Opening Reception

[Charles Whitehurst]

Charles and Davina

Her recess seemed uneventful, most likely avoiding her brother.  "I returned to Cornwall this summer.  There is no better place in England in the summer, with the beaches and seascape.  I took my wards with me and we had a grand time."  The rest of his recess had been less pleasant.

"Ghosts?  I firmly believe in them Davina," he whispered.  He chose not to reveal that he believed he had communicated with one.  "I was gifted a house along the Strand, a lovely place, except that an entire family was murdered there.  My men caught the killer, but the house is haunted by the dead.  Passerby claim they can hear the screams of the murdered children at night," he added in a low voice.  "Relatives gave it to me in gratitude.  The Lord knows no one would buy it.  When I get back to London, I plan to put the spirits to rest somehow.  I am told the church can do it, but maybe there are other ways," he continued.

"I apologize for the gruesome detail, but I just know I shall find a way to calm the house.  Speaking of housing, how can I assist?  With your brother's return, I assume you could go to St. Marks, but I could find a spot for you in Dorchester House.  It is owned by my wards.  I would not put you in a place with banshees."  By this he meant his haunted house.

[Blackguard]

New Entrants

George Churchill wore a velvet coat of burgundy and dove gray breeches,  H e stopped to speak with John Burgoyne, wearing a morning blue jacket, an aide to the Earl of Oxford.  Though they were of different temperaments, George enjoyed jesting with Burgoyne about eligible ladies. John was far too serious as far as George was concerned.  He compelled John to survey the field and start assigning scores for the ladies.  It was something that Lord Ogle appreciated as well.  In fact the Duke's son saw Churchill and excused himself from the Cavendish clutch to go and join the two bachelors.

[Davina Wellsley]

Charles and Davina

She smiled as he spoke of his own Recess but then she grew more serious and moved just a bit closer to him the better to hear what he was saying.

She did not interrupt until he was done and speaking in the same quiet voice.

"You are serious in this ..... But why would they 'gift' you such a place of tragedies in gratitude Charles? I understand that twas your men that caught the fiend but I can not understand how the idea came into play."

"If they themselves could not bare to occupy it then it should have been torn down. I am sure there are Laws that allow for it given the circumstances."

"And You think those children are a haunting as Lost Souls  ...."

She was quiet lost in thought and then cautiously looked about them making sure none could overhear.

"You mean to attempt an exorcism then? But you must be extremely careful of taking this way. There is much involved and I feel sure that approval needs must come from Rome .... I suppose that it can not be a local parish Priest but perhaps a Bishop or even higher. I have little knowledge of this save to say there there will be Prayers and the use of Holy Water and other things which have the intent to cleanse the house from evil spirits. But these are children who were murdered not evil spirits so I have no idea if the ritual would apply."

"You must be careful Charles - you are entering into things that you have no control over and what will be the price asked of YOU in return?"

She put a hand to his arm to add weight to her words.

"Do not apologize. But I would ask - if all this goes to your Plan then what? Will you take up residence there or see it taken down?"

"And of more import why does this matter so much to you? All this about ghosts and spirits is unlike you. What has made you take such an interest?"

She drew back a bit from him and put a smile on her lips and took a sip from her goblet. She gave a chuckle as if he said something amusing to her  .....

Too many watching and wondering.

"No I would not to St Marks. Will you let me think upon your kindness of Dorchester House? Who else resides there that I might know?"

"There is time enough as for now I am assigned to Prince Rupert and so have his protection while at Windsor. I am given a new position "Lady of The Gardens" and will assist His Highness in his redesigning of said gardens here. All because I am skilled in the technique of colors that blend well together and the knowledge of what will please the eye. Is it not an achievement given my previous standing? ( referring to her stay in The Tower) I am also able to ask any Lady I wish to aid me but naturally they will get no monies from it. I wonder if I will get any  ......"

"You should congratulate me! But it should come as no surprise that I intend to Survive. And I will clear my name and reputation."

"I have sworn it."

Edited October 13, 2022 by Davina Wellsley

[Charles Whitehurst]

"I suspect they could not sell the house in its present shape," he postulated, but he preferred the story that it was gratitude that motivated the gift. "Tearing it down would be both a shame and an expense," he declared.

When she mention Rome, he almost shivered.  He wanted nothing to do with Rome or Catholics, or to speak of such things with a lady wrongly accused of being some sort of Catholic agent.  "No no.  I do not intend such a thing," he attempted to assure her.  "There are other ways to try and bring the spirits to peace."  Had he not already communicated with one friendly spirit?  Might not he and Susan or Sam try and speak to the spirits of the victims?  Their killer was facing justice after all.  "Maybe the justice against their killer will calm the spirits in time."

It was true that he hoped to make the place livable again, but not to make it his home.  "Perhaps I could rent out the shop to earn some coin," he ventured.  Even if the spirits were there, they might only haunt the building at night when the business was closed.

On the subject of Dorchester House he had to confess that he did not know the other boarders.  "They are all ladies from good homes," he replied.  "It is a safe place as it is open to ladies."  Of course, he had arranged a private entrance and secret staircase for himself in the construction, but no need to mention that.  Originally he planned that he might keep his mistress there, but there had been no need.

As for Davina's new position, that came as something of a surprise.  He had thought her to be ostracized.  "Congratulations indeed.  You must consult Lady Oakham.  She is something of a garden enthusiast ... I am told."  He was not so sure that Darlene and Davina should become too friendly; but, in his fondest hope they would both become fast friends and both love him.  Inexperienced men were like that.  They thought that ladies would have little problem sharing deep admiration of the same gentlemen.  Did not multiple gentlemen admire an individual lady at times?

[Davina Wellsley]

When he said that the house could not be sold in its present shape was that in reference to this supposed haunting or something else entirely?

He knew that she was Catholic and also what she had been suspect of and she knew also his feeling towards Catholics.

"Then I must apologize for that was what I imagined you meant. I am glad to hear that you will not pursue that way. But by 'other ways' I do not understand what you mean but perhaps tis better that way. For all of us."

"Well you must do with it as you please. Just have a care."

They may no longer be together but old feelings died hard and if she were honest there still lingered the possibility of sleeping together again. If he offered she might well agree.

He told her about Dorchester House but did not seen well informed as to who occupied rooms there.

"How can you not know who lives there? Saying that they're all 'ladies from good homes' means nothing. Did you check their stories and families to make sure twas Safe to have then there and for others to be around them?"

"Telling me tis a safe place yet you know nothing of backgrounds makes me rather leery no matter that you are Landlord."

Her words may sound teasing but she was serious.

"I shall have to think very carefully about going there. Lady Oakham?"

She was surprised at her mention. 

"Are you acquainted with her? How funny that that you brought her name up for I was intending to speak to her. She has a Garden Society from last Season that I was hoping was to be revived. I do hope she comes to Windsor." 

[Catriona MacGregor]

Charles, Cordelia and the Scots

Cat completely understood what Cordelia meant by not wanting to see someone else wearing the fabric.  "Anyone else likely wouldn't have pulled that off quite as well as you, my lady," she said with a conspiratorial smile.  Women could be quite fierce when it came to fashion, though Fiona was more interested in the latest fashions, as was Aileen.   Cordelia's comment on how good the two sisters looked together had her replying, "Just wait until next Season.  Our next youngest sister will be making her debut."  Fiona would probably huff at the mention of Shona, as Fiona was the queen of sibling rivalry, but it never hurt to have it out there that another one of them was in the wings.  

The mention of Fiona and troopers had Cat's expression going flat for just a second.  We need to keep Fiona away from many a red jacket, she thought, missing the other Charles (Whitehurst) whom she had thought of as a friend's entrance.  She really needed to have that talk with Douglas.  She'd just have to pull him aside in a bit to arrange a time.  

Talk turned to the Hunt from a few years ago.  Her brow wrinkled for just a moment before the smile appeared once again.  That was the hunt where she and Heather had brought down the hart between Heather's arrow and Cat's rifle.  More people were entering, but Cat's attention was in the group surrounding her.  

[Sophia de la Cerda]

Sarah and Sophia, who tries to catch Chatham’s eye

 

“Spanish culture is much different from English culture. Perhaps a Spaniard does not see pregnancy the way an Englishman does. Maybe they are proud to show off their pregnant wives. My lord husband has said nothing to me about it, but he has not objected to me attending events.”

