A wee dram - Late evening, 15th September

[Douglas FitzJames]

It was late in the evening, or early in the night depending on your point of view. Having had dinner with his sisters and niece at the house that Catriona had rented and enjoyed a chance to catch up with them all, Douglas was seated on one of the comfortable chairs by the fire in the common room of the Hen's Toes, nursing a glass of whiskey and watching the flames, his mind a million miles away. Who would want to kill Fiona? Yes she was beautiful, self-important and self-absorbed, but surely that wasn't reason to kill her? Was it? Could it be a spurned lover? Or some other woman, jealous perhaps that Fiona had attracted the attention of a man she fancied? Those seemed the most likely culprits, but that didn't exactly narrow things down much. Hmm.

He watched the flickering flames as though they might reveal some answer as they did to the seers of old, frowning slightly and drinking his whiskey. 

[Henry Grey]

Henry’s day had been full. Making sure that his instruments had not suffered any mishaps had taken a number of hours. Also, the need to be respectably dressed, as his valet put it, had taken far longer than the Baron would have wished. Still, he had been able to spend some time in his research. Richelieu had behaved strangely most of the day, even though the man of science had rubbed the cat’s chin and belly until the cat wanted no more, but had paid not attention to the cat’s insistence on going outside. So, at the end of the day, a tired but somewhat content Lord Grey had directed his steps towards the Hen’s Toes for a much-needed supper first, and a much-enjoyed glass of brandy afterwards.

He sat near the fire, with notebook and pencil at hand, sipping from his glass, taking notes, thinking about the chromatic aberration problem. As his glass emptied, he signaled Mr. Clark for a refill.

I should set up accounts for Mistress Eleanor in a few of the town’s shops, without her knowing. The pastry shop and the seamstress at the very least. That way she will not overspend, placing her family in an awkward position, but also it will show her mother that I received her letter and acted accordingly. The question is, when? Court is a busy time. Perhaps Reginald can do that for me. The man of science did not know if it was customary in Windsor Town for servants to set up accounts on behalf of their masters or not, but he would send Reginald anyways.

As Mr. Clark refilled his glass, Henry noticed a tall, uniformed man sitting nearby. A Life Guard, so a gentleman. Needing to meet more court gentlemen, especially those that were close to His Majesty, Lord Grey signaled Mr. Clark to refill Douglas’ glass too, on Henry's account. He would respect the military man’s silence, but would reply  willingly if addressed.

[Douglas FitzJames]

There were a few people in the common room, enjoying either a late supper or a drink, but it wasn't noisy or crowded as it would be in a less select establishment. Douglas ignored them, deep in his own thoughts. He wanted to help his sisters, look after his sisters, and was all too aware that he hadn't been there for them when they were younger, when their father died, having been chased out of the house by his step mother. Cat had managed the situation on her own, which she should not have had to, but he hadn't found out about their father's death until he returned from the continent. Even then he hadn't realised what that would mean for the girls, and though he and Cat had not got along earlier in their lives, he still regretted that he'd not been there to help. Now he walked a careful path, being there for them whilst not stepping on his eldest sister's toes. She'd learned to be independent and resourceful, she'd had to, and there was a fine line between helping and what she would see as interfering, the latter of which would lead to a fight. They didn't need that, but the simple fact that she'd involved him in the recent troubles told just how much things between them had changed, and for the better. Now if only they could solve the problem. But still, why was it always Fiona?

As he sat there deep in thought, Mr. Clark arrived unexpectedly to refill his tumbler of whiskey, indicating that it was courtesy of the well dressed, middle-aged gentleman with the dark hair, sitting nearby. He looked to either be a courtier or a wealthy merchant. Douglas's cornflower gaze followed the proprietor's subtle gesture, raising the glass in the man's direction with a nod of his head. "Verra kind o' ye." He said, not loudly but just loud enough to carry. "Are ye stayin' at the Hen?"* Plenty came in for their supper who weren't, and he hadn't spotted the man before, but that didn't mean that he wasn't. Besides, he was curious about the generous fellow, since he didn't recognise the man. 

Subtitles
* Very kind of you. Are you staying at the Hen?"

[Henry Grey]

Henry raised his glass in response. “May His Majesty Charles II live a hundred years”, he toasted. That should be a safe toast to make with a Life Guard. “Lord Grey of Codnor, at your service. May I ask who I am addressing?”, the baron said as way of introduction. He would wait for Douglas to introduce himself before raising his glass again, this time to the Scot’s health.

“And no, I am not staying here. I rent a house in town. Much more space than at the Castle. Many need spatial proximity to the Royals and the Greats of the realm. I need space and tranquility a bit more”. Trying to design the best curve for a telescope’s mirror would be close to impossible while residing in the Castle. He needed silence to think, and a large table to spread many papers to scribble on. Henry was certain he would get neither in Windsor Castle.

Feeling talkative, the Baron also added, “I turned the rented house’s dining room into a laboratory. Without a proper place to eat, I come here to have my meals. Cooking is quite acceptable here, and so are spirits, so it is a fitting arrangement”. Henry was more used to university fare than to what was offered at court. Although Cambridge’s table was more than adequate, it was not a royal banquet. Thus, the natural philosopher’s bar was not too high. Still, he found the Hen’s kitchen good.

“How about you? Are you staying at the Hen’s Toes?”

