Tobias Galathil's Journal|
[Most Recent Entries]
Below are the 14 most recent journal entries recorded in
Tobias Galathil's LiveJournal:
|Friday, December 26th, 2003|
The holiday is not being spent, as last year, taking cheer at the latest lavish celebrations of Lord Pearce--though by God I wish it were, and shame on me for declining the invitation. Neither is it being spent in more intimate revelry, though I would be well content sitting with my lover before the hearth and recounting younger Christmases.
Instead, I am here brooding and conducting a quiet worship of Shaun's cook. Yesterday was too much dinner and figgy pudding with rather more brandy than usual; today I've left the pudding and kept the brandy.
Shaun, for his part, observes the birth of Our Lord Jesus Christ by catching up on bookkeeping. Or, alternatively, curling up in bed with his nose firmly in a volume of seasonal tales. He passed on the figgy pudding, though he spared a precious hour of his time for Christmas goose and trimmings.
I intend on having a considerably more cheerful time ringing in the coming year, and perhaps reacquainting myself with old friends who I've neglected of late. He may join me or stay in as it please him, and I will inform him as much.Wassail, drink hail
indeed. Current Mood: meandering towards drunk
|Sunday, December 21st, 2003|
My lips are dry and cracking, but unfortunately not from a surfeit of kisses. Merely the weather that sends my hair unruly and bites every time I brush against something metal.
Perhaps I expect too much. Winter is no less busy than any other season for either of us, and we are not schoolboys any longer by many years...I suppose I should be content when he is home merely to have his company.
But his company is not all I want
; particularly when I must count those times he's sitting silent reading a book, or speaking only of the weather at supper, or crouched on the floor murmuring endearments to the cat as being company.
Oh, very well, so I am high maintenance. But it is nothing new; both of us knew that coming into this, have always known it. As a friend he had more than enough time to humour me, and now we live together and it seems he has either no time or...no interest, perhaps.
I get only a peck on the lips when he comes home and it is not enough
. Or a murmured goodnight from across a suddenly too-spacious bed and it is not enough
It is likely I ask too much. More likely still that he is totally unaware he's given any cause for complaint, and I must spell out my silly fears for him.
Sometimes I remember all too keenly that he is quite literally all I have. Current Mood: frustrated
|Monday, November 3rd, 2003|
A letter to Miss Wood, sealed but bearing no signet--the carrier is instructed to deliver it into no hands but her own, though once she has read it--hopefully she is able to read--there is no telling whether she will show her brother or his lover. A gamble, then, and I hope I shall not be facing gunpoint again before day's end...
I hope this missive finds you in good health. Your predicament was kindly brought to my attention when your brother visited me some weeks ago, and I do hope it causes no undue complications. If I may, I would offer a solution regarding this delicate matter that I believe would be advantageous to us both.
I understand you are enjoying the generosity of Lord Urban at present. I recommend, however, that you look to the future, for the child's sake. I wish to extend the same courtesy as has Lord Urban, though I assure you I offer compensations which will make the situation more beneficial for the child.
In the event that it is male, he will be fully acknowledged as my firstborn son and therefore full heir to my title and fortunes. To a daughter, likewise, I could give an impressive dowry and inheritance. A child of mine would, of course, be brought up with the best education and circle of acquaintance England has to offer.
Perhaps more importantly, should you wish for the child to be accepted into any society aside from that of the destitute and classless, I can remove the stain of illegitimacy. I am certain I do not need to elabourate upon the alternative; we can surely agree that a fatherless child is not what anyone wants.
In short, I propose a marriage of strictly legal nature, that I may have an heir and that both yourself and the child may be provided for. Nothing will be required of you beyond the bearing and care of the child and your residence at my estate. I should like to further discuss the matter in person; I may of course be reached at my residence, though it is advisable to give advance notice of your visit that I may be at home to meet with you.
Lord Tobias Galathil Current Mood: apprehensive
|Monday, October 27th, 2003|
|Sunday, October 26th, 2003|
|Tuesday, September 2nd, 2003|
I lean heavily against the wall once I am back in Shaun's study. I must compose myself before he comes home, though I haven't the slightest what to tell him about the wall. And I'm sure my back is going to be all shades of purple by the time we go to bed, so I'll have to find myself something to sleep in.