 

Sophia suspected that his attitude had more to do with the fact that she had learned early to use her pregnancy to get what she wanted. Esteban didn’t want any harm to come to his master’s long-awaited child, and did not want to upset her. Therefore, he did not put any limits on her activity. She almost wished he would so she could throw a spectacular mock fit. It had been quite some time since she had used her acting skills.

 

The baby kicked enough for two, but Sophia did not think she was carrying twins. Wouldn’t one of the midwives who examined her regularly have mentioned it if it was even a possibility? If there were two little lives growing inside her, she would probably not be allowed to walk around at this stage. She would already be confined to bed.

 

“I think every woman hopes that her first child is a boy. I just use the word ‘he’ because it is more personal than ‘it.’ And no, I have done none of those things. Astrologists and soothsayers are con artists who take your money and  tell you what you want to hear.” Sophia shrugged contemptuously. “I doubt they have ever predicted that their patrons would die an early death or lose their fortunes and spend the rest of their days in penury. Who would pay them for that? A person’s fate is up to God and their own ingenuity.”

 

Sarah wished her and her baby well. “Thank you,” Sophia said sincerely.

 

The topic turned to her friend’s love life … or lack thereof, it seemed. The young Countess had observed that Englishwomen tended to wait for the gentlemen they fancied to notice them instead of trying to catch their eye. Germans were more direct. Would she have found love with Juan if she had not asked him to dance on the day they had met? Probably not. One needed to go after what they wanted and not wait for it to come to them.

 

Sarah seemed to fancy one of the Churchill brothers, who probably had no idea that she was interested in him. “There’s one of them.” Sophia nodded in the direction of George Churchill, who was conversing with John Burgoyne and Lord Ogle.

 

She felt a bit dizzy when her eyes lit upon Lord Chatham, her delightful Eros. Memories of making love to him in the organ loft flooded her mind and while that wasn’t possible at the moment, they could still spend time with each other. He was more than just a lover. He was also a very dear friend. She longed to hear his voice and see him smile.

 

Hoping that he would look her way, she lifted one hand and touched her cheek with a delicate finger.

 

[Anne-Elisabeth Devereux]

 

James, Anne-Elisabeth, and the Merry Gang

 

Anne-Elisabeth believed that her own limericks were perfect. Which they weren’t. Her rhythm was off, her lines were not the correct length, nor did all of them rhyme. She just couldn’t see it due to her youthful pretension and her natural haughtiness. One day in the distant future, she would thing back to her early poetry and cringe.

 

“A bloody woman?” The Countess raised a dark brow at Rochester and placed one hand melodramatically over her heart. “Is that all I am to you? And I thought you liked me!” She flipped her hair and turned away from him, but a grin hovered upon her lips. Though she didn’t fancy him at all … and believed those rumors about the pox … she could still tease him.

 

Her eyes followed Sedley’s over to where a small group stood talking together. She knew immediately which gentleman he referred to because he towered above almost everyone else in the room. Anne-Elisabeth studied him covertly. Another poet and he’s handsome too. She made a mental notice to make his acquaintance before the reception ended.

 

As she had expected, the Merry Gang appreciated Master O’Neill’s insult. Dorset answered with his own disparaging limerick. Yes, he had definitely recovered from that beating. She was pleased to see him enjoying himself so much.

 

So Master O'Neill was not already known to the Merry Gang. Perhaps she should have introduced him, but Anne-Elisabeth had only shared a brief conversation with him and didn’t really know him at all. She wasn’t surprised that he hated limericks given that he was drawn more toward tragedy than humor.

 

She smiled at Dorset’s compliment. “And full of surprises, such as a cocky Irishman thrusting himself in when he saw a good opening. But, as the saying goes, the more the merrier.”

Edited October 16, 2022 by Anne-Elisabeth Devereux

[Raconteur]

Sarah and Sophia, who tries to catch Chatham’s eye 

"Well that might be true ... Different Countries do have customer that are different ..."

Privately Sarah thinks that her own views are more widely shared than Lady Toledo's especially regarding women with child.

"Then you are most fortunate indeed. I can not imagine my brother-in-law nor even my late father sharing your husband's thought! I hope I am just as lucky that my future husband thinks that way."

She gave a chuckle to take any sting from her words.

"So even in Germany they have no folklore tales regarding childbirth? As for a natal chart how can that be ... why tis a usual practice when a child is to be born to discern what the birth month will foretell. Even more so if the family is prominent. I am sure many in this room have had it done and perhaps our new Prince has one already. You must not be so dismissive of such things that are practiced so readily here."

"As for Astrologers ....  again you must have a care for those in the Royal Society would surely disagree."

"But enough. We shall agree to disagree and I do not wish to cause you any undo stress from topics that are not favorable."

Sarah followed her gaze and made a small pout and turned back to Sophia.

"The wrong brother sadly. Tis John Churchill that I speak of. We know each other and I have yet to see him here."

[Cordelia Lucas]

Charles, Cordelia and the Scots

Cordelia smiled and gave a little nod of her head in agreement and then added 

"Your complement is much appreciated Lady Alyth. But I fear that I will be outdone by those much younger!"

"You mean there is another just as lovely? My goodness there will hardly be a Gentleman left in all the Court after that."

Her gaze rested upon Fiona assessing once again the prettiness she saw and wondering if she should keep more of an open mind regarding this trio of sisters.

"I would wager that this Season will be an active one with just one here - you needs must be watchful but I expect she will not take kindly to too much restrictions."

This said is the same conspiratorial tone albeit a tad quieter.

It would seem that Lord Mountjoy had no inclination to enter into the foray so she would continue to chatter with her two companions drawing in their brother as well.

She then spoke of a ball that might be held in honor of the new Prince and Heir.

"Do you suppose there shall be room enough here for ALL to attend? I suspect that some out door space will be needed in order to accommodate that."

"I do hope tis not a 'themed' event as that will make it harder on all the Ladies ...."

[Douglas FitzJames]

Cordelia, CB, and a gaggle of Scots

Douglas was a little surprised to learn that this was Cordelia's first introduction to Charles Blount. She must have at least known whom he was, but Douglas felt quietly pleased with himself that he'd been able to afford her that introduction, small enough favour though it was. Mountjoy of course showed beautiful gentility in greeting her, though Douglas could only hope there might be some opportunity in the near future to correct the man's pronounciation of his title. But it was a small issue, and an old one, and he was far more interested in Cordelia's reaction. She seemed to regard the two sisters with interest, and he was interested to see what she'd make of them. They were a striking pair, and if one was of the libertine persuasion, quite desirable. Not that any of the MacBain clan thus far introduced to court seemed otherwise. The younger two were less likely to turn that way, at least he hoped so.  Fiona at least seemed on her best behaviour, greeting Lady Lucas elegantly, though Douglas had to turn a laugh into a cough at her demure young lady act, which was actually quite good in his opinion. He just knew better. But perhaps she'd been taking lessons from Catriona, who could play the elegant lady of court beautifully when she wanted to, drawing Cordelia in with talk of fashion. 

As the ladies spoke of fashion, Blount recalled to him the last time they'd really enjoyed each other's company, that Royal Hunt so long ago now. Much like he and Cordelia, Douglas and Charles moved about court without often crossing paths. A shame really. He might have to make an effort to remedy that. "I still hae a spirited mount, more's the pity atimes." The lanky Scotsman observed dryly, though Daemhan seemed to be mellowing a little as he got older. Douglas had no idea of the horse's age, since he'd claimed the beast from a Dutch officer as 'spoils of war', but he suspected that he wasn't as young as one might hope. But he recalled the hunt well. "And t'was ye on t'other end o' the spear whin the boar did charge." He recalled. "As fine an' clean a kill as a man cuid want."* And a demonstration that there was an inner steel to Mountjoy, or a craze for hunting. A charging boar would put fear into many, but not this man. 

Of course Fiona wanted a Ball. It was the best chance to show off, and possibly get up to mischief. But he chuckled as Mountjoy suggested that he might have trouble with his troops if they had to control themselves over his sisters. "They weel behave if they ken whit's guid fer thaim."** He replied, in a tone that said that, a man with real military training, he brooked no such behaviour amongst his men. But had he just seen Cat's expression go flat for a moment? He thought so. Most might have missed it but he was her brother. Was Mountjoy trying to tell him something, beyond the danger that all beautiful, young women lived in?