[Douglas FitzJames]

"His Majesty's health." Douglas echoed, taking a swig from his glass and watching the man curiously. Lord Grey of Codnor. The name meant nothing to the big Life Guard; perhaps he'd come to court whilst Douglas had been away? Or perhaps they'd never moved in the same kind of circles. "Cap'n FitzJames, Baron Dundarg. At yers, Laird Grey."* He replied in turn. Even if Henry had never heard of the place, which was likely, it was pretty obvious that Dundarg was in Scotland. 

So, like himself Lord Grey was not accomodated in the castle, but had probably been far more organised and secured himself a house in which to stay, much as Cat had done. Space and tranquility, interesting. Lord Grey seemed in a talkative mood - natural tendency or the contents of his glass - explaining that he turned the house's dining room into a laboratory. He had to be a man of science then, which explained why they'd never crossed paths. Douglas had very little inclination and a good deal of suspicion in that direction, really only interested in inventions like gun powder which helped him to do his job. And even then he didn't want to know how it worked. Still, scientists tended to be mostly harmless, often too caught up in their studies to do much political damage at court, so he was probably a fairly safe acquaintance. Douglas mused that he was meeting an interesting variety of people in the close quarters necessitated by court's current location. This afternoon it had been a poet, and some apparent relative of the Queen.

Henry's enquiry was answered with a nod. "I, aye am. I made a rather late decision tae cam tae coort this season." He revealed evenly, speaking as carefully as he could since unlike O'Neill, Grey didn't sound like he had any kind of Gaelic ancestry. "I thocht it best tae sort my ain accomodation, rather than make mysel' Laird Beverley's problem." The man didn't know him from Adam, but he had no wish to make the first impression one of annoyance. Plus he figured there'd be a pretty good chance of him being put in the Life Guard barracks. "One o' the larger rooms here is plenty fer me."** He didn't tend to spend a lot of time in his accomodations anyway, being an outdoor person by inclination. 

The big man cocked his head, regarding Grey with a curious gaze. "Can I ask whit type o' 'laborat'ry' taks up a whale dining room?"*** He enquired, visions of convoluted glassware and bubbling crucibles playing in his mind. If Grey was refining quicksilver or seeking the philosopher's stone, the house's owner might have something to say about stains on the ceiling. 

Subtitles
* "Captain FitzJames, Baron Dundarg. At yours, Lord Grey."
** "Yes, I am. I made a rather late decision to come to court this season. I thought it best to sort (out) my own accomodation, rather than make myself Lord Beverley's problem. One of the larger rooms here is plenty for me."
*** "Can I ask what type of 'laboratory' takes up a whole dining room?"

[Henry Grey]

“A pleasure to meet your acquaintance, Baron Dundarg”, Henry said raising his glass with a tip of the head. A captain of the Life Guard, and a Feudal Baron. A good man to meet. Although Henry had no ability with weapons, he understood the need for those that did. If Dundarg was a captain of the Life Guard, he was most probably very good at shot and blade. I need to do something about my utter defenselessness in the absence of my bodyguard. I have tried instruction in short and long blades, and short and long firearms to no avail. They are like horses… they hate me! I will have to ask around what other options there were… fisticuffs were not appealing to a member of the old nobility. I am no Pembroke!

“I got a very good report from my agents regarding the Hen’s Toes, Baron Dundarg. Were it not for my unusual needs of space, I would have stayed here too. The possibility of having your meals brought up to your room is quite the convenience…” Lord Beverley? Oh? “This… Lord Beverley you mention… is he in charge of the castle’s accommodations by any chance?” Now Henry understood why Lord Athenry had brought up the man’s name. If Lord Beverly had a say in accommodations, he would probably have a say about use of the roofs too.

Then, a question regarding his most favourite topic in life. “Of course you may! Truth be told, a dining room is barely adequate for my needs. I am an astronomer, and a student of applied optics… lenses, and the like. The dining table is full of telescopes and spy glasses in different states of taking them apart, modifying them, and putting them back together”. That there were a few semi-useful books on alchemy and kabbalah piled on a chair was left unsaid. Those topics were not for newly met company. “If I had access to a furnace, I would probably melt, grind and polish some new lenses too, but that was a lot more difficult to bring and set up. So I will order glass pieces from Vauxhall and Ravenscroft's glassworks, and polish the lenses myself”.

Dundarg did not seem to be the scientific type, probably a very capable man of action, though. Still, they all served His Majesty Charles II, each in their own capacity. As such, the Scottish Feudal Baron deserved his, most likely hard-earned, measure of respect.

Edited November 30, 2022 by Henry Grey

[Douglas FitzJames]

"Tis guid tae meet ye tae." He allowed, having no reason to think otherwise. "T'haes been verra comfortable." He added on the subject of the Hen's Toes. And the food was good too. Well, perhaps not as good as Cat's cook's, but hearty and plentiful and vastly superior to the fare during his time in the Regiment du Dumbarton. Mind you, having a blisteringly fast metabolism, Douglas tended to look for quantity first and quality second. He hadn't had his meals brought to his room, still in the military habit of having to be fully turned out before eating, but that wasn't a bad thing. Still, it was a point worth remembering. "Aye, Laird Beverley. Bruik's son, Cumberland's richt hand man."* Which was the sum total of what Douglas knew about him. And Prince Rupert was the lord of Windsor, so it made sense that he'd palm a responsibility as irritating as courtier accommodations off onto Beverley.

