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Bored of the Green Cloth; Open!
Topic Started: Feb 2 2012, 12:14 PM (462 Views)
John Dudley
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Late February, 1513

Without Catherine here, court seemed... Well... boring. Without Catherine to solace John, or to provide a reason for him to want to hastily end his responsibilities, the Earl of Warwick and Lord Steward found himself entrenched in meetings more often than not. Especially the Board of the Green Cloth, which audited His Majesty's and the palace's accounts. John often wondered if God was laughing at the man who despised doing financial paperwork by giving him the blessing of a position that's major responsibilities was the handling of finances. Perhaps John would find it funny one day, but not now.

John found himself slipping into a melange as the days went by. He could try and break through the mundane by writing to Catherine and Cecilia (though, God knew, Cecilia couldn't read) or taking the dogs for walks. The fact that it was Lent didn't help, and John often found himself reflecting on how dull his life was becoming when he was in the chapel, supposed to be rapt with prayer. But no, John wasn't necessarily a religious man, and the improving such an outlook did not look favorable. It's no secret that I am a wicked, wicked man, he thought to himself with a dry smile. Catherine would not deny it, leastways.

He found himself lingering in the Clock Court. Part of him did not want to return to his rooms -- If he returned to his rooms, he would surely fall into the rhythm of preparing for the next day, and God forbid it come too soon. Is this what success brought? A mundane and boring life? is this how it would be -- Catherine kept from all of it in the country with their children while John stayed at court, a servant to the crown for the rest of his days. "Oh, shut it and perish the thought!" John declared quietly to himself.
[align=center]John is currently in 6 threads! He can have 1-2 more!

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Jerome Dudley
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Jerome had always been financially unstable. Addicted to the pursuit of the lavish and being naturally disinclined to anything less than perfection, debt had been something following him for most of his adult life at court, and was something which he dreaded. Whilst he understood arrears and the like, he had never managed to not fall into the trap of them, and his situation at that point was very pitiable. His finances were close to bankruptcy, and he was not getting any additional funds elsewhere. The youngest Dudley was afraid to ask for money from his mother, since she had done it in the past with explicit reluctance and a damning disapproval of his situation, and he doubted Andrew would be able to give him the quite frankly colossal figure that he needed to smooth everything done for a significant period of time. That just left his oldest brother, who he was sure would be able to afford it, but did not like his chances very much of securing the exact sum he had in mind. A compromise was assured, he supposed, and he doubted he would be left with a measly figure, but it had to be the one he had decided on. There was no point otherwise.

One positive effect of his situation was that he was well and truly on the straight and narrow, living a humble, studious and moderate lifestyle for the past few weeks. Since alcohol was something he scarcely wanted to waste money on, he stuck to what was necessary, and nothing more. As for parties and social events, he was rather too ashamed to show his face since his firs realisations as to how limited his funds were had seen him send a dozen notes a day for loans and borrowing schemes off the men who he would meet there, and also the same men who had refused based on previous failures to repay on their terms. Jerome was keeping himself reined in through desperately seeking a solution, even if he could feel himself close to shutting out everything entirely, fleeing back to their mother and hoping that his debts would just simply go away, or that his brother would pay for them without disturbing his little sibling with all the embarrassing details.

Yet his mind was made up when he realised that there would be no alternatives other than to ask John for assistance. All of his notes had either been returned unopened if they had been the third or fourth request, or if they had been the first either a complete rejection or a sum entirely too trifling to be worth getting into further debt. It had been such harebrained borrowing that had got him into the predicament in the first place, since his debts were all interconnected to each other. Indeed, he could not even remember what the initial borrowing had been for besides a vague understanding that they had been for useless, infuriating luxuries as they appeared with all the problems they had caused.

