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Summoned | @Rupert's 24/12 afternoon- Xmas 1677

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Prince Rupert resided, while in London, in a collection of well appointed rooms that carried a theme of Rhenish design, which created a rather interesting contrast to the bold Gothic architecture, for this was one of the older parts of the palace. The Duke held only modest accommodations at Whitehall, his main residence being at Windsor Castle. His common law wife Peg Hughes also resided here during the season.


Upon entrance the visitor would note the rose wood and the many roses about the room. The rest of the interior basked in masculinity, military shields, banners and rifles, collections of weapons simply everywhere. The visitor would await the Duke's pleasure in the receiving room, where the deeper part of the apartment revealed a study, a drawing room for ladies and two bedrooms as well as rooms for servants.


Beverley arrived a few hours after receiving the missive, dressed in his uniform, which was not odd but not his usual either. Truth be told, he did not have that many of his sets of clothes with him, which had resulted in much more uniform-wearing over the recess as well.


The bright scarlet of it made him look even more pale with his dark hair and dark hazel eyes. He seemed worn and tired, with bluish tinge under his eyes. Although hard to notice for someone who saw him nearly every day as Rupert did, that he had lost a bit of weight was still somewhat evident by the fit of his clothes. Any who had not seen him over the last few months would definitely notice.


As was usual, the viscount was allowed in without comment.

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"She is your daughter, not some farm girl!" Peg was exclaiming to the Prince. "If she does not want to learn to ride then you cannot force her."


As Beverley came into view, he would see Rupert and Peg Hughes sitting down for tea in the inner room. They seemed to be having a heated conversation.


"The girl has royal blood in her. She is an offspring of one of the most noble houses in Europe. She will learn to ride if I have to tie her to the horse!" It was clear that they were speaking of their daughter Rupertina.


In exasperation, Peg looked away and spotted Beverley in the doorway. "Beverley, thank goodness you are here. You need to talk some sense into His Grace." Each might try and impose upon poor Beverley to support their position in a domestic fight. It was not an enviable position to hold.

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Beverley moved towards the voices although he rather knew most of their private patterns after so many years. His eyebrow quirked as it seemed they were talking about riding. He perked up some and then put together that they were talking about the prince's daughter, their daughter.


Just as he was about to make his presence known in the doorway, Peg noticed his arrival and instantly drew him into the conversation without a breath.


Women were very good at that.


He bowed first, and prettily too, because he had absolutely no idea what he was going to say and he almost never stammered around Rupert in recent years and did not wish to start now.


First his hazel eyes went to Rupert briefly, and then he turned back his eyes to the lady that was his master's common law wife. He would entertain whatever she might say, because he knew it was the kind thing.


"On what matter, madame?" he asked, as if wholly ignorant.


Even if one had very obviously overheard something, it was polite to pretend that one had not. This was especially true when you served in any royal household.

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The Duke acknowledged Beverley's arrival but said nothing, allowing Peg the initial foray. It was the sporting thing to do.


"Rupertina," Peg explained quickly. "His Grace believes it time for her to learn to ride, but she shows no interest in learning from her father. She is still young and able to learn later." Mothers like Peg Hughes believed children had phases of disobedience and obedience. One merely had to outwait a phase.


"I learned at a much earlier age," Rupert declared gruffly.


"You are an extraordinary man and were an extraordinary boy no doubt. Your daughter learns things more slowly. She ... she is a gentle creature."


The unasked question did not make it past her lips. Her look at Beverley was an obvious attempt at gaining his agreement.

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Beverley silently wondered if this was 'no interest' or a tantrum of no interest, because he had his own suspicions. He did have nephews as well, so he had some idea of what children did.


"I do not know about all that, madam," he replied, slowly, standing perfectly statuesquely with one hand on his court sword and the other behind his back. "Surely she could, erm, learn later, but the earlier one learns anything, the better, as well." Perhaps he had witnessed enough civil disagreements between his parents to have some capability for playing both sides. However, he knew to whom his greater allegiances were as well.


The description of his master's daughter as gentle was almost comical to Beverley. He raised his eyebrows at that, totally unable to hide it. Not only was it that age where children had fits, but Rupertina rather took after Rupert far more than 'gentle' would describe. Stubborn and perhaps bossy would fit, but far be it for such honesty to exit his mouth.


