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The Great BonFire | Saturday 17th, tenish


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Cambray, Chatham, and Grey

Lord Chatham’s thoughts on Lord Beverley were much appreciated. Not only because the viscount was the man who could approve further requests made by Henry, but also because of… more personal… reasons. That the one-eyed nobleman spoke no ill of the Saint-Leger scion helped Henry keep his course of action. “I will let you know as soon as I speak with him, Lady Cambray. Perhaps I will see him tomorrow at church. If so, a simple question might be possible”. An additional telescope would not hurt the event, on the contrary, and it was an instrument Henry knew well, as he had taken it apart and rebuilt it before he had sent it to her, and thus would be able to help others make use of it with ease.

As Anne-Elizabeth and Chatham both started feeding their offerings to the flames, Henry did the same. He had but a few pages of notes, so he released them slowly, waiting for one to turn completely into ashes before releasing the next one. It was an unexpected feeling; it was as if as he let each page go a weight was lifted from his shoulders. Somehow, the urgency to succeed in his lens design was replaced with the certainty that he would succeed, even if it took a long time. It may take years, but succeed I will, and England will be the grander for it.

A deep sigh, and a spontaneous smile as he faced the rising flames alongside his companions. “I never thought a bonfire could be a balm for the soul, but I confess this is having an effect on me…” Suddenly, Henry realized how underslept he was. He had paid no attention to his health in the recent months, and the realization hit him suddenly. “I find myself not only needing, but also wanting to sleep twelve hours straight…” His face showed his exhaustion.

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Nicci looked towards the out of place Ambassador, lifted her hands and gave an apologetic shrug as Anne Elizabeth discarded the choice in favour of liquor and paper burning. 

"Careful of your eyebrows darlings!" 

The Frenchwoman did not hold any ill will towards the foreigner, the opposite in fact, for Pytor was plainly brave and daring, while old enough to know his actions risked snubbing.  Nicci hoped he did not feel snubbed, though her own attention was drawn back to Rowley.

"Well I shall not pity him for that," Nicci breathed near to Rowley’s ear, "though while upon the subject of 'Knowing', there is one whom I'd want to make sure you remained very familiar." 

Her pinch caught him by surprise and she laughed (a bit too loudly) of it.  "Gyr.." about to ask for his impression of gyration, it was a heavy kiss he gave instead.  Nicci yielded, then quested deeply a kiss of her own.   Such a public display was erotic all in it's own.  Her hands roamed up into his hair, slipping down again to grasp shoulders.  "Gyration, you were saying?" she panted, "that is a brilliant idea."

She pulled free and tore away his jacket, "I would see you dancing in your shirtsleeves!" Nicci's eyes were flared, while she was ready to leap into the dance with - with no idea of how pagans danced she imagined it might be a bit like the Spanish. And clapped hands up high, twirling, and every moment watching the thrill of his own impromptu stylings.   

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Francis and Caroline

"Bah, if they are not your friends, then who cares? Ignore them. And fair weather friends are not really friends at all then, are they?" Caroline despised disloyalty when it came to such things. Once she made a friend, she stuck with that person come hell or high water.

"You are young looking, yes. But not feminine. You are also far too hard on yourself. Stop it, Francis," she chided him but with a smile and in low tones lest someone looking their way think they were arguing, for they were not.

Now as to most handsome in court, she really did think he was certainly right up there but added, "Yes, my George is quite handsome too. If people want to think I married him for his looks, I care not what they think. "

She also boldly offered that she might well tell George the truth about her bed companions. After all, she had done all that prior to this current commitment she had made with Chichester for marriage. It was certainly not cheating! Just honesty and she had told George she would always be honest with him.

Francis seemed a bit taken aback but as ever, cool and collected. He did point out though that when he took her that first time that was on her. She had seduced him?  Had it really happened like that? Caroline seemed to remember it somewhat differently but no matter, he had been kind and it had been a wonderful night in her young life. However they did agree on one thing - both wanted to be respectful of marriages. She would not sleep around but was determined to be a faithful wife to George. And trust he would be the same to her.

Then he very solemnly hoped that they would remain friends. Caroline immediately nodded.

"Oh yes, without a doubt. You will always be my friend, Francis. Til death. Which hopefully is a long ways away," she meant every word of it.

Francis did not have the luxury of not caring what people thought, unfortunately. He did, though, understand the notion of fair-weather friends, and he would remember those that snubbed him when he was down.

 

"Well, I cannot comment on Lord Chichester's handsome visage," Francis replied, chuckling.

 

She did not seem to fully get his tease about her seducing him. She had been a great part of it, sure, but it was hardly a seduction. He was a very willing participant! He merely did not wish anyone to think he'd taken advantage. Especially her new husband if she did tell him.

