'Tis the Season for Strategy | @Ruperts 27/12 am- Xmas 1677

[Robert Saint-Leger]

Duke of Cumberland's Private Sitting Room

The room was large, open and surprisingly bright, lit by floor-to-ceiling windows along the far wall, the draperies of which had been pulled as far back as they might. The walls were panelled in vibrantly embroidered Chinese silks, trimmed with wide, rich, dark walnut, as though each panel were a work of art. Art from various far-away lands dotted the room, each a precious piece with personal value to the apartments’ occupant. Might there be the hand of a woman in the décor? Perhaps, but it somehow retained the masculinity and personality of the Duke.

 

Beverley found that now that he was closer again, it was easier to resume his usual routines as Cumberland's aide despite the fact that he had been feeling lingeringly unwell. That morning he had gone through the correspondence and sorted it, and he started penning replies to the ones where he knew the standard reply. There was a familiar comfort in it, and he hoped that the Prince would emerge before he finished.

 

They had not spoken since his brief conversation with the French, nor since he had moved into his new accommodations, and he felt it important to be gracious. At least the study would be nice and warm for the aging royal at this point.

[Blackguard]

Just as he hoped, the Prince emerged from his bedchamber in that moment. He had been dressed formally and already enjoyed breakfast in his nightshirt, as was his custom.

 

Seeing his aide, Rupert approached. Perhaps there was some important missive that needed to be brought to his attention.

 

"Good morning Robert. How are your new quarters? Any important correspondence this morning?" The older man seemed impatient. While many enjoyed the diversions of the holidays, Rupert was more apt to lament the fact that little work was done to advance things that held his interest.

[Robert Saint-Leger]

Beverley had that strange capability of the nobility to write without getting ink all over his very generous sleeves and cuffs. It was also thankful that Cumberland did not startle him, being they were the prince's rooms.

 

"Good morning, Your HIghness," he greeted, as he rose and bowed. "They are very well, thank you, Sir." He smiled in his youthful way; a way that still could convey guileless appreciation. "I admit, I can appreciate your sentiment for the arrangement and share in it, far more similar to arrangements at Windsor, and this weather is horrid to be out. Such snow!"

 

It was, after all, not usual for London weather. Battersea was no far jaunt if it was summer, but in winter it was a considerable inconvenience when one was unwell to begin with.

 

"Of relative importance," Beverley said with a semi-sad look of commiseration. Distractions from the state of his affairs would be rather welcome. "Much is the expected seasonal well-wishes, I fear." Not even Beverley would write responses to most those and would leave the simple task for an underling. "There are a few ship reports."

 

"There is also the matter of the French ambassador from the Ball the other evening."

[Blackguard]

"Yes, having you near gives you no reason to concoct an excuse not to come to the palace," Rupert replied in good-natured humor. He gave the young lord a smile and moved to look over his shoulder.

 

Holiday correspondence was an ordeal for the famous and the powerful. It seemed as though everyone in England wanted to be remembered with a letter or a letter and a gift. At times temporary clerks were put to work to assist with the responses. Robert was being asked to find the most important correspondence and recommend responses. "It sounds as if there is nothing critical." He sounded almost disappointed. Indeed, there was nothing particularly noteworthy in the stack of correspondence that Robert had reviewed.

 

"The French Ambassador?" Robert found his master to be interested, in a wary sort of way. "Which one? Ruvigny or Barillon? Let me pretend I did not know what they wanted." That was Beverley's invitation to summarize the conversation.

[Robert Saint-Leger]

"The both of them?" Beverley replied. He sighed. He did not like being cornered.

 

"They wished to put my feet to the flames over the impending war." His master had already made him aware that there was not really to be a war. He raised a brow, "They wished to know what more His Majesty could wish from the French, to which I replied that it was, of course, Parliament and the mob who calls for war and that all that is far above my rank." His eyes crinkled some at that. He knew a lot of things that he had to excuse away easily as out of his knowing.

 

He smiled some, "I said they need not talk to me to know the mob feels proper recompense was not made." Perhaps they could squeeze some more out of the deep, French pockets out of there mere fear of going to war.

[Blackguard]

"It is ever the duty of diplomats to learn all that they might," Rupert replied, seemingly not offended that the two had sought to corner his young aide. "Barillon seems more ... dangerous than Ruvigny, so he is the one to watch Robert." Ruvigny was an honorable man and a military man. As such, a rapport had developed between Rupert and he. Perhaps it was just the lack of familiarity with the new ambassador that caused trepidation.

