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The Opera | Evening 24/12- Xmas 1677


Defiance

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The Basildon Box

 

It was a commanding performance on the stage, it was little wonder that the King (and all of court) was absorbed, little wonder at all that the only one who noticed Nicolette's little show was her cousin. She might as well have been twiddling her thumbs. Cest la vie... the french girl gave a small sigh and abandoned her efforts.

 

She needed to be patient. Perhaps it was like the Francis, and the Duke had told her, just not the right time yet. She had to be patient and wait... though she wondered how long, and a part of her fretted that the Buckingham would present some other that was more pleasing to the Dukes interests to the King as Envy. Someone English & Anglican. It was hard to have to be anonymous, with no indication if she was making any progress at all. Self doubts - she had plenty.

 

Sophia was incredible on the stage, and in the end when the tears flowed, Nicolette had tears stream down her cheeks too.

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Diana's lament drew to a close, a for the space of a moment, this finale was frozen upon the stage: the goddess crouched above Actaeon's corpse, cradling his stag's head in her lap; her nymphs upon their knees, heads bowed, in poses of supplication; the hounds somber, as though in mourning. Then, to a low and lovely murmur of strings, Diana and her nymphs withdraw; the hunters take up Actaeon's still form and bear him offstage, followed by the hounds.

 

The stage is empty for a moment, the music rising, sweetening, as if to give a certain amount of perspective upon the scene... to set it in its time. For a time, nothing at all except this music, lifting the spirits of the audience, laying the past horrors to rest. And then, to left and right, the Erotes enter, taking deep bows... and begin the final chorus.

 

It was almost apologetically winsome; a funereal march upturned; a lament sung with a twisted smile.... and the Erotes proved equally scathing to all involved. Actaeon, the brave hunter undone when hunted by the woman of his dreams; and Diana, a maiden known only to herself, a beauty so hidden none know of it at all. Oh, the song was one of love and harmony, and perhaps to those more sensible at court that might seem to be all it was... but to those with a certain kind of ear, it was sung with all the ironical, razor wit of the libertine court, and the moral of it all was perfectly clear.

 

And with a final flourish, a most satisfying musical coda, that was most decidedly that.

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Sophia held her position until the music began again, and then eased Actaeon's head back to the floor and stood, leading her nymphs offstage. While the Erotes sang, she slipped out of the wilted overdress and pulled on the flowery gown for the final bows.

 

All in all, she thought that everyone had done a magnificent job. This performance would put Masters Greyson and Cole on the map. No one would ever forget their masterpiece that had been performed here tonight. And perhaps the courtiers would be so thrilled with the first English opera that they would clamor for more. That was her dream … that opera would become a popular form of entertainment in her adopted country. And she hoped that there would be more performances by nobles now that they had set the precedent. Why should they not show off their God-given talents to their peers?

 

When it was time to take their bows, Sophia stepped onstage with Actaeon by her side, the other singers walking a bit behind them. Instead of the usual theatrical bow, the young singer curtsied deeply and respectfully to the King and then dropped shorter curtsies to both the sides and center of the audience. Her lovely face was radiant with delight and her heart swelled with happiness as she turned back to the King's box and curtsied to him once more.

 

{OOC: Not sure if I'm a bit hasty with the bows, but if I am, the post can be deleted and I can repost later.}

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The Middle Gallery, moving to outside the Royal Box

 

John watched through his opera glasses. He sighed as she began to toy with her skirt, So dies her dreams of propriety. As she stripped John blushed, though he continued to watch. While he seemed fascinated he was not as distracted as his cousin and managed to notice his sister’s discomfort. She wasn’t wrong and he took her hand with a reassuring smile.

 

Perhaps it had been a mistake to bring her. But it had been worth it for a chance at the Queen and, besides, if Sophia was to aid her it was best she know about the singer. Perhaps it was not the most sterling introduction but one took them where they could.

 

It was fairly easy to guess what Lady and Lord Cavendish were quarreling over, “D-d-don’t be too cross. It doesn’t turn out… too well for the buck.” The buck was the house animal of the Earls of Devonshire and the Barons Cavendish. And indeed he was torn apart, which earned Cavendish a sly look.

 

Suited for the times, I suppose Though truthfully John thought they’d not done the original legend much justice. Still, the music was sublime and the performance remarkable. There was art in this, even if there was flirtation and impropriety slathered on top.

