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A Shot Taken For England | 3rd 3pm- Xmas 1677


Robert Saint-Leger
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Shooting Range

Part of the Knightsbridge Barracks, spilling into St. James' Park, were the shooting ranges. These well-kept outdoor grass areas were used for target practice. The smallest, some fifty paces in length, was used for pistol practice, whereas the larger of the two, two hundred and fifty paces in length, was uses for musket fire. Weapons could not hit a target at such ranges, but a safety area was left in the back, to minimize accidents.

 

Lord Beverley had arrived early to make sure that all of the necessary arrangements had been made and that everything was set up properly. Servants were about making final touches, bringing out some of the weapons, adding to the warming fires for the guests, readying hot drinks. 

 

That done, he waited for others to arrive. 

 

Although the shooting range was rather large, they were going to use the longest of them so that they could fire various sorts of weapons. There were ushers to make certain the event retained its exclusivity and the general area was kept off so that nobody else could shoot at that time.

 

True to his word, Beverley had made certain there was a safe little area to the side where there was a fire so that any wandering onlookers could spectate if they wished, separate from those there to shoot and discuss military matters. After all, it only did well to have people talking about such gatherings. It might even inspire more people to donate to the cause. 

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Winchilsea, dressed so fine and sleek, strutting a silver tipped walking stick came into view - behind him a manservant walked carrying a wooden case.

He gave a nod to Beverly, they were known to each other though hardly friends.   Daniels eyes naturally drifted to the servants offering hot beverages... inwardly regretting that he'd been first to arrive.  There was aught for it but to greet the man Beverly - though they likely did not have one thing in common to talk about! 

"Good afternoon Lord Beverly.  Mild weather for it." 

Daniel fell back upon the very English topic of weather - how many awkward meetings had thus been saved!  

   

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Rupert was attired in his Admiral uniform for this day.  There would be talk of his new cannon surely, but he needed to project his military rank in the midst of the soldiers and military admirers in London.  He was standing beside Lord Ogle, also in uniform, who had been recently deserted by his brother-in-law Chris Monck, the Duke of Ablemarle, when the topic of weapons was unveiled.  In his place stood his father, the Duke of Newcastle.

Snow flurries began, adding a bit of white color to an otherwise gray sky.  Servants scurried to erect a number of canaopies that had been brought along in case of precipitation.

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Beverley was ever more thankful to have made amends with his lord father, for elsewise he might have frozen before he was to shoot, regardless of the fires! Even on a milder day, Beverley was not a thick man nor a robust one. He was thankful for the warmer layers and boots. Beverley's commission was not a naval one, so his uniform was red with a fine navy blue sash. The only thing of note about his attire was that he had very fine gloves and instead of simply one white plume in his hat, there was a white and a dark blue fastened together. 

 

As people started to arrive, the viscount took a settling breath.

 

"Hello, Lord Winchelsea. Seems to be," he agreed. Beverley was not the greatest conversationalist, so he fell back on stereotypical things as well. "I would rather have a few flurries of snow than our typical rain." At least with it being unseasonably cold that Christmastide, there had been more snow than rain. It was far more miserable to shoot with rain than snow.

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Winchilsea acknoldeged the Duke and company with a bow-like nod... 

The dual plumes of Beverlys hat was a nice touch, pleasantly elaborate while still quintessential military.  Daniel made mental note to himself to procure a hat like that for himself for any future warish type events.   But here and now, the conversation got off to a sturdy start.  

"Agreed, flurries are far preferable to rain, or most especially to sleet.  I hope there is sufficient view of the targets for the full period, the bothersome mists rolling up from the Thames can be a hinderance at the best of times."    Feeling pleased with himself for drawing upon an increased list of possible weather conditions, he smiled some towards the younger Viscount.

 

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The pretty-faced Kingston almost looked younger and more girlish with his abundant mane of golden curls plaited into what resembled a wrist-thick, golden rope that fell between his shoulder-blades. He definitively cut the figure of military man better than he did Lord-of-Anything, for his prettiness was comically complimented by an old and well-used arquebus slung over his shoulders behind his neck. There was absolutely nothing gilt about it, or fine, or fancy; it was a weapon of use but impeccably kept and maintained - like that of a man would who might never own another. Only the oldest among them might find it recognizable, for it was his grandfather, Colonel Legge's, weapon. It had fought in many wars with the colonel, the last two naval wars with Francis, and all Francis' subsequent skirmishes at sea. 

