Snippet #1445062

" My choices in formal wear seem rather limited. T'would not do to appear in my normal clothes. Such things are fit only for daily wear. And I would look foolish for appearing worse dressed then Lord Mayfair's servants...I suppose my dress uniform is the only real choice I have."

This John muttered to himself as the appointed day and hour drew near. He strode in front of his wardrobe eying the various articles of clothing it held. While most would pass muster on a daily basis, albeit with some scorn from the highborn, they were not at all fit for the formal parties of nobility. So this process of elimination the naval captain was left with what was the only real choice. Taking it out of the wardrobe he laid each piece of it carefully upon his bed, taking great care not to scuff the epaulets as their gold bullion design made them rather prone to such things

And there it lay in all it's glory, from cocked hat to shined foot wear it shouted out it's wearer's rank with gold epaulets. All that was needed to finish it was his dress sword. Where most officers had one custom made to fit their uniform John had one given to him long ago. Upon graduating top of his class the low born cadet now midshipman was presented with a ceremonial cutlass. It was a fine blade crafted of tempered steel that no doubt would serve as a fine battle blade. But with a gilded ivory hilt and tooled leather wrapped handle it had spent it's days as a dress sword. For the cash strapped young man that was John back in those days lacked the funds to purchase another dress sword. And so he went to sea with a less elegant although no less deadly blade.

Pulling out the gold and blue case it rested in from under his bed he laid the blade aside his uniform. And the outfit was complete as it were. Shining with it's gold epaulets,medals,and blue French serge it's out of date cut revealed it's owner's somewhat lacking funds. While expertly made it was not the ultra fashionable cut worn by high born officers.

Taking a deep breath he stepped out of the tweed clothes he wore and into his uniform. Once the mundane aspect of changing clothes were down he belted on his Academy cutlass it's gilded ivory hilt blending in well with the overall style of his dress uniform.

Making sure his uniform,medals,and dress sword were in prefect order the blond naval captain stepped out of his humble house to await the carriage he had been told to expect. Looking back on his home John took it all in. Like his uniform it's style was out of date. Although well built it's plain and unassuming design was apparent in every way. The walls and roof were built to last, not to look pretty. The small garden housed not exotic plants but food stuff. Only the small woods that came with the place made it deserving of the title of manor.

A manor without a name, granted to me by the Admiralty board so that I might have a house for my services rendered to Crown and Country. The Captain thought with a slight frown that was half smile. Then the aloof mask came down, that stiff upper lip that render one unreadable. A trait he picked up during his Academy days.

The carriage arrived exactly one hour after he had dressed himself in his uniform. Greeting the driver with a brief salutation he climbed into the coach. Sitting in an upright manner the Captain allowed his thoughts to wander once more as the driver snapped the reins.

Such thoughts centered mostly around the Mayfairs and why he found himself invited to this little party of theirs. He was no friend of theirs nor did he know any of the children of the Mayfairs. It simply didn't add up in John's mind at all. And that more then anything bothered him. In the navy there were two dangers to be aware of, one being loose cannons, the other not having the whole picture. And somehow his gut told him both dangers were associated with this invitation. Although he could not come up with a logical explanation to rationalize his gut feeling he still trusted it. After all sometimes instincts were better then logic.

But his musings were interrupted by the driver announcing they had reached the seat of the Mayfairs, Magnolia Manor. Stepping out of the coach he made his way to the front door, then stopped to smell the roses so to speak. He took in the manor itself. While not the Royal Palace it held a grandeur that spoke of the highborn family that owned it. A garden with exotic plants and birds, typical over done grandeur balanced out by the buildings size and shape, and a sense of something not quite right but not quite wrong either.

His smelling of the roses over the naval captain made his way to the front door and into the entrance foyer were the style of over done grandeur continued. This time balanced out by mere size. Scanning the interior the blond naval officer attempted to find either a servant to announce his arrival or a clue to as what he should be doing.