Fabula Actanda Est|Invitation Only {FINISHED}

07:00 PM
Edward’s balcony

It was a cold evening. Not bitterly so, but enough to warrant wanting to stay indoors. Clouds loured on the horizon, promising rain, a coming storm. And yet Edward stood outside on his balcony, a small glass of whisky in his hand. This was the last he’d drink tonight, he promised himself. Cross my heart and hope to die. If he started drinking when all the guests turned up doubtless he’d make a complete fool of himself like he had done at the Capulet’s Ball.

From the moment he’d picked up his first martini that night he’d guessed things weren’t going to go too brilliantly. He and alcohol hadn’t mixed well recently. Yet he still drank it, like the complete idiot he was. He’d been unable to shake off that whole incident with Monte Cristo and hoped he’d be able to seek him out tonight and apologize. Tonight was the night for that sort of thing, he reasoned. The doctors said his condition was getting worse…who knew how many more parties he’d be able to host? Maybe…maybe this would be the last one.

It was only then that the realization truly hit him. Standing there with a whisky in hand, looking out over the serene moonlit grounds of Plantagenet Manor. He was going to die. He’d taken the news in his stride when first he heard it; all he’d felt was numbness. It hadn’t really struck him, the finality of it all. But it did just then. It was only a matter of time before…the end.

And was this all his life was worth? A glass of whisky, too many parties to count and an illness that was slowly killing him? Yes, he may have implemented some good policies over the years but more so than that he’d made a lot of stupid decisions, a lot of mistakes. Everyone does in their lifetime, it’s inevitable. Maybe he was indulging in a little self loathing, but Edward felt he’d made more than most.

Take school, for a starting point. He’d been the handsome, popular kid, the one all the boys loved to hate, the one the girls fell for. He’d been wild. Things had got worse in university. While Richard and George spent their time holed up in their dormitories working, Edward was out on the town, drinking and dancing the night away. It was a miracle he’d passed his exams, let alone graduated with a degree in political science. Then his marriage to Elizabeth Woodeville, a good friend from university, had caused political uproar.

And who could forget the Lancastrian attempted coup? Not Edward, that was for d**** sure. How could he have been so stupid as to allow Richard to go off to war? To have been so secure in his position of mayoralty, to not have expected for a moment that the Lancastrians would try and flout the treaty? He’d been so naïve, so inexperienced… When Henry and Edward had been captured he hadn’t had a sweet clue how best to deal with them.

But Richard had.

And Edward, like the heartless b****** he undoubtedly was, had let him do it. He’d agreed wholeheartedly, accepted Richard’s suggestion without a second thought, not thinking of any alternative. The threat of another uprising would be gone and he wouldn’t even have to do a thing.

The recollection of the morning after the decision had been made, after the murder, still nauseated Edward after all these years. Richard had come to him the night before and told him the deed was done but Edward hadn’t been able to work up the courage the face the consequences of his choice…trusting Richard.

But he’d gone to the prison eventually. It hadn’t been a pretty sight. Most of the blood had been cleaned off of the walls and floor by the prison wardens, but the metallic stench still hung in the air. The bodies of Henry and Edward had been left as they had been when they were killed, as though the wardens didn’t know what to do with them. Edward was repulsed to see that Henry’s hands had been clasped in prayer. Prayer for his cause, his wife, his son, himself. His life.

And yet he’d promoted Richard, made him comptroller. He was back in power and had resolved to put his brother’s crimes out of his mind. Only he and Richard were to know the full explanation of what had occurred that night. He and Richard. They had never got on, as children, as teens, as adults. Never. They’d pretended to of course, for the cameras. But behind closed doors things were very, very different.

“Edward?”

Richard’s voice started his older brother out of his thoughts; Edward was so shocked his almost dropped his whisky glass. Luckily he managed to keep a grip on it as he turned to face Richard, but not with the usual disdainful look he wore when talking to him.