 

With him was the inimitable Lord Camberwell, wearing a brand new and impeccably plumed cavalier's hat*. They were very nearly the same height and strangely matched lock-step in stride, though Camberwell might well appear the manlier of the two. One might think that Francis had invited Camberwell, but Camberwell had actually shown up at Buckingham's and demanded the cub's company to arrive at the event! 

 

Camberwell wasted no time in striding right up to Ru's little group, for considering Newcastle's late father had been the governor of his brothers and the King, the current Lord Newcastle knew Camberwell well-enough.

 

"Good afternoon, Your Highness. Colonel Howard sends his regrets, as you know he has been ill, but we wish to sponsor some cannon." He then leaned in to say something private to Rupert, which was that they wished something engraved on them. It must have been comical, for the stalwart German snorted with amusement and smiled. 

 

"Congratulations on the engagement, my lords," he said to the Newcastles. To Ogle, he added, "You must tell me how you secured such a match young man!" Eager to torment as many young men who did not know him, Camberwell put a hand on Ogle's shoulder and guided him away with an air of secrecy, flashing a cheeky wink at Lord Newcastle. Surely he did not wish his son puppying on his shoulder all day!  That boy needed separation from his father! Camberwell clearly knew the awkward Ogle had probably nothing to do with securing that engagement which all the other men would know too.

 

When Camberwell scampered off with Ogle, Kingston was left blinking somewhat awkwardly at the other two, the blush intensifying on his face. He brought the gun down from his shoulder. He truly looked more Ogle's age than nearly thirty, with cheeks that stained ever pinker just like his father until they were almost cherry red. He was not quite as used to Camberwell's antics.

 

"Good afternoon, Your Highness, Your Grace." He took a cherished breath and then added, "I welcome the smell of some gunpowder and fresh air after all the perfumed madness of being inside!" The one downside of Christmastide was the sheer volume of people meant lots of perfume to cover lots of unsavory smells. Francis was used to the rushing air of sea pushing many stinks away and providing more than enough fresh, moving air. 

 

Behind Kingston, John held an armful with Camberwell's chicking coins in the bottom box, Camberwell's pistols in the middle box, and with only the small box on top belonging to his actual master. John's face might have been slightly miffed.

 

Francis had brought the unique duck-foot pistol he had intended to gift Cumberland with him in the smallest, top box. Kingston had pledged all his ships for the war as he had the last war, and he had cut Cumberland in on a scheme for Melvilles Letter of Marque; both were far more valuable than coin for cannon. And Kingston did not have coin. Not in the way all the fancy lords did at least. 

 

(OOC - I couldn't resist introducing L.C. into the mix what with how close he is with Rupert 🤣 and since he and Francis can't play together ever, I figured it would be a good place to introduce Francis' Christmas present - the hat - to dear Camberwell and unleash him on the other PCs! )

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Beverley could not help but snort as Winchelsea made an abundant comment on the specifics of preferable weather. 

 

"We shall, erm, need warm drinks just in case, then." 

 

He noted the arrival of a few others, including that blond who had once been Sir Something and who had become a lord through the strange venue of the King giving the mother a title. Beverley was snooty enough to find that odd, but in his position he knew what things the blond had done and he also knew enough about his own master to know the blond's grandfather had been here, there, and everywhere with Cumberland during the Civil War. Meaning, he was smart enough to just avoid the man and avoid potentially saying anything impolitic. 

 

"That Camberwell fellow is....erm....so very expressive." Meaning Beverley found him odd. Beverley had not seem Camberwell with his master very often. Camberwell might have found this exceedingly funny for he knew Beverley very well! "Do you know him?" Beverley was not even sure how old the gentleman was or what sort of a title was Camberwell. 

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Rupert greeted Lord Camberwell with eyes of recognition.  He knew that person well enough.  Peg was rather fond of associating with him.  "Good day your lordship," he greeted Camberwell and then Kingston in turn.  Newcastle greeted each in turn as well.

"It was my father's doing ... mostly," Ogle replied with the absence of any bravado.  None objected as the young man was led off.  The Duke could only pray that his son did not make a fool of himself.

