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FILM: The Libertine (2004) John Wilmot, The young Earl of Rochester. His greatest romance is fraught with struggle, as is the Court of King Charles II! Please Read and Review!

RATED - T - Suitable for teens, 13 years and older, with some violence, minor coarse language, and minor suggestive adult themes.

No copyright infringement is taking place. John Wilmot, the Earl of Rochester was a historical figure and therefore is not the property of anyone! The recent movie does not depict the early years of his life in any depth. Please read and review!

Chapter 1: THE DISCOVERY

London, July 1666, Whitehall Palace Posted: 2 March 2006

Elizabeth Mallet stood near the window of the large room. Before her danced handsome couples clad in the latest fashions of the court. Around her young women her own age chattered and giggled conspiratorially. She glanced over at them. Just yesterday she had been one of them, but now she felt a whole world separated her from them, and she didn't even understand why. It was all so confusing! She gazed out the window and so did not see the tall King coming her direction. The man stopped when he saw her and came to her side.

"Elizabeth? Is something wrong my dear?" he asked with a gentle touch to her elbow. The teen aged girl clad in the fancy ball gown turned to him, her features pale and eyes very misty. Her hands twisted a small hanky she held with great tension. She quickly looked down and away.

The King looked around the room and saw no sign of her ever-present guardians. He took her elbow and guided her away from the others, to a quiet corner, where he turned her to face him.

"Has someone here at Court upset you, love?" he asked with fatherly affection. She looked up at him, her eyes nearly overflowing with tears.

"He – he- he's dead – isn't he?" she breathed fearfully. The King frowned down at her. She twisted the hanky into a tight corkscrew and took a gulp.

"I - I heard about it in the town – we – were shopping for gloves – stupid gloves – when a man posted a notice and read it out loud. It was a notice from the battle. It – it said over 1800 English sailors had been lost, and 8 ships… and – and – and … it said all the volunteers had been killed, save for one, on – his ship." She blurt out tearfully. The King was surprised at her reaction.

He had received the same news 2 days before and had also been worried. In fact, the news of so many lives lost had made him feel sick to his stomach. He had not slept a wink all night. And yes, the news of the volunteers had been most distressing. He had instantly thought of one very bright young man of whom he'd become quite fond, despite his occasional mis-adventures. He had gotten up at 4 in the morning to personally rouse a messenger to request the name of the lone survivor. There had not been that many of them on that particular ship. He was a bit surprised she even would know which ship he was on – unless she was talking about someone else entirely – which was much more likely to be the case with this young lady. The young lady stared up at him, reading her own interpretation into his silence.

"I – I – I know what you're thinking your majesty…. Ever since Lord Rochester abducted me that night from my grandfather's carriage, I've been cold, at times even rude to him… but I never wanted him to die!" she burst out with, the tears now suddenly flowing. Charles blinked in surprise. He pulled her away, putting an arm around her to conceal the flood of tears as he quickly escorted her out the nearest door to an empty hallway. He hated it when women cried – even ones still in their teen years. He took the hanky from her, unwound it and shook it out.

"Hush now Elizabeth – please, don't cry." He said urgently. She took it from him and quickly wiped at her face with it, not daring to meet his intense gaze.

"Oh I can just imagine what you must think of me your majesty. First I'm telling everyone how much I abhor him… He's nothing but a poverty-stricken poppin-jay who wants only my fortune and thought he could get it by kidnapping me…. When others told me he had inquired of my health, I did not even bother to wonder – I rudely told them they had no business even tolerating him saying my name aloud! I had suitors everywhere I looked – that now my grandfather and stepfather have scared away – but that's not it! He's so young – so clever and witty… he makes everyone around him laugh and he's so polite to the ladies he is with – so kind and gentle and graceful… I – I – I don't want him to be dead!" she burst out with all in a rush, the last breaking into sobs. The King of England considered the crying young girl before him and gently drew her into his arms where she sobbed into his coat in great earnest.

Women! Who could ever figure them out! He tried to think of something reassuring to say to her.