Beverley added, for Rupert's benefit, and to also distract from the look of surprise that had just been on his face, "Any royal station oft brings unwanted obligations which his highness and your daughter are thereby measured and such is very important to her future, and a child cannot understand that." Neither, fully, could Mrs. Hughes, as much as he was very fond of her.


The viscount might be quiet, but he was far from stupid. He understood things like strategy and blood like any born to a family as old as his. Cumberland was probably one of few that got to see that from Beverley, because after so long Beverley was not as nervous.


Not to mention he had heard similar speeches growing up himself, so he felt it likely rather transferred. He might think a lot of things about Brooke, but he knew his father was a rather incomparable patriarch besides the short-coming of only having one son, Beverley, to survive him.

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Peg astutely observed Beverley attempt to navigate through the rocky shoals of domestic disagreement. He handled the situation as deftly as he might. The former actress was not surprised that the Viscount would end up siding with his patron, yet she was disappointed that she could not bend him to her will on such a minor topic.


"You think she should be forced to learn to ride then?" Peg asked pointedly as she gazed at Robert with enough attention to cause him some expected discomfort.


"Encouraged Peg," the Prince attempted, pleased that Beverley let sense triumph over indulgence. He had thought about using the word compelled but thought it better blunted his lover's concern by making it sound as if it were some negotiation.


Peg shifted her gaze back and forth between the men. "And how do you think you will be successful in encouraging her?"

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Said Robert was thankful to be rescued by the German Prince, for he surely did not mean forced, per se, but was not obedience something to be enforced? Perhaps girls were more indulged, but sure not so very indulged that a stern talking to would not do the trick?


Annie would cry if Papa looked at her crossly, the viscount thought of his elder sister, the only sibling he had ever known of many.


He still did not know what to say to Mrs Hughes.


Blinking, Beverley then considered her question. He bit his lip. This was out of his arena. He was a military strategist, not a parent or governess!


All he had to draw on is what had or would have gotten him to do the things he did not wish to do.


"Why not offer to reward her with something she wishes if she does what she does not wish? Or, erm, do something to make it more enjoyable. Perhaps a favourite playmate she would like to be with shall learn too?" He looked between both and gave a facial shrug.


Anything was better as a child when you were not forced to do it by yourself.

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The Duke did not enjoy negotiating with children. They should simply obey and do their duty. Too many parents were lax in that regard. Still, since his child was a girl, he was willing to indulge her a bit more, much as he indulged his morganic wife.


Peg, on the other hand, enjoyed bargaining. She led a very expensive lifestyle and it required that she negotiate for more money and jewelry from Rupert. It was a game between them, as much as he would profess to hate it; or, at least that was her impression.


"She has been wanting a party," Peg reminded her lord before giving an approving look to Beverley. He would raise fine children, she was sure. "So, we have a Christmas party, invite Nell's brood, and then you present her with her own pony as a present. She will need to learn to ride the pony if she is to use her present." She looked at Beverley for support. "What do you think Beverley? It seems more mercantile to bargain with her before the party." She had chosen her words carefully, knowing that Rupert disliked his family acting in a mercantile fashion.

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Beverley looked between the two as if to gauge his master's thoughts on all of this. It seemed an acceptable sort of thing.


Mercantile would not do, though.


"Perhaps make no mention of it. Gift the pony with some pretty baubles and then simply arrange the lessons without asking. With her own to learn on, perhaps she will merely go along without a fuss."


He turned his hazel eyes to Rupert and added, "Does she not like riding up with your highness?"


His two younger nephews enjoyed riding up in the saddle with. They always wished to go riding then. Perhaps a similar thing would true with little girls.


"Perhaps she is afraid but too proud to admit so?" That seemed like a girl thing to do, fuss about something scary and try to evade it.

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Peg nodded her agreement with Beverley's approach. She had her own reasons for never suggesting that gifts should have conditions attached.


Rupert grumbled, especially at the mention that his Rupertina could be scared. It was poppycock in his mind.


While the Prince feigned a lack of interest in bribing his daughter and then arranging lessons, Peg nodded at Beverley with pleading eyes when he mentioned Rupertina's fear. The message was obvious -- for all of Rupertina's bossiness and royal blood, she was scared of horses and neither she nor her mother could bear to tell His Grace. "A small pony might be a good first step," Peg suggested aloud, as if to signal a path to conquer that fear.

