4th July: Responding to Invitation.

"A look in the mirror would do that quite well at the moment!", Edward teased, bringing his horse to a halt in front of a large inn. Several well-dressed persons and quite a few couples were standing at the door, one by one disappearing inside.

"You are supposed to be a distinguished officer, not a parson!"

"Really, Captain, an officer on active duty should be restrained and circumspect both in his action and the example he sets to others. Unnessessary frivolity and levity will only get in the way of executing your duty," admonished Hunter in sepulchral tones.

"I believe prosieness is a trait to be discouraged as well?", Edward inquired lightly, jumping down from the high seat. He quickly organized a lad to hold the horse, then turned to Hunter.

"If you would - with appropriate gravity - step down from the carriage and follow me? I believe we are here just in time to participate in the most time honoured tradition of seeing and be seen before what some call the distraction, but I prefer to call the main event begins!"

"You quite right, of course, Captain," Hunter descended from the carriage briskly but with a certain stiffness in bearing instead of his normally fluid movement. "Permit me to enquire how do you come to know the local mayor?"

"By asking him about the roads and the river."

Edward led the way to the entrance, slightly bowing to some of the more formidable matrons and to what clearly was a local grande.

"He invited me to take luncheon with him at his favourite taverna, during which he did me the honour of introducing me to such persons as came by and he thought useful for me to know. A short invitation to be introduced to his wife accounts for the rest of my aquintances here - she was holding a very charming tea party."

"Ah, I must praise your enterprising ways. You are a credit to your Corps," said Hunter quite seriously, though he made sure to be looking away from Torrington at that moment.

Edward's mouth quirked, but he forbore to press his advantage in favour of taking Hunter by the elbow and propelling him through the door. Handing the man at the door two vouchers, he looked around, then steered Hunter towards an elderly couple.

"Allow me to introduce you to our hosts - Don Aryo has a great regard for Wellesly, so he will be very delighted to meet you."

"As I am sure will I," Hunter's attempt to look serious and at the same time smile at the elderly couple they were approaching resulted in a rather vapid expression.

With a polite bow, Edward proceeded to introduce 'one of the General's most trusted ADCs, despite his fabled solemnity' to the mayor and his wife. The mayor, an elderly gentleman on the portly side, spoke halting, but perfectly adequate English and was understandably proud of that fact, expounding in carefully constructed sentences how honoured he was that two British gentlemen of such distinction had come to see one of the finest plays his own country had ever produced.

Hunter bowed to the mayor: "The honour is entirely ours. Are we permitted to know the name of the play before it starts? Your country has produced many fine plays, guessing will be hard."

Don Aryo eagerly produced a playbill and thrust it in Hunter's hand.

"Here! The play tonight is 'La viuda valenciana'. The widow of Valencia! A splendid tale de capa y espada. One of Lope de Vega's best. We have the good fortune that the troop of actors performing tonight is very fine, too. You will enjoy it! Do you know the story?"

Edward solemnly produced a small book from his coat pocket.

"I have been able to aquire a textbook, so that we can follow the plot more easily, senor. I am sure we shall enjoy ourselves greatly."

A bell sounded and the audience began to settle on the provided chairs or move to a good position to stand. The mayor conducted Hunter and Torrington to two of the best chairs, then with his wife, who had barely spoken, but smiled benevolently, retreated to their own seats.

While there were a few unfriendly looks, and a few haugthy ones, but also quite a few curious, friendly and delighted by fact that two well set up British officers had come to share their evening enjoyment. There were even a few very speculative ones, no doubt helped along by the legware Hunter had lamented earlier.

Edward smiled at his companion.

"The worst is over for now. He is a staunch supporter of the British intervention here in the peninsula, but he needed to be seen to be on good terms with us as well. I'm sorry if I involved you in a bit of local politics - but I promise you the play and the rest of the evening will be worth it."

Hunter nodded solemnly. "No need to apologise. The support of the locals is very important to our army. And I must thank you for thinking to take me as your companion tonight. Perhaps, it is a little bit frivolous of me not to remain in camp, but I think God will forgive me this particular transgression."

"I am sure he will forgive that!", Edward replied in quelling, but subdued accents.

"But to keep your transgressions to a minimum ..."

He excused himself for a moment and went to the bar where drinks and small nibbles of food where dispensed, ignoring the servants bearing trays with glasses of wine and more nibbles.

A short time later he came back with a glass of clear water in one hand. A servant with a plate of the delicious looking food and a small jug on it followed him.

