before I go about acquiring a better class of adversary. 'Twould be unbearably rude to move on without... concluding our relationship."

 

For all his irreverence, Charles paid careful attention to what John said and what he did not say.

 

So, it would seem the rumours are true, and Monmouth is falling out of favour, and Buckingham rises once again. Not a great surprise but good to know all the same.

 

What would also be good to know was the source of the appalling smell and Charles cast about for it, a task rendered difficult by the crowd's general flow to their seats cutting across his (already limited) field of vision. He could see no obvious source for the stench but what he had located was almost as good. Their quarry, deep in conversation with yet another tall, blond gentleman. Charles tapped John on the shoulder to draw his attention.

 

"Friend of yours?" He nodded towards the blond. "In any case, the performance should be beginning soon, so let us conclude this little errand."

 

Charles made a florid gesture towards the Countess and her companion.

 

"Lead on."

[Aria]

The Middle Gallery

 

“I like it better here already.” Juliana put another nut in the nutcracker just as three people joined them. Lord Maldon seemed more relaxed now. The younger girl resembled him a bit and Juliana guessed she was the sibling he had spoken of. The other two were Lord and Lady Cavendish, whom he had pointed out to her earlier. The self-styled princess rarely forgot faces and names. Were they also family of his or just good friends?

 

She placed the box on the floor and stood, laying the nutcracker (with the nut still in its mouth) on her chair. Juliana nodded graciously as the newcomers were introduce and held out her hand to be kissed when Lord Cavendish reached for it. Her gaze did linger on him a bit longer than necessary. “It is delightful to meet all of you,” she replied, pulling her gaze away from the gentleman and smiling warmly at both ladies.

 

She hoped they didn't mind her presence, but if they wished to be alone with Lord Maldon, she could always find another place to sit. Plucky and confident, she wasn't shy about mingling with strangers even if they indicated they would rather her leave, but in this instance, she didn't want to be a nuisance.

 

However, they took the seats that Lord Maldon had placed his cane over. Juliana picked up the nutcracker and sat back down. When Lady Cavendish spoke to her, she found the woman's jealousy amusing and she looked her up and down appreciatively as well, although in a rather subtle manner. “I'm just visiting,” she replied. “I thought it would be exciting to spend Christmas in a place I've never been.”

 

Cracking the nut, she passed its fruit over to John. “Would you like some nuts?” she asked the others.

[Francis Kirke]

Buckingham's Box

 

Francis allowed his two friends the Duke's full attention, turning his own, instead, toward the other patrons and boxes. Meanwhile, one of the servants filled glasses and he sipped, absent-mindedly, keeping his eyes on the boxes around them.

 

He did not see Heather with York. He did not see Mademoiselle Vauquelin with her cousin. The King was whispering with Ranelagh. Dorset...had the typical set of veteran wits...aside from the Duchess of Richmond. Francis had a fondness for her, no matter the strange forces that must drive that attraction, for she did have a face marred by smallpox. He enjoyed her, and he resolved to send her some seasonal wishes on the morning.

 

His eyes continued around the crowds, looking for the red-headed lady who had said that she would be there. It seemed rather fruitless, there was quite the large gathering of courtiers there.

[Lucas Cole]

Buckingham's Box

 

You do not need to lay it on so thick amongst friends, Master Cole...

 

Lucas inclined his head in acknowledgement of the Duke's admonition, gentle as it was. "Very well, Your Grace. I shall save it til your enemies are listening," he replied smoothly, managing a wan smile. He was glad that the show would soon begin (the sooner it would be over); and gladder still when Buckingham's servant provided him a glass, for it gave him an object to hide behind.

 

Besides, Master O'Neill seemed to have more wit to hand, and his lively conversation with the Duke filled the space where, perhaps, the composer's ought to have been.

 

I may owe James some gratitude before the night is through. Lucas frowned into his glass, briefly, and lifted it to his lips. Galling thought.