“R-Richard?” he stammered, taking longer than usual to regain his composure. He coughed, set the whisky glass down and endeavored to speak again. “Yes…what is it?”

Well, there’s a first, though Richard drily. Not a Ricky in earshot. Something of a miracle. He half wondered why Edward hadn’t used the nickname, but dismissed the thought almost immediately. He was just glad he wasn’t.

“Unless I’m very much mistaken, which I doubt, the guests should be arriving any minute now. What are you doing out here?”

It was only then that Richard noticed the whisky. He heaved a deep, mournful sigh before returning his gaze to Edward, eyebrows raised.

“Well?”

Edward didn’t like Richard’s tone one bit. However his reply was said in an affirmative tone, rather than one that was in any way displeased with how his younger brother had spoken.

“This is the only alcohol I’m going to drink tonight, Richard. Cross my heart and hope to die.”

He’d spoken without thinking. Both of them knew it. Edward thought he saw a shadow of a smirk flick its way across Richard’s face, but dismissed it as a trick of the light coming from the room beyond. He must have imagined it. But then again, why shouldn’t he smile? Tonight was going to be a good night. Edward wasn’t going to drink himself stupid and Richard…would do what Richard did. Talk to people about business. Make acquaintances. Network. Murder.

“If you say so, Edward, if you say so. Now what say we go and make sure everything is in order before the crowds pour in?”

“It’s hardly crowds Richard,” Edward replied, following in his younger brother’s wake as Richard led the way downstairs and into the foyer. “Just a few close friends and acquaintances. William Catesby, John Morton, Richard Ratcliffe, James Tyrrell, Harry Chandler, Dr. Faustus, Detective Holmes-“

“Holmes is coming?” Richard asked, quite abruptly, though he tried to sound offhand.

“Yes,” Edward replied, not noticing Richard’s tone and continuing to reel off the guest list. “And Monte Cristo, Robert Brackenbury, Lady Catherine de Bourgh-“

He stopped himself at the look on Richard’s face.

“What?”

“Her esteemed Ladyship deems it necessary to attend as well, does she?” Richard inquired, his tone even more shocked, if possible, than when he’d heard of Holmes’ attendance. He was not pleased at all; not only was Her Ladyship one of the most annoying people Richard had ever had the misfortune to come in contact with but she was also very nosy…he suspected she would be the sort of person to try and pry too deeply into matters he wanted to keep secret.

Edward noticed Richard’s tone and barely managed to hold back a laugh; he himself was not overly fond of Lady Catherine but it must be said she was a useful sort of woman to have around considering the wealth of acquaintances (and gossip) she had about the city at large.

“What I was going to say, Richard, was that Lady Catherine cannot attend this little get together of mine tonight. She’s visiting a friend in another state, as I recall. She was most upset she’d have to miss the party but…there you are. As they say in France c’est la vie.”

Richard chuckled, not only with pleasure at the fact his worries about Catherine were averted but at Edward’s terrible French accent. He always put in on when he was trying to sound smart, and in Richard’s opinion it never worked. Luckily for him Edward didn’t notice the mockery behind his brother’s mirth. He was however quite serious as, when Richard’s laughter abated, he spoke again, his eyes boring into Richard’s own.

“Look, Richard…I’ve been thinking about a lot of things this evening. What’s happened in the past and what’s happening now. And I…” He paused. Now was the time to say it; he doubted the opportune moment would ever come again, at least not soon. “And I just want you to know that I’m s-“

Richard held up his good hand to stop Edward saying what he so desperately wanted to say. He doubted that hearing the phrase from Edward’s lips would stop him, of course it wouldn’t, but perhaps it would brook some emotion as yet unknown, make him think twice about what he planned to do. And he couldn’t have that.

“Edward,” he said, his tone as sincere as he could make it sound without actually being so. “I know what you want to say, honestly. And I appreciate that at last the time seems to have come for it to be said. But I don’t need to hear it…I know that’s how you feel.”