"A fine looking weapon," Rupert acknowledged as Francis displayed what was on his back.  "Newcastle and I were discussing the next evolution of the matchlock," Rupert explained to Kingston.  "The question is whether a spark might substitute for a lit wick."

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The gathering grew - Daniel's eyes alighting on Kingston and an unspoken thought seriousing his expression.  Later, they might talk.

Currently in the company of the renown innocent (Beverley was as cunning as a woollen scarf) he kept conversation light.  "Yes, hot drinks!"  Servants ferried about with their requests, and warm mugs were soon enough held within chill hands. 

"Camberwell..." Daniel replied, "...expressive? Yes that is one word for it, I would refrain from more colourful descriptives however, he enjoys the indulgence of the most notable persons in England."  It was a kindness for Winchelsea to advise Beverley this, pity that he had never been so kind to his younger brother (instead laughing as Hen had put his foot in it time and again.)   

"Camberwell has a fine nose for fun, his arrival is a good omen for your event."  

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His cheeks fading from peak redness, Francis eyed the gun Cumberland commented on with a fondness. 

 

"It has good provenance, for it was my grandfather's. Well-made and trusty to have served in many skirmishes and survived," he replied. 

 

As to the question of evolving pieces of firearms, he quirked a brow. He did have a history of thinking of evolving pieces of ships, but he had little directed his mind to the mechanics of firearms. 

 

"I assume that would fire the shot much quicker and allow for a shorter barrel which is good for ships or horses," Francis replied. "If a spark does it for tinder, it will do so for powder, but I am no expert on the workings such mechanics if there would be shortcomings to it." 

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It was a day full of errands for the Earl of Langdon.  The shooting match was to occupy his late afternoon and then there would be the Queen's auction. 

Langdon owned no notable weapons.  His pistols were of the ordinary variety.  His muskets were the same as the regiment he commanded and outfitted.  As such, he had brought along no weapon other than his sword.  Unsure of what was to transpire, Charles entered the area with uncertainty.  He saw the Prince and the Cavendishes.  Beverley was standing with Daniel Finch.  Though he knew little of the Chancellor's son, Charles decided to move in that direction.  "Good day gentlemen," he greeted the pair as he approached.  He looked about to see who else might be arriving.  Surely this was not going to be a small affair.  When the Prince of the Rhine wished to have a gathering, it would attract a large crowd.  Perhaps the invitations had been limited.  "Are we expecting a large crowd today Lord Beverley?"

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There was another small group that seemed so slow that it grew as it arrived. 

 

As it came closer, it was York, with a few of his gentlemen who had come across the stiff Major-General Ashburnham and his great-nephew John making their way across the uneven ground. York could be as princely, entitled, and intemperate as they came, but he held a great respect for old military men and his household was almost entirely comprised of current and former naval officers. Therefore, the entire group walked at the pace of the rich seventy-something year old with a cheery patience. He got around fairly well for his age. One might have been surprised that York had any patience at all for being inconvenienced, but his better qualities sometimes came out. 

 

However, his better qualities might not prevail very long if he needed to hold conversation with Langdon. There were rumors. 

 

 

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Beverley had only ever been to one libertine-ish event in his life, so he was not as familiar with Camberwell as Winchelsea.

 

"Truly? Hmm." He was too old to be another of the King's bastards clearly. "I do not very oft see him at court events, but he does seem to be quite familiar to the older lords." He tossed his eyes toward Camberwell and Ogle again. 

 

"Well, good omens are, erm, well, better than any alternative. It is meant to be fun. And he does seem very familiar with His Highness..." Beverley smiled agreeably, then brought his drink to his lips. 

 

It was then that Lord Langdon arrived. "Exclusive enough for conversation and shooting, of course, but the invitations provided for bringing a guest, so large enough for, erm, variety." 

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"The Prince's gun is no doubt the appeal today, word is that in times past Camberwell benefitted from his personal instruction in weaponry." Daniel chuckled a that, it was hearsay only, but utterly believable. 

And then Langdon arrived, soon after him was York's party. "Good afternoon Langdon, " Daniel's eyes fell past the lesser towards the group of veterans, this would growing to be quite the gathering indeed - although he was discovered an absence of pretties, frills and skirts.  "And ladies are attending?"  he asked next. 

 

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"Indeed," Rupert replied to Kingston.  "Your grandfather was a good man."