 

But now John had to think of what came next. Success seemed incredibly unlikely at this point. He wasn’t even sure how the Queen would feel about her countrywoman now. But was it worse for him to go alone or was there a chance that his sister would be stained by entering the royal presence with an actress?

 

Sophia would, if she stuck to their plan, come to him in the hopes of going to the royal presence. There was no question in John’s mind she would, so now there was only the question of what to do. It was excruciatingly important he meet Sophia in public and, more so, that they were seen to separate again in public. It was only now John realized how what had transpired between him and his friend might be taken.

 

“Until we m-m-meet again, highness. I'll send along the list soon.” John said to Juliana, “Stay with Billy, Rin.” John said to his sister, using family names. “It’s b-b-best we not risk your reputation.” He hadn’t imagined how libertine the performance would be. But John didn’t have much of a reputation to risk anyway. Even if he was marked as libertine it didn’t mean as much for men.

 

He handed Catherine the box with the Christmas pyramid and took up the other one himself. “I’ve g-g-got to go meet a friend. I’ll be outside later, b-b-but don't wait... for me.” He said to Lord and Lady Cavendish.

 

He made a note to talk to Devonshire and Cavendish later. He needed some advice on how to handle his friendship with Sophia now. But for the moment he worked his way out of the row and walked towards the outside of the royal box, waiting for Sophia to come up or the King to come down.

 

OOC: Juliana skipped with Delight’s permission.

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York's Box

 

A little smile played on Heather's full lips. James attempting to think was adorable to her. It simply wasn't his natural habitat. He was all blunt soldiery instinct. Doing, not thinking. "I don't know either," she whispered to reassure him "Pity." Sometimes Basildon's favourite word crept into her language.

 

Her hand stopped its progress as she glanced over at Churchill and Chatham, but she did not remove it. Another woman might be insulted, but Heather knew what kind of creature she was and she knew her ducal lovers crude tastes. Theirs was an earthy, some would say depraved, relationship.

 

"I have had plenty of opportunity. There have been offers.. here in London and even before I arrived." Heather paused teasingly. James would know that was true. It was not an uncommon occurance for men to proposition her, nor for her to accept. Heather slept with men that caught her fancy, no matter their class. She still thought fondly of her encounter with the hounds man of Viscount Blount, and he was part of a longer list.

 

"Yet I've had none of them since you left my bed in September," she whispered huskily in his ear after an agonizing moment, before swearing blasphemously "Christ, James, needy doesn't even begin to describe it. My humours are all in disarray. This can't be healthy."

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Dorset's box came alive with applause. This was the box more dramatically inclined than others, and they fully appreciated the powerful presentation. This group was likely to think that the Spanish Ambassador's wife had been tasteful in her depiction. Sedley, Nell and Peg all noted to each other that Sophia had a talent for acting. "Shame she's a noble," Nell remarked. "I thought she could have shown more bosom," Rochester jested, drawing a giggle from Merriweather.

 

Down in the middle gallery, Catherine had tears in her eyes from the performance but still felt awkward about the situation, nodding mindlessly to her brother's instructions. The Cavendishes added their applause to the rest. Lady Cavendish was certain to keep an eye on her husband.

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Outside

 

"Did you hear that?" the sound of cheers and applause was muffled through the walls of the theatre. Ambrose rightened himself, and dusted off the elbows of his jacket. "They will be coming out soon I expect." and cupping his hand to his mouth he puffed a breath. "Gah, I probably stink of tobacco, where's the hip flask." he took a swig of rum and swilled it around his mouth to sweeten his breath.

 

He was not going to mention the girl to Maurice again, but he was still covertly hoping that she might turn up. It had been a dull evening on duty, her intentness had been quite distracting, even if he'd not been prepared for it at the time.

 

The pair moved down to their places, and stood upon point again.

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Whilst some of the libertines pretended it was all very proper just for the sake of it being a court event, there was some more exuberant sort of cheering than one might normally hear. In fact, the noise moved about the theater magnifying it quite momentously.

 

"BRAVA!" Came the King's approval. Was it of the bosoms, the flirtation, the opera itself, or some combination of all three which called for such enthusiastic clapping.

 

Ranelagh followed suit, throwing his head back in some laughter. Denbigh nodded approvingly, sharing glances with his friend.

 

As for the Duke of Buckingham, he had some bravas of his own, a wide smile appearing on his face at all of the approval of this joint venture of Master Cole and Master Greyson.