 

"And you mine, my dear. And you mine," he said. "And shall your new husband take no objection to your outlets for fun? Such as joining us for such adventures like these?"

 

(OOC - so sorry, I'm horrible in large threads with losing things)

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"Oh you men! So much pride you cannot even compliment another man? I often praise women who I believe to be beautiful. It doesn't bother me.  Well mayhaps we can agree you are both very handsome," again she was not really angry but in one of her teasing moods, "We can leave it at that."

She then pledged him her eternal friendship and he hers. She believed him too for he was an honorable man. Now he wondered if George would be accepting of such sorts of entertainments as these?

"A bonfire? I should think he would be fine with it. A few of the libertine parties I have been to? Hmmm, that might be going a bit too far. I do not think I would shock you with this revelation that George is bit more shy than myself," she smirked.

 

ooc: No worries, besides I was MIA with computer issues for a couple of weeks.

 

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Chatham, Grey, and Cambray

 

“Name a time and a place and I shall be there.” Anne-Elisabeth wondered if Charles had rented a house in town or stayed in a closet like she did. “It just can’t be tonight or we won’t get to torment each other by drawing out the anticipation.” In truth, she had other plans for the rest of the evening.

 

“Oh, I will most definitely show you mine,” she purred. “Rochester gave a task to me and Master O’Neil. We are both to write epics that demean Pembroke for what he did to Dorset. I have not started mine yet but your opinion will be invaluable when I do.”

 

After Lord Grey joined them and the talk turned to telescopes, Anne-Elisabeth envisioned setting hers up as early as tomorrow evening, perhaps with his help if Lord Beverley allowed it. Lord Chatham didn’t think that Beverly would mind either if he was asked. He seemed like the proper sort to her, so she hoped that Lord Grey would not mention that the extra telescope belonged to a woman who saw herself as an amateur astronomer.

 

She laughed when Charles praised her wit. “Now who is using blatant flattery? I believe I am experiencing one of those lows tonight while you are definitely on a roll.”

 

He seemed to be enjoying feeding his disappointments to the flames as much as she was. She had seen a similar smile on his face before, when they had shagged in the gazebo. And she fully expected to see it again the next time they met. Why was she looking forward so much to being tortured … and torturing him in return?

 

Lord Grey looked as if he was experiencing the same thing, though instead of being invigorated, he wanted to sleep. “How many telescopes did you set up today? It must be tiring work. If I had known what you were planning to do, I would have offered my assistance.”

 

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As Nicci refused the offer of a Cossack dance, Pyotr merely smiled, and downed his glass. He still needed to learn the customs of the foreign land he had been sent to. Perhaps with time he would meld a bit better… perhaps

But then, when Nicci started dancing with hands up high clapping, a smile formed in his face. Standing, he started playing a Romany campfire tune, adapting to the French mademoiselle’s tempo while keeping the harmony as lively as he could. He also started singing with the melody in an unknown tongue. Perhaps the music and the singing would entice others to dance too… perhaps

Edited by Pyotr Fedorovich
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Francis and Caroline

 

Chortling, Francis answered, "With these slanders one cannot be too careful. With my angelic face and golden curls, they shall be calling me a ganymede next if I make sure comments!" He reined in his amusement and said, "I am quite secure enough, I assure you, just careful, considering."

 

Caroline explained what she thought might happened after her married. He heaved a dramatic sigh in reply.

 

"It shall be made more boring without your dynamic presence...which is to say that you shall be missed. But, I am sure married life will bring with it other opportunities and amusements."

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Chatham, Cambray and Grey

Charles cocked his head in consideration.

"I did chance across an abandoned cottage when I was riding in the Great Park yesterday," he offered. "It's isolated, and not far from the river. It would be quite in theme for us, I think. Of course, it has no roof, and we would have to visit during the day, for I would not chance the park at night."

He shrugged.

"I will look for some other suitable place if that does not meet with your approval. As for time... no earlier than Wednesday, I think. Allows the anticipation to build, hmm?"

This talk of epic poems was interesting, especially ones aimed at Pembroke. One could probably kill him with a suitably inflammatory lampoon. A man that volatile simply had to be susceptible to apoplexy.

When, O Pembroke, do you mean to cease abusing our patience? How long is that madness of yours still to mock us? When is there to be an end of that unbridled audacity of yours, swaggering about as it does now?

That had been an oration and not an epic of course. No, better to go with something like —

"'Sing, o Muse, of the madness of Pembroke, that has brought countless ills upon the English,' something of that nature but less derivative?" he suggested, adapting the opening of the Iliad. "I am not sure what help I can be, but I have read the great Classical epics, and Milton's Paradise Lost."

A thought struck him.

