A/N: I hope I might still have a reader or two who remember me. I was stuck on Archie's birthday dinner for a decade. I'm not sure why, except I could never figure out what I wanted to do with it, but didn't feel able to just write past it. After a long long, long, dry spell, this last fall (the boys always talk to me in the fall) I started writing fanfiction again (Farscape this time), and I finally was brave enough to pick this story up too. Even if I never finish it, I do want to get it to a better stopping point. So I've tried to move through this as quickly as possible. Forgive the dust and rust. (I wrote pieces past the dinner years ago, so expect up to five more chapters in the next few weeks, if the muses do not abandon me again.)
If you don't remember what is happening, and don't want to go re-read 25 chapters, I recommend going back one chapter, because it will flow a little better. The capsule summary is: Archie strongarms Horatio into staying at his family's London townhome. Archie's family is actually quite rich, with his father, a naval captain, marrying an American heiress before the revolutionary war. After the war they returned to England, and only very recently became richer when his father inherited the title of Earl of Cassilis from a second cousin. Archie's family is large, and all gathering together for a birthday dinner in honor of Archie's 18th birthday. Archie's father is very angry with him because of his disappointing naval career, preference for the theater over the sea, and of course, the epilepsy. Horatio ends up in this tangle of family politics, while trying to understand both his own homosexual attraction for Archie and why Archie is such a confusing mess of a person. General Georgian period things happen like visiting a Club and going shopping, and now it's the birthday dinner, and Archie has dressed Horatio up in his brothers' clothes.
Horatio felt quite self-conscious as they came down to supper, worried that his appearance would result in comment, or indeed derision. He was starting to sweat as the party gathered in the dining room, certain that the owner of his borrowed clothes would demand their return, or the earl would make some cutting remark.
Near paralyzed with fretting, it was only a shove from Archie that forced him through the door, yet in the end his civilian costume evoked little notice. Horatio thought that Captain Kennedy frowned when the man spotted him, but the earl was too busy talking with his elder sons and sons-in-law to give Horatio more than a glance. Anne was the only person to make actual reference to the change, coming up soon after their entrance to entwine her arm in a familiar way with his, then with her brother's as well.
"You are out of uniform, Mr. Hornblower, but the red does suit your complexion. I prefer the blue, but I know Archie hates the color, so I assume he persuaded you to give up Navy dress for the evening?"
"I don't hate blue, I just become bored of it. If you had to spend months at sea, staring at nothing but blue skies, blue waters, and blue-clad men, you'd tire of it too."
Kennedy pulled as far away as he could -Anne would not relinquish his arm- to examine his sister's frock. It was a golden yellow color, trimmed with gold mesh about the shoulders, full, yet close-fitting, with an abundance of fabric gathered in a way that reminded Horatio of the marble folds on the Greek statuary at Brook's.
"The waistlines are rising again?" Archie asked his sister.
Horatio didn't know what to make of this baffling comment. Until his peek into the boy's wardrobe, he would have sworn Archie knew nothing of male fashion, let alone female. Anne just sighed and nodded, however. "Yes. The modistes are insisting on it. With no pity for what this does to the proportions for women of modest height."
"Don't let them bully you." Kennedy reached out to straighten a ribbon for her. "I like the netting though, very nautical. Is that in my honor?"
"How vain! Of course not, it's just the fashion," Anne tugged them both towards the table. "Mr. Hornblower you will need to rescue me from boredom tonight. We can't expect my brother to talk about anything but himself, seeing as it's his birthday..."
And with that, Horatio found himself drawn into a family celebration completely unlike anything he'd ever experienced. His own birthday was rarely recognized with more than a brief word from his father and the housekeeper remembering his favorite dinner. Archie's party was a far grander affair.
Horatio was seated beside Anne, buried in the middle of a table greatly expanded with extra leaves to accommodate the baker's dozen of Kennedys (and himself). From this placement, Horatio had a fine view of all the family interplay. Though his friend did not neglect him, as the cause for the dinner's occasion Archie was the center of much comment and raillery. Despite Anne's threatened need for entertainment, Horatio was allowed to be much quieter, his mouth generally occupied in sampling an array of dishes that he had never seen the like of before.
As sumptuous as Horatio had thought their previous meals, the cooks had far exceeded themselves, rising to both the occasion and the additional guests. Meats studded with jewels of fruit, sauces with spices he could not identify, hot house greens sharp with citrus and vinegar. Those same hot houses had yielded out-of-season flowers as well, in arrangements of precious vases tucked in among the dishes. There were several cakes, pale with icing and decorated with candied petals. Between Horatio and his friend was a grand trifle in a vast footed dish. Towering layers of biscuits, stiff whipped cream, a glimmering ruby jelly, and sugared oranges atop, which he had to wait through several courses to finally taste.