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"My nephews learned on a pony," he said, with a nod. Ireland, though, seemed to have far more smaller horses to Beverley. If Rupertina wished a pony, one would be easy enough to find for a royal.


Beverley had very little idea the machinations that were going on between the couple. He was merely trying to escape the situation in a hopefully helpful manner. All he had to draw upon was his three little nephews, and they were all boys.


The viscount had already proven to know little to none about women.


Smiling and thinking it all resolved, he looked to Rupert expectantly. Surely he had not just been called to weigh his opinion on something very much not his business. There had to be something else.

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As if to dismiss the topic, the Prince agreed in a waspish manner. "Yes yes, a pony. But this is for training Peg, so it should not be expensive. I'll ask Johann to find the right one. Now then, I have business to discuss with Beverley." The rest of the thought did not need to be uttered. Peg collected her things and left the room with a smile in Beverley's direction.


Once she had left the room, his irritated look melted. How much of it was show and how much genuine was hard to know.


"There is to be no Christmas Parliament unless of emergency," Cumberland began. "Even though most every lord is here, the King wishes to keep politics at a minimum during the holidays." By the look in the older man's eyes, Beverley would be able to tell that he did not agree with the King. He was itching for a war, perhaps his final one.


"The King claims he has no money for my cannons. His Lord Treasurer has fled and he refuses to use his Privy Purse to outfit the navy. The House of Commons will only raise revenue if a war against France is declared." In a serious tone he relayed the information he had collected. "In the meantime, our navy is not fit. it needs the advantage that my cannon provides. The King ... he will not listen. He invites me to pay for it." The Prince was a wealthy man but not wealthy enough to fund the armament of the navy. Already his expenses in developing the gun were taxing his resources.


"We must devise a plan to raise money for the King. It cannot be a tax that needs the approval of Parliament. It must be something within the King's power." Therein was the challenge. "I need you to help me explore possibilities," he declared bluntly, fully aware that his aide's talents lay in other directions. Yet, older men sometimes thought that younger men might help them see opportunities to which they might be blind.

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Beverley dipped his head as his master's pseudo-wife left the room.


The Lord High Admiral's demeanor changed after that, as did Beverley's. Both seemed to relax, although likely for different reasons.


The viscount's relaxation, though, was short lived.


Raising money!


Beverley could find no words for a moment. Surely Cumberland did not expect an answer then and there, and his large eyes likely reflected that.


That was more...mercantile...than his usual skill set.


Not to mention he was far better at spending money than in scheming to create it.


"I shall do my best, Your Highness," he finally answered. What else could he say. Stating the obvious was silly. Cumberland knew what Beverley was good at. It was not finance, it was strategy and history and tactics...


The viscount was not astute enough to fully appreciate the overlap.


"How many more are needed?" Just that question might buy more time for him to even realize what he had been asked to do!

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The enlarged eyes caused Rupert to chuckle. His aide was out of his element and could not disguise it for his master.


"It cannot be so hard," the older man assured the younger one. "He could sell royal assets, titles, offices, monopolies, and the like. Perhaps there are other ways to raise money ... through harbor tariffs or duties. The Royal Chancellor might know what the limits of royal power are." Rupert had thought to go see Finch himself but he thought it would make him seem like some pauper or banking agent for the King. Neither image would be acceptable. Nor would it be suitable to appear ignorant of the laws of England. it was better that Beverley appear so. He was a young man, and plainly naïve in many ways. Why not use that innocence to his advantage to learn what he could?


The Viscount asked after the amount needed. This caused Cumberland to pause. "I should think we need 1000 guns to begin to outfit the fleet. Perhaps we can build each for under a hundred pounds."

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If it is not so very hard, we would have our cannon by now... the viscount thought. He had spent many months on this already. It was all he could do to sigh quietly through his nose as he listened to talk of the Lord Chancellor while he stood there statuesquely.


I should have paid better attention those lessons... He was well aware that as a future earl, from one of the original Norman families, he should know all of those things without the Lord Chancellor. It merely served to remind him of his father. Both because Brooke would know as well, even though Beverley could hardly ask him with their current estrangement, and because his father had been diligent in teaching him. Beverley had just squandered it. Now he was paying the price, much like his lack of French speaking skills was embarrassing at Dover months prior.


