Musket Practise | 31st December, mid morning- Xmas 1677

[Douglas FitzJames]

“More practice is the cure!” Douglas declared as Duncan complained that he was slowing; wasn’t that always the answer? As for his parentage, he figured he could invent what he liked, since life had failed to provide hard facts. “Ye wuidnae caw me unseelie noo, wuid ye?”* He replied with a smirk, well aware that there were a few at court who might well claim he was ugly and full of malice. They might even be right.

 

Duncan asked to be remembered to his sisters. “Aye, acoorse. They’ll be richt pleased.” The families were close, and his friend’s next words pleased him even more. “An’ yer richt weelcam, thairs nocht better than a guid beef broth tae drive oot the cawd.” Except possibly a good whiskey. “I’m glad yer mither enjoyed it. An’ yer sister as weel?” He probed gently. “Th’land roond Aberdeen is guid fer cattle, they’re largely growin’ thairsel’s!”** Which was the point of livestock, but he was very proud of his shaggy heard of Highland Cattle, a pride that showed in his voice, and Duncan’s praise meant a lot to him.

 

But that the rest of the Melvilles had not travelled south was a little disappointing. Ellen must be his daughter, as well as his sister-in-law. “Congratulations on yer wee bairn, but Cat wuid skin me if I let ye hae Hogmanay on yer ain.” Possibly literally. “Cam roond this een, an’ celebrate wi’ us. Ye as weel, Lieutenant.”*** Douglas added, in a generous mood, aware that Turnbull was also in London on his own, and there would be food aplenty at Alyth House.

 

Conversation turned to the unusual Rupertino Rifle. “Aye, Prince Rupert gied a tour o’ the Foondry at Windsor durin’ the Weddin’ season, an’ showdit us one then.” Douglas explained happily. “I may hae asked a few tae many questions, I suspect he thocht tae shut me up.”+ He joked. He'd been genuinely interested in the unusual weapon, and pleased no end by the generous gift.

 

Calls for a demonstration warmed and goaded him; with such an interested audience he could hardly refuse. “T’kicks more’n a musket,” he confirmed Ambrose’s suspicion, “but nae sae bad as ye’d hexpect. Nae doobt His Heeness’s engineerin’; he’s a canny man an’ a fine hofficer.”++ Douglas greatly admired Rupert and wished he knew the man better, but rarely saw him around. Rupert had always been happy to talk weapons with him when their paths crossed; perhaps a future opportunity would present itself.

 

Working in a thorough and unhurried manner, Douglas fed the rifle a measure of powder, himself able to look down a barrel which would give others trouble. A shot followed and the wadding was tamped down with a ridiculously long rod. Satisfied, Douglas picked it up and took a number of measured paces backwards, until he was out of range of a standard hunting rifle, but within that of the Rupertino according to his own experience.

 

Lifting the stock to his left shoulder, Douglas sighted carefully down the long barrel, eyeing the distant target, breathed out and gently squeezed the trigger, leaning slightly forwards to brace against the kick. With a sharp crack he disappeared in a white cloud of powder smoke, whilst in the distance the target took a hit that, had it been a man, might have been the shoulder.

 

Subtitles

* “You wouldn’t call me (a dark faerie) now, would you?”

** “Yes of course. They’ll be very pleased. And you’re very welcome, there’s nothing better than a good beef broth to drive out the cold. I’m glad your mother enjoyed it. And your sister as well? The land round Aberdeen is good for cattle, they largely grow themselves!”

*** “Congratulations on your little baby, but Cat would skin me if I let you have New Years on your own. Come round this evening, and celebrate with us. You as well, Lieutenant.”

+ Yes, Prince Rupert gave a tour of the Foundry at Windsor during the wedding season, and showed us one then. I may have asked a few too many questions, I suspect he thought to shut me up.”

++ It kicks more than a musket but not as badly as you’d expect. No doubt His Highness’s engineering; he’s a smart man and a good officer.”

[Ambrose Turnbull]

Ambrose felt something of a third wheel as the good friends made their cheerful reunion. He was not such a buffoon to know that it was good manners to excuse himself that they might dissolve into their familiar topics unhindered by conservation for the stranger in their midst.

 

"Ah." of Hogmanay he replied, the question came to him mind that if everyone rushed out to visit, then odds were they'd meet their friends and family upon the roads doing the same! But he did not ask it, not wanting to offend with questioning the curious custom. And Scotland dead cold this time of year too!

 

"There is the ball," he mentioned, though no doubt their tradition would take place after court saw in the new year. "You are kind for invitation, but I would not intrude. That goes to for your reunion here, you have a great deal to catch up on I can see.

 

"If I might witness Cumberland’s weapon being shot, then I shall leave you to your topics." he gave a bow-like nod to the ranked gentlemen.

 

It was then that Dundarg moved with practised efficiency, resulting in a keen shot. Upon exhalation of air the Lieutenant whistled appreciatively. "Now there is a sight to witness. She’s a fine weapon, and used well in capable hands." he gave credit where due, "I well see why Cumberland chose you to test her."

 

When it was all was done, the Lieutenant made a courteous exit, with a murmur of intents to catch up with Melville at some later date (upon maters they had discussed). "Until tonight gentlemen."

 

 

OOC: Ambrose can leave you both to properly catch up, and not slow down the thread - sorry about that. >.<

[Duncan Melville]

“Aye, Dundarg, aye. I might have grown a tad too soft, which is why I came to practice today”. Duncan practiced with weapons four days a week while court was in session, but much of it was teaching others how to do it, rather than doing things himself. The life of an officer, I guess. I am responsible for the men’s state of readiness. Not only to Lord Langdon, but to the men themselves. If Duncan did not train them well, they would die, and their blood would be on his hands.

 

The viscount laughed. “Nay, my friend. You are no unseelie. Sometimes you may act like one, but deep inside, where it counts, you are not”. It was all said with a smile and a light tone, but there was steel in the words. The Lowlander liked and respected Douglas, and thought no ill of him, whatever rumours at court said. As the Good Book said, he would not take up a reproach against his friend.

 

It was then that Dundarg mentioned Beatrice. There would have been an awkward silence were it not for the fact that the Scotch baron continued talking. “Thank you for the good wishes”. Duncan passed the half-empty flask to the Highlander. “For the cold”, he said. And because I have to tell you that my sister has married… "And yes, your sister would skin us both alive if I did not pay my respects".

 

The viscount then took a step back and fell silent as Douglas demonstrated what an accurate weapon it was. “If we had a platoon of those in the regiment, and they targeted the enemy’s officers, we would have quite an advantage…” It was not a gentlemanly thing to do, but it could save many of his men’s lives. Without officers to lead them, enemies would soon lose their will to fight. Propriety had not much place on the battlefield.

 

“That is a sidhe weapon if I ever saw one!” The viscount then turned to Ambrose. “What could you do with a few of those aboard a ship?” To Duncan’s mind, a dozen men up the rigging armed with such rifles suddenly became a frightening thought. “I pray God will not let the French have something like that any time soon!”

 

As Lt. Turnbull left, the Lowlander told him to make sure to send the lad to the viscount’s house after the New Year. “See you tonight, lieutenant, a pleasure to have made your acquaintance”. He would make it a point to send Turnbull a few bottles of the rum they had shared.

 

There goes a good man, Duncan thought as the Lifeguard departed.

 

Then turning to Douglas, he spoke when Ambrose was out of earshot. “Beatrice married, Dundarg. She chose Balcarres, and is now with him in Fife. Can’t blame her, I guess. She is now a countess, which my mother approves, and she loudly voices that my father would have, too”. There was a moment of silence, as it had not been an easy decision for Duncan. Douglas was Cat’s brother, and that was something that had weighed heavily in the man’s favour. Still, the viscount had promised his sister to listen to her preference, and she had been very clear headed when she stated it. The girl would make the Lindsays proud, he was sure.

 

“Which leaves us with a problem, my friend”, he said with a tone that was both light and hopeful. “We need to find a good Scotch lass for you! Perhaps a marriage alliance was not in the cards this generation but, who knows? Perhaps it will be something to look forward to in the next!”

 

Indeed, there was an idea. The viscount was certain that his friend would go far, and he would help as much as he could in the endeavour. So, a marriage alliance between their children was something to actually look forward to. “There is something to be said for keeping titles and lands in Scottish hands… and between friends…”

 

OOC: Ambrose could have stayed... it took me the better part of a week to reply!

[Douglas FitzJames]

Ambrose was right, Douglas realised with chargrin. Of course there would be a ball, though oddly he hadn't heard much about it. Maybe it was just one of those things that everyone was assumed to know, and thus took for granted.

 

Accepting the flask that Duncan passed him with a tip of his head in acknowledgement, Douglas took a swig in the name of family, before handing it back. It was an unexpected gesture, and seeded a doubt in the put of his stomach. But conversation paused as he demonstrated the use of the Rupertinoe Rifle, both of his companions seemingly as appreciative of the weapon as Douglas was himself. He felt a glow of pride.