 

Francis, meanwhile, seemed distracted, scanning the crowd as though he hoped to place some friend or other. Or perhaps he was merely noting who was in attendance, and who was not. Lucas followed his gaze, hoping this might distract from the general feeling of impending doom and quickly finding it did nothing of the sort. York was in attendance, then; the King, naturally; Dorset; various royal mistresses; Rochester; Sedley; Merryweather. Everyone at court who was anyone at all, and every one of them fashionable, wealthy, and possessed of such a great many opinions on every little thing that they could hardly help but voice them all to everyone they might meet.

 

The knot in his gut twisted painfully, and Lucas looked away.

 

If this performance was anything but flawless, it would certainly be his ruin. For what was he...? An obscure Welsh Baron's second son, a nobody, hopefully offering up some new amusement. There was no middle ground: either it would succeed admirably, or fail entirely. And court would surely have their amusement either way, whether they cared for it or not.

[Guest]

The Middle Gallery

 

John smiled as Juliana’s mood seemed to pick up. There was a smaller, sympathetic pick up in his own mood at that. But it was soon dwarfed by the arrival of his family which actually brought him to something resembling relief. Of all the things that had gone wrong, feeling alone had by far weighed the heaviest.

 

Still, neither the appreciative look nor the jealousy passed unnoticed. John was a bit better at hiding his recognition. “Your sister in… law, Lady Ormonde, is her c-c-closest relative in England.” John said to Lady Cavendish. The innocuous comment sounded like peacemaking. It was, but of a subtler nature than might be realized. John hoped that Juliana would think that gaining Lady Cavendish’s favor might be more important than flirtation.

 

John drew out his cane and let them seat themselves. He again noted Juliana’s gaze, this time turned to a woman again. Something stirred but he still couldn’t quite make anything of it. He took the nut in his hand and held it out to the others. There was, it seemed, to be a chain.

 

In the meantime, his mind turned, but there wasn’t much for him to do until after the show. The situation there would determine too much. For now, all he had to do was try and keep the peace. He smiled at his sister, but was content to keep quiet if she was.

[Ambrose Turnbull]

Outside at the stairs from the Thames

 

The last straggling courtiers had arrived, so that Ambrose and his man felt at liberty to take ease. Ambrose had taken out his pipe, and leaned against the wall puffing it as he looked skyward.

 

"I miss the stars, here in town they are not near so bright." he paused to suck on his pipe, it's stem clicked against his teeth.

 

Trooper Winston mumbled, foraging in his pocket.

 

"Do you think that lady will find her family?" Ambrose spoke idly his hand dipping in to his own jacket and with drawing tobacco pouch, passing it to Winston with a small nod. "More likely she will find her family, it cant be proper for her to accept a ride from a soldier in any case."

 

"Sounds right." Winston was next fumbling about stuffing his recently purchased pipe and then working his matches. Ambrose knew it a compliment that the younger man was mimicking him, taking to the pass-time, and felt a silent joy for him when the lad finally got the thing to light!

 

"She was quite pretty didn't you think, her hair looked quite golden, or maybe brown. Do you think her eyes were blue? Hard to tell in this light." he paused. "Oy look at the size of that barge, they must be shipping a whole farm down here in that thing." The Lieutenant lifted his arm and gave a way to the bargeman as the vessel drifted slowly on past.

 

"Not big tits though." he went back to discussing the lady who'd talked to him, whiling the evening away.

[Defiance]

Ernle's box

 

The captain surely did enjoy the attention. He was at sea for months with nothing but other men, and the particular circumstances of seafaring generally made all sailors seize the day when on land. Ernle was going to enjoy himself and flirting was a court sport.

 

"We are certainly in the same suit," Ernle quipped. Cards were easy metaphors for sailors.

 

Lord Ashley might have been happily married, but for as far as Louis knew, Ashley was no great fighter. Although plenty of gentlemen knew a rapier well and never gained a reputation for dueling, he was likely an easier target for picking a fight than a sea captain recently lauded for his adventures and prizes. He was not quite comparable to the court puppy of Shaftesbury, but he certainly had no feelings for any woman to hold him back from flirting either.

