A Reckoning at Rochester's Wednesday Night

[Francis Kirke]

Francis chuckled and replied, "I did not think to tell all my stories at once for fear of cowing the rest of you, so there was more than one of course, but little with story or detail to beat my unicorn as a tale." 

 

Dorset seemed to be growing a bit boring with this betrothal business. How would Newcastle ever know a thing about what had been done to Arlington? For a moment, Francis wondered if Newcastle had some sort of blackmail on his cousin. Or perhaps Newcastle would lend his support to another issue of important? It seemed quite a bit of effort being put forth. Daughter of a duke or not. Dorset was such that Francis did not think he needed any dukes for influence; he had quite a number of titles and two earldoms himself. 

 

"Never to blame publicly." Francis thought that was an important distinction, for none of them were free from antics behind closed doors. "Some of your fellow company here enjoy shocking the proper courtiers, I'll give you that, but telling the king and telling a crowd of maidens at a ball are two different things I should think. But, if you wish to give Chatham the credit, then you are conceding to him?" Francis raised a brow. "If not, I should give a tie to the benefit of the newcomer, especially against the - privately - notorious likes of Dorset! And because Dorset enjoyed fucking Arlington more than he likely enjoyed fucking the lady, and I am positive we were meant to be fucking ladies," he added with a snicker of amusement. 

[Charles Audley]

Charles cocked his head to one side, considering Dorset carefully. He could have carried the room to acknowledge his victory, with Kingston's support, he felt, if Dorset had not spoken up. It was frustrating to have the prize snatched away at the last, and he allowed himself a moment's empathy for Rochester.

And thus is the biter bit. My own fault too, really, damn me for a fool. All I needed to do was say I scored nine points, and nothing more. But no, I had to beat them at their own game fairly, for nothing else would satisfy my ego!

"A generous offer, and I thank you for it," he said slowly, giving the other man a nod, "but if I am honest, I am proud sportsman enough that it would stick in my craw a tad, to claim another man's deeds for my own."

He remembered something, and smiled ruefully.

"And practical enough, besides, to bear in mind that his Majesty has chided me — and the rest of you, in absentia — for failing to follow through with our plans for Arlington's staff at Christmas. I can hardly claim credit for discomfiting Arlington now when I did not speak of it then, can I?"

He leaned back in his seat and took another sip from his flask.

"By the terms agreed in the Wine Cellar, then, we are tied, and I do not remember a means of a settling a tie being agreed. In retrospect, that was rather short-sighted." He shrugged.

(The obvious solution was splitting the pot but, even if the others would agree to it, Charles rather wanted to win outright if at all possible.)

"I have letters for some of my points, that I can send for if you wish, and I will argue my corner as best I can in any case, but the decision rests with the company, whether to declare a winner or set us a challenge to break the tie."

[Blackguard]

"True, only public blame," Dorset admitted to Kingston.  "Private infamy is best for it breeds legends that one can confirm or deny at their convenience." He smiled at the thought.

Everything hung in the balance  as Kingston made a pitch for Chatham.  It made Dorset wonder what hold Chatham had on his cousin.  Perhaps there had been a plot to split the pot or they had their own wager on the matter.  He knew Kingston well enough to guess that the King's newest gentleman had done nothing worthy of blackmail.  Buckingham would protect this black sheep Kirke offspring surely.

Dorset liked to win, as any gentleman present would.  There was a pause as Dorset feared Chatham would focus on his nine points.  It was a battle between quantity and quality as far as Dorset was concerned.  He could muster five but not nine.  Yet, Chatham did not maneuver for the kill move.

"His Majesty chided you about Arlington?"  Dorset was surprised.  That seemed to play to his advantage.  He had worried that the King was going soft on the old fraudster.

"The solution is simple," Rochester offered.  "I will take credit for everything, including the church tryst, before the King and see which antics he believes of me capable."  His wicked smile reflected the pleasure he would take from spinning a tall yarn and watching the King's facial features.  "I may need to know the names of the ladies involved."  That alone would be a worthy prize.

 "I think we should examine Chatham's letters," Merriweather commented.  "He offered them."

"Fuck you and Johnny too" Roos exclaimed.  "Let Johnny make up something outrageous if he wishes but it would be theft to let him take credit for the work of others."