I can't tell him what happened, not yet. And I suppose I had better make sure that Craig doesn't mention it either. I still cannot quite erase that fear, the thought that he might have to come home and find blood in his study, find the servants cleaning up after Urban's whore...
And there is...something else. As I'm beginning to be able to breathe again...I have the slightest seed of a mad idea beginning to be sown.
The girl is with child--presumably mine. It was certainly the first, when I took her, and it would be too soon to know if the child belonged to a customer at the Rose. I do not know, of course, what passed between the time when she left here and when she turned up at the Rose, but I find the odds fairly good that it is, indeed, mine.
Her brother is angry, I expect, because of what he thinks I've taken from her. But I could offer much in return for the bearing and caretaking of an heir, should I take the fancy to do so. Urban can put her up, of course, and keep her fed and dressed and give her an allowance--and he will, surely, if his pet tells him to. But he cannot be a father to a child that he knows is mine, I am sure of it. Nor, of course, can Master Wood. I can offer all those things, and
extend my protection to the child. Let him never be called a bastard, nor wonder who fathered him.
But...I admit, it is a strange and fanciful idea. I wouldn't even begin to know how to propose it to Shaun, and beyond that...I don't know whether I would live through proposing it to Miss Wood and her--associates, shall I say?
I had better think up an explanation for the hole in the wall, anyway. Current Mood: stressed
|Friday, August 22nd, 2003|
My lawyer, I find, is horridly allergic to something in my home. I rather suspect it's the cat, since he was never bothered before. Well, that, and it was a fair enough clue when he couldn't stop sneezing long enough to nag me after I settled Galathil in my lap and scratched him behind the ears till he purred.
Shame, I so enjoyed his tirade.
He's currently needling me about revising my will. Apparently I look as if I'm going to keel over at any minute, with the amount of urgency he insists there is. None of the beneficiaries detailed in the current version seem likely to outlive me as they are, in fact, all dead, and mostly buried. (I do believe my mother's sister was snatched from her grave a few years ago (being as she was disowned, she was spared the honor of the family mausoleum) but then I never did much like Auntie Elisabeth anyway).
Forgive my common language. I find myself quite annoyed at having to research things to do with one's money when one dies without family. It hardly makes for pleasant contemplation. Current Mood: annoyed
|Saturday, June 14th, 2003|
|(note left on Shaun's dresser)
I'll be home shortly. Just packing a few things for Brighton--surprise. I promised, didn't I?
I had your valet pack your luggage--though I'm sure you ought to look over it, to be sure you have everything you'll want. And I've cancelled all your appointments, unless you have some the valet wasn't informed about. I promise you there was nothing direly important, or I should have asked first.
I believe a few weeks of holiday are in order.
Love you, back soon, and can we leave the cat home?
Tobias Current Mood: cheerful
|Saturday, April 26th, 2003|
|I Chanced to Glance at the Calendar.
Shaun has been thirty-four for a week. Of course, thanks to the blessed apothecary I wasn't capable of much thinking last Thursday, but that's no excuse. Certainly no excuse for an entire week (and two days) of forgetting. He didn't say a word about it, and presumably planned to let it go until I realised on my own.
I expect I'm the only one who might have remembered, if anyone had. It's not as if he has any family close enough. Jonny of course couldn't be expected to recall, even if he hadn't been making himself scarce of late. There's only me to remember, and I bloody well forgot--even after promising to take him to Brighton, even after bringing it up again Tuesday. I don't dare bring it up now, even to wish him well, for it will certainly be too little, too late.
On the other hand...perhaps I could surprise him, to make up for it? Not right away, of course. Now that the trip has fallen through I am not entirely sure what to surprise him with. The idea does have its charm, though; I certainly expect it will keep my mind occupied for a time until I am more properly recovered, as losing at chess and reading are failing quite spectacularly to entertain.
It will require planning, and doubtless some assistance as I'm not even supposed to be out of bed yet, much less leaving the house. I think, so long as he is capable of keeping a secret (though that is hardly a certainty), I may enlist Jonny's aid. It seems an occasion where his enthusiasm actually comes in handy, and he does seem to enjoy giving gifts if the valet's roses and the, ah, fruits were any indication.
With luck I shall not be made to regret asking. Though I suppose if the boy infuriates me too terribly, I can always plead exhaustion from my age and wound to get rid of him quickly.
I shall just go and see if he's in, before Shaun gets back. Current Mood: guilty
|Sunday, April 20th, 2003|
|Confined to Bed.