An astronomer. Someone who looked at the stars. And lenses. Douglas listened with a measure of interest, since he'd asked the question. Stars were used for navigation of course - not that he was a Naval man - and he understood the uses of spyglasses well enough. Presumably Grey used his lenses for looking at the stars rather than approaching enemies, but at least it had some practical application. "A guid spyglass is worth it's weight in silver." He opined, interested that Lord Grey was working on his own lenses. He pulled at his lip thoughtfully. "Do ye ken that Cumberland haes a furnace here at Windsor? Prolly more thain one. If ye framed a request tae use it in a way that was relevant tae the navy - fer example, better spyglasses - he'd likely let ye use it, wi' his blessing."** He suggested.

Of course, Cumberland would want a design and probably a prototype out of it, but Grey might just find himself with a patron. Now there was an interesting thought. The promise of such a useful device might see Prince Rupert very intrigued indeed. "If ye cuid develop such a thin' as a better spyglass, the Prince wuid likely be verra interested indeed." He mused, rubbing a thumb thoughtfully along his jawline, to the rasp of stubble. 

Subtitles
* "It's good to meet you too. It has been very comfortable. Yes, Lord Beverley. Brook's son, Cumberland's right hand man.
** "A good spyglass is worth it's weight in silver. Do you know that Cumberland has a furnace here at Windsor? Probably more than one. If ye framed a request to use it in a way that was relevant to the navy - for example, better spyglasses - he'd likely let you use it, with his blessing."
*** "If you could develop such a thing as a better spyglass, the Prince would likely be very interested indeed."

[Henry Grey]

Baron Dundarg’s massacre of the English language was a little hard to understand. More than a little at some points. Having studied Classical languages and taken a peek at a few dead ones was not much help. Still, two things came across rather clearly, or so Henry thought. The first was confirmation of the fact that Lord Beverley was in charge of accommodations at the Castle. It stood to reason that a man as powerful as Prince Rupert would not have a commoner overseeing things, but a gentleman of quality. Second, that the Prince had a furnace in Windsor. A furnace! Of course, not all furnaces were equal, but one could only hope.

“A furnace you say? Do you know how big it is? Have you seen it? Could you draw an outline for me? What metals are molten there? Yellow brass? Copper? Bronze? Cast iron? Red brass? Carbon steel? Are they melted in containers and then poured, or does the furnace have an output channel? How often is it used? Is it continually hot, or is it allowed to cool dawn at times?” The scientist’s mind had far many more questions than the ones his mouth could articulate.

Although the containers to melt minerals in and the tools to put such containers in and out of a furnace could be somewhat adapted to and used in most furnaces, how hot the furnace could go, or would usually go, was a critical factor. A furnace used for yellow brass would not be hot enough, whereas those used for cast iron or carbon steel would be far too hot to be useful for glass. One used for red brass or copper would be just about right, though* If I could use a furnace at night or on weekends, my research would not slow down over the season. In fact, if I can melt enough glass for several large lenses at a time, it would actually speed up my work. Lord Grey had no idea that naval cannon were produced at Rupert’s foundry. If he had, he would have salivated at the opportunity of using such a large installation.

The English peer asked for both their glasses to be refilled once again, before asking, “Would you know how to go about asking for permission to take a look at that furnace or, even better, if there is a way to be granted use of it?” It was a long shot, but those that did not ask never received a yes for an answer.

[Douglas FitzJames]

The mention of Prince Rupert's furnace immediately caught Lord Grey's attention, but the questions with which the scientist overflowed were largely beyond Douglas's ability to answer. He was no scientist himself and had seen the Foundry only once. But he knew that Cumberland took his development program seriously. "The Prince casts cannon." He told his companion when he could get a word in edgewise. "So t'wuid be bronze." That was standard for making canon these days, though some were steel. "Particularly his 'Rupertinos' which er verra lang cannon fer use on ships. The length gies extra range." That Douglas understood. He was the proud owner of one of the prototype Rupertino rifles. They were, admitedly, quite unwieldy to both use and load and thus not very practical, but the range on them was spectacular. Then he shrugged "But hae ainly showedit me his workshop once."*

He could see Lord Grey's mind working as he considered the possibilities. The man had their glasses refilled again, before asking whether Douglas knew how to as to see or even use the furnace. "Thank ye. Th'simplest wa' wuid be tae write tae Cumberland." He replied. "Explain whit ye want tae do an' er tryin' tae achieve. If ye kin make it relevant tae the Navy, sae much the better. Ask tae meet wi' him, include a gift o' some sort." All standard etiquette.  "Be aware that t'weel prolly be read by Beverley er some secretary first."** So don't include anything you don't want them to know. 

"Th'other wa' is tae seek oot those wha er close tae him, see if they weel gie ye an intraeduction." Which might be easier or harder depending on who Grey knew. "Either wa', he's quite amenable tae serious an' military-minded folks."*** Or people who were bringing him useful information. 

Subtitles
* "The Prince casts cannon. So it would be bronze. Particularly his 'Rupertinos' which are very long cannon for use on ships. The length gives extra range. But he only showed me his workshop once."
** "Thank you. The simplest way would be to write to Cumberland. Explain what you want to do and are trying to achieve. If you can make it relevant to the Navy, so much the better. Ask to meet with him, include a gift of some sort. Be aware that it will probably be read by Beverley or some secretary first."
*** "The other way is to seek out those who are close to him, see if they will give you an introduction. Either way, he's quite amenable to serious and military minded people."