 

"Tis a wee bit unwieldy." He admitted honestly. No doubt even more so for anyone not built along the overstretched lines that Douglas was. "Ye wuid either use them stationary on stands, er use a squad o' taw so'jers."* He opined. There weren't many who would want to run around with something as long as the Rupertinoe, let alone try to use it mounted. The short muskets of the Life Guards were the length they were for a reason.

 

Douglas was sorry to see Turnbull leave since he enjoyed the company of other soldiers, but he tipped his hat to the man. "See ye at the baw thain."** He said simply as the other moved away. An interesting fellow, the Lieutenant, though he still hadn't got the full measure of the man.

 

Cleaning out the barrel of the long musket, Douglas had his eye thoughtfully on Turnbull's retreating back when Duncan dropped his canonball. Beatrice married, Dundarg. She chose Balcarres, and is now with him in Fife. However much he knew that Balcarres was the only sensible choice for a young woman of her breeding and standing, a little part of him had refused to give up the hope that she might choose him. There was no logic to it of course, only the libertine girls liked him, those looking for a fun night. Those looking for a life's partner looked elsewhere. Except Sophia. But he had hoped, she'd been everything he wanted, and with those words he felt that hope die.

 

Clearly Duncan was pleased that his mother was pleased, though Douglas couldn't help but hear she didn't want a bastard in the family in those words, however true or not that might be. But Duncan was a friend, one of the best friends that he had, and the simple fact he'd even allowed Douglas that opportunity placed him well above those who scorned the bastard Scotsman. That friendship was precious, and for the sake of it Douglas swallowed his pride, made himself smile and clasped his friend's forearm in a comradely gesture. "Melville, I wuid hae gi'en much tae be yer brothair-in-law, but nocht weel e'er stop us bein' brothairs-in-arms." For they had fought together in the Royal Scots, and from that bond had their friendship grown. "The blood o' the Covenant is thicker thain the water o' the womb."*** He quoted.

 

"Beatrice haes a guid heid on her shoulders." He added, entirely the truth. Of course she'd choose the Earl, it was only sensible. "Ye hae aw richt tae be prood, an' yer mither." Who wouldn't be? Douglas had hoped for Balcarres for Fiona, if his sister had only cooperated. Ah but for sisters like Duncan's. The big Scotsman did the only sensible thing in the circumstances, he pulled a hip flask of fine Aberdeen whiskey from his pocket and uncapped it. "Here's tae the new Coontess Balcarres; heelth, weelth an' happiness tae the pair o' thaim."+ Taking a heerty swig he passed the flask over.

 

The suggestion of finding him a good Scottish lass drew a snort from Douglas, but as Duncan went on to suggest that their families might be allied in blood in the next generation he perked up. That would be something to look forward to. "I wuid like that Melville." He said quietly, a little surprised. "I wuid like that verra much. But thairs a wee problem." He admitted. More than a 'wee' one. "As ye say, I need tae find a lairdy, but I fear thairs few families as weel consider a man wi... sidhe parentage."++ He said with unusual delicacy. But it he couldn't talk to Duncan about it, Duncan who accepted him as he was, then who? No one wanted a bastard in the family, not even one with a Barony.

 

Which didn't mean he was giving up, despite the pickings looking awfully thin. But if the other man had ideas he was all ears. "But if ye ken ony lassies as er luikin' fer a Laird, I'd be honoured if ye'd intraeduce me."+++ Duncan spent more time up north, he might know more than Douglas did. Although in all honestly he wasn't restricting himself to Scottish women. He couldn't afford to be that choosy.

 

Subtitles

* "It's a little bit unwieldy. You would either use them stationary on stands, or use a squad of tall soldiers."

** "See you at the ball then."

*** "Melville, I would have given much to be your brother-in-law, but nothing will ever stop us being brothers-in-arms. The blood of the Covenant is thicker than the water of the womb."

+ "Beatrice has a good head on her shoulders. You have every right to be proud, and your mother. Here's to the new Countess Balcarres; health, wealth and happiness to the pair of them."

++ "I would like that Melville, I would like that very much. But there's a little problem. As you say, I need to find a lady, but I fear there's few families as will consider a man with... faerie parentage."

+++ "But if you know any girls that are looking for a Lord, I'd be honoured if you'd introduce me."

 

OOC: And it's taken me this long to post after. Absolutely Ambrose could have stayed.

[Duncan Melville]

Duncan took back his flask, and let his friend and comrade in arms have time to digest the news. He kept silent, hoping the next action of the towering Highlander would not be to punch the slightly shorter Lowlander in the face. If that were to happen, the viscount would have to bear and forgive. Women and marriage were complicated subjects.

 

After a short pause, a smile appeared on Dundarg’s lips, even though understandably it was a bit sad. There was also a strong clasp of the right forearm. Duncan relaxed visibly. “Aye, Dundarg”, he almost breathed, “we have fought together, bled together, buried our friends together. We could be no closer if we were brothers. Nemo me impune lacessit!. There is only one man I would trust to watch my back as much as I trust you, and the ocean swallowed him, the pox on fate!” They would have made an unbeatable trio, MacGregor, Dundarg and himself. Alas, it had not been meant to be.

 

A flask was offered, and received with a grateful nod. A long pull savoured the fine whisky. “Aye, she is a good lass. I must say I miss having her around. She is full of life, bubbly, like a Highlands brook. At least Fife is not that far from Melville Castle, and I can take my mother on a visit”. After a second pull, he returned the flask to the baron.

 

Sidhe parentage… a complication, unless the man proves himself extraordinary… which he is! “If a family does not see the steel in your soul, my friend, and appreciates it, may they rot in the darkest parts of hell for their stupidity!” Duncan spat. “But I see what you mean. Hmm…”

 

An idea formed in the Lowlander’s mind. After all, Turnbull had just said twice that he was not interested. “I know of one that just might do. She is a handful, but if anyone can benefit from her fire it would be you. She does have a sister currently living in Edinburghshire…”

 

There was a pause, for Douglas to understand who his friend was talking about.

 

“What would you say if I were to offer to write a letter to a certain English baronet and shipping magnate, suggesting that he invites both you and me for dinner at his house before the season is over? His eldest daughter would have to join us, of course…”

 

The viscount did not know how much Cat had told Douglas about Duncan and his relationship with the Doolittles. “Sir Cedric Doolittle bought a baronetcy from His Grace Charles, hoping to use that and huge dowries to attract noblemen for his daughters. In my case, he succeeded easily, I did not resist”, Duncan said in a light tone. “Perhaps he would agree to give you his eldest daughter, Ellen, in marriage. I would vouch for you, of course, which might count for something, and you might need to accept a smaller dowry to account for the sidhe, but according to the Lord Lyon’s Court, Scotch Barons are noble, so you do fit the bill for what Sir Cedric is looking for”.

 

It was a somewhat crazy idea, but it might just work. “We would be family, Dundarg. I don’t think we would be able to marry your wee bairns with mine, though, on the account of the mothers being sisters, but there would not be need then. We would be family”.

[Douglas FitzJames]

With the initial news of Beatrice's nuptials accepted - at least until Douglas got somewhere alone where he could kick something - Duncan's re-affirmation of their bond of martial brotherhood did a lot to salve that wound, as Duncan invoked the motto of the Royal Scots. "Wha daur meddle wi' me?!"* Douglas replied with a grin, the same sentiment translated into Scots. He, Duncan and MacGregor would have been a formidable trio indeed, and Cat a lot less sad if the waves hadn't claimed the man. Yet one more reason to think that God didn't care much for them, though he'd not say as much to Duncan.

 

Much as they might like to bind their families more formally by blood, certain obstacles stood in the way of Douglas providing the necessary offspring. Duncan, despite his warm, heartfelt words, was obviously considering the problem seriously, and as the flask came back Douglas took another swig before pocketing it. Beatrice would have been everything he needed; well bred and well dowered, as well as a pleasant young woman. Right now his alternative was Sofia, who was well bred but foreign, but as far as he knew had no dowry at all to speak of, which wouldn't do. He'd confirm that in the afternoon. If Douglas was to hold his own in court he needed more than that; he brought a title but not a lot else.

 

The gentle light of thoughtful inspiration slowly suffused the Lowlander's features, as he glanced at Douglas speculatively and spoke of a possible lady. Alas but Douglas was not the most subtle of creatures, and didn't make the connection until Duncan elaborated more fulsomely, and spoke of a baronet and shipping magnate. He was speaking of his own father in law, who also by rumour had two other eligible daughters. All commoners of course, the Baronetcy was purchased as Duncan pointed out, but then Douglas was only hanging onto nobility by his fingernails, given his birth.