 

"We shall all win together or not at all, that all depends upon the hands of others," he said, with a grin.

[Defiance]

York's Peops & Chatham joining

 

Sir George had seen some harrowing and crazy things in his nearly thirty-one years, and had been at court for quite some time, serving a most unpredictable Prince. If Lady O'Roarke thought she would easily best him, she was quite wrong.

 

"Oh forgive me, my lady, a hard thing to maintain court manners annndddd remember what a lady you are, when you are acting like my toddler!Who ironically smells better." York might not have a whit for a wit, but George was named after the same George that Buckingham was named for, and he clearly had those same Villiers tendencies.

 

"And Dorset has nothing to do with the art of it," he added, candidly, for good measure. Where did women get these ideas. York had earlier been grousing that the first thing in his theater was for the King, and that he was getting no credit or splendor over the entire thing.

 

"You are making no sense" he hissed again. "Now, my lady, His Highness wishes your company after so long an absence. Do you wish to see him or no?" he said, standing up tall just as Churchill and Chatham neared the scene.

[Defiance]

Churchill & Chatham

 

Just as they were walking up, Churchill supplied the name of the elder blond, "Sir George Legge. His father was close to His Majesty and the late martyred King. He served under York during his admiralty, and has been in his household some long time."

 

Legge held some of the former positions York held before being deprived of them, such as the Governorship of Portsmouth. Churchill hoped to climb much the same way. York was actually an attentive and loyal sort to his fellows, perhaps it was that camaraderie of war.

[Defiance]

Somersets & Basildon's

 

The King looked at Nicolette, but he also looked at several others. It could be proximity to his box that he had looked, or it could be the remembrance of the day in the maze, or it could be that they had already planted the seeds of Nicolette in the King's mind.

 

What Louis could not know was that the King had yet to figure out the identity of his mysterious Mistress NV and that was part of the draw of the whole game.

 

As to the young Duke, "Well, I suppose we should enjoy it then?"

 

Extravagances on someone else's coin were always welcome.

 

"Would that we had such vast fortune," he toasted, with a small grin. Then he had to give a small cough before he took a sip to calm his throat. He cleared it a few times after that. "Do excuse me."

 

Louis sister had been somewhat bored with the gentlemen's conversation. She had been seeing if the other duchesses wore more expensive gowns and jewels.

 

"Hmm? Oh, yes, I do believe so," Lucy answered him, nodding. She was not bleeding, she was growing bigger, and she had been......ill." That was not the best part of attending the Queen. "His Majesty wishes her happy and content he tells us when he visits." Obviously, if the child was male, that would put a balm on many pressure issues in the country. If it at least survived, male or female, it would allay some urgency of the fears and actions of many factions. Lucy had no idea of any of that.

 

"Her Majesty does not seem to have any favourites other than Lady Blount," his sister then supplied. "She is reserved." There was nothing in particular to complain about. "She wishes Mistress Wellesley to marry and marry a Protestant, I believe." She looked between both men as if wondering if that was significant.

 

(OOC - When Louis isn't asking about political stuff, I'm going to let Delight take over Lucy )

[Robert Saint-Leger]

Having to come from his sister's in Battersea has not made this a short trip with all of the traffic of courtiers arriving. Yet Beverley did arrive with his lady wife a short time before the opera began. It seemed many had already found seats.

 

"Perhaps you should have gone with the first set of ribbons..." Beverley whispered to his wife, quietly. He was not one who like feeling on display. "But these are very pretty," he added, hastily.

 

Truly, it was not his lady wife's fault at all, but in the true form of a man, it seemed somewhat impacted by how long his wife took at dressing.

 

It was hard to fault her, though, for young as she was, she was quite pretty, and he felt he had married very, very well.

 

"Let us see if there is anyone we know or we shall find seats quickly, my lady." Thankfully, with his nose, it was good they were no where near Heather, or Beverley might have been horribly embarrassed by his reaction to that particularly wretched smell.