 

Ha! Lest Charles forget I always find the best of the Arts! the Duke thought.

 

"Well done, Master Cole, well done! Does not the man who composed such a thing deserves accolades of his own?" Bosoms were bosoms after all, and it was the daring writing of it all, both in music and word, that brought it all to a different sort of crescendo.

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When the applause started; that was when he finally felt able to breathe out. Lucas closed his eyes, allowing himself a moment's isolation from it all. Before he felt able to take any of it in.

 

So. I suppose it is over.

 

It was the only thought that occurred to him. He opened his eyes. Upon the stage, Sophia and Acetaeon were taking their bows. He heard the King's voice declare Brava!, saw the artistic set applauding... there were even some cheers. It had come off perfectly, after all... that kind of perfection that only exists when a large number of catastrophic things had somehow, miraculously, failed to go wrong. And then there was Buckingham, at his elbow, remarking:

 

Does not the man who composed such a thing deserves accolades of his own?

 

And Lucas came to realise that the applause was not for him; not his months of work, meticulous planning, nor for the courage of his composition, the thousand innovative inflections and subtleties of his music... no, all eyes were turned to the stage, to the voice.

 

Well, perhaps more accurately, to the bosom.

 

Of course. Tomorrow, they'll speak of nothing but Sophia, he supposed, with resignation. It is all they shall remember.

 

"Thank you, Your Grace," he managed, with a very passable imitation of a smile. It would be hard for any to tell he was anything but delighted. "I am very glad you found the show enjoyable."

 

He knew in his heart that in the absence of Master Greyson, the accolades were almost exclusively his; that Sophia, for all her talent, could have been replaced by any one of a number of talented singers. But that... did not signify, not in this moment. She glittered onstage, and he was a mere face in the crowd. The composer could never have expected anything more.

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York's Box

 

It did not seem there would be an intermission as the work seemed to go on, even with Heather's hand satisfyingly on his leg.

 

"Well I should hope not," York said, with a little laugh. "Royals follow no one," he affirmed.

 

Then he added, "Well I hope not for some long while before that either."

 

She had done quite the good job convincing him that the child must surely be his, but that did not mean any man in such a situation did not have niggling concerns. After all, he was the one that reminded Charles of it constantly with the King's extensive brood.

 

Finally, it was over! He might have enjoyed it that much more if his mind was not on one thing only, one thing that had been denied to him for some months by this particular lady.

 

"Shall we make our escape?" Surely the applause would distract from such a hasty leaving.

 

 

 

As to Churchill and his friend, the blond merely said, "Oh yes, I am not letting you out of telling that particular story at a later date."

 

Before long the opera ended, and Churchill clapped loudly.

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Beverley had not said much during the performance. He truly did not much know what to say to his wife, anyway, nor did he truly have anyone to sit with by way of family or friends at the moment. Thus, they had sat by themselves, surrounded by courtiers of various importance.

 

There was an awkwardness in not knowing how to be a husband and a sort of sad silence that went along with the demeaned situation he had seen them into as well as his sickness that accompanied it.

 

He clapped. His wife clapped.

 

All was well. Only it really was not.

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Baintree Box

 

At Last!

 

This 'Opera' came to a conclusion and then applause and shouts - were there 'boo's and a hiss or two' amongst them or had she heard wrongly?

 

Lady Toledo had made no mistaking in her Presentation of the Tale so no fault there but Davina knew the ficklness of her fellow Courtiers and her choice in attire and the visibility of it all displayed to the entire Conpany might have been a bad move.

 

Her young age would be no shield in which she might hide for as Davina had tried to get her to understand, without any success apparently, she would be viewed as a woman grown, a Wife who's husband held an important Political Post - that of Ambassador from the Court of Spain.

 

The Ambassador might well find himself being ridiculed in dispatches designed to embarass the Spanish Monarch and some might even say he could not control his own Lady Wife and allowed her to parade near naked upon a stage while the English King looked on!

 

She felt some sadness for Sophia and would in her own way try to defend if any made mark of it to her but there was little anyone might do.

 

The Ball could be a reflection of any fallout towards both the Ambassador and his Wife - a slight hesitation in reception or speech by those approached for example or some would not hide their own amusement at Sophia's expense seek to add more fuel to the already burning fire.