Edited December 4, 2022 by Douglas FitzJames

[Henry Grey]

“Bronze, hmm? I wonder if yellow or red”. They had very different characteristics. Cannon could be made of iron too, of course, but that took a lot more of the maker. There was no certainty the Prince’s furnace would work, and that furrowed Henry’s brow. Still there was no harm in trying. He could not setup a furnace in the house he was renting. Not without more time than Court would spend at Windsor. And it would be so helpful…

Henry listened attentively at Douglas’ recommendations. Write to the Prince. Understand that Lord Beverley would read the letter first. Send a gift. Logical thoughts on the matter, and advice he would follow. “Thank you, Baron Dundarg. I will do as you recommend”. The letter was not a problem. The real question was, what type of douceur he should send to a Prince that had much more of everything than he did? Hmm… what would make him want to give me an audience?

I should send this Baron a token of my thanks. I will ask Reginald if he brought something suitable, or if there is something that can be acquired locally.

Leaving that thought for a moment of quiet reflection, Lord Grey took a good look at the man in front of him. Scotch, a Feudal Baron, and a Fitz. Still, a member of the Life Guard. What could he have done to merit the post? Henry was, as usual, utterly curious. “Pray tell me, Baron Dundarg, how did you come to your current appointment in the Life Guard, and what are your duties like?” Henry did not think the generalities of what a Life Guard did were a state secret, but he was ready to beg forgiveness in case they were.

[Douglas FitzJames]

"That I cannae answer." Douglas replied when Henry mused aloud whether it was red or yellow bronze being worked. That was so far outside of his range of expertise that he hadn't even known there were two types. "Whit's the difference?"* He asked, interested since it had a clear military application. Who knew, he might even find a use for it some day. 

Lord Grey seemed to take his advice seriously, thanking him for it, which Douglas appreciated. "Best o' luck tae ye, m'Laird."** He replied genuinely. It wasn't always easy to catch the attention of those individuals who were ranked highly at court. They needed little and didn't appreciate demanding individuals. He had found that one could catch their attention by doing something for them, or offering something unique, but Lord Grey didn't ask and no doubt had his own thoughts on the subject. Probably better educated thoughts than the Scotsman's. 

After a long moment of thought, his impromptu companion favoured Dundarg with a long look, as though trying to work something out. Finally he put his thoughts into words, and Douglas supposed he shouldn't be too surprised. Plenty of gently born lads were Life Guards, but there were only a few officers. Someone implying that a bastard shouldn't have something used to really get his hackles up, but he supposed that he'd given Bridget good advice - be pleasant, keep your head down, seek allies - and his own life was better if he followed his own advice too. So he answered Lord Grey's question, and answered it truthfully. Douglas wasn't one to lie anyway, except outrageously and obviously, because he found lies to hard to keep track of. 

"I joined the Regiment du Dumbarton as a gentleman volunteer at a young age." He began. He'd effectively run away from home. "Thair I gained my commission, taegether wi a reputation as a tactician, an' fer puttin' others' lives afore m'ain." Which was probably a very polite way of saying that he was a berzerker who not only got away with it, but tended to bring back all his men as well. "Laird Dumbarton recommended me tae His Majesty's Life Guard fer my service." Not only was he a trained soldier, but he was good at it, and Dumbarton probably figured that a killer who was willing to risk or expend his own life to do his duty was probably what the King wanted in his bodyguards. "I arrived as a Corporal, an' rose tae hae command o' the Third as Captain." And that had been the height of his service. "Till the men complained o' haein' a bastard as thair commander." He added with a sort of dry ruefulness, acknowledging the elephant in the room. Yes he was illegitimate, and yes he'd lost the command that was his pride and joy because of it. Or more likely because said bastard was making the men drill and train like real soliders, when many of them were noble sons who only wanted to play soldier until they found something better to do. The Life Guard was unusual in that most of the men were gentry, whereas in any other regiment only the officers would be gently born. "Noo my duties er more... flexible. If a risk tae His Majesty is identified, I kin tak a picked group o' men an'... deal wi' it."*** When he did he took those he could trust, who were good soldiers and would take orders from him. It had served him well so far, and there were advantages to being an officer without a troop, though he'd never pretend he preferred that. At least he still had his commission. 

Hopefully that would satisfy Grey's curiosity. And whilst they were asking more personal questions, perhaps the other man would be willing to satisfy his own. "I wasnae at coort last season, but I dinnae recall seein' ye afore thain." Though that might be purely due to them moving in entirely different circles. "Yer clearly a devoted man o' science. Kin I ask whit brings ye tae coort noo?"+ The man sounded more like he should be lecturing at a university somewhere. 

Subtitles
* "That I can't answer. What's the difference."
** "Best of luck to you, my Lord."
*** "I joined the Regiment du Dumbarton as a gentleman volunteer at a young age. There I gained my commission, together with a reputation as a tactician, and for putting others' lives before my own. Lord Dumbarton recommended me to His Majesty's Life Guard for my service. I arrived as a Corporal, and rose to have command of the Third as Captain. Until the men complained of having a bastard as their commander. Now my duties are more... flexible. If a risk to His Majesty is identified, I can take a picked group of men and... deal with it."
+ "I wasn't at court last season, but I don't recall seeing you before then. You're clearly a devoted man of science. Can I ask what brings you to court now?"

[Henry Grey]

The warmth from the hearth had Lord Grey shift in his chair contentedly. The outside cold did not reach him where he sat, and he had no desire to go outside just yet. Perhaps he should, but he had needed to wind down before going to bed. He was getting tired, though.

“Red brass is stronger, while yellow brass is cheaper. They have basically the same ingredients, but in different proportions”. That statement summed up a lot of what Henry knew about the metals, as metallurgy was not his focus. “You need a hotter furnace to work red brass too”. Sometimes furnaces could be heated to any level needed, but sometimes they only worked at certain temperature ranges, due to design. Without asking whoever worked it, it would not be possible to tell if he could melt and work glass with it.