 

Ellen Doolittle. Douglas had heard of her in passing of course - who hadn't? - but he'd been so busy chasing well bred tail that he'd never even entertained the idea. She was rumoured to be as ugly as her father was rich, and both desperate and troublesome such that she scared any man off whom she encountered. But surely Duncan wouldn't suggest such to him? Goodness knew there were enough terrible rumours circulating about himself, and most of those were, if not entirely untrue, at least grossly exaggerated. What if she were just plain? Or had a mole or something? He'd grown up surrounded by such beauty that beauty itself didn't particularly impress him, not when he'd seen the ugly heart it could hide in the form of his step-mother. And maybe she were free-spirited? Again, he was surrounded by such, and attracted to the same.

 

Rumour also held that Doolittle was offering enormous dowries for noble husbands. And of course the man had no sons, so eventually the rest of his wealth and his company would surely fall to his sons-in-law. Which would be him and Duncan - and some third. And Duncan and he would be brothers-in-law, through the sisters. "Aye, we wuid be family." Douglas said eventually, clearly deep in thought. "Thairs nocht wrong wi' cleavin' cousins, but we wuid be better tae seek other family alliances wi' oor bairns."** He agreed. Just think, if he could offer large dowries himself, his daughters might well marry up in the world. With money he could purchase more lands and maybe even a higher title. Why, money could gain almost anything. The old nobility would look down on him of course, but they did that anyway so why should he care?

 

The more he thought about it, the more benefits he saw. All he had to do was let go of the idea of marrying into a well bred family. Which, face it, probably wasn't going to happen anyway. Even marrying Ellen would bring a connection to the Lindsays. Finally a slow, thoughtful smile curved Douglas's lips. "Ye honour me Melville." He said at last. "I wuid be delichted tae meet yer father- an' sister-in-law, if thair willin'."*** He replied. Why not? And if she was truly a hideous harridan, well, he could do what every other man had done and run a mile. Or shag her in the dark and send her to Scotland once she was pregnant. It was worth the chance, and he would hardly refuse the favour that Duncan offered him.

 

Subtitles

* "Who dares meddle with me?"

** "Yes, we would be family. There's nothing wrong with marrying cousins, but we would be better to seek other family alliances with our children."

*** "You honour me Melville. I would be delighted to meet your father- and sister-in-law, if they're willing."

[Duncan Melville]

It was a relief for Duncan to see that his friend was taking things in stride. Losing the man’s friendship would have been a hard blow to the Lowlander. Besides, it would also put a strain on his friendship with his sister. I vowed to take care of her for you, MacGregor, and I am not backing up on my word! Douglas being so understanding did make things much easier, though.

 

“Let me tell you why I married Ophelia,” the viscount said after a moment’s pause. “My family is old. We have been in the Lowlands for centuries. Before then, we were in Normandy for a long time. We have a good name, my father was admired, and that has opened doors for me…” he was about to add and for my sister, bud decided not to. “Still, the world is changing. Look at His Grace Charles. Parliament has the purse strings, so he needs to find sources of income. It is the merchants, not the nobility, that hold the means to produce more wealth now. I mean…” he paused for a moment, “it is not that the nobility is poor, although some are, but rather that many merchants can make more money in a few years than what a lot of noblemen can inherit with their titles”. It was true. The merchants were the nouveau riche, but they were that, rich, and they were getting richer. “Marrying a merchant’s daughter may close some doors, but it opens others. I pray for a son that inherits my title, but I also pray that when I die he will be richer than I was when my father died, not poorer”.

 

There had been no love or romance in his marriage contract. Those had come later. My dear Book Mouse, how I miss you…

 

“Ellen is not ugly. When she sets her mind to it, she looks very pretty. She has a temper, I can attest to that, but a lass that acquiesced to your every whim would bore you, Dundarg, we both know that. She also has a head for business. In that, she is not unlike a man. You could do far worse than to let her manage your estate when you are away. I am certain that it would thrive under her guidance. But don’t keep her there forever. Bring her to London when possible, let her buy pretty clothing and some jewels once in a while, and she will adore you for it. You know…” it was difficult to voice it, but it was true, “... the true princes of our time are the merchants, not the peers. And it will be even more so in our children’s generation”. Of that, Duncan was certain. "You and I, on the other hand, have the opportunity to be both, to our great advantage".

 

As his friend agreed, Duncan smiled. Why Hadn’t I thought about this before?

 

“I will write to him today, as soon as I get back to Chelsea. I hope to have a reply in no more than a day or two”. Knowing Sir Cedric, it might come quite swiftly. “If you are staying at your sister’s house, you would know almost as soon as I do”. Indeed, sending a messenger to Alyth House would take but minutes. The how of everything they had discussed was easy. Sir Cedric would have the last word, though. The man had the final say on a very promising future for Douglas.

 

“One word of advice, though. Ellen is for marrying, not for keeping as a mistress, or for a few stolen moments of pleasure. If you don’t like what you see, make a hasty retreat. She has been hurt too many times”. One of them had been when Duncan himself chose Ophelia instead of her, of course. “Yet, if you treat her right, she will be a faithful wife, and will do right by you”.

[Douglas FitzJames]

If you’d asked him why Duncan had married a Doolittle, Douglas would have assumed that his friend had been in that awkward situation of having an excellent family name and title, but no money to go with it. He would hardly be the first noble to lack funds. Whether or not that was true Duncan didn’t confirm or deny, and it had all happened before Douglas had come to court. But he’d assumed the marriage had been for the money, which Duncan acknowledged it had, but not in quite the way Douglas had expected.

 

He made an interesting point. Money made the world go round of course, it always had, but now there were ways of making money that had little to do with owning the land it had traditionally come from. The authority of the nobility wasn’t what it was either – as Duncan pointed out even His Majesty was at the mercy of Parliament and whomever he could borrow money from, one of the reasons he so envied his cousin in France. And then there were figures like Danby; political power one moment and impeached the next, despite the fact he’d been doing the King’s will. Authority waxed and waned, but money always spoke the same language. Clearly Duncan felt it was the Merchants who now held the means. Likely he was right, after all that wine merchant Master Graas had found himself invited to all the parties despite being a commoner.

 

So what Duncan was doing, in turning his back on the political interplay of status amongst the current nobility, was trying to proof his family for the future. It was an interesting concept. He admitted that the move had closed some doors for him, though for Douglas many were already closed. He’d hoped marriage might open them, but if Duncan was right then he would be marrying into a stagnating pool anyway. If he was right. And if so, then those with money were likely to come out on top in the next generation or two. It was a hell of a gamble, but Douglas stood to lose far less from it than Duncan did. Interesting.

 

“I think ye weel find that t’weel close fewer doors fer me than fer ye.” Douglas observed; purely because he had fewer open in the first place. Although it would also be true that Duncan’s nobility would keep some open. Duncan claimed the woman wasn’t so ugly as rumour held, and his next comment piqued Douglas’s interest. “Temper I kin deal wi; a heid fer business wuid be an asset.”* And he’d use it as well; Douglas would use any resource to his advantage, including his future wife.

 

Not entirely certain why Duncan was giving him marital advice when he hadn’t even met the girl’s father, Douglas listened never the less. Clearly he felt the match was likely, and the big man took the advice in good humour; likely Duncan saw himself in the role of experienced older brother. “Make the lairdy feel loved an’ let her hae her fun; aye, I ken.”** He acknowledged with an amused smile. That was one thing he did understand; there was a reason he was considered a danger to impressionable young women.

 

And clearly Duncan knew that too, by his next warning. Douglas resisted the urge to snort in derision. “Mistresses er willin’ widders.” He replied blandly. And willing married ladies. “An’ if ye hae a willin’ wife, ye michtnae need one.” Though whether Douglas’s inclinations would change would remain to be seen. “I dinnae hurt lairdies.”*** He said bluntly, making an effort not to growl. No woman at court could claim he’d taken them against their will, or even hurt their feelings in any way other than refusing to marry them. He could have; he’d had ample opportunities to run amok through the emotional landscape, but there was nothing so sweet as a lady who wanted him as much as he wanted her. No, he wouldn’t hurt Ellen; he preferred well bred ladies for mistresses.

 

The advice was only given out of a desire for the match to succeed, Douglas knew. Hence he tried to take it in good humour and not take offence. But something was troubling him, niggling away at the back of his mind, and emphasised by Duncan’s apparent enthusiasm for the match. “Tell me one thin’; brothair tae brothair.” He said at length, wanting the truth. “Tell me why ye chose Ophelia o’er Ellen.”+ After all, it was traditional to marry daughters off in order of age, so that one didn’t end up in Ellen’s situation. If Duncan thought so highly of her, why had he chosen her sister?

 

Subtitles

* “I think you will find that it will close fewer doors for me than for you. Temper I can deal with; a head for business would be an asset.”

** “Make the Lady feel loved and let her have her fun; yes, I know.

*** "Mistresses are willing widows. And if you have a willing wife you might not need one. I don’t hurt ladies.”

+ “Tell me one thing; brother to brother. Tell me why you chose Ophelia over Ellen.”