[James O`Neill]

Buckingham's Box

 

Lucas' near-silence was disquieting, for James had both his suspicions of the origin and a keen understanding of nerves, if never to such an extent as he imagined the composer must be feeling. In another time -any other time- he would have attempted a sympathetic gesture, something simple to reassure Lucas that he was not, in fact, alone. Later, as the mantra went, this time accompanied with a gentle, barely-audible sigh.

 

Regrettably, today was shaping up to be a day where sympathetic gestures seemed to be in as short of demand as they were in supply.

 

On to Buckingham and Kingston, then, where at least distraction came readily and merrily. Or rather, merely (inasmuch as anything related to the Duke could be considered mere) to Buckingham, as Kingston's attention quickly turned elsewhere as well. About his duties, perhaps? James considered, knowing the man to be the highest-placed of his few friends at court and searching the man briefly for some cue as to approaching his relation. Or savoring the...delicacies?

 

“When you phrase it in such a manner, Your Grace...” A sly smile crossed James' features as he shot a glance back to Buckingham, a sudden, satisfying realization occurring to him. Papa can grouse all he wants about debts and finances. It is I who speaks with dukes and caroused with His Majesty. His expression turned momentarily sharper at the errant thought, pleased. “Why, my dedication to the arts would all but prevent me from turning down an opportunity to learn from the Michelangelo of his craft.”

 

“I suppose it's not unlike an opera, after all. You have the proper setting, the right words, and ah, the...singing.”Smirking, he gazed over at the growing crowd and idly ran a hand through his dark hair, as curious about the composition of Lucas' as he was none-too-eager to get the affair over with.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

Ernle's box

She'd been advised by however many that the King would not have her - yet. Not until she'd accrued some experience. So while she'd certainly hoped she still had his eye favorably upon her, even prayed she might have a chance to dally flirtatiously in his company tonight, Nicolette labored under no delusion that it was yet her time. If it was, one of her handlers would have said something. Perhaps she should have said something to her Cousin of this, who's anxiety of her progress might have then been eased.

 

No, for now she was content to flirt with the Captain (Not for a moment did she imagine any of Louis' plans to involve dueling however!) - and if the King did look, he might only see her as popular? Isn't popularity a draw card of it's own.

 

"Well, I am not in your suit yet." Nicci whispered, turning his metaphor, and sliding a hand beneath is lapel to illustrate. But they were very public, so she drew back her hand. Besides the host of men and women who'd pressed into the box were seating, and she'd less excuse to muddle herself against the Captain. So with a delicate sigh she broke apart, though keeping a closeness that assisted their sultry whispers.

 

While this girl was not practiced at certain things, she was quite conversant at flirtation. But Captain Ernle then broke from the cliche, and seemed to actually say something. Come to think of it, his reply earlier had been less than blase. "Win together?" she spoke with questioning expression. There seemed to be more to the Captain than she'd assumed, meeting his eyes she truly looked at him then. A man who'd lived outside the cocoon of court, who'd seen battle and survived.

[Heather O`Roarke]

York's Peeps & Chatham joining

 

Heather was furious, especially because she felt cornered now that her plan was discovered. There was no way her plan could no go forward, if there was even a plan. She needed an escape though part of her wished to continue. She threw a look up at York, part anger at imagined slights, part longing. Will you cut your nose to spite your face Heather Abigail? her grandmother admonished in her head. Redhead temper and slowly gained slivers of maturity fought.

 

She turned, one instant thinking to storm of in rage when she found Chatham and Churchill blocking her way, which gave a sudden improvised solution. "Chatham, excellent. Please, hold this for me, will you? Sir George has expressed a wish to escort me upstairs to my Prince's box and I can't possibly bring this along. Use it as you see fit." Without waiting for reply she thrust the smelly recticule in the Earl's hands, leaving him to dispose of it.

 

Summoning an angel look to plaster upon her face, the Countess gave a graceful nod to the irate baronet as she turned back, putting a hand upon his arm "You may lead the way now, sir George."

[Blackguard]

The Middle Gallery

 

Catherine kept quiet, looking towards the stage thinking that the curtain would be raised soon. It seemed that most people had arrived and were just awaiting the overture that would signal the beginning of the opera. Lord and Lady Cavendish were more interested in looking towards John and Juliana.