“Thank you,” Henry said raising his glass to Douglas' good wishes. Even if he wanted to offer his designs for Navy use, if the furnace was being used day and night to produce cannon there was little chance he would be allowed more than to take a look at it. I should plan for the worst but hope for the best.

Douglas related his story. A gentleman volunteer meant his father had not purchased a commission or obtained it some other way. He had earned it, not by dying for his country, but by having his enemies die for theirs. He calls himself a tactician, interesting. The peer filed that titbit of information away, just in case there was need of it in the future. That Dumbarton had recommended the man for the Life Guard spoke much about the Scotch’s military ability. And then…

A subject that Henry would not speak about but confirmed this was the first generation of Fitz. The gentlemen complained because the soldier wanted them to be soldiers, while they only wanted to play at being that. There was an almost imperceptible sigh. On the side of the gentlemen was tradition. On Douglas’ side was the need to protect the King. Neither was wrong, but the Feudal Baron got the short end of the stick. At least he is still in the Life Guard, which means someone thinks he belongs there.

“I was summoned to Parliament last season," he began as he was asked about his being at court. "My brother Richard, the thirteenth Baron Grey of Codnor, died in a hunting accident. If I understand correctly a spark ignited when he was seating a bullet and the weapon exploded, or some such. I was a Fellow at Trinity College in Cambridge untilthen. I now fulfil my family’s obligation to England, and do not have the time to teach anymore. I had to resign that appointment”. Mentioning his brother had him finish his glass without even noticing. “So now I do my research before sunup, my star and moongazing at night, spend my days in whatever court functions are required of me, sleep as much as I can, when I can, and eat when I remember to”. That was a good summation of most of his days when court was in session. “I have started taking morning constitutionals, and they have helped me to keep my head clear even though I sleep much less”.

Duty. Just like you, Baron Dundarg. We do our duty.

[Douglas FitzJames]

If red bronze was stronger than yellow bronze, then it would make sense that the cannon were red bronze, but Douglas wouldn't speak for men who knew far more about such things than he did; let Grey ask Cumberland himself. Still, it was interesting to know. 

No one had arranged Douglas's commission for him. Much as he tended to be bitter about what he felt he should have had, all that he did have he'd earned for himself, one way or another. He was illegitimate, but he refused to believe he was worthless. Not everyone agreed with him of course, and Douglas's nature combined with his personality tended to mean that he was born under a critical sign; whether he succeeded or failed, it was always spectacular. Experience had mollified that a little, and what he had achieved had satisfied him some, but unlike most legitimate sons, he didn't have that sense of place in his life, of where he should be. 

Not that one's sense of place was any guarantee, as Lord Grey demonstrated. A younger son, he'd devoted his life to academia, from the sound of things his true passion, until the death of his brother had required him to take on the mantle and responsibility of the title he'd never expected to inherit. Grey sounded as though he might regret the necessity of resigning his academic appointment, but was determined to do his duty. Douglas supposed that they all had disappointments in their lives. And duties. "My condolences on the loss o' yer brother." he said quietly, raising his glass in a toast to the departed. "Deeth leaves a heertache naebody kin heal; love leaves a mem'ry naebody kin steal."* He'd never had a brother, one of the reasons his father had been so bitter. 

Still, it sounded as though Lord Grey was trying to fit two lives into one, with both his academia and his courtly attendance. "Be carefu' o' burnin' the candle at both ends m'Laird; it burns oot aw the quicker for't." He warned, having seen some men do it in the military. Grey seemed a good type, it would be a shame to see him burn out young. "His Majesty hissel' taks a mornin' wawlk; yer follerin' in fine steps." He advised. Which was an interesting point. Douglas wondered what the King's preferred walk was at Windsor; he was more familiar with arrangements in London. "Haps ye need a lairdy wife tae see meals put afore ye at intervals."** He added with a friendly wink, thinking that Grey was so driven that he needed a good woman to look after him, and assuming that since he was dining here alone, he didn't have one yet. Behind every great man was a great woman, so it was said, and Grey sounded like the dutiful sort who could achieve a lot, as long as someone made sure he ate and slept. Even Douglas had his sister fattening him up during the court season. 

Subtitles 
* "My condolences on the loss of your brother. Death leaves a heartache nobody can heal. Love leaves a memory nobody can steal."
** "Be careful of burning the candle at both ends my Lord; it burns out all the quicker for it. His Majesty himself takes a morning walk; you're following in fine steps. Perhaps you need a lady wife to see meals put before you at intervals."

[Henry Grey]

“Thank you, Baron Dundarg. The sentiment is much appreciated”. Lord Grey signaled the barkeep to refill both their glasses again. “Yes, that particular heartache does not heal with time. What does come is a fog that comes between the past and oneself, that lets only good memories through. When I think of my brother I only thing about the happy times we had together”. A sip from his glass. Decent fellow, this Baron. Must keep an eye on his doings. He might go places.

Had Henry known that Douglas thought of him as young, he would have laughed so hard he may have fainted from the exertion. Henry felt old, far older than his two score and two years. “I need to find a rhythm, that is true. I cannot continue forever as things are. Now, if His Majesty takes morning walks, as his loyal subject I should do the same, should I not?” It was only a half-jest. Lord Grey had noticed the benefit of taking long walks every day and intended to continue them until the onset of old age.