[Duncan Melville]

“Aye, I agree. With my father having been Secretary of State for Scotland, I think I would be expected to behave in a more… dignified manner”. Stagnant, more like it. “Nobles do not expect you to behave the same, so I think you will find them noticing more when you do what they think they themselves should, while at the same time letting you be when you do things they expect you to do”. It was a strange game, with complex rules. “We are both Scotch, though, so the sassenach look down on both of us on principle. That can be played to our advantage, if we play our cards right”.

 

The Lowlander could not be this open with most people. Cat and Douglas were two of a very small group. “Take my marriage to Ophelia, for example. I was not broke when I married her. In fact, I had done rather well with my investments. I bought More’s Great House with my own profits, without sacrificing Melville Castle or its lands, before I became Sir Cedric's partner. If I had been an English peer, many would have frowned at me for marrying Sir Cedric’s daughter. But since I am a Lowlander, many of them think nothing better can be expected of me…”

 

Time to tell him a secret.

 

“I let them think I am a fool. I let them see I overspend, at least according to the standards of the most ancient of their noble families. Meanwhile, I observe, I plan and, at the right time, I act. I am but a small fish in a pool full of sharks, so I must outsmart them all and play the fool at the same time…” It was a complicated, and somewhat dangerous game. Court could be an unforgiving and relentless enemy. “Why do I do it? Simple. I have this romantic notion that it is my duty that by the time I die, the Melville family, my friends, and Scotland are in a better state than when I opened my eyes and saw this world for the first time”.

 

In a nutshell, that summed up who and what Duncan was.

 

Duncan’s expression softened at Dundarg’s defense. “Aye, I ken. You would not hurt anyone unless there was need of it. As I said before, you are no unseelie. My warning comes from her perhaps being willing. Not that she is merry, but both you and I know what half a bottle of aqua vitae can do to a young couple in the right, or perhaps wrong, circumstances”. Even the Lowlander had a past, as proper as he liked to behave. He was a student of the human condition, and he was not as old as to have forgotten.

 

And then the question. Why Ophelia?

 

“Brother to brother? I chose Ophelia because I was sick of killing and did not want to have a pretty wife I would have to duel over. You know I am not strange to the use of the broadsword. My wife is not much to look at, so not many would want to bed her when there are more beautiful ladies around. That includes her eldest sister. Besides that, she makes for a great helpmate. What I said about Ellen and accounting is doubly so with Ophelia. She speaks Dutch too. And, here is the catch: she is my Book Mouse. She is far happier when I give her books than when I give her jewellery. She does not like social gatherings. She is quite content staying at home, unnoticed. She is the best spouse for someone who plays the game as I do, don’t you think?”

 

The viscount hoped that Douglas was grasping the subtleties of what was being said. “Ellen, on the other hand, likes to be seen, to dress well, to wear beautiful jewellery. Not that she is empty- headed, but she needs to be around people, important people. She is a wife for someone who plays the game differently… and perhaps that someone could be you”.

 

And perhaps I had too much to drink from the three flasks, and I have said too much! The major then fell silent.

[Douglas FitzJames]

It was a strange game, and the idea that the rules of nobility might only be loosely applied to him because of his bastardy was an interesting one. It hadn't been his experience thus far, but in truth it had been trying to do what other nobility did that had earned him the most ire, probably what others considered 'aping his betters'. Was Duncan right, in that if he went off and did his own thing, no one would care? Because they wouldn't see you as competing with them. Not until his family had money and worth, anyway. Duncan's philosophy was an interesting one, and whilst he claimed that he let court think him a fool, Douglas suspected that Duncan was definitely the more intelligent and cunning of the pair of them.

 

"'The thin' aboot bein' in the rat race is, e'en if ye win, yer still a rat.'" Douglas quoted, having heard that somewhere. "Sae whit yer sayin' is that yer refusin' tae race, an' focusin' on whit's more important tae ye thain th'opinions o' English peers?"* It was something of a novel concept, and a difficult one for Douglas. Having been rejected all his life, Douglas craved acceptance and approval; turning his back on that need would be a difficult philosophical shift, even if it might actually result in it's satiation by his finding acceptance elsewhere.

 

No, Douglas wouldn't hurt anyone unless there was need of it, but if he saw that need he wouldn't hesitate. That was teh unseelie side of him. "Un'erstand that I wuidnae tak that suggestion frae ano'er man." Douglas added, a warning on the subject of suggesting he might make a mistress of a young lady. Had it come from anyone other than Duncan his temper would likely have reared it's ugly head, and even now he wasn't too impressed with the idea. He had better taste than that; his ladies were nobly born. "Did I treat Beatrice wi' ocht but honour?" He demanded. And if the other man's fears came from Ellen being too willing, surely a quick wedding would solve that problem. As for half a bottle causing trouble... "I kin hauld my drink."** There at last the warning growl had started; time to drop that subject. If they'd been soldiers in a pub, people would have started moving the furniture out of the way. Surely he thought better of Douglas than that?

 

Fortunately Duncan moved on to Douglas's question, which was more interesting. The Highlander had never met any of the Doolittle sisters, including Duncan's wife Ophelia, but here his friend claimed that his wife was the plainest of the three. A quite, retiring woman with a head for figures. Not the kind of wife Douglas would want, it was true. He liked to be showy, to socialise, and if Ellen was the same... "Haps yer richt." Douglas said at last, letting ruffled feathers settle. "T'daes soond as thou' ye chose the one whit suits ye." And Duncan seemed happy enough. "Haps Ellen wuid suit me better; we'll find oot whin I meet her." Assuming that Doolittle agreed to that. Douglas was intrigued, in spite of himself. "Whit doory did Doolittle offer fer Ophelia?"*** He asked bluntly.

 

They'd covered some complex ground on the back of a simple marriage suggestion. "Ye hae some verra int'restin' ideas, Melville." Douglas acknowledged, subtle gratitude for Duncan's forthrightness. "Yer'll let me think on whit yer've sayed."+ Because it took Douglas a little while to process new concepts and for him, adopting Duncan's view would mean a major paradigm shift, even if it might be the making of him.

 

Subtitles

* "'The thing about being in the rat race is, even if you win, you're still a rat. So what you're saying if that you're refusing to race, and focusing on what's more important to you than the opinions of the English peers?"

** "Understand that I wouldn't take that suggestion from another man. Did I treat Beatrice with anything but honour? I can hold my drink."

*** "Perhaps you're right. It does sound as though you chose the one that suits you. Perhaps Ellen would suit me better; we'll find out when I meet her. What dowry did Doolittle offer for Ophelia?"

+ "You have some very interesting ideas, Melville. You'll let me think on what you've said."

[Duncan Melville]

“In a sense. I do take part in the rat race still, but I do it by my own rules, not theirs”. It was not the usual way to play the game, but Duncan had not done that badly. “There are unwritten rules at court that one must know, by heart. But then you must also know when to follow them, when to bend them, and when to break them. It is an art form that I am beginning to learn”.

 

How to better explain it? Perhaps by example.

 

“A question, Dundarg. Who do you admire and respect at court? How do they accomplish their goals?” Perhaps the mental exercise would be worthwhile.

 

“Forgive me if I caused you slight, my friend. You were always a gentleman with Beatrice, and she will always remember you as such. Perhaps I was thinking too much of my wild youth in the Continent, and less of you, who gained a Scotch Barony by your own right”. There was a slight bow asking for forgiveness. “These days I am saying things I do not mean. Please forgive me”.

 

Duncan smiled at his friend’s question regarding Ophelia’s dowry. “Sir Cedric mentioned the sum of twenty five thousand pounds, and said with a smile that he hoped that was not what I would ask for. I replied that I wanted a partnership in his company instead. He was surprised, but accepted. I was a limited partner while I was still in Dumbartons, but, when I had to resign my commission on health grounds, he made me a full partner”. No one knew about the deal, with the exception of perhaps Ophelia, and now Douglas. “So, no paltry sums there, my friend”.

 

Truth be told, the viscount had never talked in such terms to anyone, not even his wife. “I know I may sound crazy. For all I know, I may be. But I have a duty to the Melville name, and I am doing the best I can. Times are changing. I have been to the Carib and its islands. There is hardly any nobles there, and the gentry and the merchants who reside there mingle quite freely. They are striking it rich there, whether it is sugar, tobacco, furs, trading… the ancient estates of England and Scotland cannot compete with the wealth generated in the Colonies”. There were exceptions, of course, but Duncan saw that as the general trend.

 

“So, take your time, think it over and, if you decide that I am to be sent to Bedlam, please be a friend and tell me. I will listen to reason”.