"Elizabeth – I don't know that Lord Rochester has perished. I can assure you that I hope and pray he has not. There were not all that many volunteers on the ship – and Johnnie is a very intelligent, clever young man. Now as for your suitors – was there one you wished to get to know better that your guardians never allowed? Perhaps I could help remedy that." He said, and she vehemently shook her head against his cloak.

"I just want to see him alive…. Even if he does hate me for how rude I've been." She breathed tearfully and sobbed again. The King arched an eyebrow down at her severely.

"I know for a fact that he does not hate you my dear. Not in the slightest. I have sent a messenger to find out who the survivor is, but he has not returned yet. I am hoping myself he will bring me the good news that the young scoundrel is still in one piece." He tried to tell her lightly.

Instantly her head came up and she wiped at her eyes as she considered him.

"Will – will you please tell me – when you find out? I'd much rather hear such news from you if I must hear it at all. I could not bear to hear my grandfather sounding pleased at his demise. He didn't mean to frighten me, and he certainly didn't hurt me – he – he was just over enthusiastic is all." She said quickly and he nodded without even thinking. Instantly she hugged him, standing on tiptoe to give him a kiss on his lower jaw.

"Thank you your majesty – thank you." She breathed a little unevenly, then stepped away and made her excuses to rejoin the ball, leaving him staring after her in sheer bewilderment. For months and months now she had had nothing good to say of the effervescent young Earl who had indeed let his heart rule his head that night… and now here she is crying over the same young man? He decided that teen aged girls were even harder to predict than the full grown version!

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The King was grateful that Court was nearly over with. He abhorred these most often tedious petitions. Most might be worthy of his interest, but after nearly 2 hours of them he barely even registered what it was that they wanted! He gazed across the room and saw a man slip in through the door and stay at the very back of the room. He caught his breath silently, staring. It was the messenger he had drug out of bed 4 days ago, long before dawn to send on this errand. He couldn't wait to see the man – and just as quickly he dreaded it. What if the news were not as he hoped? He coughed, choking on his drink, unable to tear his eyes from staring at the man at the far end of the room.

The Duke of Buckingham took notice and followed his gaze. He alone of the entire palace knew what information the King had sent this man to discover for him – well the Duke and one very pretty young lady. He saw Buckingham excuse himself from the man he had been quietly talking to and head in the direction of the messenger. He focused suddenly on the petitioner before him, not willing to see a look of sadness and regret come to Buckingham's face when he heard what the man had to say. Suddenly, he didn't want to know. Young Rochester was still alive in his mind, and he didn't want to envision the young man lost to them or even contemplate how he might have come to that fate.

Young Earls were supposed to be refined, witty, graceful, handsome, passionate, reckless, energetic, and vibrantly alive… Not lying at the bottom of the sea or draped in tarpaulin and stored with the other dead for the final journey home to a small plot of ground. Charles hurriedly granted whatever it was the petitioner requested and dismissed the court with the fastest speed ever. He rose and descended from the throne, waving away any who seemed to want to approach him, earning him many puzzled frowns. He might as well not wait for the dreadful news.

With a very heavy heart he made his way slowly down the length of the room until he came to the two. For a moment he closed his eyes and reigned himself in tightly. He was the King, THE King…. Whatever the news was, he must maintain his composure and appearance. He opened his eyes, not even daring to breathe as Buckingham turned to him. Suddenly the Duke broke out in a broad grin and offered him a small, rather grubby looking envelope, its outside bearing the address only of 'To my King' – in a familiar scrawl.

Charles let his breath out all at once, feeling slightly dizzy with relief, looking from the envelope, to the Duke, to the messenger. The man smiled at him mildly.

"I was fortunate enough to be able to catch up to the actual ship itself sire. The 'Royal Charles' was actually not that far off shore. I thought you would want the fullest accounting possible. I was directed to Lord Rochester almost as soon as I was granted permission to board. One of the older sailors said he had a friend and fellow volunteer literally die in his arms and had been very quiet since. Mr. Middleton, I'm afraid, sire. Captain Spragge thought it might do young Rochester good to have someone inquire after him." He said and the King cleared his throat softly.