Then for a much more serious topic, at least to Henry. Even though he noticed the Scotch’s wink, the topic of a wife, and thus an heir, were very important to him. “Yes, I need a lady wife, that is true. But not for meals. My valet takes care of that well enough”. His tone changed. It was not somber, but it was more serious. “I need an heir, Baron Dundarg. I would rather not have a distant cousin inherit the Barony of Gray and all that it entails. My brother did not pay attention to that particular detail, and now I must”. It was not going to be that easy. "My family is old. Tradition makes me look for a young lady from a family as old, or almost as old, as mine".

[Douglas FitzJames]

A fog that comes between the past and one's self. It was a good way of putting it. Douglas wasn't quite certain about the whole thing of only allowing good memories though; it did require that there were some to start with, but from the sound of things Grey had many fond memories of his childhood with his brother. Perhaps it was better to focus on those. "Ye hae a way wi' words." He said simply. His own childhood had been difficult once his father had married, but there were the vague memories of a young child that spoke of better times. "An' ye kin be glad ye haed a brother."* Douglas would have liked one. His father and stepmother would have liked him to have one. He told himself that his brother would have liked him, the eye of imagination being kinder than reality. Or was it some rubbish about it being better to have loved and lost? He'd never understood that one. But clearly Henry had loved his brother, and that was something that the man should cherish.

He'd spoken largely in jest, but Lord Grey seemed to take the comment more seriously and from his words Douglas suspected that the subject of a wife had been on his mind. My brother did not pay attention to that particular detail. Grey wasn't old but he was obviously older than the Scotsman himself, and had only inherited because his brother - who would have been older - had no heir. If he had to guess, he'd put money on there being no third brother. The thought resonated with Douglas because it was one that he'd had himself. He was younger than Grey but had no brother and was himself keen to see that what he did have was passed to a son. And he was looking for a lady from an old, established family. 

"Tis a serious consideration." The Life Guard agreed. Many titles went extinct, or to distant family members, because someone died without an heir. It made him think for a moment of his conversation with the Duke of Lauderdale at the Reception. So much power, and no direct heir to pass it to. "I hope ye dinnae mind me sayin', but I hae fower hae-sisters, dochters o' Viscount MacBain an' his wife, three o' whom er o' marriageable age." Cat would probably fight him about Shona being old enough, but she was probably also the best suited to Grey, from what he judged of the man's character. "The youngest o' those three, Shona, is a quiet lassie, jus' makin' her debut an' micht weel suite ye." He suggested. "She's like tae be the mos' beautiful o' the fower."** And their family was known for their looks, if Henry cared about such things. Douglas didn't, but he'd grown up surrounded by beautiful women.

Subtitles
* "You have a way with words. And you can be glad you had a brother."
** "It's a serious consideration. I hope you don't mind me saying, but I have four half-sisters, daughters of Viscount MacBain and his wife, three of whom are of marraigeable age. The youngest of those three, Shona, is a quiet girl, just making her debut and might well suit you. She's likely to be the most beautiful of the four. 

Edited December 27, 2022 by Douglas FitzJames

[Henry Grey]

“My tutors at Cambridge would want to birch me, even at my age, if I didn’t know how to use words, Baron Dundarg. Mean what you say and say what you mean was drilled into me for years, until I could do so in English, French, Latin, and Greek”. Looking back, the birching had not been bad. Painful, yes, but each session carried with it a lesson or three.

“Yes, I am glad to have fond memories of my brother…” a few were dark, but those could be counted with the fingers of one hand. “He never decided to marry, but he had me, so it was not a must. But I have no one, so I need to marry, hopefully soon…” Then, an observation about three beautiful and legitimate sisters, daughters of a viscount. Hmm… does he want to get rid of them for some reason? I better ask Lady Lucas what she knows about the MacBains… Henry had other marriage plans, but meeting new courtiers was never bad.

“Perhaps we could have lunch with them one day?” Lunch was always safer than dinner. There was something in favour of sunlight if you did not mean to do any mischief. “A niece of mine, Mistress Eleanore Bayning, daughter of Viscount Bayning of Sudbury, is also debuting at court this season. Perhaps we should all get together and meet each other?”

Henry carefully skirted the possibility of a match but did not say no either. He would not commit himself to anything before he knew more, either way.

[Douglas FitzJames]

Douglas's tutors had wanted to birch him for many reasons, and they had on occasion, but generally they had to catch him first. He'd escaped into the Regiment as soon as he could, trading further education for freedom and a life in the military. Whether or not that had been a good choice was open to debate; there were times when he envied those with a better grasp on academic subjects, whilst having no real interest in the work required to get there himself. 

Lord Grey didn't exactly declare his desire to immediately wed one of Douglas's sisters, but then the Scotsman hadn't expected him to. What he had wanted was to make him aware of the girls. He didn't strictly want to get rid of them, but they needed marrying off and that wouldn't happen if they stayed cooped up in Cat's house. Then the man mentioned his niece who was making her debut. Yes, a meeting of families for lunch would be very safe. "Sounds like a fine idea. Haps a picnic, if such suits ye? I fear we Scots oft favour the oot o' doors." At least during the warmer months, which were short in the north. Plus it was an even easier venue, and if they brought their own food then Cat could ensure that she wasn't poisoned by her allergies. "My eldest sister, the Doowager Coontess Alyth, haes a particularly fine cook."* He added, thinking that a basket of Cat's treats should put any gentleman in a congenial mood. 

Subtitles
* "Sounds like a fine idea. Perhaps a picnic, if such suits you? I fear we Scots often favour the out of doors. My eldest sister, the Dowager Countess Alyth, has a particularly fine cook."