[Douglas FitzJames]

“I think ye ken them pretty weel.” Douglas suggested of the unwritten rules of court. “Better thain I do.”* He admitted. Duoglas hadn’t done so badly either, but his problem was that he had difficulty seeing that. He wanted it all, and he wanted it now; he was learning, the hard way, that life didn’t work like that. But most of all he wanted respect, for people to stop rejecting him because his father couldn’t keep his fish in his breeches. The fact that if his father had then he wouldn’t exist never crossed his mind.

 

But court generally tolerated him well enough, he had few real enemies. He’d made a good impression on some of the more highly ranking nobles, though he suspected that his birth prevented him becoming part of the close company of any of them. He was, in sum, a bit of a non-event in courtly circles. Perhaps Duncan was right; instead of railing against the fact, he could use it to his advantage.

 

It would bear thinking on later; Duncan asked him another question, somewhat left of field. Who did he admire? He didn’t have an easy answer. There were many whose power he admired, whose position he envied; but whom did he admire as a person? Far fewer than he had, for certain; familiarity bred contempt. “The Duke o’ Cumberland.” He said at last. Prince Rupert with his military prowess and solid reputation, doing the things he wanted to do. Yet, viewed in the light of Duncan’s words, Douglas began to see what he meant. “He isnae part o’ the rat-race either, is he? Nae truly.” Although he’d rather started at the top. “More sort o’ tae the side.”** Just doing his own thing, not bothering with politics and with his Common Law wife, who’d seemed very nice when Douglas spoke to her. Perhaps the mental exercise was worthwhile, for a slow light of understanding dawned in the man’s blue eyes. He thought he began to see what Duncan was getting at.

 

Whilst incensed by the implied accusation of Duncan’s warning about his treatment of Ellen – likely because it hit far too close to home - Douglas’s hackles began to settle a little as Duncan apologised. “Weel, we were aw young once.”*** He allowed. And young soldiers made mistakes in war, particular as young as he had been, just becoming a man. Perhaps Duncan remembered that Douglas hadn’t been quite so well behaved on the battlefields they’d shared some years ago; perhaps Duncan had been the same. A young man with his blood up and close comrades dead by an enemy’s blade thought little of turning his attentions to the enemy’s women. But he didn’t speak of such things; that was a lifetime ago. He’d not even taken his hand to a lady since coming to London, though Fiona was that close to getting a good thrashing.

 

The tall Highlander was presuming on Duncan’s friendship, he knew. He had no right to ask the questions he did, but Duncan mercifully answered them, ever mild mannered. What he revealed – about the dowry, about his wife, about his adventures – surprised Douglas, usually so wrapped up in his own concerns; it was like a whole new world. He had certainly given Douglas a lot to think about. “Thank ye Melville.” He said at length. “Ye truly treat me as a brothair, an’ I coont mysel’ blessed.” For that was how he saw the conversation, Duncan was like the elder brother he’d never had, advising the younger on how to proceed in life. It was enough to make him pause a moment, lest he choked up. He might have appeared paused in thought, save for the flush about his eyes. “Yer a wise man.” He said at length. “Times er changin’ an’ the world is expandin’. I’ll admit, seein’ the Carib haes great appeal.”+ And if gentry and merchants mingled freely there, would anyone care about his bastardy?

 

“Wuid ye object if I were tae speir Doolittle fer a partnership alsae?” He asked, perhaps cheekily though it wasn't meant that way. “Imitation bein’ the sincerest form o’ flattery.” And flattery was what was meant. “An’ the thoct o’ us learning the comp’ny taegether, an’ one day runnin’t wi’ oor wives, is a dream I wuid see become reality.”++ It would tie them together as partners as well as family. Yes, that future looked golden. Literally.

 

Subtitles

* “I think you know them pretty well. Better than I do.”

** “The Duke of Cumberland. He isn’t part of the rat-race either, is he? Not truly. More sort of to the side.”

*** “Well, we were all young once.

+ “Thank you Melville. You truly treat me as a brother, and I count myself blessed. You’re a wise man. Times are changing and the world is expanding. I’ll admit, seeing the Carib has great appeal.”

++ “Would you object if I were to ask Doolittle for a partnership also? Imitation being the sincerest form of flattery. And the thought of us learning the company together, and one day running it with our wives, if a dream I would see become reality.”

[Duncan Melville]

“Don’t know their rules well enough… at least not yet. But one day… perhaps one day I will be seen as worthy. They may not accept me as one of their own, on the account of being Scotch, but one day they will respect me, at least”. He was looked down upon for being a Lowlander, he knew, even if his family was old Norman. Instead of growing bitter, though, Duncan had decided to earn their respect without losing himself. Difficult, he knew, but not impossible.

 

“Aye, Prince Rupert is a good example. He is not out to please anybody but the king, and even that in his own particular way. We would not do badly if we emulated him”. Indeed, Rupert was a good role model. He was an accomplished scientist, an experienced military man, and a successful gentleman trader. “May God grant us to be as successful as he is!” It was not probable, but one could wish for the best. “I agree with your observation. He is to the side, more like a trainer, not really a part of it”.

 

“You are welcome, my friend. We live in interesting times, trying times that will either make us, or break us. Look at where holding on to the past got His Grace Charles’ father”. No need to say more. The Lowlander was too fond of his king to even mention the manner of the late king’s death. It was then that Douglas turned mushy on him. Fortunately, neither of them was English. In that regard, in showing emotion, Scots were much more like Irish or Spaniards than English. And most Scots preferred it that way. Thus, they could, when appropriate, say what they really felt.

 

“You are my brother, Dundarg, by the blood, sweat, and tears we have shed together, you are”. The viscount then smiled shyly at his friend’s compliment. “I am a fool that has glimpses on wisdom on occasion, nothing more”. Duncan did not consider himself wise. Careful, maybe, but not wise. “And yes, I think a voyage to the Carib might suit you. It is warm, rum is good, people are a tad more open. A different, new world”.

 

It seemed that the baron was already thinking about possibilities. “You can ask for a partnership, no problem with me. If you get it, I would not complain. If you don't, make sure you get as large a dowry as possible. I have a business venture in mind”. Sir Cedric making Douglas a partner would mean that the Lowlander’s income from Horizon Ventures would diminish by a third, at least for a short time. But there was also Melville Castle and its lands, which Duncan had kept as productive as he could, and the Lowlander had no debts outstanding. To Duncan, it was better to cut income short-term, but have a reliable partner in the long run. With Sir Cedric having three daughters, if Dundarg married one, the pair would control the company after Sir Cedric’s death, notwithstanding who married the third Doolittle girl.

 

“What do you say if we start shooting? I need the practice. I did not quite make the six shots in two minutes. And a Scotch can’t really blame the cold, can he?”

 

The viscount readied his musket. It was his intention to go through the six shots at the same time as Douglas, mimicking what they would do if they were with a line company on the battlefield. “Ready?”

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

The morning was already drawing on, by the time Nicolette found her way to the practise field. She knew the Lifeguards diligence well enough to have set her path there directly once she'd settled upon visiting him - the practise field was where she'd first met Douglas.

 

She not expected to see Lord Melville however. He'd kissed her once, she privately remembered.

 

"Bonjour my friends!" She was snuggly wrapped in fox fur cape, one that the taller of these men would surely recognise, and had pulled her hand from muff to wave to them as she approached.

 

They looked terribly busy, but men like them always did.

[Douglas FitzJames]

Duncan's approval of Prince Rupert as a role model cemented the thought in Douglas's mind, and around it the insights into a way of living that Duncan had offered began to congeal. It would no doubt take time, new ideas did not often work their way through Douglas's thick skull quickly, but when understanding finally dawned it was like continents colliding.

 

Here was the companionship and friendship that Douglas sought, one step removed from the conniving of court. Melville's words and trust meant more to him than the big man could articulate. Fortunately Duncan glossed over his moment of emotionality, perhaps understanding that some things were best understood and left unsaid.

 

He knew, of course, that a share in Horizon Ventures would dilute Duncan's share in it - and his income, at least temporarily; that was why he'd asked if Duncan would mind. More importantly it would do the same to Doolittle, giving himself and Duncan more control. Not that Douglas wanted to take control from Doolittle; the man had built up the company and the Scot wanted to work with him and learn how he'd done it. No, what he wanted was to safeguard his and Duncan's interests against the possibility of Natalie's husband not being as conducive to business after Doolittle passed. Likely he would have to start with a junior share like Duncan, but that was well and good. It would mean an income and a future, for both their families.

 

"Thank ye Melville. Yer a guid man, an' as guid a brothair as ony cuid wish."* Douglas opined. Yes, their future looked very bright indeed. "I weel foller yer lead. Haps if Mistress Ellen is at the Baw taenicht, ye micht intraeduce us?"* He suggested. No harm in meeting the lady and taking her measure for himself.

 

Serious subjects dealt with, Duncan's suggested that they do musket drill like the old days was met with a grin and a from nod. Setting the Rupertino rifle aside for his cavalryman's musket, Douglas lined up with Duncan as they once did back in the Royal Scots, indicating his readiness at Duncan's query, and the two fell into the familiar rhythm of powder, shot, tamp and fire. Exercising the old habits of a past life brought a deep satisfaction.