 

Rupert knew that King Louis was not pleased with Ruvigny's performance in the past year or two. Barillon was a Catholic and that was not going to be helpful, even if he had the trust of the Sun King.

 

"A good answer Robert. A good answer," he complimented. The King was content for a phony war with France. Rupert would have supported an actual war, but the winds of war were being redirected. "They need to pay us enough to equip the fleet with my cannon," he muttered wryly. Otherwise, he would need to find other methods of funding.

 

"Is there anything we should discuss this morning?" he invited. "Otherwise, I am going to seek out the King."

[Robert Saint-Leger]

"Well, Your Highness, I will not be able to give the answer of not knowing indefinitely. They are both intelligent enough to know that I was dodging them and that you were as well." His fingers fiddled with the lace of his sleeves behind his back. He did not oft feel such nervousness around Cumberland anymore, but he was no ambassador.

 

"What if the next time they do wish to try and buy His Majesty off? I should need to know what to answer, for surely we cannot take such coin directly and appropriate it." Beverley was no revolutionary and thankfully he knew that neither was his master. Cumberland was not one to hide things from the king or plan to profit from intrigue. He wet his lips before he added, "Nor do I think such things can ever be hidden."

 

After all, the Dover Treaty had been exposed which entailed a similar cache of French money to subvert the desires of the English people. A repeat performance would not end well. Intentions to rob the French was not a particularly reliable defense.

[Blackguard]

Though more soldier than diplomat, Rupert knew how to handle the French. "There is a path Robert, but we do not lay it out until we are ready. First, they must disavow the secret provisions of the treaty. Second, they must provide various goodwill gestures that could take the place of the the missing Dover subsidies ... but the challenge will be how best to keep control over these funds for the King, rather than the Parliament. Perhaps the attempt on the King's life shall provide the proper basis, though the French have done everything to put a far distance between that episode and the French throne," he advised. He moved to select a silver-tipped walking cane that had been the gift of his older brother. The cold made his knee hurt at times.

 

"Best you direct them to the Northern Secretary. That is the man paid to delay and demand," he added with a satisfied grunt. "Meanwhile you and I will find a way to gain the needed monies for the cannon upgrade."

[Robert Saint-Leger]

Beverley blinked, wondering if the mob would believe the French disavowal anyway; it was in French interests to lie if His Majesty had such Catholic sympathies. Being Catholic himself, he understood how little any defense could be in the face of such irrationality and prejudice.

 

He licked his lips and listened, standing statue still with his hands behind his back.

 

"I will, of course, do as Your Highness asks and send them to Lord Sunderland, but do you really think it will matter if the French disavow it, Sir? The mob simply thinks they are a bunch of lying Papists who wish to overtake us and drag every Protestant to Rome by the ear. They do not trust English Catholics, let alone French ones." Beverley was skeptical anything which came from any Catholic would do aught other than inflame the mob.

 

"Shall I walk with you so that I do not delay you?" he asked with a nod. He had a good sense of efficiency.

[Blackguard]

The Prince was never one that believed in placating the mob. They were Roundhead pawns in his mind.

 

"The mob will not believe it, and they may be right to think the French are a bunch of lying Papists who wish to overtake us and drag every Protestant to Rome by the ear," he declared with a grunt, reaching for his overcoat. A servant came scurrying to assist with the coat but Cumberland waved him off. "They are not to be trusted, but we do not need to give them our trust. We need for them to give us gold. They will, in time," he predicted.

 

"I am thinking it would do me some good to take in some fresh air," he announced as Robert offered to follow. It was a habit of Cumberland to take a constitutional outdoors at least once a day. Curiously, he believed that cold air had a certain medicinal quality. It seemed to clear his head and his nasal passages at times. "You are free to come along, or stay with the correspondence. I shan't be long."

[Robert Saint-Leger]

Beverley only cared about the mob because the lower house cared about them. One seemed to be fueled by the other. If the MPs were not satisfied, Beverley feared it would do little but swell the ranks of the likes of Shaftesbury, calling for French conspiracies and threats to their sovereignty.

 

He had little doubt that they could get French gold; it had been done before. To Beverley the first time had proved dangerous and had made things far worse for Catholics. It stimulated his nerves to think of the fallout should a second such thing become public knowledge whether His Majesty wished it or not.

 

"What is your impression of Lord Sunderland?" Beverley asked. They were in most tenuous times. Though he was a Catholic, he heartily prayed for a Protestant heir. It would make things far less troublesome.

 

While Cumberland put on his overcoat, Beverley took up his hat and gloves and held them for the gargantuan prince wordlessly.