[Henry Grey]

“A pick nick sounds like a very good idea. Even if the day is chilly, the outdoors is very healthy”. Henry had discovered just that the past few months. “That way the young ladies can chat, run, and enjoy themselves at leisure. I think my niece would enjoy meeting others her age in such a setting. She is sixteen or seventeen, I think”. Henry was not too sure, but it was something like that. Her mother would not have sent Eleanore to debut at court if she had been younger. "I brought two carriages. The servants and foodstuffs can go in one, and we can take the other". Henry left unsaid that he would not ride a horse even if the alternative was death by dismemberment.

A dowager countess… a widow with a son, then? Probably not too old. Or is her title old and can be passed via the mother's line if need be, like mine? I should brush up on Scottish peerage rules and names, I think. The knowledge may become necessary.

“Sadly, my cook is adequate, but not the best. I do volunteer to purchase whatever is needed from the White, the Toes, or even the Celestial Patisserie, but I would not want to offend your sister the Countess in any way so, perhaps it would be best if she lets us know who should do what?” Henry had already learned that to defer to a lady in such matters was the best approach. The lady could then take the lead or ask a gentleman to. Either way, she would be happy, which meant those around her would be happy too.

[Douglas FitzJames]

"Thain she's richt atween oor Fiona an' oor Shona." Douglas declared as Henry revealed his niece's age. "Haps they micht make fast friends."* Or not, depending on the young lady's nature and Fiona's behaviour. But it also occurred to him that meeting some of her direct competition might have an impact on Fiona as well. Last time he'd check, which admittedly had been eight months ago, she still seemed convinced that some Duke was going to desire her, but funnily enough so far none had stepped forward. Well, technically that wasn't true, but the only Duke to be interested wanted her as a mistress. 

Lord Grey kindly offered to purchase supplies for the picnic, claiming that his own cook was adequate only. Douglas was of a mind to defer to Cat too, but he also had a good idea of the things that she liked to cook. "If ye were tae bring some fruit, cheese, fresh bread an' haps a bottle o' wine, I dare say that she'll hae her cook provide the cold cuts, pies an' pastries." That seemed like a fairly even distribution, whilst putting all the things that might contain onions into Catriona's basket. "I'll bring some sweets an' a bottle fer efter, if that suits ye?"** He added, already looking forward to it. He did wonder what Grey's niece was like, but suspected from the man himself that she wasn't the type to consider a bastard Scotsman. 

Subtitles
* "Then she's right between our Fiona and our Shona. Perhaps they might make fast friends."
** "If you were to bring some fruit, cheese, fresh bread and perhaps a bottle of wine, I dare say that she'll have her cook provide the cold cuts, pies and pastries. I'll bring some sweets and a bottle for after, if that suits you?"

[Henry Grey]

“That they are close in age might help them get along better”, Henry mused. “Court is hard enough without making friends”. Or allies. “How long have you sisters come to court?” If they had a season or three under their belts, they might be able to give Eleanore good advise.

“Fruits, cheeses, nuts, a few warm loaves straight out of the oven, and wine. Sounds like a plan. A particular preference as to wines? I am more of a mead and ale man myself, but ladies tend to favour wines, so I will look for a few choice vintages. Perhaps I will add something fortified, due to the weather”. He would also take some hard cider for himself and those who decided to partake. “Sweets and a bottle of something stronger for after sounds great, Baron Dundarg”.

Henry was actually looking forward to the outing. One of the reasons was because he was curious about the Scots. He wanted to know what they thought about things. As one of King Charles’ three realms, Scotland was an important piece of the court puzzle. Another reason was Eleanore. Having her meet others under his watch was better than her meeting them by herself, or so Henry thought. He had become rather protective of his niece.

[Douglas FitzJames]

Court could be very hard when one struggled to make friends. Douglas had experienced more success over time, but he still valued greatly those like Lord Grey who didn't immediately shy away on learning that he was illegitimate. One of the benefits of such acquaintances could be pleasant conversations such as this. "Fiona haes..." He had to think about it, "fower seasons, I think." Which had been plenty to get into all manner of trouble but they didn't need to go there. "Shona shuid debut this season."* Should being the operative word. He understood Catriona's reluctance in terms of her own experiences, but not in terms of the practicalities of their lives and station. Perhaps Lord Grey and his niece might inspire her. 

Lord Grey liked mead? That was a surprise. French wines were generally considered the best so that seemed to be what most at court drank, whether for the flavour or the prestige, but Douglas always thought they tasted a bit sour. "Tis guid tae ken ano'er wha isnae a slave tae the French grape then." He declared enthusiastically. "A guid mead is a guid drop." He agreed. "I'm partial tae a plum er blackberry wine." He admitted, preferring those to port. "Haps a hippocras, fer the weather?" He suggested, thinking that the spiced fortified wine might be just the thing. Otherwise Douglas drank ale when he was thirsty and whiskey to round out the day. 

It should be a pleasant outing, in Douglas's mind. Henry seemed to be very pleasant company, and even if he wasn't interested in one of the girls as a wife, it could be good to have both him and potentially his niece as friends of the family at court. "Tis settled thain. I weel confer wi' my sister as weel." But he couldn't see Catriona saying no to such an outing. "Is thair a particular day which wuid suit ye an' yer niece?"*** Social calendars could fill up quickly. 

Subtitles
* "Fiona has... four seasons, I think. Shona should debut this season."
** "It's good to know another who isn't a slave to the Frency grape then. A good mead is a good drop. I'm partial to a plum or blackberry wine. Perhaps a hippocras, for the weather?"
*** "It's settled then. I will confer with my sister as well. Is there a particular day which would suit you and your niece?"