"Use flint instead of a match," surmised Newcastle.  "But the spark must be strong and reliable every time."

"A good weaponsmith could do it," Rupert added.  "There are experiments now."  Military technology was a favorite pastime of the Prince.  "France may have the advantage with men and material so we must maintain dominance with our navy and our technology."  The prince looked at others as they arrived.  Soon there might be shooting and wagering, but not before he might set the stage.

 

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Langdon had not considered bringing a guest; but, it was not clear who he might bring.  Gillis perhaps.

The arrival of the Duke of York caused a mild case of trepidation in the young earl.  The subject of Catherine Sedley had been an awkward one.  It was only a matter of time before the two men would speak of it.  Hopefully it would be in a more private venue.  Otherwise Langdon would have been eager to join York and the other military men in his company.

"Ladies?  One could only hope," Charles replied to Daniel with a laugh, having no idea that some might be forthcoming.  As for Camberwell, Charles had made his acquaintance but knew little about the man.  The lord seemed to come and go on occasion without fanfare.

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Charles approached at pace, his customary languor and earlier malaise both dispersed by the rising gale of his competitive nature. He almost bristled with barely restrained energy as he strode towards the range, whistling a French marching tune. (The irony amused him.) He had changed into his uniform, freshly pressed and brushed by Wodehouse, and his hair had been gathered and queued at the nape of his neck, bound in crimson ribbon. He had disdained gloves in a fit of stubborn vanity, but had worn his hat, perched on his head at a jaunty angle. He bore his gun case under arm, his trusty old holster pistols nestled safely within, along with his powder horn and shot.

He had come alone. John was the only one he might have invited, but he had assumed (perhaps wrongly) that Churchill would have received an invitation of his own or been invited by York. He might regret that, but given how the previous day had gone he had not felt up to wracking his brain for another option that it would be both appropriate and useful to invite.

Drawing closer, he caught sight of Beverley and Winchilsea. They were both good company, in his opinion, good enough that he was willing to overlook the presence of that pompous prig Langdon. And, who knew, perhaps he had misjudged the younger Earl?

Unlikely, but I am man enough to admit the possibility.

Grinning, he altered his course to join them.

"Gentlemen!" he hailed cheerily.

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Beverley soon had quite the group around him. It put quite the social strain on the viscount.

 

"Good afternoon, Lord Chatham." He assumed that the other gentlemen knew the others in his company by his eager greeting, so Beverley did not bother to ask.

 

"But, yes, I think the activity ssshall attract some ladies and other, erm, though there is a little area set off for spectators so that we might more freely speak of military matters. And other things that are not fit for, well, female company," Beverley said. He gestured off to where there were some fires and seating set up safe and away from them. The servants had yet to finish with setting up and canopy for it. 

 

"Perhaps the ladies will want to see, erm, how the gentlemen shoot before bidding on them tonight?" he chuckled. "A-are any of you participating?"

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Francis could not help but think, with quite vivid imagery, that it would be lovely to be able to fire something more than once without so much time in between. When boarding a ship, the instructions might differ from fire both pistols, throw one, draw your sword/knife/etc, and then use the other pistol to parry or smash someone's head in. He smiled at the thought of being able to fire multiple times, imagining foes flopping onto the decks. 

 

His imagination imagined Dutch foes, because he had fought the Dutch for so very long, but it would be quite satisfying no matter the enemy. 

 

"I commend anyone who experiments with such things, for I soundly think I would blow myself up if I tried," Francis replied. "I shall stick to innovations of the ships rather than the ordnance." He chuckled briefly, "I leave the guns and forging to the experts, but when I see a bizarre and intriguing specimen, I know to whom I should present it...." There was a pregnant pause, for anyone who had ever been in Cumberland's rooms knew who to bring weaponry to if it was antique or new or novel, and he was clearly leading in to an offering. 

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Chicky approaches York & Co

Speaking of social strain:  The dapper Lord Chichester arrived. Outwardly tailored and groomed to perfection, he wore a luxurious and thick houndstooth cloak paired with a cavalier hat, silver tipped walking stick tapping a soft rhythm on the carpet of snow as he strode.  Beneath his exquisite presentation, inner uncertainty was concealed.  This was the first event of this type he'd ever attended... he hoped he'd not be put upon to shoot. 