I simply cannot abide lying around as if the world stops simply because I have been injured. It has not even been a week, and the surgeon says I am not to leave bed for two! Nor to do so for more than an hour or so at a time after that. It does not help that I cannot lie on my right side, or use the arm without my shoulder giving firm complaint.
The surgeon's a preachy bastard anyway. I was grateful for the physic, almost as much to miss his recount of the history of antiseptic as for deadening the pain. I was not so lucky as to miss his lecture on dueling, though, and had I been, he was kind enough to repeat it on each subsequent visit. He came again Wednesday, and then Friday, to be sure my arm had not gone and rotted off in the night or some such nonsense.
Shaun, for his part, is being exceedingly obliging. I expect I am driving him insane with my incurable ennui, though perhaps he deserves it. He insists on following every one of the surgeon's orders to the letter; I've barely been allowed up to piss much less to find any means of occupying myself.
He's out for a little bit now, at any rate. I sent him to take care of some business for me, since he refuses to see to his own affairs unless he can do it without going anywhere. So I'm stealing time sitting upright, writing with my wrong hand as best I can manage.
Not to say that I wouldn't have gone mad--sorry, madder--without his company.
But I may have to think up more errands if he plans to keep this up. Current Mood: bored
|Sunday, March 2nd, 2003|
|A night to relax.
Good God, but it's been a stressful week.
On Thursday a missive arrived to inform me that the manager of La Marguerite (the lovely little cabaret in Montmartre I chose to invest in) got himself killed in a duel over one of his female...entertainers. Great bloody fool, now I've got to find someone to take his place. At first I was worried that his death (it was on the premises) would discourage customers, but then I realized it's Paris.
They'll pay to see the bloodstains on the floor if you let them. Perhaps Shaun does have something behind his disgust with les Francais
And speaking of which...
Well, of course the situation with Shaun hasn't helped my blood pressure one bit.
All right, perhaps that was what started the stressful week. If you must know. But certainly no one likes to be...at odds...with his oldest friend, and it does put one so out of sorts.
Presumably we will work things out, for good or for ill, on Wednesday when he comes to luncheon. I am not quite decided yet as to whether I look forward to it.
At any rate, I believe I am quite overdue for a bit of fun. I think I'll spend an evening at the Rose, see the show perhaps, get myself pleasantly drunk. Not think about...things. Not worry about that blasted cousin of Shaun's spreading rumours over all of London when I myself am not even certain what's going on yet. Not rethink every moment of that last conversation, trying to figure out exactly what was said and what was left unsaid.
Bloody hell. Maybe I'll get an early start. Current Mood: stressed
|Monday, February 24th, 2003|
I've just had my guise for this evening delivered, late as it is. I am rather pleased with it; it may be a bit flashy, but after all a masquerade was never meant for subtlety. It is all divided down the middle like the mask itself; the frock coat is heavy satin, the left half black and the right half white. Trousers done the same way, one glove white and one black, cane of course and white shirt, black tie, black vest, black cloak.
But the part that pleases me best is the tophat that came from the haberdasher's earlier in the afternoon, half black silk and half white. It's a brilliant thing, I think. I have every intention of making the best of it. Current Mood: pleased
|Thursday, February 20th, 2003|
|Tuesday, February 18th, 2003|
Oh, I suppose I ought not to still be brooding about it. Certainly Shaun has always known just how to get under my skin. It's a remarkable talent of his. And so long as that was the whole of it, his constant bid to irk me as usual, I can quite cheerfully go about my business. He and I have not been friends for so long because we are easily offended by the silly barbs that pass between us.
Of course, there is another possibility, one that I find completely unacceptable. Shaun has also been known to be perfectly frank without warning, and it is entirely plausible that he does
believe I'm slipping.
I am most assuredly not, but it does irritate me so.
Then again, I know for a fact that he cannot even keep his servants in hand. I must wonder if he himself is getting sentimental; I cannot imagine why else he keeps that cheeky valet of his. There are, as far as I can tell, no services rendered beyond that of an actual valet, and even Shaun is not so patient to have been breaking him all this time. Besides the fact that he shows no signs of being anything less than insolent and insubordinate.
I begin to have a suspicion the old fool has grown fond of him. I shall have to subtly bring it up when he comes to lunch next week; I'm certain the implication will gall him to no end, particularly if I guess aright. Current Mood: smug