More were arriving, and Douglas kept one eye on the trickle of people, noting with mild interest each person or group, until one entrant caught his eye and momentarily fused what few brain cells the Scotsman possessed. The elegantly arrayed blonde curls, the bluey-purpley dress - the ladies could probably name the colour - like violets in the woods beneath spreading trees. But she was no shy violet, for what caught his eye most was her confidence and carriage. True she was no classic beauty, but Douglas had grown up knowing the darkness that beauty could hide, and to him she looked ravishing. But the greatest shock of all was the change, for he knew who she was; Lady Bridget Osborne. He'd last seen her on Basildon's arm at the Christmas Ball, seeming shy and resigned following her father's disgrace. He'd wanted to meet her then, but taking Lady Lucas's advice he'd endeavoured not to seem over eager, only greeting her and Basildon in passing, thinking to circle back later. But he'd got distracted by that randy German Princess - if she even was a princess - and the opportunity had slipped away. He resolved that, this season, it would not do so, though he suspected from the looks being cast her way that he would not be the only man seeking her attention. 

Of course, Bridget wouldn't be the first woman to hotwire Douglas's brain, not the last. But she was the woman of the moment. As he dragged his attention back to his own company his gaze fell on Fiona, and he recalled that Bridget had a brother, Peregrine, heir to his father's Scottish titles if he recalled correctly. A possible match, if the man hadn't wed in the meantime. Perhaps he could find out, or perhaps Cordelia might. Right now Cordelia seemed to be wrapping her mind around the idea that there was another young MacBain girl, about to enter the court scene. "Thair's twa more."*** Douglas said dryly, holding up two fingers in case his brogue wasn't clear. Of course, it would be a couple of years yet before Aileen, the youngest, was ready for her debut. Cordelia wasn't wrong in that Fiona didn't take kindly to restrictions; even if they were for her own good. 

The ladies continued to chatter, so Douglas turned to Lord Mountjoy. "An' hou is yer family? Nay doobt yer lovely Lairdy is attendin' the Quin?"+ For he didn't see her here, and Lady Mountjoy was foremost amongst the Queen's ladies, and a political power in her own right. And didn't they have a daughter? Far too young to be at court of course. 

Subtitles
* I still have a spirited mount, more's the pity sometimes. And it was you on the other end of the spear when the boar did charge. As fine and clean a kill as a man could want."
** "They will behave if they know what's good for them."
*** "There's two more."
+ "And how is your family. No doubt your lovely lady is attending the Queen?"

 

[Blackguard]

The Merry Gang, Anne and James

 "Dislike the limerick?" Dorset questioned with expected intensity.  "What true son of the emerald isle could hate a poem that inspired a city and a county in his homeland?  For shame," Dorset chided in good spirits.  "Perhaps you are a Welshman posing as Irish?" He scrutinized the young man as if doubting his lineage.

Sedley announced his own assessment.  "He confessed to serving Ormonde, so he must be Irish ... or ... ."

"A blithering looney," Rochester supplied.  "Ormonde is a horse's arse.  Even his family knows it."  Johnny spoke as if the consummate court insider.

Then it was Anne's turn to feign hurt at Johnny.  "No, I suppose you are also a colonial.  A bloody woman from Jamaica, that likely will nurse her babe with rum."  He was tormenting her of course.  "I suppose that I can bestow upon your ego that you are also a student of the poetic arts who has managed to lift herself from nothing to a state of extreme inexperience."  He could not help but chortle as he watched Dorset decide whether to defend her.  It was clear the man was sweet on her. Sedley too was laughing aloud at the insult. Anne would need to survive the barbs of of Rochester's tongue to join as a recognized member of the Gang.

"Johnny, maybe you will challenge our bloody student to a contest, and maybe include O'Neill in the competition," Dorset offered casually.

"Competitions are for the insecure," Rochester proclaimed.  "I pity the man that has to prove his worth through artificial accolades of the moment.  The Earl of Rochester sets the standard by which all others are measured!"  Rochester was in his element with the scolding.

"Set the standard for egotism perhaps," Sedley offered his friend with a grin.

 

[Aria]

Charles, Cordelia, and the Scots

 

Dougie and Lady Lucas had been discussing his sisters? Well, she and Cat were certainly more interesting than loud and smelly grandchildren. Fiona tried not to preen when the older lady implied that they were beautiful. She was trying to give Lady Lucas the impression that she was a sweet and bashful debutante. Unfortunately, she could not will a blush to her cheeks as in truth, she felt that compliments were her due. Her brother had obviously noticed her ruse and barely stopped himself from laughing. Would the lady be convinced?

 

Lord Mountjoy brought her back into the conversation and his remark about keeping her away from Douglas’ troopers did make her blush as she remembered all those wonderful nights with Charles. Cat’s expression darkened momentarily. Fiona thought that she had accepted her relationship with the handsome Life Guard. Had she been wrong? Douglas vowed to keep his soldiers in line, but it wasn’t one of them that she was involved with.

 

Was it a form of punishment that her sister mentioned Shona when all of the attention was on her? Fiona managed to keep her expression neutral, though she wished she could roll her eyes. Shona was going to fail miserably at court. Her sister was exactly the kind of girl that she was pretending to be now. Only shyer and antisocial. And Douglas had to mention Aileen as well. Fiona would probably be married to a Duke or Marquess by the time their youngest sister made her debut.

 

Fiona paid no attention to the description of some long ago hunt, but when Lady Lucas mentioned that there might be a ball held in honor of the new Prince, Fiona spoke for the first time. “Themed balls are the most fun,” she enthused. “I hope it will be a masquerade. I haven’t attended one of those before.”

 

[Charles Blount]

The Scots Et al.

 

“I fervently hope so ma’am.” He replied to Cordelia’s inquiry about his wife. He was more himself and was able to answer the question without distress. “Her Majesty is most attentive to the needs of her Ladies but as you say with the child and her recovery things are still a trifle more pell-mell than Pall Mall. The Margravina is also very attentive to the Queen and is devoted to her duty so, alas, I am often left bereft to wonder the halls of the castle, wraith-like, in search of accommodating company.”

Cordelia’s polite concern for Ursula to take care of herself hit close to home so he smiled and let the conversation carry them beyond a need for him to comment on that subject and by that time the ladies were engaged with each other discussing fashion and balls denying him the opportunity to fascinate them with a recital on the proper technique for holding a spear in the event they were ever charged by a boar.

Douglas did however comment upon his horse which, to Blount, was almost as interesting as hunting so he was more than happy to oblige even though he needed to particular attention in order to understand the Scotsman’s attempt at speaking English. “I can sympathize with your predicament for a good mount can be much like an un-sanded church pew, comforting yet precarious and potentially injurious to ones backside. Much like women they can turn from docile to vexed for no apparent reason… they also tend to bite and kick when provoked.”  

Mountjoy smiled at Douglas’ compliment and recollection of the boar charge. Clearly the gentleman was discerning of the finer points of the chase and he collected himself to edify Douglas on his recommendation of the proper way to hold a boar spear when the Ladies all started expressing their delight at the expectation of a masque ball and Fiona who had been silent obviously enthralled at the prospect of hearing how he brought the boar down, as any well-bred demure young woman would be, was distracted and yet again they were denied the pleasure of his story.

Mountjoy was not privy to the looks between brother and sister as he had other motive than to be polite and entertaining quickly adding that he too found balls to be most enjoyable going so far as to say “I indeed also find balls to be most enjoyable.”  Continuing. “I am not privy to any specific plans but such a joyous occasion could not occur without some sort of festivities. I hear that fireworks displays have become fashionable within many courts on the continent. It would be a shame not to take advantage of the fine gardens Windsor has to offer and the weather has yet to become uncomfortably wintry.”

The conversation, the lack of detailed hunting anecdotes notwithstanding, was moving along and he thought it would seem like in no time it would be he that would be discussing the introduction of his own daughter to court even though it would be many years until such would be a reality. It still might bear some thought… hmmm, bears, another interesting animal to hunt,…to begin thinking of what tyle of match would be advantageous for his little Hope and his dynasty as, as it stood at present, her husband would inherit the Mountjoy legacy. If only Heneage could find a nice suitable bride and produce a nice suitable son whom Hope could marry. But all this was not for the moment and Charles was brought back to the conversation.