 

What others might have thought of the rapid succession of double shots, faster than the poorly-trained Life Guard, and the cloud of powder smoke was anybody's guess. Yet when that smoke cleared the two soldiers found they'd gained an audience. A warm greeting from a beautiful lady wrapped in a familiar fox-fur stole brought a broad smile to Douglas's face. "Why, if t'isnae Mischief deified!" He declared. "Mistress Vauquelin, hou daes the day find ye?"** He asked, extending one powder-smudged hand to take her own for a kiss, the reek of fired gunpowder thick about him.

 

Subtitles

* "Thank you Melville. You're a good man, and as good a brother as any could wish. I will follow your lead. Perhaps if Mistress Ellen is at the Ball tonight, you might introduct use?"

** "Why, if it isn't Mischief deified. Mistress Vauquelin, how does the day find you?"

[Duncan Melville]

“Of course, Dundarg! If Mistress Ellen or Sir Cedric are there tonight, I will make it a point to introduce you to them”. A splendid idea. Ellen would look her best at the ball, he was sure, and so would Douglas.

 

On his second run, the Lowlander did much better. Perhaps because his erstwhile junior officer was quite adept at volley fire, perhaps because his hands felt less dull after a few swigs from the flasks that no soldier would be found without. But using his pocket watch, the viscount reckoned they had fired six volleys in a little under two minutes. “Well done, Dundarg, well done. You were always one of the best”. It was true. Duncan might have been a better tactician, but Dundarg had always been a better soldier.

 

And then, the smoke cleared, and the two Scotch soldiers found themselves joined by Mademoiselle Vauquelin. Douglass greeted the young lady first, which meant no introductions were necessary. It also gave him time to use a handkerchief to clean his right hand as much as possible, in preparation of requesting her own hand for a kiss.

 

I wonder if she liked the gown… There had been no further contact between them after he had arranged for the gift, although he had sent a second one, the box full of dried leaves and powders from the auction. He would send a third, a book, for New Year's.

 

“Mischief deified?” Duncan asked with a quizzical look on his face. “Mademoiselle, have you been elevated to godhood while I was away from London? No one would merit it more than you, I must say, but you must tell me what I have missed!”

 

The Lowlander liked the girl. Not for her beauty, he was somewhat impervious to that. She was just a likeable person in Duncan’s eye.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

"I love that smell - it is the smell of adventure!" Nicolette claimed (in honesty or not) as she waved the clearing smoke away with a lacy handkerchief. Her smile as broad as it could ever with Douglas' cheery greeting, he was such a glorious tease, and she loved him for that!

 

Putting her hand into Douglas powder-smudged hand, she dipped to a curtsy then shifted to steal a kiss to his cheek when his head was bent. "You brought that upon yourself Mon Capitaine!" she crowed at her trick... before turning to Lord Melville.

 

Lord Melville. The more sober of the two, also extended his (wiped) hand to take hers too, and she placed hers dainty hand into his. "Shh.... it is a heresy." her eyes sparkled, for despite that she did enjoy banter of such a lofty elevation, "and moi, a poor little French girl from Normandie." She flashed another grin, and then tried for a double.

 

Though Lord Melville no doubt saw it coming as she pitched to steal a kiss of his cheek also. Either way she was laughing of her sport brightly, with an air of devil-may care fun.

 

"Lord Dundarg means the prize I won at the ball." she explained more sensibly then "I became Mistress of Misrule - it is a title the English give away for Christmas season. La! It is such hard work! I am exhausted!" which was a mock lament.

 

"Do they have this in Scotland also?"

[Duncan Melville]

The Lowlander did see the kiss on the cheek coming, and did not flinch. What gentleman would shy away from a kiss on the cheek by such a beauty? Besides, he enjoyed the young lady’s Joie De Vivre. It was a great counter to his propensity for taciturn moods.

 

A private from the Life Guard appeared suddenly, and called for his captain’s attention. Douglas stepped a few paces from his friends, listened to the agitated soldier, his brow furrowing. He then hastily returned to bid his leave with a terse “please forgive me, duty calls”, and left hurriedly, preceded by the other man.

 

Duncan nodded, understanding. A soldier could not say no when duty called. He took his musket and equipment, deciding to have it cleaned at home so that Nicolette did not have to wait for him or, even worse, get stained by his battle against bore fouling.

 

“But mademoiselle, Normandie is the one great region in all of France! My ancestors the de Mallevilles, originally lived in the Pays de Caux in Normandie. Guillame de Malleville accompanied William the Conqueror to England and fought at the Battle of Hastings, and it was only in 1124 that my family migrated to the Lowlands of Scotland”.

 

Not that Duncan considered himself French. He was, and always would be, his King’s dutiful subject, and a Scott. He was too proud of those things to see himself as something else. Still, light banter with Nicolette was much enjoyable. “Thus, I do not see the problem of elevating a belle from Normandie to divine status!”

 

“Mistress of Misrule? God save us all then! I am certain you have been devising much mischief over the season, then!” It was all, of course, in good fun. “Yes, we did have a similar custom north of Hadrian’s Wall. The Abbot of Unreason. It still exists in some towns, but with our King living in London now, there is none of the gaiety that His Grace Charles’ court is so famous for”.

 

And we Presbyterians condemn such pagan practices in our innermost hearts, even though we seldom say anything on the matter.

 

The viscount offered his arm to the young lady. “I am finished here. May I escort you wherever you would care to go? It is becoming quite chilly outside…”

 

OOC: I hope it is OK to give Douglas a graceful exit?

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

OOC: I'm sure his writer would be fine with that

IC:

 

Nicci grinned with her triumph (kissing the ever so proper Lord Melville's cheek), her eyes merrily dancing, even as the darling Fitzjames was prematurely summoned away.

 

"Forgive? Why perhaps, with sufficient acts of penance!" she called after the departing Scott.

 

She had to admit to herself that life was very good, for the remaining gentlemen was swift to offer her his arm and to escort. "Why thankyou Lord Melville." she slid her arm through and around his, "We must swap family anecdotes." yes life was simply wonderful. Even on such a cold morning as this, she felt so very warm inside.

 

Duncan seemed both amused and approving of her 'Mistress fo Misrule' status - telling her of the Scottish version. "Abbot of Unreason, why that sounds grand fun too!" She giggled of it. "Though I fear I may have not delivered up to all the expectations - it is a bizarre thing, I must admit that the title alone is marvellous, but I an nervous to issuing any actual commands. A jest or a prank may amuse for a few minutes, but any grudges gained as a result need be suffered the rest of a lifetime!"

 

Nicolette did not want to make enemies, she was cheerful, but not insane.

 

"But tell me, why did your family leave Normandie to go quite so far away? Scotland is very cold, or so I had heard. It must have been some great drawing card to compensate."

[Duncan Melville]

“Indeed, you must be careful who you make fun of. Some will laugh with you, but some others will feel slighted”. It was true. “Still, if it brings royal recognition of some sort, perhaps they will forgive you”. Perhaps. “Do make sure you do not cross the wrong person”. Duncan squeezed her hand for an instant, in a show of both concern and support. "I do find a Mistress of Misrule much more appealing than an Abbot of Unreason. Abbots are old, wrinkled, and boring. You are nothing of the kind".

 

Be careful, lass. One wrong word could be your undoing.

 

“Guillaume de Maleville followed The Conqueror to England for the same reason all knights follow their liege. They go where there is honour and glory to be won, and lands and titles that go with them. As to why he decided to continue northwards with King David, I can only guess. He was probably promised lands there, and decided that a change of scenery was in his favour”.

 

Or perhaps he was running away from a powerful lord whose daughter he had debauched? We were Normans, and thus Viking raiders, after all

 

“And you? I have talked long enough about my family. Please tell me about yours…”

 

All the Lowlander knew about Nicci was that she was Louis’ cousin, and he was quite curious as to who her family was back in France.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

Nicolette’s smile settled firmly in place as the gentleman continued a caring mode - his squeeze of hand and murmured encouragement was just the sort of thing to give her further, silently held, impressions.

 

"Why Lord Melville," her fingers snaked a little further about his arm, "now that you put it like that, I have to agree with you. Besides, Abbotts tend towards such black and white views of life, while persons like you and I know life to be cacophony of hues, every possible shade of the colour wheel!"

 

“Have you a portrait of Guillaume, your ancestor, upon the walls at Melville now? Such a variety in his life has me wonder to the look of him? Why, some persons practically scream adventure -

while others keep their diverse array of interests far more mmm...'under wraps', as they say. Now you might be the latter I think. With each meeting I make of you, I discover more than I'd initially imagined." The pretty Mlle Vauquelin looked up at the sturdy Scott again, batted lashes coquettishly and mummed her lips.