His eyes fell first upon his puppy-eyed friend, a smile and nod given him, as he moved towards another group. (Not wishing to burden Cumberland's aide with any greater number to pay court to!) So it was consideration to one, that had this Earl make an unlikely approach to York and his military assemblage. 

Talk about into the frying pan.

"Good afternoon Your Grace, Gentlemen." George voiced, making motion of an incline though not overdone (given the stout and bluster nature fo the days intended activity).  In small talk he attempted towards the group: "A gambling man might easily guess that the victor of todays event has now arrived!"  The Duke's were all highly proficient men. 

Edited by George Hardwick III
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Beverley, Winchelsea, Langdon & Chatham 

Langdon tentatively seconded Daniel’s interest in ladies, for that received a nod.   “Greetings Chatham.” Daniel spoke cheerily as the recently met man approached – before hearing the stuttered reply of young St Leger.

“The bait is set, let us hope the pretties shall spring it soon.” He chimed full of confidence, then jibed“I myself intent to make a good showing. I expect none of the young ladies shall have any interest in bidding on you others after seeing my finesse. here today.”

Obviously, as a married man Daniel was excluded from attendance of the auction.

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The first lady arrives

 

Anne-Elisabeth sighed as she finally made it to the shooting range. She had slipped several times on the snow but had managed not to fall. Bess trailed behind her carrying a bag filled with three bottles of coconut rum. If she held onto her maidservant for support, both of them might have fallen, shattered the bottles, and been cut by the glass.

 

But she was here now and thankfully, still in one piece.

 

She was wearing the same red fox fur that she had worn to the sleigh race, along with its matching hat, which was adorned with golden feathers held in place with a gold filigree brooch with a large glass emerald in its center. Her gown was made of multicolored moire silk in red, green, and amber, embroidered all over with a golden floral pattern and she wore the usual woolen chemise and two pairs of stockings beneath it. Earrings of gold with dangling tear-drop shaped emeralds swung from her ears. The matching necklace was hidden under her coat, but she did wear ruby and emerald rings over her gloved fingers, which were currently stuffed into a red fox fur muff.

 

The Countess looked around for Nicci, but didn't see her. Maybe she had not yet arrived. There were  groups of men standing around conversing, but she didn't want to bother them and risk being sent away.  Nicci was known to them, but she was not.  Yet.  Her time would come. The fire beckoned to her and, splashed by gentle snowflakes, she headed in that direction. Nicolette had mentioned that there would be a fire set up for the ladies, but even if she hadn't, Anne-Elisabeth would have been drawn to its warmth. Bess followed, bearing the bottles of rum.

 

Edited by Anne-Elisabeth Devereux
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Cumberland, Newcastle and Francis

"A matter best left to commoners," the Prince replied.  Though sorely tempted to test every prototype personally, Rupert had understood the need to let smiths work through any dangerous aspects first.    He was about to expound on it hen Kingston's words caught his notice.  "Have you found a bizarre or intriguing weapon?"  His interest was evident.  Newcastle seemed interested as well.

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Beverley, Finch, Chatham and Langdon

Langdon did not know Chatham well and greeted him politely.  "Good day Lord Chatham."

Of greater interest was the arrival of ladies.  "Have you invited many?" he asked Beverley.  What he really meant to ask was which ladies were coming.  The arrival of Anne-Elizabeth caused the Earl to cast a glance her direction.  He did not know her, which was unusual in that Charles thought himself well-versed in the identities of young ladies at court.  Daniel seemed far more interested in ladies than weapons.  As such, it caused Charles to be distracted from the event at hand.

As for Beverley, the Earl replied "Perhaps."  What gentleman would not want to demonstrate military prowess in front of ladies?  "Of course I will be attending," he declared loudly enough, only to add more quietly "is there a choice?" He was jesting of course.  What bachelor would not be intrigued at piquing the interest of an eligible lady, especially when he was relatively certain that at least one would bid on him.  In his mind he could imagine spirited bidding with Davina, Catherine Sedley, Susan Herbert and even Fiona.  As if he could be so lucky.

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OOC - Just an FYI, the spectator area is totally separate from the invitee area. As I specified in the original post, there are servants there to make sure of the guests. Unless the ladies try to crash or Rupert invites them they can just watch the shooting and cheer or whatever. I'll try to throw something/someone interesting at the ladies, perhaps an uninvited gentleman! ;) 

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"Bizarre, surely. Another attempt on solving the problem of firing being useful for not more than one shot. I could not say if it works or is a functional design, but I would have liked one such thing that worked the first time I ever forcibly boarded a ship!" Francis said as a short preamble.