 

The King made his feelings clear by his applause and she saw the grins of the faces of the Gentleman that surrounded so that Accolade might dampen any actions directed at Sophia and she wondered if that had been the hidden intent - the Ambassador offering his young wife up to the King or any Gentleman for that matter to further a Cause?

 

Would Sophia do that? Well, she was Spanish now by her marriage and her Loyalty was to that, plus she would be no different than many Ladies before her that had been used by husbands or fathers or brothers for Family Advancement.

 

Her thoughts were interputed as her brother signled his desire to leave and she complied with a grateful smile longing for Poppy to massage her aching temples ....

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York's Box

 

Royals follow no one, yet in the past James had loved the fact that despite her wide array of lovers she always returned to him, just him and not his brother or any childhood friends.

 

"James," she protested in low voice "You know that each time I had other... attentions.. I've faithfully confessed them to you." In fact Heather was growing rather fond of confessions, to James at least, even if sometimes the penance was swift. They did cleanse her conscience so. There was a relief to it, this lifting of burdens.

 

As for the practical facts, if York, or his gentlemen, paid any attention he would know that she had not seen another lover since Brighton. He knew of her dalliances in London after Venice. If truth be known, the Countess was more monogamous than she had been in years, yet her past life was deliciously documented in the book she had finally gifted to Nicci. It was as if she could live vicariously through the young French woman.

 

The redhead gave a dramatic sigh "Only for you do I suffer long periods of not seeing anyone." She winked at him "I might have to go chase kisses this season. There is plenty of mistletoe around."

 

Heather clapped, politely, as the opera ended, resisting yet another sigh. Her thoughts were not only for Sophia's bosom, to be fair. Nor solely filled with spite for Dorset, though she still refused to look into his direction. It was a fine production. If ony it was in a different, a true theatre.

 

James' eagerness to be gone brought a smile to Heather's face, dismissing other thoughts "Nothing would give me greater pleasure." She rose with him. She would run to make her escape if he would insist on it, but until such signals she tried, for his sake, to be a dignified lady. There was no thought of chatham, or any of the other men that liked to steel kisses. She just looked up at York adoringly.

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York's Box

Charles barely avoided wincing as John announced his intention to hear the story of Naples in full. It was not, Charles felt, a story that reflected well on him.

 

Now, let us not mince words sir. You were led about by the cock like a witless virgin.

Thankfully, Charles was momentarily spared the need to respond by the ending of the opera. He came to his feet and applauded fiercely.

 

"Brava!"

 

Applause complete, Charles settled himself back into his seat and looked at John.

 

Can't be avoided, I suppose.

"Very well. You shall have Naples gratis, but for any other stories I shall require payment in kind. Surely you've picked up a diverting tale or two since last we spoke?" Charles considered for a moment. "Shall we say after the ball tomorrow?"

 

A swift glance around caught sight of Heather and York. Charles smirked and turned back to John.

 

"In your estimation, is your master likely to have further need of you? If not, perhaps you and I could find a suitably well-stocked tavern and trade our stories tonight?" A brief frown, as natural amiability warred with reluctance to let the story of Naples spread. "Sir George could accompany us, if he likes."

 

If worst comes to worst, I can just get them both blackout drunk.

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Onstage

 

The applause seemed to explode through the theatre with glorious abandon It was as bright and golden as sunlight, and Sophia had almost forgotten how wonderful it felt to bask in the audience's admiration. Oh, how I've missed this! Each shout of 'brava!' was its own kind of music to the young singer's ears, and when she heard the King's booming voice, she turned toward him once again. With a saucy smile, she curtsied deeply while beside her, Actaeon bowed.

 

The rest of the cast were lined up behind them and they eventually moved backstage, the nymphs heading in one direction and the hounds and hunters in the other. Sophia and Actaeon were now onstage alone and they continued to bow and curtsy as the audience's approval swelled around them.

 

Master Cole should join us, she thought. Without him and Master Greyson, none of this would be possible. They deserve most of the praise. All I did was bring their creation to life. She would write Master Greyson and tell him of the opera's success. He had told her that Lord Kingston would know where to find him.

 

Turning back to the King's box, Sophia smiled up at him and curtsied to him once more. She wanted to give him a full theatrical bow but nobles weren't supposed to know such things and therefore, she had to stick to curtsies.

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York did have plenty of gentlemen, pages, and spies, but what man never concerned somewhat over the paternity of a child. No reports had ever come to him differently, and in this instance there were also none to be had. The lady had turned rather monogamous. There was a small victory in that willing preference for him, flirty kisses and petting aside.