 

"She is related to the Nassaus?" Lady Cavendish replied, but quickly understood how that might be possible. The House of Orange had married into many German families. "How nice," she added politely. Lord Cavendish was more polite to their German visitor. "It is a merry time to be in England. There are parties and merrymaking for a fortnight. There is to be a ball tomorrow at the palace." His wife was none too pleased that he was being so helpful. She was hoping that the lady might find herself elsewhere. Otherwise, her husband would likely make an excuse that the poor German princess had no one to dance with and would volunteer his services. She had seen such behavior before.

[Defiance]

Buckingham's box

 

"Indeed," he agreed to the young composer's comments on his enemies. It was always good for the competition to marvel at your princeliness, and Buckingham was quite good at that.

 

The Duke drank liberally from his cup and then made his ease into a cushioned chair, draping himself onto it.

 

"I daresay there shall be much merry-making this season, gentlemen. Perhaps we shall see to that very English education before long. We cannot allow other kingdoms to boast of their fare without comparison Master O'Neill."

 

Many in the boxes were taking their seats which made those still standing somewhat conspicuous. Well, at least there would be something to balm York's ego, or else the younger man would be cranky and jealous of Charles, and likely Buckingham as well, for fortnights. It grew ever so tiresome after dealing with it for decades.

 

Instead, his blue eyes looked toward Basildon's box. It seemed they were enjoying the basket. Then he saw Nicolette flirting with Ernle, the younger.

 

How amusing. Well, at least they are getting along. The Duke's plans for inching Basildon passed the King's defenses, if he proved worthy enough of it, and the girl as well, included Ernle, so it was best for all to work out in such a way.

[Defiance]

Ernle's box

 

For a moment, the young captain seemed confused. Perhaps the lady was in the dark about the political intrigues and that her cousin, Lord Basildon, was joining with the Duke of Buckingham's faction; thus, that she was, indeed, part of the same suit of cards in the same hand.

 

Instead, he tried to push the conversation back to more simply flirtation.

 

"Perhaps you shall see how well-suited we are soon," he quipped.

 

"Ah, but it seems everything is to begin soon, shall I escort you back to your cousin?" After all, Basildon had offered to introduce them to those in his box, and while his father had been at court some long time and knew most people as both a Privy Councilor and Chancellor of the Exchequer, the captain was not quite as widely introduced.

[Defiance]

OOC ALL - I'm going to start the actual opera soon, so please move to your seats & semi-wrap your conversations!

 

As soon as Chatham posts, I'll post York's group, and then there will only be one more mod reply before the first part of the opera is posted!

[Francis Kirke]

Buckingham's Box

 

Francis watched Buckingham's eyes out of the corners of his own, always trying to learn more about his newfound uncle. His own blue eyes caught Nicolette with the younger Ernle. He had yet to meet the other seafaring courtier who was the son of one of Buckingham's allies.

 

The more people made their way to their seats, the more those not seated were obvious. He sighted Heather's red hair.

 

Is that George?

 

It probably was George. He was probably escorting her to York's box.

 

I bet that's not the most amusing place to watch the opera! He sniggered to himself and then turned back toward Lucas.

 

"What, do you think, is your favoured piece of your work?" Francis asked him, hoping to take his friend's mind away from whatever worried musings might be going on.

[Charles Audley]

Chatham & the Yorkists

 

"Then it would seem you have been pipped to the post. Tch, tch colonel. What will his Highness say, you standing around chatting rather than devoting yourself to his business?"

 

Charles was most pleased that he had managed to keep a straight face. Descending into undignified cackling at his own effrontery would have quite ruined the effect.

 

On York's business or not, Legge seemed almost heated. Charles gave John an inquiring glance and lengthened his stride. He wasn't precisely concerned, more interested. He opened his mouth to hail the pair...

 

...only for Heather to wheel round, a stunning vision of anger. Charles paused for a second to appreciate the sight, only for Heather to thrust her reticule into his hands and turn back to Legge. The Earl blinked slowly, then automatically nodded to the baronet.