And the guilt rose enough to make him uncomfortable in a way that made him purse his lips. It was a bit nauseating.


His eyes widened again at the amount of money needed. That was not an amount to slip quietly through any cracks. That was like the income of a small country!


The viscount was generally not high on optimism as it was, but this task seemed like quite the mountain in his current frame of mind and physical state.


Parliament will surely have to meet in a few weeks in early Spring....why not wait?


Beverley did not voice his thoughts, though. He merely bowed his assent and replied with the staple, "As your highness wishes."


He had long ago abandoned relying heavily on those staple phrases with the German prince, so either his misgivings with the task or his personal turmoil was probably apparent, perhaps both.

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Difficulty was a relative concept. The old thought things less difficult than the young. The mighty less so than the lowly. In particular, difficulty was always less for one that imagined the task than for the one charged with executing it.


As was often the case, Beverley spoke few words to his master. Rupert was left to determine for himself whether Beverley had ideas or not. "No questions then?" he solicited. His aide was not looking very confident at the moment.


Rupert had come to distrust that Parliament would do anything. It was better to rely on royal power if one could, even in a kingdom like England where kings were kept paupers and given constrained powers. Their French cousin did not suffer such limitations.


His mind still on Beverley, Rupert thought to relax the lad. "How is married life? Is all well with you?"

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"No, Sir," he replied. "I shall work as diligently to this new avenue as the old ones."


The prior avenues were simply more within his sphere than this new one would be, and he had little idea how willing His Majesty would be to give up funds he could otherwise keep if it was within royal power to raise them to begin with...


Even if we did raise it by such means, surely the King would keep a large portion and another large portion would likely be taken up in bribes.


That figure of money was fast growing larger in his mind.


Then the prince surprised him with a more personal question, and Beverley's eyes went a bit large again, likely betraying that all was far from well with him.


"I..." He rubbed his lips together to wet them. "Erm..."


His brow furrowed and he looked down. There was no safe thing to say. There was no response that was both true and appropriate, and unlike his penchants with his father, he made no habits of lying to Cumberland at all.


"I...do not know, I have not experienced it in fullness, your highness," he finally replied.


He could not hide the issues forever. Gossip at court would likely soon have everyone know that he and his father were not speaking. Cumberland had to have figured out he was not staying with his father, as the note had eventually come to his sister's.

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It seemed that Beverley understood his mission, since there were no questions raised. His aide handled the matter as any soldier might, so there was no cause for concern for Rupert.


The other subject broached did not engender the same confidence in the Prince. There was something that Beverley was not telling him. Rupert did not imagine himself an expert on women, by any means; but, he had been alive long enough to have learned a thing or two about marriage and wives.


"Not experienced it in fullness?" The older man chose to lower his voice in case Peg was eavesdropping. "Good lord man, you bedded her surely. What do you mean?" The young man's word choice had hinted nothing about parental problems, so the Prince was left to surmise other shortcomings.

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Beverley was not one to blush, being one more prone to paling. He had not particularly realized how his words might sound.


"Oh! Yes. In that yes. Frequently. Yes," he rambled out quickly, nodding his head emphatically. No man wished anyone to question their prowess, let alone a royal prince!


"Erm...It is more that we are...deprived of our own household," he said quietly, as if he barely wanted to say it aloud at all. "And...my, erm, lord father stole my dowry, having it written into the estate." He felt a bit light-headed at this confession, the embarrassment of it far too much.


"And we are not speaking. I, erm, stay with my sister since returning from Windsor with Your Highness...but that is admittedly also my lord father's house." And he really rather expected he might get booted out from there at some point as well.


"So I am kept penniless and homeless in my protest of this," he finally declared, with a bit of venom.

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The Duke of Cumberland was no gossip. He viewed himself above such feminine pastimes. Peg would prattle on about meaningless intrigues while he preferred more substantial topics. As such, Rupert was caught unaware of Beverley's circumstances.


There was surprise at the revelation, but not shock. A father's wishes were to be honored in all things. The fact that a father was acting unreasonably was unfortunate but not unforgivable.


The older man was silent for a time as he thought on his aide's situation. One option was to speak with Beverley's father. The prince was powerful enough that he might sway the Earl; but, would that be in the best interest of Beverley? Should not a man be left to fight his own battles?