 

"A tally of kisses seems fitting and so many who shall pine over what I have." He smiled truly. For a man who was always second to the king, to have something others wanted so much was quite reinforcing to his royal ego.

 

"Yes, let us steal away." While the applause was ongoing, he sneaked out with his lady, the unfortunate Sir George trailing discretely behind. He would leave Churchill free to be with his friend, then the man would owe him.

 

James headed surreptitiously backstage to where there was an ornate office where the books would be kept, once the theaters opening was fully finished.

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York and Heather, backstage

 

Heather allowed herself to be dragged away with due haste, not even time to wink at George, John or Chatham.Her green eyes widened as they went backstage, imprinting on her mind the layout, and what was there. One never knew when that might come in handy.

 

"James," the redhead giggled in half hearted protest, as he finally pulled her inside of what appeared to be an office "We will not be found, will we?" Her green eyes took in the interior, excitement starting to run over her spine.

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York's Box, minus 3

 

Churchill turned to glance surreptitiously at his Prince, and found none at all!

 

"Well, apparently not! And no Sir George either, so that is as good an excuse as any to leave us to our devices." So far as John was concerned, the other was the more senior. If he was left behind, he could fairly assuming that was leave entirely!

 

"Let us find the first place within walking distance, the carriages and such are likely to be murder."

 

What was a little cold to bother such men? They were not dainty things that had been raised in the security of some of these others at court.

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York's Box, Minus 3

Charles followed his friend's glance and gave a quick snort of amusement.

 

Good show Jimmy. Hmm. No Sir George either. A dedicated servant. Or his Highness and his lady love occasionally fornicate by troop.

Putting such thoughts from his head, Charles gave John a beaming, boyish grin that the other man would likely recognise as a harbinger of... interesting times.

 

"Capital idea! We shall make a night of it, and the last man standing obviously isn't trying hard enough!" Charles stood and seized his cane. "And a walk sounds just the thing. Work up an appetite, hmm? I shall ask you to lead. You're more familiar with London than I."

 

Buoyed with enthusiasm, Charles all but carried John out, leaving only the echoes of his voice trailing behind them.

 

"Now, I don't think I ever told you about the time I met the Mazarinettes..."

 

 

(OOC: And exit Charles, in search of fun, gossip and enough alcohol to make Churchill forget that there's such a place as Naples. Thank you all for an excellent thread.)

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Louis and Nicci

 

In Nicolette's estimation the Opera had been a raging success for her one time friend Lucas, and for Sophia too.

 

Perhaps the French-lass was naive in not perceiving any 'play' of the songstress for the King? Sophia's final curtsy made towards the Monarch seemed to her eyes the correct etiquette, rather than any overt offering to take her to his bed - though it certainly wouldn't be the first time that CR's interest in the stage led to romps between the sheets. Consider Nell. So while Nicolette did not imagine Sophia had any thoughts of the King, she certainly anticipated that the King's passions might be aroused for the lady upon the stage.

 

Nicolette's eyes followed Sophia's to the King, and made a swift assessment.

 

"Cousin, we must go give our praise to Lady Sophia in person. Come with me, backstage." she whispered with a little urgency.

 

If the King did decide to go backstage, she wanted to be there.

 

"We shall catch up to you soon." she promised Lucy and her husband.

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Buckingham's Box

 

The Duke, of course, was not one to let opportunity go by, and with the King's delight of the moment and like for talented artists, it was a good moment for Master Cole.

 

"Your Majesty surely would not wish for the originator of such a work to go without his own accolades?" Buckingham called out. "For Master Cole and also Master Greyson have made this entertainment all possibly in Your Majesty's name." Not to mention himself...

 

Yes, the Majesties must go thick. Remind him of his own noblesse oblige.

 

He gestured toward Master Cole to move forward in the box.

 

 

 

The King's Box

 

"We must thank Lord Toledo for being so generous," the King whispered to Ranelagh, setting a litter through the King's box as the applause began to die down.

 

The voice of the Duke of Buckingham in the next box was easy enough to hear, and indeed, the messages of the play were the works of his Libertine artists, or rather Buckingham's, which was also his. Also his only the Duke paid for it which was truly the best of all arrangements.

 

In his booming voice, already having consumed quite a bit of wine during that performance, the King raised his glass.