Edward, needless to say, was puzzled by Richard’s words. He knew how he felt? He realized how sorry he felt for how he’d treated him all these years? How on Earth could he tell? But then, he reasoned, Richard always seemed to know more than everyone else, he was able to read people, to figure them out almost instantly. Maybe he’d realized Edward’s true feelings as soon as he’d chanced upon him on the balcony earlier. Edward wouldn’t put it past him.

He would have inquired as to whether Richard was sure they were both on the same page, or even attempted to say it again just so he could finally have it said, had he not been interrupted by one of the doormen hurrying to inform him he had just sighted the first of the guests outside.

Richard, glad of the man’s timely intervention, limped away to get himself a small glass of something, to set himself up for the night. Edward, noticed where he was going, was tempted to follow, but remembered what he’s sworn to himself only minutes ago. With a somewhat resigned sigh at his own unusual willpower he straightened his tie and headed for the door to welcome the first guest.

Cross my heart and hope to die.

(ooc: Catesby, Morton, Ratcliffe, Tyrrell and Brackenbury are all Richard III minor characters I used to pad the guest list a bit. They aren't on the official one, as that's only of RC characters. Just so you are all aware! ^^)

The first arrival at Plantagenet Manor was not the man either of the politicians had been expecting. They'd expected Holmes to turn up, of course, but not so soon. Richard had the impression that despite the man's profession, if one was to judge by eccentricities and outward appearance, that Holmes would have been one of the latecomers.

Before either of them could move to greet him, however, the detective was called to one side by one of City Hall's security guards, relocated to the Manor for the evening, who was wielding a hand-held metal detector in a rather threatening manner.

The man appeared to recognize Holmes however, and his surly expression changed to one of respect as he hurriedly scanned the detective for any traces of metal about his person. Seeing that Holmes had nothing potentially dangerous about him, he waved the man on, with an apology for having to search him. The man was a well-known detective after all.

Seeing that the formalities of security were done with, Edward approached Holmes, a wide grin splitting his face at the sight of him.

"Detective Holmes, it's a pleasure to meet you," he said, smile still in the place as he extended a hand for Holmes to shake. "It's rather strange that I've read so much about your work yet we've never actually met, isn't it? Oh well. You're good at what you do, and I admire that, truly."

He released Holmes' hand and turned to Richard, who had by this time moved to join them, a small glass of brandy in his good hand.

Edward took the glass from Richard so his younger brother could shake Holmes' hand as well. Richard shot him a confused look, whatever happened to cross my heart and hoped to die?, but the light soon dawned and shook the detective's hand too before reclaiming his brandy.

"A pleasure, Mister Holmes," Richard intoned, his steely gaze never leaving Holmes for a moment.

Edward looked as though he was about to say something more, but it appeared another guest had been sighted approaching the manor.

"I'd better get on with the meeting and greeting," he said, with a small laugh. "Once again Detective, a pleasure. I hope you'll enjoy your evening."

With that Edward bustled off back to the front door, leaving Holmes and Richard together. Richard was not entirely pleased with this outcome, but didn't let his emotions show on his face. Instead he took another small sip of his brandy before attempting to restart the conversation.

"Detective Holmes, if you don't mind my asking, do you have any leads as to who the thieves were that stole Monte Cristo's mask a few weeks ago? Or are you not as yet involved in the case?"

Richard asked the question, not only because he was curious, but because talking about one of Sherlock's cases, he hoped, might help deter the man for inquiring about anything concerning Edward...that bit in the Times about trouble in the family for example. That wouldn't help matters.


(ooc: Tichy gave me permission to god-mod Holmesie a smidge. :3)

"Good evening. I am called Doctor John Doolittle. And my companion is Polynesia."

If Richard was surprised at the man's sudden appearance he certainly did not show it; he had been busy talking to Holmes and naturally wouldn't have been paying attention to their entrance. He turned to face the newcomers, dimly aware of Edward in the background having an animated conversation with the security guard about the parrot on the doctor's shoulder.