He was not sure what a ‘Naydoobt’ was but from the gist of the statement the ‘Lardy’ was meant to be his wife the Margravina and he assumed ‘the Quin’ was what Scots called a Queen. The ‘"An' hou is yer family?’  was readily translatable. Thus it was that Charles was able to decipher that what was said as if it were a footnote was ‘And how is your family. No doubt your lovely lady is attending the Queen?’ which was a question made perfectly understandable once translated into the King’s English. Here again was a simple and innocent question which rubbed against so much that plagued him.

“Your postulation is correct, the Margravina is indeed attending the Queen and I shall not fail to inform her of all your kind inquiries after her. I was just informing Lady Alyth that my daughter…” he looked around to include the group. “… I have a daughter in case that fact was not universally known, who is sprouting like a weed. My little Hope is of the same age as Lady Alyth’s Nessia.” He left it to be assumed that Lady Mountjoy was well. “All this talk of the tribulations of introducing young and eligible Ladies to Court make me dread my upcoming task.”

A thought occurred to him. Lady Lucas was considered adept at finding desirable gentlemen for the young ladies at court. Therefore she should be equally adept at finding desirable ladies for young gentlemen at court. Well perhaps not young… youngish, a trifle pudgy, or big boned as he insisted, but with a nice personality and related to the Lord Chancellor. That just might kill two peacocks with one ruby (a theory he would love to try out). But now was not the time for that.

“One can only anticipate that their Majesties will grace us with their presence this morning but they have so many calls upon their time that it is not always the case.”

  

 

(OOC: My apologies to Douglas’ owner for misspelling his title. It was a result of the writer’s dyslexia and not the character’s doing. As part of Blount’s character, I always try to have him use correct and formal titles so any lapse is on me the writer and not poor Charles the character. I re-read my posts three times before I was actually able to see the error I made.)

[James O`Neill]

The Merry Gang, Anne-Elisabeth, James

“I attest, gentlemen, that I am no Welshman, for I find my lovers in feather-beds, not sheepfolds,” James offered as a retort to the jest over his nationality, thinking it easier to skirt over the topic of Ormonde as much as possible. “Instead, the proof is indeed in my duties, for there is nothing more Irish than service to those who your forefathers fought." His father had been an exception, but the O'Neills as a whole had possessed no love for Royalist or Roundhead alike.

"It is for that reason I must write in English and dazzle with limericks,” he continued with a grin. “I loathe the asinine meter and rhyme scheme even as I presently embrace such Saxon barbarity." It was all in good fun, and he hoped - after the fact, of course, for wit sprung to his tongue faster than wisdom came to his mind - that court's most famous revelers (as well as Lady Cambray) would embrace it as such.

After all, Irishness for James meant a great many things, few of which were relevant - however, his vague sense of Ireland's political realities and England's advances in the arts had left him thoroughly Anglophiliac in taste and outlook.

He allowed Anne-Elisabeth and the Merry Gang to go rounds unimpeded, then, briefly wondering if he ought depart to the more familiar company of Ranelagh and Denbigh, before deciding to linger longer after Dorset tried to goad Rochester into competing against the newer poets. There would be a challenge! For while he had previously understood Dorset to have translated a tragedy a two, alone among the Merry Gang did Rochester manage to hold up in James’ eyes (who had ever-followed the literary developments from London with religious fervor) as a master of verse that could do more than make others laugh – and it was therefore he who commanded the most respect from James.

Still, the man had published very little, which would serve adequately as a basis for taking up Dorset’s challenge. “If another moment’s impertinence will be allowed, I must agree with Lord Rochester’s assessment of his own self.” His green eyes turned back to Lady Cambray, smile and tone growing conspiratorial as he pushed his luck a bit and expounded, “But alas, so few of his words reach the broadsheet that those of this age have naught but a specter against which to measure ourselves, and require instruction accordingly.”

“Or perhaps I am a…'blithering loony', was it?” He snickered, thinking to present two choices of the earl's own words for him to disagree with. “And thus mistaken in my agreement, a 'cocky Irishman' who has no place in a competition with apprentice and master poet alike, despite the lady's words.”

Edited October 18, 2022 by James O`Neill

[Cordelia Lucas]

Cordelia, Mountjoy and The Scots

She looked bemused as he made the comment that there were TWO more sisters beyond the two before her now.

"Well. I do not know if I should applaud or offer up sympathies." He gaze took in Lady Alyth and the Baron then turned back to the younger girl who spoke of Masquerade Balls  ...

"Those kinds of Balls are indeed fun and yet they also offer up, by the wearing of disguises, situations that might well lead to unsettling consequences, But thank goodness that you, Viscountess Lochend, will have the protection of BOTH your elder sister and brother in attendance. And my first impression is that you are hardly the type to cause any troubles such is your manner and demeanor. And now that we have all exchanged introductions I would be remiss in the capacity as an Elder to not also have a care for you if we should happen to meet." 

Said with such a caring manner despite the Baron having already mentioned the girls Libertine nature.

"You shall be well looked after." This said with a smile to the elder brother and sister. "I do hope that my insisting on such a thing does not give cause to mean I am being noisy. An extra pair of eyes is always welcome especially at a Court function and your sister being such a beautiful flower she is going to attract every Gentleman's eye!"

To Lord Mountjoy -

He words seem to take a rather sad turn as he spoke of being oft times alone. In need of company. Would he she wonders object if SHE should happen upon in in one of these moods and thus was accommodating? An idea that was worth keeping to be sure.

"Ah fireworks! Who does not like them I ask? And as you say the gardens offer amply opportunities. Perhaps you should have a word in that regard Lord Mountjoy - it would make a happy end to an enjoyable evening to be sure."

"You have a daughter ... " She smiled at him as he spoke of her. "Tis clear that she is much adored. Your words give it away. Enjoy these years for they are gone quick enough."

"And it is never too soon to arrange a suitable match. Why babes are contracted in the cradle to other Families and her age is appropriate. Marrying her off will naturally be years away - till she is thirteen or fourteen at the earliest - so you will have her by your side for a long time yet. You should give it considerable thought and begin to plan. With your Lady wife as well for her opinion is valuable and she will no doubt know more of the families than you. We women are very good at that."

She exchanged a look with Lady Alyth as if to show she might agree with her generalities. 

"Well I do hope their Majesties will come but if nothing else I do wish that Lady Mountjoy shall come to your side and make merry."

She was sincere and she wanted to remain in Lord Mountjoy's memory a woman who he might like and wish to speak more to.

[Douglas FitzJames]

Cordelia, CB, and a gaggle of Scots

Fiona's acting had definitely improved, though if she kept it up Douglas was probably going to lose it. He knew his sister, and whilst he might hope that she'd changed her hellion ways in truth, he was pretty certain that it was all an act. But it was a good one, and a vast improvement over her previous tendency to sulk. Fiona loved attention, and seemed to be lapping it up as she expressed hope for a Masquerade Ball. Douglas had mixed feelings about those. They could be a lot of fun, especially since one very tall man, in expensive clothing and a long, black periwig could be mistaken for another very tall man in expensive clothing and a long, black periwig and had on previous occasion, but the illusion only lasted until he spoke. Then everyone knew who he was. 

He listened with amusement as Mountjoy likened a spirited mount to an unsanded church pew, snorting in amusement. Then he suggested that they were also like women, apt to turn from docile to vexed without warning. He couldn't agree more, but he hoped that his sisters were too busy talking to Lady Lucas to notice. "Ach, yer a man wha kens his horses." He replied with a smile. "I bought a pair o' English mares tae put him tae." Douglas revealed. He'd have liked to have bought more, but he had to be careful with his funds, and that far north the horses needed housing in the winter. "We'll git the measure o' his foals next spring."* He was looking forward to it. It was enjoyable, speaking to another man and especially one of Mountjoy's quality, about such things.

Fireworks. Now there was a thought. Douglas wasn't entirely certain how he felt about that kind of alchemy, however pretty. Gunpowder was the basis, he could tell that from the smell, but the lights... stank of magics to him. Perhaps it was all this science that seemed to be happening these days. He was of course aware that science was responsible for gunpowder itself, but at least that had an obvious use. 