 

"I daresay I could use a repose from correspondence. Though I am very pleased Your Highness seems to grow yet more well-wishers with every year." Beverley smiled. "We are going to need more wax."

[Blackguard]

"Sunderland seems capable. He is earnest and is no toady to the King's merry ways," Rupert commented as he collected his gloves and hat from Beverley. The Prince had little tolerance for the pimps and bravados that aspired to nothing more than being part of the King's entourage.

 

Waiting for his aide to dress appropriately for the outdoors. "Have you a conclusion about the Northern Secretary?" He was not sure if Robert had spent any time with the man. "One thing is certain ... he will give no commissions to Catholics." The last Northern Secretary was still held in the Tower for such an outrage. "He seems to get along with the Dutch better than the French, which is just as well."

 

When Beverley was ready, the Prince led the way from his chambers. "How is your wife? Are you getting along with her family?"

[Robert Saint-Leger]

Beverley put his overcoat on too and then put his gloves on before picking up his own hat. He would only put it on when he was outside.

 

"I confess to not knowing Lord Sunderland, and since he has only recently been to the, erm, position and we have been at Windsor, that hasn't been remedied."

 

Beverley did not say anything in regard to the new Northern Secretary not giving any commissions to Catholics. He thought that Sunderland's wife came from Catholic stock. There was some kind of kinship with Lord Bristol, but even if he did remember there would have been no words of it.

 

What he did say was about the Dutch and the French. "The Dutch are a Protestant ally and, erm, with His Majesty's nephew...but the French are very powerful to have as an enemy, and dangerous as a friend." Beverley did not think King Louis thought of anything but himself, Catholic or not.

 

"She is well," he said, though he frowned. The entire thought of family and Christmastide seemed very burdensome to the viscount. "I have not had the opportunity to see much of them since I have been married." When court was not ongoing, everyone who had estates generally went to the country. Beverley had gone to Windsor. "I...should think it would be awkward as well." He walked a few steps and then added, "I am not...proud...of the situation I have placed their daughter."

 

If he knew that the marquess had been estranged from his own father and had been accused of trying to usurp everything from the late Worcester, perhaps he would have thought differently.

[Blackguard]

As they walked towards the exit from the palace, Rupert nodded at the brief comparison of the Dutch and French. It was clear which way the wind was blowing but, in the mind of the Prince, the Northern Secretary needed to play off each player against the other, no matter which might seem the favored ally at the moment. To ignore the French would be as foolish as ignoring the Dutch, now in ascendancy with the upcoming nuptials. He kept his thoughts to himself since Beverley had yet to take the measure of Spencer.

 

Once outside in the garden, Cumberland seemed to relish the crisp air, inhaling deeply. His breath was visible when he exhaled. "This is a good tonic for clear thinking," he declared as he turned to look at his aide. The young man needed to clear his own mind of troubles it seemed. Not one to give advice about marriage or relations, the older man was silent for a time, as if relishing the stillness of the moment. Few were outside at the moment.

 

"I understand," he admitted at last, understanding that it was Brooke at the center of the drama. "Things have a way of working themselves out with time." He was looking at a fountain with a frozen surface at the moment. Age gave one perspective. What might freeze would also thaw with time. "Do you wish me to say something to your father?"

[Robert Saint-Leger]

Beverley looked at his own breath as it swirled through the air, fully used to intermittent silences. His surprise when Cumberland asked Beverley about wishing him to speak to his father was just as visible.

 

"I think I have troubled you enough over the matter, Sir," Beverley replied, heartened by the offer, but knowing he could not accept it for any garden variety of reasons. Ones his master could easily guess without an explanation.

 

Among them that it was not proper to burden the person you served. Considering his position literally existed to unburden a great prince from the tedious aspects of his office, adding his own burdens into the mix was, in a sense, common or at the very least poor manners for a gentleman. Plus, his father had gotten him the position with Cumberland out of their friendship and past service together during the war. While it was Beverley who had kept it, no small feat, it was also poor manners to ask the man to switch sides or to take a side which was surely not society's convention. Fathers were right. Sons were wrong. That was just the way of things.

 

"Nor should my lord father, erm, need to hear what he should plainly be able to already see." He had gotten his own promotion and it was quite clear that Cumberland's preference was not to be parted from Beverley; that should speak far more than words. "You should not need to even contemplate such an offer."

 

He was not sure if he was not almost suddenly more ashamed of this. The last thing he wished was to trouble Cumberland over his personal life. It was almost more mortifying. He could not stop the man from saying whatever he might wish, but he surely would never ask for it.