With a very polite bow, he handed the water to Hunter.

"Allow me to supply you with a drink for tonight that suits your stern morals."

Hunter rolled his eyes as Torrington got up to fetch a drink, "pulling on" a serious expression just in time.

He sipped the water, not feeling particularly thirsty and managed a vapid smile: "Indeed, I must congratulate you on your choice of beverage."

Torry bowed politely, then took his seat and accepted the plate from the servant, dismissing him with thanks. He handed Hunter the playbook and began to sample the food with obvious delight. If going by his manner, the delicacies were indeed a high tread.

"You must taste ... oh, I beg your pardon. I had forgotten your new-found puritanical streak. Can I offer you a bit of this dry bread instead?"

Hunter considered punching Torrington or at the very least slapping the plate out of his hands. He settled on a curt: "No, thank you," and opened the playbook, resolutely keeping his attention on it.

"Oh, you are very welcome!"

With great delight Edward ate one of the olives on his plate, savouring the tart taste.

The bell sounded again and the audience gradually grew quiet. The curtain at the front of the room was pushed aside and a brightly garbed actor appeared, greeting the audience. Edward set the plate aside (on the side next to Hunter) and set up, all rapt attention.

"Hold the book so that I can read as well?", he meekly begged.

'Of course,' said Hunter and leaned over, attempting to find the necessary page as he moved. Suddenly, he had an attack of 'slippery fingers' and the book dropped straight into plate between them.
'Oh, my dear Torrington,' exclaimed Hunter, 'I am most terribly sorry! And you were enjoying these so much! Let me fetch you another plate!" He stood up and hastily departed.

As soon as Hunter had gone, Edward retrieved the playbook with a silent laugh, aknowleging the hit. He carefully cleaned it off and found the right page again, then waited, quite curious what Hunter would produce.

To fortify himself, he took a sip of his own drink - it was the rich and heavy wine of the region. He had taken the precaution to eat a bit first, but he knew he had to be careful with it. Otherwise Hunter would run rings around him.

Hunter asked for a plate to be made up for Torrington and while he waited, he snatched several pieces of this and that, chewing them hastily. He spotted one of the men bringing out a tray of custard tarts, that arrived late and decided to take a risk.

He arrived bearing a new plate for Torrington and sat down, placing a plate with several custard tarts on his lap.

"Why, thank you! You are too kind!"

Edward's mouth quirked.

"I must say, for this you surely must go heaven. Would you mind holding the tarts for a little bit longer?"

He blatantly acted as if Hunter had brought them purely for him and was just holding them until Edward's plate was cleared. He delicately took one of the wrapped pieces of pastry and bit into it elegantly.

The playbook was balanced on his knee, and he moved it a bit so that Hunter could see the text.

"I hope you enjoy it, Torrington, I am afraid I have to keep the rest for myself. I promised the man faithfully that I would finish them myself," said Hunter solemnly, moving the plate out of Torrington's reach. He bit into a pastry himself, several crumbs dropping onto the playbook.

Edward raised his eyebrow.

"You promised to eat a whole plate of custard tarts? You are a better man than I am, Hunter. I never manage more than two. But if you really are obligated now to eat all of them ..."

The curtain opened and he returned his attention to the stage. It took only a few lines before the pencil was in his hand, and (after giving it a rapid shake to clear the crumbs away) he began to doodle on the margines of the playbook.

First the miniature sketches were realistic, capturing the actors in their roles, but as the play on stage unfolded, the sketches more and more became caricatures.

Hunter nodded vigorously to impress upon Torrington that he indeed had to finish the pastries himself. And he was damn well going to.

He leaned forward, eagerly watching the actors and for the moment forgetting all about Torrington and their little bet.

Edward smiled when he saw the eager attention. After all, he had brought his friend here for pleasure, and was quite happy to see that he seemed to have succeeded.

Then he allowed himself to be caught by the intrique and romance of the play. Soon the margines and partly even the text of the book was filled with sharp little sketches which he did without much glancing down, or often indeed without even really realizing that he did them.

All too soon the curtain fell and the intermission began. Servants appeared bearing trays again. Edward closed the book and stood up.

"Shall we walk around a bit, and possibly get a bit of fresh air? It is rather warm in here."

His eyes twinkled.

"Or does your puritane streak extend to not going anywhere without a chaperon? I can assure you we won't be the only ones outside and it will be perfectly respectable."