Unaware that poor Lord Mountjoy had fielded three enquiries on his family in such a short space of time - clear evidence that he and his family were respected and people cared - Douglas was gratified to hear that the Margravina was with the Queen, and thus presumably well and in the Royal good graces. He didn't have much to do with the Queen's circle, since they were rather proper, and much preferred the King's merrier company, so didn't have much cause to cross paths with Her Majesty's ladies. "Yer a lucky man, tae hae such a fine woman at yer side."** He opined, clapping Mountjoy on the back of the shoulder in a comradely fashion, if only to hide an unexpected touch of jealoust. Who wouldn't want someone as refined and accomplished, as good a courtly ally, as the Margravina? 

He hadn't known about Mountjoy's daughter though, so that was a pleasant thing to discover, even as the man lamented difficulties in introducing young ladies to court. "I'm sure a young Mountjoy lassie weel be nae trouble, an' flower at coort." He assured the man confidently. No, the MacBains bred their own trouble, and the Blounts were entirely different stock. And very good stock, something which was clearly already on Lady Lucas's mind as she pondered the news, and possible matches for the girl. Nessia was of course also available to betrothals, and Douglas wondered to himself whether Mulgrave had any children yet. "Haps, whin we're back in London, Hope cuid cam tae play wi' Nessia."*** He suggested, looking at Cat. It would do his niece good to have a close friend her own age, as she grew. Especially one from such a good family. 

Perhaps one day he would have his own, legitimate offspring to make such arrangements for. Now there was something to look forward to. 

Subtitles
*"Ah, you're a man who knows your horses. I bought a pair of English mares to put him to. We'll get the measure of his foals next spring."
** "You're a lucky man, to have such a fine woman at your side."
*** "I'm sure a young Mountjoy girl will be no trouble, and flower at court. Perhaps, when we're back in London, Hope could come to play with Nessia."

(No apologies needed! I just assumed that CB was having entirely legitimate trouble with Douglas's accent again, and the Scot would notice as he's very proud of his title.)

[Aria]

Henrietta approaching Chatham

 

Henrietta tuned out her friends’ chatter as soon as she saw Lord Chatham enter the reception. She had sensed quite a bit frustration in his latest letters, and had feared that something was amiss. Now she was certain of it. He was thinner than he had been and even at this distance, she could see the fierce gleam in his beautiful eye. Usually she would have been too timid to approach anyone who was in a visibly foul mood, but she had grown to care for him and hoped that her father would allow them to marry.

 

And so she excused herself from the group and approached him. “Is something wrong, my lord?” Her inability to mince words was one of the reasons she was considered socially inept.

[Sophia de la Cerda]

 Sarah and Sophia

 

Sophia didn’t take Sarah’s comment as an insult. “Marry a Spaniard,” she grinned. “They are quite agreeable and they take you to foreign lands. That’s what I wished for most in a husband … the willingness to let me travel.” She was speaking of Juan rather than Esteban. Esteban was occasionally agreeable but most of the time he was aloof and she had no idea what he was thinking.

 

“In Germany, it is much the same as here, and I am sure that many Germans believe in superstitions. But I think most of them share my views. We have always been pragmatic. Is it not better to trust in God than in astrologers and other fortune-tellers?  Only He knows our true future.”

 

Sophia nodded. Agreeing to disagree was best when it came to this particular subject, and not just with Sarah. Maybe she should refuse to speak about her unconventional opinions from now on. If something happened to the baby, she didn’t want to hear ‘I told you so.’

 

At that moment, the baby kicked her hard and she winced. Perhaps he didn’t like her thinking of his demise and wanted to prove to her that he was very much alive.

 

So it was John whom Sarah liked and not George. Having met them both, she thought George was more fun and John more serious. At least he took his responsibilities seriously. Sophia was glad that her friend didn’t want to join the gentlemen. She didn’t know Lord Ogle except by sight, but there was no love lost between her and John Burgoyne. He had wanted to marry her and she had chosen Esteban instead. John had nearly gotten her killed once. Indifference was preferable to ineptitude.

 

She glanced at Charles again. He had lost some weight and looked rather haunted. Had something horrible happened to him during recess? Was that why his last few letters had seemed disheartening? He had helped her with a dilemma last season. Maybe she could do the same for him. She considered going to him, but she saw another young lady approach him. Sophia turned back to Sarah. She would speak to Charles later.

 

“He serves the Duke of York, does he not? The Duke and Duchess are here already. Maybe he was sent on an errand and will show up when he has completed it.” Sophia was not fond of York and assumed that he would be harsh to his attendants. “Do you fancy him?”

 

[Anne-Elisabeth Devereux]

James, Anne-Elisabeth, and the Merry Gang

 

Master O’Neill continued to express his hatred of the sacred limerick, causing Dorset to wonder if he was a true Irishman. Anne-Elisabeth believed she understood where he was coming from due to their discussion in the palace garden, but she thought it a bit odd for him to proclaim his contempt so vehemently, considering his nationality.

 

It appeared as though insults were the order of the morning as Rochester ridiculed first Master O’Neill and then herself. She had, of course, irritated him intentionally, expecting a cheeky response, and was grateful that Dorset did not come to her defense. In order to become a part of the Merry Gang, Lady Cambray knew she had to prove herself and she was looking forward to any challenge they might throw at her.

 

In their company, she didn’t have to worry that rolling her eyes would be seen as rude. “Barbados,” she scoffed. “I’m from Barbados, not Jamaica, though I’m not surprised that somebody with such limited brain capacity is unable to tell one Caribbean island from another. Nor do you recognize poetic genius when you hear it.” Anne-Elisabeth smiled so sweetly that one might expect sugar to drip from her lips. “Perhaps I should take offense but I feel sorry for those who can spout nothing but asinine drivel.”

 

Dorset suggested a poetry competition but Rochester claimed it was pointless since he was superior to everyone else. When Sedley remarked that he only set the standard for egotism, she added: “And the standard for delusions of grandeur.”

 

The Irishman disagreed, and she returned his smile as he continued speaking. She could tell that he was as eager for a contest as she was. “You’re right, Master O’Neill,” she remarked, tilting her head to the side and studying Rochester. "Maybe he doesn’t want to compete against us because he’s all washed up!”

 

[Blackguard]

Rochester let lie O'Neill's Irish bona fides.  After all, if the man was willing to live with a common Irish name, far be it for the Earl to naysay him.

"The limerick," he observed, "is but one flavor of prose.  Dorset has a taste for it, as his favorite."  He turned to look at Anne and declared, "just as Dorset has a taste for blonds with large breasts."  He was inwardly enjoying roasting her.

"As for me, I revel in variety of those I swive.  The quatrain is a lovely dark-haired beauty.  And the wicked red head is the simple imperfect enjoyment poem.  The more different the beat the more exotic the treat."  It was as if he felt motivated to tutor those present.

As Anne struck back about knowledge and geography, Rochester sighed at her sally.  "Jamaica and Barbados are as different as a kettle and a pot.  They both attempt to make water hot.  The shape is different, but that is it.  As to the contrast of Barbados, I don't give a shit."  Johnny offered a patronizing smile.

Both James and Anne tried to goad him into a challenge.  To James he offered "for a man so rightly impressed with my intellect, do you not feel shame for such an elementary ploy to have me engage?  To publish too broadly is to become too common.  In this I do you the great favor of enabling you to tell your grandchildren that you met the legendary Rochester and heard in person some of his greatest work, the most intriguing and valuable kind, that which was unpublished."  He realized that he had left an opening thereby, but let it stand.

He turned to Anne, judging her dare more sophomoric.  "I am happy to advise you that I am washed up my lady.  I always wash up before fucking someone."

Charles Sedley had been snickering the entire time.  "Johnnie is on a rant and he's not even liquored up."

Dorset spoke, whether from defending Anne or otherwise.  "Stop feigning that you abhor challenges  You are the biggest pri ... I mean peacock at court.  How better to show off your plumage?  Is this some sort of mating ritual to get both O'Neill and Cambray into your bed?" 

[Raconteur]

Sarah and Sophia

Sarah could not help but see as Lady Toledo reacted to her baby and she was all concern.