"You saw him? He is unharmed?" he asked and the man smiled.

"Well, he had a small bandage around perhaps 4 inches of his left arm just above his wrist. Little bit of a bruise and a few scrapes here and there. He told me that a rather large splinter had sliced him up a little flying past him – but he says it isn't giving him much bother. He seemed perhaps a little pale and needed a good bath, a clean shirt and a good nights' sleep, I would say. He was quite amazed that you bothered to send someone. He said he's received no messages from anyone at all, not even his mother." He said and the King looked relieved.

"But he's all right?" he asked again and the messenger smiled and shrugged.

"Oh, I'd say perhaps a little shaken up. A few of the other men told me he'd been very brave, hadn't frozen under fire, had had the presence of mind and luck to move out of his position just before it all exploded. He was only a few feet away at the time Mr. Middleton was wounded. The sailors on the 'Royal Charles' seemed fond of the boy actually. Told me not to worry, he'd be fine and his family could be proud of the lad. They felt that for his tender years, he'd done extremely well. In the thick or it all, when the Captain wanted a message delivered to another ship that was not acting as he wished, he was unable to get a single seaman to volunteer to go – they all thought it was insanely suicidal. Not a one of them was willing to do it. So - young Lord Rochester up and volunteered. Rowed himself through a hail of cannon fire and gunshot and everything else they could throw – and they never managed to hit him. Well, not really. The men seem to consider it something on the scale of a miracle that he managed not to get himself killed doing it. His Lordship bid me wait while he wrote you a message, and I am to convey his apologies for its brevity, but he was truly surprised anyone had even thought of him." He said of the envelope. Charles looked grim at hearing the story.

Now he accepted the note offered by Buckingham, and bid the messenger his grateful thanks and opened it, Buckingham at his side. The King frowned mildly at what he read.

"What's wrong?" Buckingham asked quickly and Charles seemed lost in thought, and then remembered the messenger.

"I'd like you to come see me in the morning please, right after breakfast. I'll have a reply I'll want you to deliver to his Lordship, no matter how you have to catch up with him." He said and the man nodded willingly. After he had gone, Buckingham frowned at the King.

"Charles, what's' wrong? What did Rochester say in that note? May I see it?" he asked and the King sighed.

"No, actually it was personal… although he did want me to give you his regards and tell you to have a drink for him if you have a chance." He said and the Duke looked very skeptical. Charles smiled and pat him.

"No, seriously George – it's very short. He mentions that he's not sure exactly why he would still be here when the others are not. He says that it seems very regretful since he knows that Lord Middleton's family will greatly grieve his loss, while it seems to him that no one would notice if it were himself. He says that just does not seem right to him – it should be Middleton who is left alive instead. I just want to write him a few words of encouragement. You're welcome to add your own if you'd like." He told him and George quickly frowned.

"That doesn't sound like Johnnie at all," he said quietly and Charles sighed as he considered the roomful of people.

"No, it doesn't. However, considering what I was afraid I was going to hear – I will accept it and be glad of it. That's the last time he's going to sea though – you can mark my words on that. 1800 men lost and 1500 wounded? I didn't' let him volunteer for service with the fleet so he could have the opportunity to volunteer for suicidal missions involving rowboats. What in the name of heaven was Spragge thinking of, letting him do that! At this rate there won't be a single young man left alive in England before the decade is out!" he half growled and George nodded with an unhappy look.

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Recommended Reading:

1) A PROFANE WIT: The Life of John Wilmot, Earl of Rochester, Author: James William Johnson. Publisher: University of Rochester Press. Year – 2004. ISBN:1580461700.

2) LORD ROCHESTER'S MONKEY: Being the Life of John Wilmot, 2nd Earl of Rochester, Author: Graham Greene. Publisher: Viking Press. Year – 1974. ISBN: 670440558