[Henry Grey]

Henry was about to say that four seasons was a bit long for a young lady to remain unmarried at court, but thought better of it. No need to offend, especially when no offense was meant or warranted. The Scottish baron had been polite and great conversation so far. “I see how two sisters at court at the same time might prove a handful”, he said instead. “Perhaps a delay of a season might be convenient”. He was intruding a bit, but brandy made him a bit more talkative at times.

“I tend to prefer sweet, fortified wines to French clarets or Rhennish whites. Portuguese Madeira and Sack, Spanish Xerez, even Hungarian Tokaj. They are all good for keeping the chill out of the bones”. Needless to say, water and watered-down drinks were not healthy. “As for hippocras, the Sun King is quite partial to it, did you know? I have heard that he likes his perfumed with ambergris. Others add musk to it to give it an unexpected touch”. It was an interesting drink, although not Lord Grey’s favourite.

“I entertain myself by making my own mead in honey season when I am home at Codnor. I then let it sit for about nine months in the castle's cellar before drinking. Also, honeys from different parts of England give different tastes to the drink”. His inquisitive mind liked to investigate things other members of the nobility simply bought and took for granted. He had experimented with raisins, fresh berries, spices, and other things. Some results had been surprisingly good.

“As for when, Baron Dundarg, I will have to talk with my niece and get back to you”. Eleanore might be family, but she was not a daughter he could simply order to act as he decided. “I will send word to you as soon as I do”.

[Douglas FitzJames]

Henry was entirely right that four seasons was too long for a young lady to remain unmarried at court, especially as Douglas wasn't even certain it wasn't five. He lost track. Fiona desperately needed to be married, preferably to some wealthy old man who would leave her a merry widow. Then she could do as she pleased. Or a young libertine. Either would do. Two sisters at court was a handful, and Fiona would definitely overshadow Shona in her debut unless they made an effort to keep the two separate, but Douglas worried that Fiona's ongoing delays would in turn hold up Shona's chances of getting married, since it was traditional to wed off the eldest first. Not set in stone of course, but traditional. And Cat didn't seem inclined to do too much about it, which was why he was trying to help. None of which Henry needed to know. Frankly if Shona scored a good marriage out from under Fiona whilst the older girl remained unwed, that was not Shona's problem. 

"I didnae ken the Sun King liked hippocras." He admitted. That was... interesting. He supposed it might depend on how one made it; there were a thousand recipes. "I think I'll stick tae spices, an' leave th'ambergris tae th'perfumers."** He said, wrinkling his nose. Whilst Douglas was well aware of the concept of conspicuous consumption, if one was not a King there were probably more sensible things to spend one's money on. Besides, it wasn't his favourite drink, but it was still quite drinkable and something good to have up one's sleeve for serving to others. 

Bees! Now there was something that Douglas hadn't yet looked into as a possible resource for Dundarg. There were certainly bees in Scotland, though Douglas remembered the ones from his childhood in the Highlands being darker than those you saw here down south. Hmm, he'd have to investigate, he decided, listening with interest as Henry spoke of making his own mead. "D'ye hae a brewery at Codnor? Er d'ye make yer mead on a hoosehauld's scale?"** He asked, intrigued. Brewing, and eventually distilling, was an industry he'd like to get going on his own lands, if they proved suitable for barley cropping. That would be an experiment for the coming year. 

Douglas nodded amiably when Henry said that he'd discuss the date with his niece and let him know. Interesting that she obviously wasn't directly within his household then, but there were many different arrangements at court. "I weel luik forrard tae hearin' frae ye." He said earnestly, thinking that he quite liked this fellow. "I shuid prolly leave ye tae yer peacefu' e'en, Laird Grey." Douglas said as he emptied his glass. "T'haes been a pleasure meetin' an' talkin' wi' ye, an' thank ye fer the drink."*** 

* "I didn't know the Sun King liked hippocras. I think I'll stick to spices, and leave the ambergris to the perfumers. 
** "Do you have a brewery at Codnor? Or do you make your mead on a household's scale?"
*** "I will look forward to hearing from you. I should probably leave you to your peaceful evening, Lord Grey. It has been a pleasure meeting and talking with you, and thank you for the drink."

[Henry Grey]

Conspicuous consumption was a concept Henry had lived most of his life without considering. He had had an allowance from his family, and he lived simply, so that he could travel, learn, and make more lenses. It was not until he became a Baron that he had started to think about court clothing, sweetener gifts, and other things that were fairly new to him. Clothing was something that his valet had pointed out, and then Lord Chichester had helped him fix. Gifts came easy out of a generous nature. Drinking ambergris or topping a chocolate cake with gold foil were still beyond him. The Sun King was known for liking both.

“You can call my mead production a laboratory of sorts. It is not made to sell, but there are so many batches being made or maturing at any given time, that it cannot be called household scale. Perhaps you would like to take a look? If you ever go through Derbyshire, you would be more than welcome at Codnor. I will gladly share my notes on mead with you, and you can ask the man in charge of the operation as many questions as you want”. Henry had never considered making a business out of it. But if Douglas wanted to, the Baron would gladly share what he knew.

As the Life Guard finished his drink and bid his farewells, Lord Grey did the same. “I better get home too. I get up early, and I do want to get enough sleep before I do”. Henry finished his drink, bowed to Douglas, and put on his tricorn. “I will let you know regarding the day. We will talk some more at the picnic”. With a final nod, Henry walked to the door, and left.

Fin.

OOC: Thanks for an unexpectedly enjoyable thread.