The other answer was to obtain quarters for Beverley in the palace. "I shall speak to the Chamberlain and obtain quarters for you nearby,' the Prince declared. "They will likely be small but they should suffice for your needs. One should avoid living on the charity of one's sister if possible. It will also allow your wife to be seen about court more. Perhaps the Queen might take an interest in her," he hinted. Already he had planted the seeds in the mind of his niece.


"Leave the matter to me," the older man announced. "It will allow you to concentrate on your task at hand." The latter point was offered to make it seem that the effort was more about pragmatism than pity.

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  • 2 weeks later...

He felt the embarrassment like a whole, rotting apple right in the middle of his chest. The silence of the moment was a bit painful, for he had no idea what sort of silence it was. He was a bit to ashamed of the situation to want to look at the Prince's face, although he might not have been able to read the expression anyway.


The blame he placed on his father for placing him into this situation.


It was thankful the elder man finally spoke, because Beverley was about ready for the floor to swallow him.


His head snapped up, and he went from wallowing to shock. Brown eyes stared blankly for a long moment, his lips slightly parted.


"Truly?" he finally managed to ask, rather abruptly.


He blinked at the rest of the sentiment.


I should have my wife about court more so that the Queen might notice her?


His eyesbrows both sent up, and his eyes widened as if wondering whether his master was going to expound.

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Rupert knew his young aide reasonably well. The lad was gifted in many things useful but had difficulty masking his emotions. That would be learned in time.


When Beverley asked if the prince spoke truly, Rupert tried to remove any evidence of mirth from his face. "Have you known me to jest about such things?" It was perhaps cruel to the young man, but it was for his own good. No doubt the young man was not getting enough sleep and was overly worried about details that would only distract him from his duties. The Duke preferred Beverley to focus on his duties instead.


"Yes, I shall arrange it this day," Cumberland pledged. "We shall have your new quarters before the year is out." There were only seven more days in the year. "Tell your man to collect your belongings. Tell your wife too," he added looking for signs that Beverley understood what he had been suggesting. Apparently not.


"You need to establish your independence from your father. You do so through your service to me and the King. You do it also by seeing your wife placed. She is a Somerset and from a good family. The Queen has the Duchess of Somerset as a maid, but she is from an insignificant house that has its roots with Cromwell, rather than the King. A Seymour serves the Princess, but none serve the Queen. Your wife, by rights, has a good claim to consideration to join my niece's household. Though I can assist you Beverley, you must find a way to take the lead in introducing Mary to the Queen, and her ladies. The ball tomorrow would be an excellent beginning. Just as you must be seen Beverley, so too must your wife. You must see her attired as an important lady, befitting her rank." The girl looked as if she were only 12 years old to the Prince, but he said nothing of the desire to make her look older.


"Have her wear her best jewelry and silk. I am sure Peg would lend you some of her pieces if necessary." Things could be done more simply, but nothing earned without effort was ever truly rewarding in the mind of the old soldier.

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"No, of course not, Your Highness," he replied. "I am just...stunned by the generosity of such a thing."


Any sort of room in the palace was at a premium. Beverley was experiencing a very surreal moment and he was not feeling very well, so he was even less guarded than usual. Clearly, he was a bit stunned at the possibility that he could exist separately from his father, although he honestly did wonder how he was supposed to afford much of anything.


His father might not have shared much with him in the last five years, but they lived at a level that Beverley could not give the equivalent on his own.


All of it enlarged his dark hazel eyes considerably, white standing out in stark comparison.


As to his wife, "Of course she is of significant enough family for such, but...well, I am simply surprised you thought of it, of my lady wife and I, in such a way..." This was a more personal sort of advancement than in giving him a rank which he had, in most ways, earned on his own.


"You would wish her to borrow your jewels?" Beverley was now doubly stunned. His lips parted some in a bit of wonder. If he did not accept that offer, he had the good sense to realize Mary might truly be displeased with him. How often might you get to wear princely jewels? "I am certain she would be most grateful."


Needless to say, even when he was at peace with his father, Brooke did not let anything of supreme value to his son, not fully trusting him after the incident at Oxford. Cumberland did not hold the same sort of history with Beverley.


"Do you think the Queen might like her?" He raised a brow, only knowing that his wife had crossed paths with the Queen while he was with Rupert at Windsor. Perhaps he had missed something? Or not listened well enough?