"And this was why I said you must sit. And now I shall insist even if you say tis nothing. It is crowded enough now and easy for an accident to occur."

She eyes a passing servant and made ready to guide her safely to where there was an assortment of chairs and benches.

"I shall not be dissuaded Madam so please allow me to see you safe delivered ..." She smiled at her intended pun. "To this area here and you are to take your ease."

She walked as she spoke so Lady Toledo did not have much of a say.

"And we shall talk just but in comfort, well as best we, and I shall answer your question."

Sarah would see the other seated adding a rather plump pillow to the wide-seated old fashioned chair with its carved arms and high back.

"Now. Is this not better?" 

She took the chair beside the other with a small sigh.

"Even I will say this makes me feel better and I am not even with child!"

She caught a passing servant and asked that another of what Sophia had been drinking was brought and her own goblet was refilled.

"Yes he does. And I have seen that they are here but no John. We are friends .... Do I fancy him?"

"At one time I had thought we would match but now I am not so sure. And I do not want to damage our friendship by playing in wrong."

"So for now we are as always. But that does not mean I do not watch and wait for some sign that he would ask for me."

[Charles Audley]

Chatham, brooding

Charles retained just enough control of himself not to openly scowl at the gathered throng of court, however black his mood. And it was black indeed, like a looming storm cloud or (a vastly more appropriate analogy) a thick, foul smoke that choked everything it touched. He took a swallow of his wine, thinking longingly of the flask of laudanum in his coat pocket and its seductive promise of temporary oblivion, and the accompanying heady freedom from the endless, torturous spiral of unproductive thoughts. 

And what would it matter if you did drug yourself into a stupor, hmm? You have achieved nothing even at the height of what passes for your mental acuity these days. And that, I fear, is nothing like what it once was. You lost something in the Carib, or perhaps even before that. The man you were would not have found himself trapped in such a gyre.

Who says that there even is anything to achieve here, hmm? Like as not, there is no mystery to be solved, no vengeance to be had. She ran afoul of some random back-alley lout, and you'll never find him. And so you'll live with that shadow you see in the eyes of everyone who knew you both, the suspicion that you did it. Can you blame them? You would have done it in a heartbeat not so long ago.

…and joined by Henrietta.

It was a testament to how absorbed in his self-flagellation Charles was that he did not notice Henrietta's approach. It was jarring, to find himself addressed so directly and so unexpectedly, and almost he let his temper out before realising who had approached him. He turned to face her, reaching down into himself for his usual bonhomie. It came, painting itself across his face in a glowing smile, but he could feel it sit a little shallowly, a little awkwardly, too little paint stretched over just too much canvas.

"Merely unresolved business from recess. Nothing worth brooding over in your company, Selene," he said smoothly, smiling and inclining his head in greeting. "You look lovely."

Perhaps Wodehouse was right, and it would do him some good to simply relax and enjoy himself for a while.

[Henry Grey]

Henry Grey arriving

Lord Grey joined the gathering. He would have preferred to arrive earlier, but he had to make sure that his instruments had arrived in good shape after the last leg of the trip. As he unpacked his telescopes and other instruments in the impromptu laboratory setup in the house he had rented in Windsor town, he was happy to see the besides minor adjustments to lens and mirror alignment everything seemed to be in working order. The baron hurriedly changed from his travel clothes to one of the outfits that Mr. Masoniere had made for him and quickly traveled to the castle.

The lord was wearing aubergine velvet justaucorps and breeches, sober but elegantly trimmed with gray pearls and silver piping, an embroidered teal waistcoat, and black leather shoes with silver buckles. Anne-Elizabeth might remember that she has suggested those same colours when Henry had accidentally tried to get himself a wardrobe at a ladies’ clothing store. The ensemble was completed by an ebony walking stick with a cube-shaped silver head. A signet ring and a breast pendant with sapphires, pearls and polychrome enamel set on silver provided the final touch.

The baron had lost at least a stone of weight since his last appearance at court. When the more fashionable clothes he now wore were added to the fact, he presented a much more presentable figure.

As he surveyed the gathering of notables, the first thing Lord Grey did was to nod to His Grace Cumberland as soon as the man turned his way. The German prince was the host, after all. Henry then scanned those in attendance, looking for familiar faces. Perhaps one of the lords and ladies I have met are already here.

Peals of laughter made his head turn towards a group gathered around a lord not much older than himself. The sight of a lady of no more than twenty years (Lady Frances, Newcastle’s second daughter) caught his attention. I wonder if she is single… perhaps Lady Lucas would know, if she is here… His further scanning of the crowd confirmed that she was, amicably chatting in a group which included two beautiful young ladies, a rather tall officer of the Life Guards, and an exceedingly well-dressed lord.

He also spied Lady Cambray among a group of gentlemen he did not know, Lady Toledo and Mistress Sarah Jennings having a conversation, and Lord Chatham chatting with Lady Henrietta. Deciding to join the last, Henry approached and cleared his throat two paces away. He was too much of a scion from an old family to simply barge in uninvited.

 

 

Edited October 24, 2022 by Henry Grey

[Francis Kirke]

Kingston & Rupert

Quote

 

"This is but an annoyance you will bear with time."  The Prince was left to think of his own war wounds, a couple of which greatly plagued him to this day.  "Hopefully they will pass when the funding and interest shifts."  If only his wounds might pass so easily.

"A great victory for England," the older man agreed with huff of appreciation.  "This is the best war we have not fought.  I fear the next shall not be so well rehearsed and performed.  The navy is stronger today thanks to the many actors in the drama," he acknowledged with a nod towards Kingston as one of the actors.  "My innovations are being added to our fleet, though not as widespread as I hoped.  War profiteering has raised costs for all components.  I have asked Pepys to await a period of peace for prices to fall before further outfitting.  Our funds are limited after all.  Yet, we are better battle ready for either the French or Dutch as need be."  Against that backdrop, the Duke knew that the Dutch and French would be spending vast sums to increase their own naval readiness.  In the end, the English were merely spending to keep pace.  There was no need to mention the shadow upon their success.  It was best to accept any advance, no matter how temporary. 

 

 

Francis chuckled heartily at the notion it was the best war that they never fought, nodding with appreciation.

 

"Indeed 'twas, but I fear we will not so easily pull such a ploy again. I envy the inspiration for such a move, for it came from a mind far more plotting and politicking than I foresee mine ever being." He let out a loose huff of amusement. "I do far better with the inspired ideas for actual warfare and tactics than these chess moves of words and promises." 

 

He was improving in his court tactics thanks to Buckingham's tutelage and efforts, but even the great plotter himself could not undo a life lived away from such things for twenty-eight years in a year or two. Francis was happy enough to let his betters do the plotting and play his own role well. That he could do. 

 

"Many seek profit at the expense of the country, but it seems to me a poor way to do business in the long run. That reputation will not earn you valuable contracts with those with the power to further your business, but then most merchants do not think overmuch of legacy in my experience, unless they are younger sons of peers with a name to pass down and family connections." 

With a tip of the head, he added, "I doubt there is anything I ship which will aid in the process of making the cannon, Your Highness, but if there is something I can bring in from elsewhere at a cheaper price that would help the process, you need only ask and I would direct my men to purchase it in our next shipment. If it is a secret ingredient, I will make certain nobody knows what or who it is for." He had, after all, proven that he could keep an important secret of State. 

[Robert Saint-Leger]

On 10/5/2022 at 2:15 AM, Cadell Mortimer said:

Beverley and Athenry

“Quite pleased indeed, my lord – just the perfect hint of irony,” Athenry answered the other man warmly on the matter of the apartments, before turning to watch the arrival of York – the figure (domestically, at least) to whom his wagon still seemed most ready to be hitched. That it was a Catholic wagon remained both hindrance and boon, and yet – No, no. Saints alive, man, you are having a conversation with your dearest of friends. Pontificate later.

It was far too early, and he was far too close to sober, for his mind to begin wandering to a frustrating stew of ambitions just yet.

Cadell noted the return of Robert Saint-Leger the rather-alarmed deer as his wide-eyed friend’s mind leapt towards Pembroke. Attempting to smooth out any such concerns, he said with a quiet, measured playfulness, “I had meant my wife and her boy primarily, but – yes, him too.” The return of the Welshman’s muted smile, a usual gesture of friendliness from a slightly-reserved scholarly sort, served as a pause. “It cannot be changed that we are family now, and so I would rather be friend than foe.”