Before he could endeavour to reply to Doolittle, however, the bird on his shoulder spoke.

To say that Richard was not shocked by this would be an understatement, and he made a mental note to stay away from the brandy. He nodded to Polynesia with a small, if not somewhat confused sort of smile, before returning his attention to the profusely apologizing Doctor Doolittle.

"That's quite alright sir...I'm glad the pair of you could make it."

He turned back to Holmes, deciding since he was acting as Edward's co-host for the night it would be a good idea to start with introductions.

"Doctor Doolittle, I don't know if you've met Detective Holmes..." Richard indicated Holmes with his good hand, inviting him back into the conversation.

07:13 PM
Richard & Edward are in the foyer.

Edward promptly curtailed his conversation with the security guard as the next guest, none other than Harry Chandler of Hamlet Enterprises, made his appearance. Edward had known Chandler's father but had never really had the opportunity of getting to know his son well. He had admired Hamlet Enterprises and its respective associates for years; it was a good business not only in that it did its job well but that it was well meaning, unlike so many other companies in the city at large.

The mayor's life at present was hectic enough that he had yet to understand the full gravity of Harry's fathers demise, in particular with regards to the company. He assumed it was doing well as ever.

After Harry had been screened by security, the guard having apologized for having to do his job, he headed towards where Edward stood. The mayor smiled broadly as Chandler approached, glad of the opportunity to speak with him.

"Mr. Edward Plantagenet...What an honor it is to meet you."

Having said this Chandler extended a hand for him to shake. Edward took it and did so as he made his reply, not at all surprised at Chandler's superb cordiality but pleased nonetheless.

"I assure you, Mister Chandler, the pleasure is all mine." He released Chandler's hand at this as if to relax the formality. "I understand this is a formal occasion, but feel free to call me Edward...none of this Mayor this and Mister Plantagenet that. That's the sort of thing Ricky...Richard...prefers."

Edward laughed a little at his own comment, hoping Chandler wouldn't take what he'd said the wrong way somehow. His critics, and there were some despite popular opinion in his favour, claimed he was far too informal and immature for his position, even at his age.

Holmes, Richard noticed, shook Edward's hand with great enthusiasm and replied with what even he had to admit was a clever use of words. Just criminal. Richard smirked inwardly but didn't let his amusement show on his face.

As Edward moved away Richard had returned his attention to Holmes. But even as he asked the question about the mask he noticed that Holmes was distracted and fumbling for something in his pocket. Richard was a little irritated at Holmes' rather obnoxious mannerisms...but as the detective produced the pipe from his pocket and promptly lit it Richard's irritation intensified tenfold.

'Actually...it's none of mine. But a crime as weeny as breaking and entering, you'd have thought the copper employed would have bagged them by now. Honestly.'

Richard would have said something, and probably pertaining more to the pipe than Holmes' answer, when Doolittle arrived on the scene. The formalities of greeting the newcomer being done with, Richard returned his attention to Holmes and the offending pipe, trying not to look as disagreeable as he felt. This was an easy feat for him usually, but this evening it was much more difficult than usual in the face of such...inconsideration.

"I'm sorry, Detective, but I don't believe you asked if you could smoke," he said, coolly. "I may as well inform you now that you can't, not inside the building at least." He would have added something about it being especially bad for Edward, considering his condition, but decided against it in case this led Holmes to inquiring about him. Edward would have his moment of glory. Later.

"I would therefore greatly appreciate it if you would extinguish your pipe...or, if you simply must smoke, take it outside with you."

He didn't particularly want to be rude, but Holmes' smoking brought back memories of his and Edward's recent disagreement over the smoking policy...and the subsequent seeming discovery of his plans by Elissa Purcell. That ticked Richard off no end.