With so many at table, the clamor of a half dozen conversations was almost enough to hurt the ears. Anne alternated between sharing tidbits of fashion and gossip with her sisters-in-law and teasing him and her brother. Like Archie, Anne's quick wit left Horatio too flustered to respond. But her barbs were generally aimed across the table, with Horatio only being called on to support either side against the other, or to give the merry young woman assurances that he would report on all their adventures and misdeeds, which Kennedy was sure to leave out of his letters.
It was only much later that Horatio would recall the exhortations and wonder if he had truly been invited to correspond with an unmarried girl on such short acquaintance, or whether the requests and his sober acquiescence were part of the joke.
The younger Margaret had been placed on Horatio's other side. With greater familiarity she had become less reticent. When the others were busy with their neighbors, she would venture the occasional comment on the food, or ask an unchallenging question about his home or naval service. Horatio made certain to treat each of her careful attempts at refined conversation with due solemnity. Besides, it was far easier to compliment her pianoforte, or inquire into her favorite pudding, than keep track of the multitude of japes, political controversies, and social scandals the adults were discussing.
John, across from young Margaret, spent much of the evening catching up with his twin, in between stifling Archie's more exuberant stories before the dramatics came to the earl's notice. However the older man remembered Horatio at kind intervals, asking gentle questions about his experiences at school or about their time on the Justinian. Conscious of Archie's obvious and loud discomfort -his friend immediately would begin teasing his sisters or calling for his glass to be topped up- at any mention of that awful ship, Horatio did his best to answer briefly and politely, then awkwardly practiced the skill of redirecting the conversation back to more salubrious topics of the Kennedy family and their interesting childhoods. Luckily, it was easy enough to get any of the siblings telling stories that descended into sharp but heat-less recriminations, with raucous additions and contradictions from all sides.
The countess's attention was likewise split between keeping her children from bickering too openly, correcting their exaggerations and missed details -particularly of their American years, watching over her youngest, who had been allowed out of the nursery for his brother's birthday, and catching up on tales of married life from her eldest daughter. But his kind hostess did not neglect to call compliments on his smart dress down the table to Horatio, and urge him to second helpings of everything.
Horatio was uncomfortably full, weary of conversation, and had the beginnings of a headache by the time the dessert dishes had been cleared, and the earl rose from the head of the table. Footmen darted in smartly to refill glasses, as silence descended. The Captain had commanded the immediate attention of all his children.
Holding up his own glass, the old lord looked up and down the table. Horatio, on alert from the sudden tension, saw that the earl's gaze lingered on the three military men of the family, and on longest on Arch, the man's heir. Horatio himself had felt only the momentary weight of the Captain's gaze, and Archie only slightly longer, perhaps because the other mid's attention was focused on his wine.
"We find ourselves once again, as a nation, on the brink of war. I was a similar age as you young men, when I went to sea to fight in the Seven Years War. I was proud to serve. And it made me as a man. Brought me my wealth, understood me to my wife," he half toasted down the table, "taught me the importance of family, and gave me the strength that only comes from sacrifice." The earl stared around the room again, and this time his eyes did capture those of his fourth son. "Age does not make us men, actions do."
The earl released that glare to encompass the whole of the table again. "I know you will all do your duty. Serve with honor, knowing you have the love and pride of your family, and the thanks of King and country. By God's will, we will all be gathered together again before too long, but if our table is smaller, your sacrifices will be remembered in this life and the hereafter. God save the King and death to the Jacobins!"
"God save the King!" echoed around the room as they all drank to this somber toast.
Despite himself, Horatio was moved by the earl's words. He very much hoped that this war would make a man of him. That he would discover in the throes of duty, battle, sacrifice, his own strength, his own power. That he would do good, make a difference, make his fortune. Horatio felt the heat of tears prickle at his eyes, and took a second quick drink from his glass to stave them off. It was only when his glass hit the table again that he realized his friend across from him was gripping the stem of his own crystal tightly enough to leave Kennedy's fingers blotched red and white.