“Plus, I can finally confirm the grandeur of that menagerie,” the viscount chuckled while considering another matter, one best discussed in full elsewhere. “Does Lady Beverley know Lady Susan rather well, then?”

As that topic ran its course, Athenry laughed again, a thing whose subdued tones would grow momentarily lilting, as though his sense of humor was reminded of its Radnorshire roots. “I don’t often fear for my life in the company of academics such as Mr. Sprat, it’s true. But ah, my friend, there is so much untapped potential. We in England have some gatherings of the mind, but nothing on a French scale, no…prevailing institution outside the coffee-house and those of whose philosophy tends towards the natural.”

“I would have us start small, and…” A familiar realization – that of having let his fiercely-held views dominate a friendly conversation – crept in, and he shook his head, abashed. “Perhaps it would only be fair to let you update me on your life at some point as well.”

"Oh, well, now I am embarrassed," Beverley said, though how embarrassing could it be to concern over Pembroke. His reputation was no secret. The man himself did not even seem concerned enough to keep it one!

 

"An exceedingly wise plan," the viscount agreed, nodded emphatically. As to the menagerie, his eyes widened, "Do you think he truly does feel commoners who have done him wrong to the big lion? Or is that mere court gossip-mongering?"

 

He would never have asked another that but Athenry. Some things could be discussed among close friends that could never be mentioned elsewhere.

 

"I do not know how well, but they both seem to be enjoyed by Her Majesty and serve her with some frequency."

 

His eyebrow lifted at Athenry's disclosure of company, "The King's own private chaplain? Well, I would say that is safe company indeed, even lofty, and well-learned. It is said Dr. Sprat is inspired in God's word." A look conveyed the sentiment that went unsaid...for someone who was not Catholic. "It is said he has a good sense of humor and a way with words and histories." Beverley himself did not know him well.

 

With a soft snicker, Beverley said, "My life, my friend, is more free than it has been, but I have yet to earn escapades worth relaying eagerly. My son is my news and the most important thing I have done with my life yet. He is safely sequestered away in Maidstone, with my lady mother presiding over his care and safety." He made a face as if to say they could both imagine how batty she would drive the wet-nurse and staff. Plus, she did not like the close quarters of Windsor. It was an arrangement that suited all.

 

[Catriona MacGregor]

Charles B, Cordelia and the Scots

Cat would have spoken up about Aileen, but it seemed Douglas beat her to it.  She knew Fiona would be miffed by not being the center of attention, but she was just going to have to live with the knowledge that unless she married soon, she’d be sized up against all her sisters in the next few years.  Cordelia’s thoughts about keeping an eye on Fiona might have caused Cat to tense ever so slightly, given the current situation with her sister’s stalker.  But she quickly put that away for a different time.  “Indeed, restriction have never worked well on Scots, I’m afraid,” she replied with a smile.  

 

She chuckled at Cordelia’s remark of applause or sympathies.  “I’ll accept a mixture of both.  If I make it through the youngest one without any change of color to my hair, I shall mark myself triumphant.”  Which was a fact.  She bit back a laugh when the older woman spoke to Fiona of all the protection at the balls to keep her out of trouble she would have with her siblings and Cordelia looking after her.  Fiona’s siblings already had their hands full with keeping Fiona safe and Douglas didn’t even know yet.  “I appreciate your willingness to help, my lady,” she replied.  So long as the danger was of a regular sense, a rake or rogue after her sister and not a madman who sent venomous snakes and left dead things on their doorstep.  

 

If Fiona was surprised by Cat’s swiftly darkened expression before it cleared, she shouldn’t have been as it had not been explained to her that there WAS a relationship between her sister and ‘friend’.  At least, no explanation that had come from either of the involved parties.  Cat had to find out from rumors heard by her own guards.  Not the best way to let Cat know things.  

 

While Douglas and Charles discussed mounts and their being mounted or being the mounter, She returned to Fiona and Cordelia’s talk of balls.  While her expression stayed calm and friendly, her mind skipped for a moment.  Hadn’t Fiona been to a masquerade during a previous season?  Maybe not.  Hopefully not some of them, as things could get a bit…ahem…rowdy.  She glanced back over at the men and noted that Charles might have been having a small moment of confusion.  While Cat and the girls had very little trace of the Scots accent, Douglas hadn’t been trained in the same way, so he spoke more how people back in Lochend did.  She hoped there were no mistranslations.  Fingers crossed.  

 

Hearing her title mentioned, Cat couldn’t help but agree.  “I am very glad that the time between Aileen coming out and Nessie is significant.  I shall likely need all that time to recover.”  There was a laugh in her voice.

 

The mention of marrying off girls at the age of 13 or 14 managed to wipe the smile from her face for a moment, but her public mask soon returned to its normal position.  “It's a good time for them to start meeting people, definitely.” Her own marriage at 14 made her rather against such an age for marriage.  Especially if the man was disgusting and abusive.  Well, attempted to be abusive.  Men were so attached to certain appendages.  Threaten to cut them off and perhaps press a blade a bit too close and suddenly you’re free of their attentions.  

 

One brow raised as Douglas invited Charles to bring his daughter over to her residence.  He knew he was free to make use of her place and indeed even had his own room, for those times when he didn’t feel like going back to the barracks and wanted to raid her kitchen.  She didn’t bother to say anything against it because she was good with the idea herself.  While politics might say they shouldn’t interact, children didn’t bother with politics.  They just knew friend or foe.  And Nessia thought everyone was friend, being a bit spoiled by her mother and aunts…and uncle. 

 

 

I'm sure I've missed something so I'm going to preemptively apologize.  Thanks for y'alls patience.

 

[Cordelia Lucas]

Cordelia and Company

She returned Lady Alyth's smile as she made mention that she too would keep an eye on her younger sister.

"You shall always be lovely to look at no matter young and you are still far too young to think about grey hairs!"

She added a further comment about being a watch dog

"But that does not mean I shall be too observant. I think that your sister would not be grateful and I would hate to ruin any further relationships ( hint hint) by her thinking that I am being a substation for her own Family."

"But let us all wait and see what is to transpire regarding any Balls or if they are to be themed."

She nodded in agreement as Lady Alyth seemed to sanction her own words regarding the necessity in planning a marriage alliance early on.

"It is indeed wise especially if ones Family seeks to match with another of equal or higher standing - there will be competition even at their ages - the World is vast but Court is small and the better prepared the parents are the candidate most suitable will be easier to acquire."

"Do you think that their Majesties will arrive soon? More and more have arrived .... do you see any that you know?"

She steered the talk away from marriage as she thinks that the topic is causing Lord Mountjoy some measure of distress at the idea of his adored daughter being given over to another family.

She turned her own gaze towards the room in general and her eyes landed on a figure she thought to never see again

Baron Grey in the flesh and very much alive.

[Charles Blount]

As Cordelia and Catriona discussed revelries and the potential prospects they had on a young woman’s chances at court Charles followed with bemused interest at the subtle underplay between the siblings. He knew Cat well enough to know of the complicated character that abided beneath her public façade. Of course, the same could be said about almost everyone in this room, not the least of whom would be Charles himself.

Lady Lucas fortified her position, in Mountjoy’s opinion, as a matron of the court when she, after so brief an acquaintance, offered expertise as a willing chaperone for the interests of young Fiona. He thought it rather quaint for in Mountjoy’s universe a young girl would mature into a young Lady by devotedly following the advice of her father until such time as she married the man of her parents choosing before devoting herself to her husband. Somehow Charles failed to notice that such was not the case with his sisters but he still held to preconceptions and trusted that raising his daughter would be bereft of any strife. He had had much the same presumptions about marriage but did not want to burden his views with uncomfortable thoughts.

His suggestion of a fireworks display was well received especially by Lady Lucas. “I shall speak with His Majesty when I see him next and entreat him to favor us with such a fete. It would be a fitting occasion to welcome a royal child.”