[Blackguard]

Beverley was correct, but Rupert needed to offer. The young man seemed unhappy and distracted by his circumstances. There was more than sympathy in that offer. An unhappy and distracted aide was not as useful as a contented and motivated aide. It was German practicality that recognized this. Perhaps Peg could speak with his mother.

 

"Very well. If you should need a word, you have but to ask. In the meantime, I recommend that you forget the matter as best you can." He was about to share a platitude about hard work being the best cure for a unhappy mind, but the older man knew that the younger man might take the words as criticism of his performance.

 

There was a long silence as Cumberland scanned the gardens adorned in a white veil. A crow in the distance registered its unhappiness in not finding something to its liking. "The holidays need not be idle time Robert," the Duke observed. He had already given Robert a task to think of new revenue sources. "It is a time of fraternity. I should like you to speak with any lords and gentlemen you encounter this season and learn of their leanings towards war with the French. I have a general idea of the support, but I should like you to test the depth of conviction in each man's heart. Some want war passionately. Some want a phony war. Some want peace. It would be valuable to have your assessment of the many gentry here. They will be in a more festive environment and less likely to be guarded in their conversation."

 

In Rupert's opinion, Beverley needed to become a more social creature. It would help the lad overcome his morose situation. By engaging with everyone he met, it would prove a salve as well as provide useful information.

[Robert Saint-Leger]

Beverley had thought the prince was about to say something else, but instead another silence followed. His hazel eyes trailed around the frozen scene, happy for his gloves even though they were not as fine as the ones he had at his lord father's house still. It did not seem that many living beings were braving the gardens in the morning.

 

"I will do so, Sir." It was not difficult for Beverley to talk about military matters, strategy, or war. In fact, those were his safer topics in conversation. "Do you not think their answers shall be biased knowing I am your aide? Or knowing that standing against war would surely be a risk for being labeled a Papist sympathizer?" Beverley was not so sure information would be as forthcoming. He doubted many would say to him that they were in opposition.

 

"I had also given some thought to the Rupertinoe other than the French paying more to His Majesty for reparations. Since we cannot use old cannon to make the new or our ships would be bare in the interim, what if we pre-emptively sold the old cannon to merchant companies who hold a Letter of Marque, and then give them delivery when we are able to fit the new?"

 

Of course, hidden within that idea was the fact that if they ended up *not* giving said people the cannon that they purchased, or only some of them said cannon, they would already have the money and recompense could be tied up in courts for longer than the Prince's life.

 

"After all, they do form a sizeable portion of our wartime Navy, so it would, erm, seem a double-win for us. We get coin for Rupertinoes and more cannon in our auxiliary naval forces."

[Blackguard]

"Good," Rupert tutted as his breath steamed in the cold. There was no reservation voiced by his aide except for the perceived bias. "You are correct, but I shall be interested in what they might reveal for they shall feel it safer to express reservations in front of you, in hopes that it might temper my view," he explained. "It is a test really, as well as a census of views."

 

As for the idea of selling the cannon off royal ships, the Duke was at first inclined to object but thought more on the topic. It would raise part of the money needed, so the money for the new cannon would be merely the partial cost of upgrade. "That could work to reduce the cost," he admitted. "Good thinking Beverley." More cannon for the auxiliaries would be especially welcome. "Do we know if the merchants want more cannon? Could they not be purchasing more for themselves even without an offer of royal cannon?" The question was whether demand would match supply.

 

OOC~ Sorry for overlooking this thread!

[Robert Saint-Leger]

Beverley was unsure if his master was testing him and his knowledge of the beginnings of war, considering he had only been around for the latter ending of the last one and had been more a glorified messenger boy then, but the question seemed a rather easy one for his master to ask the question for not knowing.

 

"Most production using the materials already shifts to ordnance for our fleet on the first hints of war, does it not? That makes such things in shorter supply outside of the Navy if one does not already have it. But at the very least, you could impose a gun requirement for any who seek a new Letter of Marque, such that if they wish the ability to privateer they must buy our guns to meet the number you wish."

 

If Mr Pepys allowed contracts to have merchants selling cannon that the Navy might need in war to private ships, that would surely be a problem. Such things could not be made at the snap of the fingers.

[Blackguard]

"Yes," Rupert admitted with a contented sigh. "Yet another reason why the war, or news of war, will play to our advantage." Things seemed to be coming together nicely. "Now we need a revenue source to pay for the upgrade," he mused aloud.