 

"To bringing such an opera, of a singularly fitting bent for our court, to London!" He gave a hearty applause for Lucas, and also for the unpresent Greyson, and the rest of their court audience followed their King. The loudest clapping and a few hoots could be heard from some of their fellow Libertines.

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Buckingham's Box

 

Whatever Buckingham might think (or the King, for that matter, God bless his soul), Lucas had had very little hand in the theme of the evening, beyond arranging the particulars of its performance. The motifs of the opera were largely the work of Master Greyson, in his words; Sophia's (flamboyant) interpretation of those words entirely her own. Master Cole's part had been the music which, in this moment, seemed little more than a gilded frame around a rather prurient painting. Lovely, sure, and necessary in its way... but most certainly not the main attraction.

 

It would not do to show any sort of disappointment, though, and when his patron bid it, he stepped to the front of the box and bowed, deeply, in the direction of His Majesty. Lucas wondered if he should feel grateful for the attention, or a little disheartened. This sort of success had not been his intention at all; he'd hoped his music would be loved for its merits alone, and not for its role as accompaniment to some trifling titillation. It was rather like, having painted the The Birth of Venus, discovering everyone about you lauding the painting's erotic attractions without seeing the artistic merits in the least. Surprisingly like it, in fact.

 

Next time... if, indeed, there shall be a next time... I shall write something without any sort of words or actors at all, he promised himself silently, even as he smiled at the applause and gracefully bowed to the King once more in deepest respect. Perhaps a concerto. Yes, I think a pretty little concerto might suit me very well...

 

Lucas suddenly found himself rather unaccountably tired; worn thin, his stores of energy quite used used up. He wondered how quickly he might withdraw, and not be missed.

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It was over now but it had been such an enjoyable experience, Caroline thought to herself as she took her bows with the other musicians. The crowd, and more importantly, the king loved the performance. Sophia had sung superbly and the way she looked in costume hadn't hurt her cause either. Her own cello playing had gone without a hitch. In her undoubtedly biased opinion the musicians had really put it together when they had to, sounding better than they ever had in practice. Master Cole had to be pleased.

 

The question in her mind now though was simple enough. 'Now what happens?' Does everyone simply go their own ways, head home? Or were there informal celebrations after? That reminded her too. She had only gotten here at all because Lord Audley had gallantly come to her rescue with his coach when her's had broken down. Would he remember to at least offer to give her a ride now that this event was coming to a close? If not, she was going to have to find some other Good Samaritan to assist her.

 

She had something else on her mind though too. Find Master Cole to congratulate him on the opera and thank him again for allowing her to be a part of it.

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Onstage

 

Where were the flowers? By this time, she was usually drowning in them. As this was the first opera ever performed in England, Sophia supposed that most courtiers weren't aware of that particular tradition. Those who had seen operas in Italy would know of it, but she imagined that that they made up only a small fraction of the audience.

 

Perhaps there would be bouquets waiting for her in the dressing room. Sometimes they had been delivered backstage as well as given to her during the bows. Or was it too cold for flowers in the winter? She felt a bit naked without a bundle of roses in her arms. However, it did make curtsying easier.

 

She heard Lord Buckingham urging the King to praise Master Cole and when he did, another wave of applause burst through the theatre. This time, Sophia joined in, looking toward the composer and clapping enthusiastically. Only when the applause died down again would she finally move backstage with Actaeon to wait for a few moments in the wings in case they were called back again for an encore.

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Indeed the King had been most impressed with the opera and his court seemed to likewise have enjoyed such a thing. After praising and toasting Master Cole, the King enjoyed another drink with his gentlemen. He would expect Master Cole and Lord and Lady Toledo would have quite the time leaving with the praise of the courtiers pressing in on them.

 

Both would hear from the King personally for such a feat, for the King was a rather gallant man who enjoyed any art which transported him from the duties and pressures of the day. He rewarded those with talents.

 

(OOC - You can all fade out or post your leavings from here. The mods are wrapping up this thread!)

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There was no encore and there were no flowers, not even in the dressing room. Sophia reminded herself that this wasn't Venice and that opera was new here, but she couldn't help feeling a bit disappointed. The sadness she felt when a show closed slowly replaced her earlier excitement. She was pleased that the opera had been a success but it was over now, after only one performance. For a few days, she would feel a bit depressed and empty, but it would pass eventually.