Harry gave a half hearted grin at Edward's introduction, once they finished shaking hands. He tried not to regard the mayor with contempt, but the insincerity of this exchange, especially on Harry's part, was killing him. Here this man was trying to lighten the mood, already taking jabs at his brother. Great. Harry had a feeling this was going to be a very long night, especially if he had to suffer through more of Edward and Richard's tense banter.

"I see," Harry said. "Well, Edward, thanks for inviting me to this little get together. Its just a privilege to be able to talk to the people who run this city, especially you. It's comforting, really, to finally meet the man behind it all. Especially given all of the talks about the crime and poverty in this city, its just comforting to meet the face behind all of the efforts to eradicate all of that."

...which were little to none. He gave a smile to show that he wasn't being sarcastic, though the ever so slight tone in his voice might've said otherwise. Smelling a whiff of smoke, he turned to the small conflict with Holmes and his pipe. He glanced amused at Holmes, before his attention was drawn to the famous Monte Cristo as he made introductions to both the mayor and Richard.

Harry supposed some reluctant networking was in order. Might as well make the best of this night.

"Monte Cristo, nice to finally meet you. You know my father really admired what you've done with Monte Cristo Investments. Most of what he taught me business wise came from some of your decisions. Very impressive. And looks like the company is on the up and up lately. Congratulations."

"I see. Well, /Edward/, thanks for inviting me to this little get together. Its just a privilege to be able to talk to the people who run this city, especially you. It's comforting, really, to finally meet the man behind it all. Especially given all of the talks about the crime and poverty in this city, its just comforting to meet the face behind all of the efforts to eradicate all of that."

Edward wasn't drunk, or even slightly tipsy. Despite his frequent disregard for formality it was known that he could be serious when he wished to be; this wasn't very often, granted, but suffice to say he could be. As such he managed to catch the slight note of distaste in Chandler's voice, which the younger man seemed to be attempting to mask with a smile. He hadn't been sarcastic, but there was certainly something about him that indicated he wasn't as pleased with what he saw as he said he was.

The mayor might have inquired further into this, but it was then that he noticed the Count of Monte Cristo had made an appearance. Shoot.

"Pleased to make your acquaintance," (he said to Detective Holmes) "and to be reacquainted with our honored hosts."

Edward shot Monte Cristo a weak smile of welcome, feeling it wasn't time to make his apology quite yet with the others around. He would prefer to apologize for his obscene behaviour when the other guests were out of earshot. So for the time being he simply observed the conversation.

---

Richard had been awaiting Holmes' answer, in an admittedly impatient manner, when the Count of Monte Cristo arrived on the scene to offer his opinion on the matter of Holmes' pipe. Richard inwardly smirked at how Monte Cristo handled the situation; he really had a knack for it, making Richard all the more pleased Monte Cristo seemed to be on his side.

Then again it seemed to Richard that Monte Cristo wasn't the sort of man to choose sides. Well. At least he'd backed him up. That surely counted for something.

"A pleasure to see you again so soon, sir," Richard said, giving Monte Cristo a rare wide smile. He would have thanked Monte Cristo for backing his assertion but knew it wouldn't be a smart thing to do with Holmes still there.

Speaking of Holmes...

As Monte Cristo finished speaking, the detective seemed to look from one elite to the other before finally resting his gaze on Richard. There was an aura of smugness about Holmes as he took a final sip, which Richard was quick to pick up on.

"As you wish, gentlemen. As you wish."

Richard somehow managed to hold back at frown at the teasing look in Holmes' eyes. Despite the fact that the man was clearly not going to relight the blasted thing, he still held it in his hand rather than replace it in his pocket. Richard didn't much care, so long as he didn't light it again.

Holmes' next exclamation, however, meant that Richard turned his head to look at the newcomer to their little group. Harry Chandler of Hamlet Enterprises. Richard had been so preoccupied with the matter of Holmes and his pipe that he hadn't overheard what Harry had been saying to Edward. If he had he doubtless would have shot him some sort of approving look. As it was he simply smiled and inclined his head to Chandler as he joined the conversation, surprisingly glad to see him again.