A Walk Down Memory Lane | 15th Early Evening

[Francis Kirke]

Francis chuckled at the comments of Ranelagh and Etherege. "They are! Those Biancas have a power over men!"

 

He drank while he listened to the young Irishman tell his story, enjoying it immensely. He could not held but laugh at the image of the handsome youth being unsuccessful and trying all that he might to change his luck. Francis recalled what it was like to be of an age where you thought solely with one head and it rarely was the one on your shoulders. He had done quite a bit of it at Eton and Cambridge. By the time he was sailing port to port, he had some sense to be careful where he was sticking it.

 

"Cattivo ragazzino!" Francis joined in, laughing. "Via col suo cazzo!"

 

 

(Naughty boy, off with his cock!)

[Charles Audley]

"It is perhaps less than it has been," Charles admitted to James of Tuscany, "and I have heard that the current Grand Duke possess a somewhat... rigorous character, that you and I might say is antithetical to the nature of Tuscany. But he cannot take away the beauty of its landscapes or the wonderfully earthy nature of its citizens, which are far greater adornments than any palazzo or work of art, and so I think in time, when the rot has sufficiently enriched the soil, that sinful, sophisticated flower will bloom again."

(He did believe that, but could not help but muse that it would help if the Tuscans avoided fighting ruinously expensive wars. The Medici had almost broken themselves warring against the Papacy before Charles had been born, and had never really recovered, even if their side had technically won. That was a prime illustration of what he had come to privately call Chatham's First Law of Conflict – never invest more in a war than you stand to gain if you win.)

Dismissing thoughts of how the Wars of Castro would fit into the book he hoped to one day write, Charles focused on James as the poet offered the story of his own Bianca. The Irishman had eloquence, and beyond that the gift of storytelling, and was unafraid to be revealed as sentimental or to laugh at himself, all of which were things Charles liked and admired. 

'Our minds may lack hearts, but the inverse is not so true.' A wonderful thought wonderfully phrased!

It was a good story on its own merits, too. Charles, sentimental though he too was, had never given of himself as James described, but he could feel something of what it must have felt like to do so through the story, and of course every man had memories, however much he might wish otherwise, of failed, clumsy attempts at wooing.

"On the evidence of these stories, my friends," he offered, once the laughter had subsided (and he had his breath back) "we might conclude that the swiftest way to a woman's heart, or at least her bed, is the dispatch of her enemies, whether that be at the point of a rapier or a quill. And if that is true, then it will save me a fortune on gift-giving."

 

(OOC: So sorry for how long it took me to get to this! No idea how it slipped my notice for so long.)

[James O`Neill]

“To the Florentine autumn, then. May its fallow fields renew her future.” James toasted upon Chatham’s assessment, taking another sip of cognac while deciding that he rather liked the fellow. Intelligence and impudence with just a touch of sensitivity typically marked those he associated himself with. And that eyepatch… The poet’s taste in men ran more towards artists and intellectuals, but there was an element of outward rakishness that softened the earl’s granite severity and made it obvious how a man like that could win a woman over with a battle.

As the gathered gentlemen laughed at his story, a reflexive blush crept across his neck and cheeks, making the dimple when he grinned at them seem even more boyish. “Enough, enough,” he sallied forth, laughing at their responses as he waved a handkerchief of surrender, white with the Red Hand of Ulster stitched in. “I surrender! Woman or no, this treatment is a far greater punishment than Don Pietro could e’er surmise.”

Which, given how the story of his and Bianca’s love actually went, wasn’t actually true. No sense in dampening the mood, mind.

He let out a final snort of amusement, knowing it was in good fun and relishing – as always – in the knowledge that he had entertained the cohort of libertines. “As long as Kingston here wasn’t around to give him ideas, at least. I’m rather fond of all my parts, especially that one.” Considering Chatham’s conclusion, James sighed, a contented thing. It had been an excellent first day, and the night wasn't even over yet. “Which, I suppose, is excellent news for all the quarrelsome lasses out there – landing on Erin’s shores will never be the same again!”

Edited March 3, 2023 by James O`Neill