 

She wished the opera would have had a longer run or that there was another one to look forward to as there had always been in Venice. Yet she knew that she would probably never sing in an actual theatre again, unless the King commissioned another opera and insisted that she sing the lead role. Or any role, for that matter. She had been in her element on that stage and now she felt lost and out of place.

 

With Anna's help, she changed quickly out of her costume and into the gown she had worn to the theatre. Her hair remained in its elaborate Greek style, for it would have taken too much time to redo. The flowers and leaves had been removed, but the ribbons were still woven through her flaxen curls.

 

As soon as she was fully dressed, she entered the auditorium, looking around for Lord Maldon. The Queen had not attended the performance and she needed to collect the gift she had planned to give her, so that she could try again tomorrow at the ball. Anna followed behind her, as she always did.

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She did not arrive. He'd known she'd not return really, he'd made an ass of himself - which was the norm when it came to he and women really. Still, contemplating a fondle in a carriage had been warming during the nights watch, helping to idle away the hours.

 

All in all it had been a successful evening, with no out of the ordinary events, skirmishes or troubles presented to the Kings men.

 

 

~& Fin for me!

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John and Sophia

 

John had been waiting outside the boxes, and so saw several people sneaking away early. He only recognized the Duke of York but they paid him no mind and he paid them little mind as well. When he saw Sophia he smiled widely, whatever else might be going on he was happy to see his friend… and happy that his trust in her had been validated. So much had gone wrong that even a small victory felt large.

 

“It w-w-was marvelous.” He said with a wide smile. He held out the box, “A g-g-gift, as is the tradition, yes?” As she had so helpfully informed him. Inside was a garland of flowers, which were traditionally given at the end of English country plays, and a golden tiara. The gold had been worked into a forest scene and had a center panel where gems formed the shape of a crescent moon.

 

“The Queen isn’t here.” John said. He had no other packages. He had left her gift with his sister. “You m-m-might go see the King or Buckingham, if you have a f-f-favor to beg.” Like something related to her theater. “A p-p-patent on musical theater, some land to build it on and support it maybe?” John suggested.

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John and Sophia

 

People were already leaving and for some reason, Sophia felt even sadder. She had never seen an audience depart in Venice, and it emphasized the fact that the opera was over. Would they remember it tomorrow? Or was it just another show to them, one they would soon forget when the next play or concert came along? To her, it was a triumph of musical perfection; to them, it was probably only an entertaining way to amuse themselves.

 

Well and so.

 

Her mood lightened when she saw Lord Maldon, and she quickly made her way over to him. At least he seemed to have enjoyed it. And he had brought a gift for her! “I am glad you liked it,” she replied, taking the box and handing it to Anna so that she could lift the lid. Her eyes lit up when she beheld the garland of flowers and the golden tiara with its crescent moon made out of gems.

 

Flowers at last, and the tiara would always remind her of her role. Her costumes and jewelry belonged to the theatre, and she couldn't take them with her. “They're beautiful! Thank you, my friend! It is, indeed, a tradition in Venice to give the singers flowers and gifts. But this is the first opera ever performed in England and I don't think many people knew.”

 

It was also possible that gifts and flowers would arrive at her home. In Italy, she had sometimes received gifts a week after the show. As nobody had known where Giuliana Fiore had lived, they were delivered to the theatres she had performed in. Here, however, everyone would know where the Spanish Ambassador resided.

 

She nodded when he told her that the Queen had not come. “I noticed as soon as I stepped onstage. I guess she is not fond of opera.” It was gaining popularity in Germany, mostly among the nobility, so she had probably see at least one.

 

As for asking favors: “I do want to have an opera house built here, but I do not believe that this is the best time to bring it up. It looks like everyone is leaving. Hopefully, both the King and Lord Buckingham will congratulate me later, perhaps tomorrow at the ball, and I will be able to speak to them then.

 

“Do you have the pyramid? We can give it to the Queen at the ball tomorrow.”

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John and Sophia

 

“It w-w-was really grand. The music was sublime!” John wasn’t done gushing yet. He was still smiling widely. “You all d-d-deserve all you’ll get and more. And I’m privileged to be the first to give.”

 

John nodded to Sophia’s wishes, still smiling with the joy of the performance. “I c-c-can… bring it tomorrow.” John said of the pyramid. He didn’t want Sophia to run into Lord Cavendish just now. He had all but drooled over her and he didn’t want to agitate Lady Cavendish. "D-d-don't worry. Just enjoy tonight."

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