 

He took the smallest case and then opened it and held it for the other two men. "It looks like it has fingers, does it not?"

 

Inside was a strange weapon, with multiple barrels that stuck out in different directions like a little fan. It was meant to take down more than one person at a closer range. 

 

(OOC - it's a type of volley gun. Different kinds of volley guns were around earlier, and the type I described is a duck foot type pistol. They were around on ships in the 1700s and evolved from the earlier attempts.)

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Beverley, Finch, Chatham and Langdon

Charles turned his gaze to follow Beverley's gesture, lips curving into a grin at the mention of a feminine audience.

"We shall have spectators? Excellent. That shall enhance the competition, which is all to the good." He laughed. "But let us hope that they are at a sufficient remove that the smell of powder does not settle on their gowns, or none of us shall ever hear the end of it." 

He laughed again at Winchilsea's jibe.

"Challenge accepted sir," he replied, all faux-pomposity. Beneath the amiable exterior, though, he swept his eye over the assembled company, assessing his competition. At a minimum, Charles decided, he would have to outshoot Ogle, or else be unable to live with himself.

Like Langdon, he was momentarily distracted by the arrival of Anne-Elisabeth. Idly, he wondered if she would compose a poem for this court event, too, before returning his attention to the conversation.

"No choice at all," he agreed with Langdon, playing along with the younger man's jest."Even without the risk of... displeasing her Majesty with one's absence, what bachelor worth his salt could show his face in public again, if it became known that he had run from a room of young ladies?" He shook his head. "It promises to be good sport, at least, and I will confess to a degree of morbid curiosity. 'Twill be an interesting lady who bids on this, after all." He tapped a finger on his patch in a self-deprecatory way.

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Beverley, Winchelsea and Charleses

 

"I did not invite any, actually, but some interest was expressed and, erm, I did not wish ladies to stand in the cold to watch us," he replied, honestly. "But it is a happy situation." In other words, Cumberland had not instructed him to send invitations for ladies, so he had not, but he was clearly not displeased and had taken measures to make them attended so that they might truly stay and watch.

 

He had not thought that ladies watching the gentlemen shoot might help the Queen's charity event by stirring the passions of the ladies, but he was not displeased with that idea either.

 

"They will surely bid m-more on the best shooters and we all, erm, wish for Her Majesty to raise the most for her good works. Let it cost fathers and brothers more coin for the competition!" Then he thought. "As long as none of you are responsible for the ladies bidding, of course. That could be disastrous." He nearly laughed but smiled instead.

 

Beverley was happy to be married. He did not wish to be bid on in such a way. It would make him far too nervous.

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Beverley, Winchelsea and Charleses

"Then they are forthright ladies, my favourite kind." Winchelsea deduced with a wink to Charles W, who seemed most interested in that aspect of the show.  (Which was not to say that Charles Audley failed to voice his favour of that too, it was Chatham that took Daniel's challenge to putting on a fine show!   Perhaps the other Charles was too distracted thinking about the looming auction?)

Young Beverley then made a joke. 

Daniel was surprised (Cumberland’s man was not known of as a humourist!)  "Ha ha!" he called, "A guardian may be called to donate both his presence and his pocket! . This, my Lords, is how the fairer sex train us to be so accommodating."  Admittedly Daniel knew himself to have fared fortunately in that regard, Lady Winchelsea was hardly demanding, was a gentle woman with modest expectations.  But he did not want to think about her now, guilt was an uncomfortable suit. 

  

 

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Francis

"A volley gun," the prince recognized as he reached out to take it in his hand.  "If only there were enough barrels to take out a whole regiment," Newcastle jested.

"An interesting device, if not a bit impractical.  Not all barrels would fire and they could be woefully inaccurate," the Prince continued as he examined it more closely.  "There was a thought to make a multi-barrel cannon and musket too.  None proved to be practical.  One can achieve of much the same with a cannon that shoot multiple shot.  I could see a pistol with two barrels and two pans.  Maybe a flint piece for each barrel might succeed."

"Have you come to demonstrate it Lord Kingston?" Newcastle asked as he looked towards the targets in the distance.

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