"Gentleman," Sedley piped up.  "The tales are worthy of the telling, if not the stage.  I say Kingston is right that Dorset needs to own up to his achievements to the King.  Chatham too.  Let our Merry Monarch decide.  I think Dorset's tale is more likely to reach the stage.  In the sanctum of Hades indeed," he chuckled.  "We can vote but good King Charles will be more flattered and distracted if we seek his counsel on the winner."

"And he will choose whichever is more politically expedient," Roos decried, having less faith in the wisdom and objectivity of any king.  He was a fervent Whig.

"I think we declare a tie and let the two split the winnings," Merriweather offered.  Money had little meaning to him.  "Or," Rochester offered "we declare a mistrial and we have no winner."  If he could not win, he could not abide another winner.  His vanity would not permit it.  "No one can seem to agree on the terms of the bet anyway."

Sedley would not let up.  "Kingston, you know the King should decide.  He would take great merriment in it,"

"Maybe so," Dorset agreed at last.  He was near certain the King would favor him.   "The man is in great need of a laugh."

[Francis Kirke]

Francis chuckled, "He did...but he mostly chided the rest of you as the, well, senior members for failing to carry through." Even if none of them were very much older than he. 

 

If he supported Dorset, the company would think he supported his relation, which would have been a likely complaint, and he gave little thought to what any might think of his support of Chatham.

 

"And Chatham is right, we both of us had no idea of Dorset's bout with the rod, so he can hardly claim it now, and nor do I think he needs to with a considerable story of his own."

 

His tenor laugh was response to Rochester's suggestion. "Considering we all know the King thinks you capable of sweet fuck all***, I doubt he would find the stories of either Chatham or Dorset beyond you!" He chuckled more. "Though I agree that you should make up your own or draw from what is likely a deep repertoire of past antics. None shall own another's deeds, it seems, is the consensus of the group.

 

"And you just want the names to have the names, how foolish do the lot of us look? If you wished us drunken enough for that, you should have brought out your best swill!" 

 

Sedley seemed to support the notion that the King should decide and then Dorset agreed, though others bickered. 

 

"I think there very little politics in which of us has the best fuck story..." was his reply to Roos. He looked dramatically between Dorset and Chatham, "Do either of you wish to claim disadvantage in His Majesty's judgement of fuckery for being a whig like Roos here?" He could not help but exhale a bark of a laugh. "If not, then let the King decide. This may be one of few things His Majesty would take joy in arbitrating!"

 

(*** by which he means absolutely anything and everything ha ha)

[Charles Audley]

Vanity, Charles mused, would be the death of him. He could have stood on his nine points, but winning that way would not have wholly satisfied him. The manner of his victory, he had decided, now mattered. He wanted to defeat the Merry Gang on ground of their choosing, under terms of their choosing, and thus demonstrate his superiority. He meant for them to have no avenue to claim he had cheated, or that his victory was in any way unfair.

And being judged the victor by the King would achieve all those ends.

And if I must lose, then of all the options Dorset is the best to come second to.

"I would not hold myself disadvantaged were his Majesty to judge," he said, all mock-seriousness before his façade dissolved and he joined Kingston in laughter.

He recovered and went on.

"We are mostly all agreed then, I think, to offer the King some light entertainment, and ask for his judgement on the matter?"

[Blackguard]

"Whigs are incapable of real fuckery," Rochester declared.  "They must first vote on it."  He was seeing the writing on the wall and decided to abandon his protestations.  He would invent something for the King's amusement if necessary.  Roos had insulted him, so a retort against the Whigs was necessary.

"Then it is settled.  The King shall decide," Sedley announced.  Roos nodded in resignation and Merriweather cared not.

"I know one thing for certain," Dorset announced.  "Johnny is not supplying the liquor.  The King shall have to act as host if he wishes to judge."  Other heads nodded.

""Your gardener can use your ale to kill weeds in your lawn instead Johnny," Sedley added with a jibe.

"Fine, do not drink it and see if I care.  I'll give it to the mob instead and they will demand that I be made Chief Minister if I want," Rochester retorted.

"Demand that you be run out London more likely," Sedley laughed.