 

"Charles Audley, Earl of Chatham, at your service."

 

For once bereft of something to say, Charles floundered briefly before the offensive smell reached his nostrils again, stronger than previously. He eyed the reticule in sudden suspicion.

 

Surely not...

His arm straightened, holding the reticule as far away from himself as possible, eying it askance. He turned to John and spoke brightly.

 

"Well, we've found the source of the smell. I don't suppose there's anyone you'd like to see covered in rotten tomato?"

 

If this smell has sunk into my clothes, my lady, vengeance shall be swift and terrible.

 

"In any case, 'tis time to take our seats I think. I shall... dispose of this. If your time is your own tomorrow, perhaps we could meet for lunch at the Red Lion? We can trade stories." His tone become wry. "You may have more than I expected."

 

Charles stepped back and addressed the group at large.

 

"Good evening. Now, if you shall excuse me..."

 

The Earl gave a short bow and turned away, reticule still held at arm's length.

 

There has to be a servant around here somewhere.

[Defiance]

York's Group

 

Churchill looked at his friend sympathetically when Heather shoved a smelly mess at him.

 

It would seem the countess likely had some thoughts about their initial meeting, he chuckled in his head.

 

Sir George held most of his smirk in, but the tall blond was much happier to give the countess his arm without the attachment of rotting veg.

 

"Do join us in my master's box when you are done cleaning up his lady's mess..." Churchill offered, with a nod, looking to Heather to second the offer. Chatham had helped to locate her and was dealing with the smelly things. Hopefully the scent did not cling too much!

 

Sir George led the way with Heather to York's box where the Prince was waiting, not so patiently.

 

"Ha! There you are, my dear! Finally!"

[Aria]

The Middle Gallery

 

The Cavendishes seemed more interested in her heritage than they were in nuts. Juliana placed the nutcracker back on her lap, ready to crack more if anyone asked for one. “Very distantly,” she replied. “My grandmother was Countess Juliana of Nassau-Dillenburg. I never knew her or her family. She died before I was born.” She didn't mention that one of the reasons she didn't know them was because she had spent most of her life in Sweden. If luck was with her, they would not have heard of her scandalous fall from grace. They may not wish to associate with her any longer if they knew what she had done.

 

When Lord Cavendish spoke of the activities that would be held at court, she smiled maybe a little too ardently. “I do look forward to the parties.” Quickly she turned her attention back to John, favoring him with a charming grin. “Lord Maldon told me about the ball. I do so love to dance. And he promised to let me know about other court events as well.”

[Heather O`Roarke]

York's Group

 

"Why, most certainly, " the Countess O''Roarke assured, her green eyes twinkling now, but with a grateful smile for Chatham not beating an eyelash at her improvised request "By all means do join us. I shall personally regal my Prince on stories of the Earl's finesse at swordmanship this morning." York was unlikely to take offense, unless he learned how Heather had tried to insult some of his wife's ladies, and that was just not a likely topic of conversation in this libertine environment.

 

Heather ignored Legge's hidden sense of triumph with a lift of her chin. She had choosen this and in no way shape or form would she allow him to claim it for himself. She was a lady after all.

 

As they entered the box of the Prince of York, Heather was acutely aware of the other boxes close by. Another lover, at least 3 other significant ex-lovers that she could see, and one ex-husband she was doing her utmost to ignore entirely. Busy crowd.

 

Only one man mattered, now at least. Green eyes focused upon James, trying to judge his mood and noticing his restlessness. Patience was never one of his virtues, but was it worse than normal?

 

"My Prince," Heather breathed, having just enough protocol sense not to gasp out his Christian name with such an audience they were having. She gave a deep court curtsy, displaying the wealth of her charms to his roving eyes, her ample chest all the more comfortable for recently having giving birth to their son.

 

Then, having indulged enough into etiquette to dismiss it, Heather rose and in the true spirit of Drury Lane moved boldy forward to press a wanton kiss on her Prince's lips, pressing herself close, in full view of whomever was observing York's box.