 

She could have said rather more on the topic, but a clever girl never revealed her entire hand.

 

"My family..."

 

It was a perfectly natural question to ask of an unmarried lady , usually asked by a courtier who was weighing up the girls worth financially or contacts wise, usually before deciding upon that persons possible benefit to themselves. Possibly with thoughts to inclusion upon their own family tree in some capacity (Heavens knew there was always swags of cousins needing matches!) But Nicolette did not need such consideration from Melville, with Buckingham as her patron, she had a good deal to accomplish first. So it was she felt little need to sugar-coat her own background.

 

She did not desire to be match-made by him, it was an entirely different sort of consideration from this man that she desired.

 

"La! But of course you know that Lord Basildon and I am cousins. Our mothers were sisters, raised into the French Court with fine family and grand prospects. Yet quite contrary to popular custom of the time, the sisters both made love-matches. Dear Louis' Mama, Colette, married a wealthy Earl and crossed the sea to live the rest of her life in England. While my own, Lisolette, fell in love with a war hero when he came to court to receive honours from the Sun King himself! Mama told me that at the time he and his company was greatly hailed! Most all thought he was upon the beginning of a magnificent career, so that her parents even endorsed the match. That was until they learnt he was Huguenot."

 

"It was tragedy that his life was so soon after lost, and my Mama, heavy with child, remained thereafter with his parents. Merchants in St Aubin D'Arquenay - which is not too far from the port of Ouistreham."

 

"I did not grow with much contact to my other Grandparents, they are in the South of France.” Which was a manner of saying they were Catholic. “..though Mama said that my passion for healing and medicine is in her families blood. I believe that one of the cousins came to help with Lady Basildons mmm… delivery." She peeked again at Duncan.

 

“Natures follow though families, don’t you agree?” she sweetly asked.

[Duncan Melville]

Duncan felt the young Mademoiselle’s hand move, and her arm get closer. Still, he did not react to the movement. Was he aware of it? His face did not say much either way.

 

“Alas, no. There is no portrait of Guillaume de Maleville in Melville Castle. There are many Melvilles in Scotland, so perhaps one of them does have one. It would make for a grand fireplace mantle decoration, that is for sure”. Even with the current state of affairs with France, portraits of ancestors were treasured by most noble families in the three kingdoms, even if those depicted had been born in France.

 

Nicolette was a flirt, and a good one too. Yet, she was facing an unusual man, one with deep religious beliefs that coloured everything he did, and everything he saw and heard. Thus, the batting of lashes and pursing of lips went almost unnoticed. The Lowlander did not give them the significance that other, more worldly courtiers, would have, nor did he react as they would have reacted.

 

“I am no more than a gentleman trader, Mademoiselle Vauquelin. One that is just trying to do the best he can for his family in these trying times, while remaining most loyal to His Grace Charles”. His face was full of innocence… or was it just a façade? “Still, I must accept that there are layers below that statement that make me… complex… at times”.

 

“Love matches? How unusually fresh!” His own marriage had been one of financial consideration. He could have waited and married a more noble lady after having made himself known at court, but being a partner of Horizon Ventures had its advantages too, like a seat in the Exchange, and the consideration of Sir Cedric’s peers. No one would dare cross the Scotch in a business deal unless they were willing to face the wrath of the Bristol-based merchant.

 

“My deepest respect for your father’s service to his homeland. I served under Turenne, and I had nothing but respect for the man, and for your country's regiments. That we now find ourselves at the brink of war with France is not something I relish”. Indeed, if it came to war, the three kingdoms would do well at sea, but not necessarily so on dry land.

 

“My deepest sympathies for your loss, Mademoiselle”. The viscount patted her hand once again. “It must have been hard to grow up without a father”. Although Duncan hardly ever say his father when the man was Secretary of State for Scotland, it was not the same as not having a paternal figure. He, at least, could make an appointment to see his progenitor. Nicolette had not been able to do even that. How sad. A girl needs her papa. The thought made him recall the face of his own daughter, and a silent prayer went to the heavens, asking God not to make her an orphan until she was ready to face life.

 

Medicine! I had forgotten…

 

“Pray, tell me, have you been applying your knowledge of healing plants? Has the case I sent you been of any use?” The girl lived in a land not her own, and the Good Book admonished that foreigners, along widows and orphans, should be treated well. Thus, it was the Lowlander’s natural inclination to help the French belle. His inquiry was meant to find out if there was anything he could do for her.

 

“There are traits that are inherited, I agree. I just hope my children do not inherit several of mine…”

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

Her smile held a little satisfaction in her stance, as she strolled along at a leisurely gait, her hand becoming toasty and warm under his arm. "I wonder if you could advertise for it, in some witty way that would invite the possessor’s compliance. Perhaps phrase an advertisement like a hostage situation - and offering a grand ransom for it's location to be revealed?" the Frenchwoman imagined out aloud. "No, I don’t think that will work. You will need some other cleverness to coax whichever family Melville to reveal it's on their wall. Such a prize, such a treasure."

 

Nicolette had learnt the arts of flirtation over the course of many years at Versailles, tete a tete d'amour was a well savoured delight, in it she found satisfaction of it's own sort. She was in no rush, there was no short fuse. Besides, the gentleman, in is own way, was responding.

 

"La, our Moon King..." Nicolette uttered softly after Duncan’s mention of CR. Yet his mention of more complex layers reminded her of a hot-headed Scott named Stephen Murray, of his complaints that he did not seem willing to take laying down. Did Duncan hold inner conflict as well, was his Scottish soul far less at peace than his smooth brow would have one think? But she would not speak of the controversial, ladies did not do that, rather she'd allow allegory in her reply to the more mundane.

 

"I rather doubt that anyone would consider you merely a gentleman trader my Lord." small grin, and then she continued, "Mmm... A great King fills his house with men of all manners of experience, here you are called from the North, your wisdom shared. Your very presence might make the Brittish Isles a stronger whole?" tipping her head in questioning fashion, she invited his reply.

 

"Thank you. I had my Grandfather, and Grandmother, I like to think I was very fortunate for their love." No Nicci had no sadness for her upbringing - it had been a carefree existence that she had warm memories of. "In fact it was my Grandfather who gave me my copy of the Culpepper."

 

"Ah yes, I love the box, thank you so much. I could not bid on it at the auction myself, then receiving it, was such a lovely surprise." She smiled warmly into his face.

 

"Though the substances within it were rather... exotic. I admit, Lord Melville, that I did try one of them myself." she looked to him wondering what he'd think of that, "The Sapphire powder, it is fabled as a tonic for courage." her eyebrow rose with amusement as she added with a chuckle, "I think it worked."

 

His reply upon family traits was pleasingly evasive; he was inviting her to probe, and she delighted in doing so. "What traits could you possibly mean Lord Melville?" Her steps slowed with her absorption of the topic.

[Duncan Melville]

Had Duncan realized the young mademoiselle’s designs on his person, he might have beat a hasty retreat. But he didn’t, so his leisurely pace continued, strolling towards the warmth of the palace.

 

“I have been considering asking my friend, Lord Chichester, to either paint a portrait of my family, or find a painter of ability to do the same. Perhaps it would be best to leave the portrait hunting to the Melvilles a few generations down the line”, the viscount said amicably. “There is enough to do now, with the possibility of war…”

 

Moon King? Although his face did not betray his thoughts, the phrase sat ill on Duncan. It almost felt as if Nicolette was comparing His Grace Charles to King Louis, and found him lacking.

 

The viscount had worked long and hard to be considered a man of little importance. It was part of his façade, one he cultivated whenever he could. “I do hope His Grace looks down upon me with fondness, yes. But I am not certain how useful I could be to such great a man, besides being an officer in one of his regiments. The only thing I can say in my favour is that I am His Grace’s good subject, and would lay my life for him in an instance, if it ever came to that”. The tone was serious, but not somber.

 

Nicci then mentioned her mother and grandfather. Good. She was happy growing up. “Culpepper? I have read about him. Some sort of medical practitioner, was he not?” The Lowlander left unsaid that he had read parts of Culpepper’s Astrological Judgement of Diseases from the Decumbiture of the Sick due to his interest in Astronomy and Astrology. ‘’Which one of his books do you have?” perhaps her book has some passages on Astrology?

 

That she liked his gift pleased him. “When I saw the box, it just felt that you should be its next owner”. Just like the mirror had felt like it should belong to George Chichester. “Sapphire powder? And it did work? Then it was money well spent!” His tone was upbeat and her possible double entendre was unnoticed.

 

“I hope my children inherit honourable behavior, piety, and loyalty. I pray to God they don’t inherit propensity to anger and revenge. Those traits invite all sorts of trouble”. I killed a man once, out of anger, and it was not because he was an enemy in the battlefield. I still have nightmares about it, even though years have passed. I wish not that for my children.

 

“And you, tell me. What traits would you like to pass to your own children?”

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

OOC: seems to me a good time to pick this back up!