"Is Rochester to offer no effort of his own? He was famously brave, once, and I should be disappointed to learn that it is now otherwise."

Brave in more than his poetry, too. Rochester had fought the Dutch at sea, with great courage and no small distinction.

It was deeply liberating to burn his father's letters. The sheer unholy delight of it burned in his veins like divine ichor, and combined with the laudanum to leave Charles feeling... elevated, and somehow more than he had been when he entered the courtyard. He clamped down on a fit of mad laughter.

Anne-Elisabeth was experiencing something similar, but it seemed that it was not a universal feeling: Lord Grey apparently found it exhausting as well as soothing. He knew how that felt. The soul was a complicated and occasionally contradictory thing.

"Catharsis can be a draining experience," he said sympathetically, mastering himself enough to reply coherently. "I have coca leaves, if you want a stimulant my lord, though I will note that prior experience has taught me that that is much like borrowing to pay your existing debts."

He fed the last of the letters into the fire and stepped back, brushing specks of ash from his hands. That savage exultation still burned in him, a blaze to make the bonfire a candle by comparison, but he trusted himself enough to allow himself to laugh this time, a merry peal of undiluted joy ringing out.

"I think I want to dance," he declared, doffing his cloak and wrapping his sheathed rapier in it. The blade would only tangle his legs when dancing otherwise. After a moment's thought he unbuttoned his waistcoat too.

Wodehouse had dealt with quite enough over recess, between his master's black mood and the addition of a puppy to the household. Best to err on the side of keeping him happy, Charles decided.

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Louis Approaching Buckingham

Nicci had left the side of Buckingham to enjoy Rowley's company.  Kingston was engaged with Caroline, so the great Duke was left to his own devices.

Moving up next to the man, the Earl gave a deferential nod.  "A good evening Your Grace," he greeted in a good mood, and feeling a bit warmer next to the fire.

Lifting the stack of libel entwined in string in his right hand, he exclaimed "too many of these pamphlets about.  I had my man collect all he could, promising to treat the disclosures therein with all the dignity that they warrant.  I think there no greater dignity for this slander than fueling yon bonfire."

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"A ganymede, oh dear!" Caroline just shook her head.

But he had said that in good humour and assured her he was fine, just needed to be careful.

"I understand though ...." she paused then went on, "being careful is not much fun most of the time."

Caroline tried to explain to him that once married her libertine life style might have to be curtailed somewhat. Even she was not sure what would happen. She wanted to please her husband but she did not want to have to distance herself from faithful friends - such as Francis. It was going to be complicated.

Francis didn't make it any easier saying she would be missed.

"Well, I won't be dead you know. We shall still see each other," Caroline pointed out, "I will be at court."

And it was most likely true her married life would open new doors and perhaps even new adventures. Though somehow she did not think of George as being.... adventurous.

 

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Basildon joins Buckingham and O'Neill

 

"Ah, Basildon, good evening," the Duke returned with a nod, cut off from delivering any advice about Ormonde to the young poet. 

 

"Do you know O'Neill here?" he asked.

 

Looking at the bundle of papers, he raised a blond brow delicately. "Is that the drivel about Kingston? I hope it's not a new run but more of the old." Francis was unused to being slandered unlike the Duke, another new crop of idiocy would not have been taken well. "Your tribute to the flames is much appreciated."

 

(OOC - Louis can reply next since he was asked if he knows O'Neill to fit the flow on conversation)

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Rowley and Nicci lead the bonfire dancing

 

"You do know how I love gyration and never fear, I have ever intention to stay just as familiar with a certain someone." His kiss was likely evidence of that, as was the promise of an evening and bed shared together in the Duke's apartments.

 

He would choose an apt moment to steal her away, but for now he pulled his arms through and clapped as she started the circle dance around the fire, twirling and clapping. He had no real idea of how pagans danced, but he figured it was far closer to the stomping and twirling and merriment of the common folk, so her twirls seemed apt to him. He followed suit with his own gyrations and twirls, complete with leaping.

 

"What are you lot all doing standing about?" he said as they passed Chatham's group.

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Louis,  Buckingham and O'Neill

Louis turned to see the Irishman.  In the dark he thought that they had met, or at least encountered one another, but could not recollect the instance.  "Yes, I believe so," he replied slow enough to be corrected.

Turning his attention to the handbills, Basildon replied "more of the same.  I am merely performing a civic duty in ridding Windsor of unwanted trash."  With that, he offered the stack to the pyre, and enjoyed the flash of new flames to engulf it.

Turning to see Nicci lead a dance and Rowley follow in an inartful manner, the Earl cast a daring look to the Duke as the King called for others to join.  "After you, Your Grace," he smiled and his gaze included the Irishman as well.

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