Then it struck him that even at his own birthday celebration, Archie had not been uniquely acknowledged by his father. The earl's words had been addressed to them all, without his third son's name even leaving his lips, despite being the occasion for the gathering. Just then John clapped his friend on the shoulder, leaning close to murmur something that didn't carry across the table. Whatever his older brother said induced Archie to let go his wine and paste a bright smile on his face in time for Anne to raise her glass to her brother and toast, "To Archie, and eighteen years of being a plague my side. I forgive you, and thank you for not being my actual twin, which would have been even worse!" The nearby cluster of siblings laughed at this, his friend included, and then the table descended into shouts of congratulations and resumption of conversations on a variety of topics conducted at all levels of noise and energy.
When glasses had begun to empty once again, the countess finally rose, the men all rising with her. "As this is a family party, the gentleman will, just this once, take their port with the ladies in the drawing room. However, I must insist on no cigars." The earl seemed about to object, but when Archie happily bounced around the table to escort his mother, he turned instead to the other men and shooed them off to pair up with wives and sisters for the brief trip down the hall. The older man stayed behind with young David, who stood as smartly to attention as any midshipman while the boy received a stern, but apparently approving, review of his dinner behavior before being sent upstairs with a nursemaid.
Horatio hesitated, unsure of what he should do, until his young table mate acted with the Kennedy boldness and grabbed hold of his arm. Thus he was forced to escort Margaret with the others, suspecting he had been maneuvered. Being accompanied by their guest allowed her to claim the prize of not being ordered to bed with her younger brother. But once they arrived in the drawing room, Horatio was abandoned in favor of the pianoforte, which he did not regret.
Horatio had been glad when the family party had at last broken up. The Kennedys were a loud, boisterous lot. They seemed to cover their conspicuous web of tensions, which he had not been able to untangle, with drink, music, and conversation, all conducted at a volume appropriate to a man who spent youth and middle years shouting above the wind. He didn't know the excuse for the noise from the Kennedys who had never served in the military.
Still, everyone had continued to be unexpectedly solicitous of him. No one commented on his lack of station, or made any rude enquiries about his background or prospects. The earl had been too distracted by the abundance of family to have time to further quiz him on his naval knowledge. And once Horatio expressed a willingness to play at whist, he was instantly in the good graces of Lady Anne and her eldest daughter, with Katherine's husband making their fourth, and less keen than the wife. Hornblower realized only after sitting down that the stakes even in a family game might be considerably higher than his purse would allow. But he and the countess prevailed, and he found himself ten pounds richer by the end of the night, an unexpected largess.
The cards had also saved him from having to dance, though he enjoyed watching Archie make up a small figure with his brothers and sisters. Horatio had no ear for music, but Archie seemed to keep good time, and twirled and kicked about very neatly. The movement, and the bursts of hearty laughter, were diverting enough that he lost a round before bringing his attention fully back to the game.
His shipmate came over to taunt him later, face glowing from the exercise as Archie drank down a glass of wine faster than Horatio liked to see. He was threatened with being dragged out to squire sister Anne, as soon as the game was over, but the countess, not wanting her partner distracted again, shooed Kennedy away soon enough. The demand was luckily forgotten in the haze from the number of glasses Archie managed to empty before the card players were done with their fun.
By then Archie and his brother Robert were engaged in a vicious game that seemed to involve a great deal of shouting, banging on the table, and throwing cards about. At least it kept them occupied while the rest of the party talked books and poetry. Horatio was allowed to sit quietly, knowing very few of the authors discussed, until enough of the party had broken up for him to make his escape.
Now safe in his room, Horatio eyed the small stack of naval books next to his bed, and the luxurious freedom of as many candles as he cared to burn while he consumed them. The fire in his grate kept February's chill confined to the windows, and his bed covers were turned back very invitingly. As he slipped off his shoes and began unbuttoning his borrowed coat, he thought about Archie, growing up in this room. His friend must have been accustomed to feather beds and velvet curtains, and servants to wash and mend and fold. As many clothes as he liked as well, he thought, as he carefully set aside the fine breeches and waistcoat as well, and changed into his nightshirt, stiff and scratchy in comparison to the silk and linen he'd worn all night.
Horatio splashed his face with water that had been left in the china pitcher to warm on the hearth. The soap slipped on his fingers, soft as silk, and smelled of lavender, of course. In the morning he could sleep as late as he liked. Then there would be eggs, and sausages, and scones, and real coffee, and perhaps things he'd never even eaten before, but no porridge. As out of place as he felt, the life of a rich man, even borrowed for a few days, was wonderfully comfortable. How had Archie managed, going from this to the cramped, dirty, middie berth? To twenty-eight inches and boiled salt beef?
As if the thought had been a summons, the door between their rooms opened. "Still up, H'ratio? Come have a drink."
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