Either could be the case with Beverley, sometimes he did best with blunt.

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It was a small favor from Cumberland. Arlington was trying to weasel his way back into the King's good graces and had been begging Rupert to assist him. Having control of palace rooms and servants made Arlington useful sometimes.


"Consider it done. It will be no grand suite mind you, but it will be something you can call your own."


As for the jewels, it was an offer. "I do not wish her to borrow the jewels, but you will learn, as a married man, that wives thirst for jewelry as most husbands thirst after ... other things. Wives cannot be seen wearing the same jewelry within the same week, or so they will tell you. Thus, they must have a great variety if they are to impress other wives with competing jewelry boxes. Given your limited circumstances, I am assuming that Mary does not have a large jewelry box. So, I am assuming that she will need to borrow jewelry from other ladies to make it look like her own jewelry box is all the larger. It is the same trick we soldiers play on our enemies," he chuckled, trying to help Beverley understand with examples that were more in the realm of his understanding.


"Peg is quite possessive of her jewels, but she will lend a few to Mary if we ask it, to help Mary make an impression." He needed to make clear that Peg would want the jewelry back, or she would insist that Rupert buy her more. In fact, she would do so even if the jewelry were returned promptly. It was the way she was.


As for ways to catch the eye of the Queen, Rupert had less wisdom to share. It was a sport known mostly to women. He would offer Peg's wisdom but she was a creature of the theater, not court. She knew nothing of queens. No, instead Rupert was about to suggest that Mary approach Ursula Blount. Yet, he hesitated, wondering if smaller steps might be better. "I think she might like her," the Prince acknowledged, wanting to give his aide motivation. "Perhaps she should seek to befriend Caroline's other ladies to learn what she can. There is Somerset, her cousin by marriage, Susan Herbert, and Davina Wellsley, for example. Take care with the latter. She is a Catholic."

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Beverley's eyes did get wider and wider as the prince elaborated on jewels. He did only have a modest income if he lived separately from his father, so he had not been able to give his wife any jewels since he had fought with his father. She only had what she brought with her and gifts from that first week of marriage, which from the sounds of it, was far from good enough.


"Men do compete over it too," Beverley added. "I think it far more worthy an occupation to think about our sort of dealing with the enemy, Sir."


Not that Beverley did not like grandeur, he just rather took it for granted and also had learned to make do without excessive peacocking since his father had tightened the coin flow after Oxford...


One thing Beverley was thankfully good at was knowing families. "Lord Basildon is married to her half-sister, and his sister is in the Queen's household too."


He did not wish Cumberland to feel the need to do it all for him.


"I understand. I shall talk to her and send her in such directions," Beverley said. "And a place here, thanks to Your Highness, shall make all of that and my duties to our cause the easier. Was there anything else you wished?"

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"Yes, yes, half-sister." He was corrected that Elizabeth Seymour was a half-sister to Mary Somerset rather than a cousin. It was hard enough remembering his own family line.


"You might see if your mother has some jewelry to spare as well, " the Prince offered. He knew Beverley's mother to be the loving type. Perhaps she sought to compensate for the hardness of her husband. Women were like that.


Beverley asked after other matters. It was quite enough for one day. "Nothing more," the older man confirmed. "We shall see you two at the ball tomorrow." He had given his aide much to consider and much to do. "You are dismissed." Turning away from his aide, Rupert thought it a good time to become current on his correspondence. The holidays were always the worst.

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Or her mother... Beverley began plotting. Surely there were feminine strings that could easily pulled by young feminine fingers? Nostalgia, or something. Perhaps Mary could cry to both of them that he was an idiot, and it was not her fault.


"A very good idea. I shall put it to her. There are enough female relations that might be sympathetic." Her brothers as well, perhaps, they seemed to care for their sister.


"Have a good afternoon, Your Highness," he said, before taking his leave, both lightened and somewhat re-weighted. He would have some place to stay independent of his father, but his means were not very great, and he somehow had to figure out ways to immediately fund his master's cannon and aid his wife in moving closer to the Queen.


It was a lot to contemplate for the twenty-two year old viscount with his considerably younger wife, especially without his father's presence and advise. With a sigh he continued on his way. He would have to collect his wife before the opera. She was eager for such a novel thing, and it was truly her first season of freedom from her mother and father.


(Fin, thanks!)

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