Dressed very humbly, in his last pair of boots and his dullest colours no less, he sought out the oldest Dudley. He did not want to send a note requesting a dinner, or anything of that sort. One did not do that unless they were invites, and Jerome was hardly going to play host whilst simultaneously begging for money. His pursuit took an unexpected ending when he, by chance, noticed his brother standing in a public place. “John” he said, walking up to him. The younger man was relatively quiet, probably very obviously with something on his mind and if his brother was especially observant could probably guess that it was something of some embarrassment. “Can we speak for a moment? In private. I have something to ask of you.”
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John Dudley
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When John noticed someone approaching him, he thought for a moment his uttered words had been taken by another as an instigation of conversation. He opened his mouth to apologize but was taken by surprise to see that it was Jerome! His baby brother, dressed quite like a pauper and looking out of place for anywhere at Hampton Court except, perhaps, the kitchens. His mouth closed only stretch into a grin and his arms opened to welcome his brother with an embrace.

Though he had been absent a few weeks with the excuse of tending to his family he had, perhaps, neglected those still at court. Who could blame him when he had two beauties such as Catherine and Cecilia to lavish with affection? True, Cecilia was not the son many men of John's rank would hope for, but that was no reason not to love her. But now he had his littlest brother before him, and Catherine and Cecilia were miles and miles away.

"Jerry! Feels like ages since I've seen you! John declared, his wolffish grin on his face. "Are you well?" The question fell simultaneously as did Jerome's. John couldn't help but furrow his brow -- it was a habit he had picked up well since becoming a married man when others asked questions of a similar nature.

"Of course, uh..." John searched for somewhere nearby for them to speak. It was foolish, but he hoped somewhere informal would make whatever Jerome wanted to discuss less serious. A refuge was found away from the trafficked areas of the Clock Court in a shallow alcove containing a window. John leaned slightly against the cold stone, feeling the cold of winter seep through the glass to touch those inside. "What did you wish to discuss? Is it too much to hope that it's something pleasant?" John asked, laughing wryly. As long as he hasn't impregnated foreign nobility, it can't be that bad...
[align=center]John is currently in 6 threads! He can have 1-2 more!

App! | Plot![/align]John Dudley: Minor League Whore

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Jerome Dudley
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Falling awkwardly into the embrace, he quickly broke it off. He was embarrassed that he was about to match brotherly affection with a plea for money. It felt so stupid, and he felt so stupid for it in himself. Although John was the responsible, mature and above all else successful Dudley, he had made it quite plain that he had a vaguely commendable but haphazard sense of pride and ambition himself, as well as the intention to make something of himself. It would have been easy to indulge in vice and drunkenness all the time, and if he had his debts would have been an expected result which would have cleared some of the humiliation he felt about it all. But he really did have no other choice. His brother was the only person left whom he could appeal to, as disagreeable an appeal as that was.

“I’m... fine” he answered, sighing at his boots, before allowing eye contact once again. This was convenient, as it was just in time for it to be engaged with being led to an appreciated more private spot. “How are your family? And yourself, of course?” he routinely asked, even if his full focus was not on the answer to those questions. He cared, of course, but not as much as he probably ought to for selfish reasons of his own. Those reasons needed to be cleared before he could make any further comment which might be more agreeable to John, and it was to them that he turned to next.

Smiling slightly uneasily at his brother’s laughter, he waited for him to finish. “I have to ask a favour of you, and believe me when I said I have exhausted every other alternative before turning to you.” Jerome then informed his eldest brother of the amount he needed. It was not an exorbitant amount, yet neither was it a trifling number either. Reasonable, perhaps, unless the man had financial strains elsewhere Jerome did not know of. “I’m in debt” he croaked simply.

Hiding his face for a moment as he pinched his forehead, he uncovered it, and put an end to the latest in a long line of uncomfortable silences he could see coming in their conversation. “I’ve been offered loans of a tenth of that figure, or even a quarter from a man you probably know well, but it’s no good. It’s loans like those that have got me in this position. I owe money to what seems like a hundred men!” he exaggerated. “But I need to at least pay for my wardrobe and my furnishings. Especially the latter. I have only a week, or else I’ll be left with a chair and a few candles. And they mean it. I had this problem before Christmas, but they acquiesced. They’re more persistent now.”
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Isabel Leigh
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Virtue alone is invincible.
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