 

"Did you miss me?" she whispered to his lips.

[Guest]

The Middle Gallery

 

Since no one wanted them, John took the nuts for himself. He popped one in his mouth. Juliana had already shared she was Swedish so it wasn’t much of a secret. He didn’t share it because he didn’t think it was relevant just then.

 

John nodded and frowned slightly at her withdrawing. He sunk further at learning it was, indeed, a ball. John disliked balls. He usually avoided going. A grand event based around something he could not do. He especially hated the thought of one now. His first instinct was to think of it as another night full of opportunities he couldn’t reach… but his mood was buoyed somewhat by his family and what Sophia had told him earlier.

 

John would go to this one. He hadn’t given up his plans for his sister so he would try again tomorrow night. And perhaps tonight wouldn’t be a total loss.

 

Juliana pulled his attention back to the present. John smiled back, a wan smile forced itself into a more genuine looking one. “Through hospitality to strangers, men have entertained angels.” John said. It was a Biblical paraphrase. John resisted the urge to make a comment about Dutch uncles for Mary’s sake.

 

Before he could say more, the curtain seemed about to rise. He quietly distributed the rest of the looking glasses to his family and held his own at the ready.

[Louis Killington]

Somersets & Basildon's

 

His sister confirmed the Queen's pregnancy. That would be good for the realm. Anything to cause the conversation to become more muted about Catholics. The pregnancy had been widely speculated but not confirmed by the King. Will he use the New Year to do so?

 

"It pleases me that you seem to be treated well," Louis confessed to his sister. "The wife of the Duke of Somerset deserves respect." It was a way to compliment his brother-in-law as well.

 

As for Davina Wellsley, she held little interest in Basildon's schemes. She was a Catholic and he had no Anglican friend to suggest in a match to gain favor with the Queen or the maid. "Do you like Miss Wellsley Lucy?" He supposed that he might aid the match if Lucy was particularly fond of the maid. If she hated her, then Louis might be motivated to incite mischief against the maid.

 

The King betrayed no special interest in Nicolette. Yet, one could not conclude much from that observation. With an eye turned to observe his cousin's campaign to conquer the Ernle box, Louis fought a smile. In time, she will become as unstoppable as myself.

 

The musicians seemed to be stirring, so it was likely that the opera was about to begin. He was about to call out to Nicci to return, but trusted that she would have an eye for opportunity. Idly, he wondered what excuse she might conjure to walk into the King's box next.

[Charles Audley]

Garbage Disposal

Charles nodded in acknowledgment of John and Heather's offer. He hadn't even had to fish for it.

 

"A most gracious invitation, and one I shall be delighted to accept."

 

In spite of how palpable your smug amusement is, John.

Well, Charles couldn't grudge the man that. He'd have shown even less mercy in the other man's place. Legge's smirk was viewed somewhat less charitably- Charles was doing him a favour as much as he was Heather, after all.

 

Bah, be honest man. You're doing yourself a favour more than any other. And you'd bear the smirks of a score of smug baronets for this.

True enough, Charles acknowledged as he caught sight of a servant. Two discreetly kicked ankles and one artful shoulder check later, Charles thrust the offensive smelling reticule into the man's arms.

 

"Someone has played a prank on Lady O'Roarke, it would seem. Dispose of that, I don't particularly care how."

 

Without waiting for a reply, Charles whirled away before a thought struck him and he whirled back.

 

"Could you direct me to the Duke of York's box?"

 

Information received, Charles strode off imperiously through the crowd, covertly employing his elbows as necessary.

 

York's Box

 

Stopping just short of his destination, Charles used the cover of taking a pinch of snuff to discreetly sniff at his clothes to see if the stench had clung. Apparently not, though he couldn't be sure, given that all he could smell was his snuff, the only flaw in an otherwise perfect deception.

 

Charles gave a mental shrug and entered the box, just in time to see York and Heather break apart. Restraining himself from comment, the earl swept a bow to the box at large and waited for John or Heather to begin the formalities.