When his own child was mentioned, he was more than willing to elaborate. “Yes, I do have one daughter. Hope Karoline Charlotte is her full name which, if I ever am cross with her, I shall call her by. She is still but a wee bairn*, as I believe the term is used North of the Humber.” He glanced at Douglas to confirm he was using the phrase correctly. “She is three now runs about and is beginning to develop a personality so she is no longer just a lump to be cooed at. It is marvelous that she can even engage in a semblance of a conversation although that may be a talent I shall come to rue. She has recently taken to naming the chickens which has prevented the staff from being able to eat them.” Like most of his class Charles did not take an active roll in raising his child but he was proud of and took an interest in her. The time may fly but thankfully I will have some time before I must need search for eligible bachelors and I will be sure to avail myself of all available assistance.”

Mountjoy’s expression which had lighted and became more animated when discussing his daughter subdued somewhat at his last utterance. In fact he might not have all that much time before he had to address his daughters future for if he was unable to produce a male heir, a legitimate one anyway, it was his daughter that would be required to carry on the Mountjoy legacy and that could prove to be problematic.

“That had been our initial intent but the children were too young at the time. Now that are approaching a more practicable age such a thing might be beneficial to both girls.” He replied to Douglas’ suggestion about the children. “Perhaps it could be arraigned by the Margravina and I bring Hope to Chelsea for the winter. That is, of course if it would not be an imposition upon Lady Alyth or her household and she would wish to offer such hospitality.” He had no doubt the offer was genuine but wanted to provide a opportunity for Cat to decline if she wished for after all she was mistress of the household. If he recalled correctly Lady Alyth had a fine establishment there and Chelsea was more convenient to London than Epping. It might do both girls good to have someone of the same age and class as a companion.

As Cat and Cordelia waxed on Balls and debutantes Charles and Douglas were able to waned about debutantes of a more equine variety. “I had a spirited conversation with Lord Beverly when last in London about the pros and cons of speed versus stamina. The Brook’s are keen breeders. I have a pack… of hounds at Epping… for the hunting.” It would normally be understood that a ‘pack’ would refer to hunting dogs but Douglas, having the misfortune of being Scottish, he though he should be clear. “But I have not yet established a stud for hunters.” Mountjoy was privileged enough to be able to afford as many horses as he wished. I did obtain two Suffolk Punches for the farm and am contemplating crossing them with my Andalusian for a heavy hunter but a lighter breed may be more appropriate. I confess the subject of breeding intrigues me but with my service at Court and the Law I have not the time to indulge another passion.”

Following Lady Lucas’ gaze his sight was directed to Lord Grey as fashionable as ever if somewhat more slender than before. He noted the pearl accents and thought How Elizabethen, sould I get Mr. Dilliard out for another fitting before recalling that he was on his way to Dover to meet a fur shipment from Minsk. Messrs. Dalliard and Masoniere were the preeminent tailors in London and competitive rivals.

 

*Small child

[Douglas FitzJames]

Cordelia, CB, and a gaggle of Scots

Introducing Cordelia to Catriona had definitely been a good idea, Douglas decided. Whatever their different outlooks on life, the two women seemed to be getting on well, and Lady Lucas might prove a good influence on the younger girls. Well, some of the younger girls. He wasn't certain that anything short of a stout lock would be an influence on Fiona. But perhaps he was maligning her, after all, they all matured with age, himself included. But perhaps Cordelia could be someone for Cat to lean on, or at least offload to, if they became friends. Still, it was a good thing that Cat wasn't taking a sip of drink when talk turned to marrying the girls off at 14, else they might have all worn it. Douglas knew the reason why his sister objected to such. But he also knew that her first husband had been a violent man, and that Cat would never allow the girls to marry anyone suspected of being such; neither would he. He'd spent the last nine months sorting out his own affairs, now he was glad he'd decided to come to Windsor. It was high time he became active with the family again, to support his sister. She was strong, but everyone had their limits. 

Still, Cordelia was right in that seeking a match young gave a better chance of snagging someone of higher standing, as such matches were always in demand. The downside was that one had no measure of the person they would grow up to be. Then again, he suspected that Cat wasn't as fixated on the title or wealth a potential match stood to inherit, so much as how well they might suit her sisters. Douglas knew well that Fiona needed a libertine husband; if she was expected to be quiet and demure she'd rebel in any way possible. She did come with a Viscounty of course; they just had to find the right man. 

Fortunately for Lord Mountjoy at least, he need only consider possible betrothals; marriage itself was many years away for his little girl. But those years would fly. How was Nessia already two and a half? He smiled as Charles attempted a more Scots description of his little girl, nodding as the man glanced at him for confirmation, and listened with interest. So close in age to Nessia. It would be a good thing for the girls to be friends. He had only meant the invitation as a suggestion, Cat's house wasn't his after all, but both Cat and Blount seemed in favour, indeed the latter confirmed such had been intended. Well and good. 

"I shuid hae a word wi' Laird Beverley m'sel' thain." Douglas replied, interested to hear about the Brooks horse stud. "Haps ye micht be kind enou' tae provide an introduction at some point?" He asked Mountjoy, since he didn't actually know the man himself. He didn't know much about horse breeding but was keen to learn whilst he had the opportunity to use the horse he treasured so much. It was no surprise that Mountjoy bred hunting dogs, the man's love of the sport was plain. Suffolks were a large, heavy breed, suited to the plow but presumably with plenty of stamina. "If ye want tae try a lichter stallion o'er the Suffolk mares, I kin offer my Arab." Which meant he was a pain to keep in the Scottish winter, with his thin coat. But he had the distinctive high tail, curved neck, dished face and fine bone structure. Light and fast. Not fast enough to outrun the shot that had killed the Dutch officer, but fast enough for him. 

Cordelia was still wondering whether Their Majesties would make an appearance or not, and queried whether they could see anyone they knew. Douglas spotted a few, particularly Lady Toledo who was speaking with another lady and mercifully sitting down, Bridget Osborne whom it seemed was attracting many admiring glances but each seemed to be waiting for another to make a move, and Lord Langdon. The latter had just parted from Davina Wellsley, another familiar face, though not too familiar. There was also Lord Kingston, one with whom he would prefer to rememdy their rift, but wasn't sure he knew how. Still, Douglas realised that he knew quite a few here vaguely, but too few of them well. He should remedy that. 

"Indeed I do." He replied to Cordelia's enquiry. "An' I shuid probably greet a few o' thaim." He added, thinking that it would be a good time to take that opportunity, and what they did at the reception might well shape the season. "Wuid ye aw be kind enou' tae excuse me?" He asked, bowing politely to the company. "I'll see ye twa gorgeous lassies later."** He added, with a wink to his sisters. Good though it was to see them, this was no place to catch up on family gossip. He'd find out where they were staying and drop in that evening. 

Douglas approaching Bridget Osborne

He wanted to talk to Lord Langdon, his fellow Life Guard, to see what had been happening in London whilst he'd been in Aberdeen, and to catch up since he counted Charles as a friend. But Langdon was on the far side of the ward from his previous conversation, whilst much nearer stood a lady with blonde curls and a knowing little smile that was quite intriguing. And despite the number of looks that had been cast her way, it appeared that no one had yet approached her. Bugger it. If one was going to be seen as an uppity bastard, one might as well be one. 

"Lairdy Bridget." He greeted her with a warm tone and a deep bow as he approached. "T'haes been far tae long sin' oor wee conversation back in London, but I'm pleased tae see ye luikin' sae verra weel."*** He enthused, entirely genuine. They'd encountered each other in one of London's many stores back in the Christmas season. He'd helped her find what she was looking for and they'd enjoyed a brief but pleasant conversation. The next time he'd seen her had been in Basildon's company at the Christmas Ball, when he'd greeted them both but moved on rather than interrupt them. And alas that had been the last time. Then she'd seemed rather wan and downhearted, unsurprising given the recent political humilitation of her father. Now she was an entirely different creature. No great natural beauty like his sisters, but her confidence shone through in a way that looks could not, and the violet-blue of her dress complimented her eyes. She looked... happy. What man didn't like to see a lady looking happy?

Subtitles
* "I should have a word with Lord Beverley myself then. Perhaps you might be kind enough to provide an introduction at some point? If you want to try a lighter stallion over the Suffolk mares, I can offer my Arab."
** "Indeed I do. And I should greet a few of them. Would you all be kind enough to excuse me? I'll see you two gorgeous ladies later."
*** "Lady Bridget. It has been far too long since our little conversation back in London, but I'm pleased to see you looking so very well."