 

“Lord Chichester? Ah yes I'd heard he the artist sort." Nicci had not met the man personally, though if she did she'd certainly attempt to beguile him with her whiles... perhaps to have a portrait painted of herself too? She'd not considered that thought before.

 

"It is a way to preserve ones presence upon this earth," she mused of portraits, Melville's or her possible own, "that perhaps one day future generations will stand before it and share the stories of your life, those known."

 

"Do you keep a diary Lord Melville?" the thought followed.

 

He grazed past the subject of war, then moved on, she with appreciation that a royalist was not likely to strike up casual conversation on that topic with a woman of her nationality. She gave a silent nod, and the topic slid past.

 

"Culpeper’s Complete Herbal." she answered. Herbal medicine was indeed linked to the stars Culpeper’s work classified each individually as governed by this planet or that. She chuckled then as he asked if the Sapphire powder had worked, "Alas I think not my lord, unless one counts the placebo-tic effect of doing something as better than naught at all."

 

"Those are things of which a father might feel proud to see in his children." she acknowledged with tip of her head, looking at the seriousness of his expression as he considered this. These things must be what he would strive most to develop in himself, she supposed. "You seem a good model that they might follow."

 

"Ah!" she lapsed into a laugh as Melville then rounded the question back upon her! "Let me see, boldness and daring seem at the heart of all who wring the most from life, and I hope is in myself also, so I would wish that for them. Yet also compassion and eyes that look to others hearts with care."

[Duncan Melville]

Portraits were a legacy of sorts, true. Not the most important type, deeds were far more important, but portraits did have the effect of bringing great deeds to mind. “I am certain that many portraits will be painted of you, and many tales will be told of your accomplishments”, Duncan said gallantly. “You will definitely not be forgotten by history. You are too full of life for that”.

 

At Nicci’s question regarding a diary, the Lowlander’s eyes showed surprise. “No, I don’t keep one”. Secrets would be difficult to keep if I did. “But I intend to write my memoirs one day, when I am truly old, and I have something worthwhile to tell. Meanwhile, I will just have to rely on my memory not to forget the few memorable experiences I have had”. To Duncan, most of his military exploits were merely doing his duty, so he did not consider them of import. “And you? Do you trust your innermost thoughts to a diary at the end of each day? I am certain it is something very much worth reading, if you do”.

 

"Culpeper’s Complete Herbal", he repeated, committing the name to memory. “I am afraid I have not read it, although I definitely would love to”. He was not just being polite. If there were any references to his interests in the book it would be a book worth reading. “Perhaps I should try to find a copy…” a thought occurred to him, “… unless you would be so kind as to lend me yours? I would promise to take the best care of it, of course”. That would make seeking the volume and paying for it unnecessary, which would be welcome.

 

And then they went on to talk about laudable character traits. “Boldness and daring are fine”, the viscount said. After all, they were welcome traits in many Scotch ladies. “As for compassion and care, I must also agree. Great Christian virtues, both”.

 

They were approaching the buildings. Would Nicci want to go to a specific spot at the palace, Dunc wondered, or would she leave? He wanted to remain in the palace for a while, but did not want to impose his company on her.

 

“Pray, tell me. As Lady of Misrule, what have you designed for us mere mortals in the next few days?”

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

"I hope so." Nicolette gave a (surprisingly?) modest smile at his words - mindful that only time would really tell.

 

"I would think a book of memoires would be a perfect accompaniment to your portrait." she agreed, completing that questions thought.

 

"But indeed I do keep a journal, not of every day, but of the most remarkable days. Like my journey to England. Like the day I meet the Conte de Chevreuse and Duc St Aignan. Like Restoration day ceremony. And also some smaller days too, with happening so precious I never want to forget."

 

She'd not expected him to show as much interest in her book. "Oh." It surprised her actually. But he had been so kind always, she could hardly refuse. "Perhaps a few days, till the end of the season?" she offered, hoping that might be enough. "Ah, you shall need to be careful for it contains my herb collection, pressed between the pages." which possibly was frowned upon by book collecting purists, but was the manner she'd gone about since a little girl collecting the subjects she'd read of on it's pages.

 

He approved of the traits she'd chosen, which was satisfying, her shoulders shifted and she smiled of that. "Though I do not expect to pass those things on any time soon yet." she added with a light laugh, and then here they were arriving at the great stone buildings, with paths that went this way and that. Coming to a standstill she dawdled in his company...

 

"I have planned very little Lord Melville, it is more difficult than you might think. Everyone has such different ideas, so that asking for others input has not helped me at all. For instance Lady Toldeo thought I should say a mischief that everyone has to talk Spanish at her party. But, well you can see how that would not work. And... well I cant remember any others just now, but.

 

"Well, it is difficult." Nicolette admitted with a sigh. It was an invitation of course, for him to come up with an excellent solution.

[Duncan Melville]

“Aye, Mademoiselle. A portrait and a book of memories would go well together”. The idea had merit. Yet, it would have to wait, at least the memories part. Duncan was not ready to look back on his life yet; there was too much to look forward to.

 

“Just make it a point that your journal is not stored where unauthorized eyes can read it. The thoughts contained therein are best kept away from prying eyes…” Left unsaid was the thought that a journal’s content could be used against the writer. Blackmail was, after all, a common form of court currency.

 

As for Culpeppers’ book, a few days would suffice. “Till the end of the season would be more than enough. I just want to peruse it to see if I should try to get one for myself. As for your herbs. I will be mindful of them. I give you my word that your book will not be taken out of doors until I return it to you”.

 

Lady Toledo’s suggestion would have been impractical. The Lowlander would have understood what was said, but most others wouldn’t. It seemed that everybody wanted Nicolette to do what they wanted, not what would help her climb the greasy pole. That was not unexpected.

 

But Duncan was not just everybody.

 

“Mademoiselle Vauquelin, the one piece of advise I would give you is to not try to please others, and just follow your heart. Be true to yourself, be spontaneous, decide on the spur of the moment, have fun! If you enjoy what you do, others will notice. There are far too many jaded courtiers in London, and one more won’t get noticed. But a young, beautiful, witty lady that laughs at life in the face just might…”

 

The viscount was perhaps being foolishly naïve, as courts were known to swallow young, innocent girls whole without breaking step, but he was being sincere. There was no malice in his words. Duncan played the game by his own modified set of rules, and that tended to colour his opinions.

[Nicolette Vauquelin]

"Hmm... unless the thoughts therein might benefit one if publicised?" Nicolette grinned at the counter thought, a light of mischief in her eyes as the idea followed: "Perhaps two journals then, one public, and one with ones most heartfelt sentiments."

 

Duncan was a man of some years, no naive boy, so that she was sure he could understand and appreciate the politic of what she suggested.

 

Perhaps her delicate concern about her prized possession showed on her face, for the good man then provided her his utmost assurance that it would be kept safe. She was placated, and her smile reached her eyes. "Then I shall have it delivered to you this afternoon, or tomorrow at the very latest." It would just depend on how busy Louis servants were, to when she could borrow one to run the errand to Chelsea.

 

Perhaps she was biased, for she did not find his advice to seem naive - it held the ring of truth, that ring that pleased the heart and the mind alike. "Yes, that is thing of it." Nicolette crooned, pleased to have found a like mind in this. Pleased to have found someone who might at the very least understand why she'd not mapped out a list of Misrules set in stone like a town charter. "The misrules should discover upon a moment and a whim. They might be the voice that calls out what others might think but not want to say. They should respond to the moments within Courts festivity, and accent the seasons pleasures." Halting herself as she discovered she'd said quite a lot for a girl who'd hardly made a single misrule.

 

With a bashful look she added, "Well as you can see Lord Melville, it is not that I do not aspire to make much of it. Perhaps at the Ball...?"

[Duncan Melville]

There was a gleam of understanding in Duncan’s eyes. “Such thoughts could become valuable indeed…” and dangerous, if the wrong parties learned that they were being set to paper. “They would have to be collected with the utmost discretion, though, and never seen by servants, nor hinted at in conversation, except with very trustworthy parties”.

 

“I thank you for the loan. I promise to take the best of cares”. The Lowlander would know if the volume was of interest within an hour of opening it. If it were, though, it would take a long time to read the passages he found, perhaps copying some of them if they proved worthy. “You are very kind to let me borrow it”.

 

Perhaps a thank you gift would be in order…

 

“Spontaneity is best, yes. As for the ball, it would be the best of venues for Misrule to make for a light and happy night, yes, and so would be the sleigh race”. The ball was definitely a good idea, as wines and spirits were sure to flow freely, easing consciences and thus minimizing objections. The sleigh race offered different, but no less entertaining options.

 

“Talking about the ball leads me to ask… would you save a dance for me at the ball? Unless your card is already filled, of course, which it probably is”.

 

It was likely not, but mentioning it would appeal to the young mademoiselle’s vanity.