 

"Pay a call to Mister Pepys," Cumberland instructed. "Scout the needs of the navy in case of mobilization. I want a report on plans for new ship construction and the outfitting of the auxiliary fleet." He was entitled to such a report as the Grand Admiral of the royal fleet. "That will allow us to assess whether the cannon can be sold as spare, or used to equip lesser ships."

 

Given that the war had been more a figment of imagination than fact, Rupert had not been pressing the Department for readiness reports, even though he knew that Pepys had been instructed to draft them.

[Robert Saint-Leger]

His instantaneous reaction to thoughts of talking to Mister Pepys was that the gentleman would likely search for an invitation to dinner at Brooke House again. He had been a dinner guest before* by much the same machination which was all well and good, he liked Mister Pepys, but he had no Brooke House to invite him to this time.

 

The could prove exceedingly awkward. He could not offer any impressive dining experience from his rooms down the corridor!

 

"Mister Pepys is quite diligent, Your Highness. I am sure he can have such things at the ready," he said, dipping his shoulders in assent of the fact that he would, indeed, visit the man to procure them, or request them, if they were not already drafted. "Shall I have him provide us lists of the ships we have on record with Letters of Marque? I can then have some clerks or juniors investigate who of those have enough money to be of interest if we do offer to sell canon."

 

Beverley was well-aware that his master was a man of more action than patience, so he did his best to cater to and anticipate those tendencies. Strategies and swift action were necessities in both politics and military matters.

 

"I would think they may be the same sort of men to coax to give extra funding for better cannon for the Navy whether they purchase cannon or not. After all, the better equipped our Fleet, the better merchant interests are protected outside of war, which is a great boon of your designs and desires, Sir."

 

(OOC - Pepys basically invited himself over for dinner when he threaded with Bevsey before, but whoever modded it went on hiatus, so the dinner happened over a recess Just an FYI <3 )

[Blackguard]

The Prince was, indeed, a man of action. He was not one to be bothered with paperwork other than correspondence, lists and designs. "Yes, have his clerks categorize it in any ways useful." Beverley was correct that the privateers would have a greater interest in cannon and greater motivation to conjure the coin necessary to purchase in quantity. "Good thinking."

 

Unaware that Beverley thought a dining venue important in encouraging Pepys, Rupert was satisfied that his aide had everything under control. "When do you think you can have a report?" His lack of patience was unspoken but understood.

 

There was the matter of new revenues, but Rupert was planning to earmark new French subsidies and taxes levied. There was no recourse but to be patient on those, as they needed diplomatic and political solutions that would not likely advance during the holidays. Cumberland rued the mindset that business could not be conducted at such times.

 

The chill in the air was more pronounced, causing the older man to fight a shiver. "Best we go in," he announced. The cool air had been a tonic but now it threatened to do more harm than good.

[Robert Saint-Leger]

"You have but to tell me when you wish it, and I shall make sure that it gets done," Beverley replied. "I shall have a note sent to Pepys when we return inside to expect me tomorrow evening to discuss what he has compiled. When you see me Wednesday or Thursday morning, I should have updates on where matters stand." Beverley was around almost all mornings when he was not feeling ill, prioritizing correspondence and sending out replies to the generic things he knew the answers to already.

 

He did, after all, have little else to do. He was not the sort for Libertine parties, and he did not anticipate attending at the Spanish Ambassador's either. Being publicly supportive of Catholic affairs was a sure way to get one targeted in such times. That might be a hassle if one were a Protestant, but it could be deadly if one were a Catholic like Beverley.

 

"Indeed," Beverley replied, and as he was wont to do he took the blame for the necessity of returning inside so that his master wouldn't feel he was seen as "old." Men of action and war tended to dislike that their age and aches altered their abilities, so Beverley fully pretended that they did not, something his master had always seemed to appreciate. "Your Highness it kind to cut your walk short on account of my having been unwell."

 

(Want to wrap up this next round?)

[Blackguard]

"Good." It seemed his aide had things in hand. He would have a report by the end of the week. In the meantime he was to meet with Robert Hooke about his new communication system for ships. The idea of speaking into a can on a string sounded mad, but Rupert enjoyed conversations with other inventors.

 

"You have not been feeling well?" Rupert asked, unaware that Robert was attempting to cover for him. The duo headed back inside to relative warmth.

 

~ fin

[Robert Saint-Leger]

"Had not been feeling well, Your Highness, but I am better now and should like to continue that way," Beverley replied. It was no secret that the viscount had bouts of illness, and over the course of five years it should not be much of a surprise. They were generally short, leaving him looking a bit haggard but just as diligent. He was still not feeling well, but it was not truly illness so much as stress of the separation from his family.

 

(fin I'll post up his note to Pepys)