look, fresh meat.

[una_persson]

[Are you an habitué of music halls? Then over the last fortnight, you might have noticed a new featured vocalist at the Alhambra, performing in the spot before the ballet dancers and again for a few more songs after the interval—a pretty woman with chestnut hair, grey eyes, a sweet mezzo-soprano voice, a witty, elegant affect on stage, and the somewhat odd name of Una Persson. She seems to have come more or less out of nowhere. And that's almost literally true. A month ago, subjective time, she was knocking around early twenty-first century America. Now she's here. And luckily her theatrical training is a good backup career for a time-traveller trying to get her bearings.

The evening show's just ended and the lady in question is leaving through the stage door, chatting with one of the ballet dancers and running the gauntlet of admirers and well-to-do young men looking for a good time. Maybe you'll see her there. Or perhaps later at the little café across the way where several of the Alhambra's performers go after the show for a drink and a quiet assignation away from the hubbub of the theatre (and, hopefully, away from any bad insanity going on at the moment, though you never know what might come oozing by).

OOC: Also, hi! I'm Karin, and I'm new here. Thanks to Farrah and Kisha for the invite and briefing. If you want to know more about Una and are a glutton for punishment there is info here and here]

Comments

[depicted]

[Though he of course didn't know the significance, his smile broadened. There was a nice cadence to it.]

All right then, Jeremy. Let's see what the Parthenaeum has to offer us. [He offered her his arm. It would be a quick cab ride to Mayfair so they could play their game.]

[una_persson]

[She took his arm as a man would, rather than with a woman's light hand. When she spoke, her voice was pitched noticeably lower.]

Lead on then, Gray.

[When they got down to the street, she made a point of hailing the cab this time, though she deferred to him—"you know where we're going, don't you, old chap?"—for the exact address. Inside the cab, she slouched freely—god, it was good to be out of that corset; a suit of armour had nothing on that thing.]

[depicted]

[It was wonderful to watch the transformation. He had such a fondness for duplicity, and those who were good at it, really good at it--well, acting was an art. This was a thing of beauty to him. He fell into the lie easily. With the young men he befriended, he had his patterns--a familiarity with name and physical contact, an open expression of affection. Less concern for propriety than he exercised with women.]

[Getting into the Parthenaeum wasn't difficult, and soon he and Una were in a room full of reclining gentleman, smoking and drinking, probably talking about very boring things. One, on seeing Dorian, folded up his newspaper and took his leave. Ah, well. Couldn't be helped.]

[una_persson]

[She noticed the change in his manner toward her now that she was in this disguise, found it interesting, and slipped into a reciprocal familiarity with ease. The part of Jeremy Cornelius, high-living young man about town—it was no different from any other role, and Una had always had a talent for vanishing into her parts, even in the long-forgotten days before her temporal adventures began.]

[She let Dorian do the talking to get them in and watched in amusement as the man with the newspaper stalked off. She gave Dorian a knowing look.]

Friend of yours?

[She nodded toward an empty pair of chairs not too far from the fireplace, and conveniently near a couple of men engaged in what looked like a promisingly intense conversation.]

Come on, let's get settled, have a drink.

[depicted]

[Dorian just flashed a smile that said, Can't be helped, a smile that had resigned to the calumnies laid up against the untouchably innocent. It was an expression he had perfected, and it usually was enough to dispel the doubts of those around him. What had Basil said? "With your pure, bright, innocent face, and your marvellous untroubled youth--I can't believe anything against you."

Poor bastard. Still, it worked.]

[Taking Una's suggestion and also noticing her targets, Dorian did just that. As he passed her, he murmured for her ears only,] Left's Permanent Secretary for the Treasury. Don't know the other. [And he used another smile: the boyish one that probably just make a charming little aside. Perhaps it was the company or perhaps it was the stage, but this game had brought out all of Dorian's love of masks.]

[una_persson]

[That innocent look—on one hand, Una didn't believe it for a second, but paradoxically, she found she wanted to believe it, wanted very badly to believe that anything that might be said against him was a lie brought on by the basest of jealousies. Dangerous, so very very dangerous.]

[She sat down and took out her cigarette case, meanwhile listening to the conversation nearby. Treasury, was it? His interlocutor sounded foreign; she would have to listen a little more to nail down the accent.]

No objections to smoking in here, I hope?

[depicted]

[He laughed and pulled out a gold latten matchbox from which he produced a match.] Of course. Let me.

[He caught the phrase "religious unrest." Now that was interesting. There was always some unrest, but he had heard rumours that the massacre of the Esoteric Order of Dagon--and London's ability to stay standing even in the sickening aftermath--had sparked hopes for rebels.]

[una_persson]

[She offered him a cigarette before taking one for herself. As she did so, the other man's accent finally clicked. She leaned over to let him light her cigarette and as she did so, passed over her new information in a low voice.]

Italian. Think that's a Maltese Knights cross hanging from his watch chain.

[depicted]

[Lighting her cigarette, Dorian's eyes flickered to the watch and back. She looked right. What an interesting thing, for the Permanent Undersecretary for the Treasury to be talking to a Christian knight.]

[In a murmur that almost vanished under the rumble of conversation, Dorian asked,] Do you want to speak with him?

[Eavesdropping could be useful. Getting information personally was better.]

[And ooh, the Permanent Undersecretary just mentioned clean waters. Now that was not a phrase a good civil servant should dare think. The Eternal Empress preferred her waters full of her own kind.]

[una_persson]

[Her eyes lit up with interest and she nodded. The whiff of conspiracy had a way of getting her blood up. She answered Dorian in a similar low murmur.]

Won't do to interrupt outright. But when an opportunity presents itself...

[The Italian seemed to be talking around promises that certain factions within the Holy See might or might not be willing to make, and was hinting in a very broad, oblique way—heavily peppered with phrases in his native language—at what incentives might be required. Oh, this was going better than Una could have hoped, and she permitted herself a grin.]

[depicted]

[Dorian waited just a moment, then laughed out loud. The golden sound cut through the room.] No! You've never been to Italy? We'll go to Venice this summer, I insist. Perhaps even a detour to Florence, if you're willing? But you can't say you've known beauty if you've never been to Venice.

[The sudden spike in volume surely irritated several in the room, but what did Dorian care? It got him what he really wanted: their targets' attention.]

[And as hoped, the Permanent Secretary noticed him at last.] "Dorian? I didn't see you come in."

[Dorian smiled.] Ralph, you make that sound like a failing on my part.

[Ralph was already getting to his feet. Dorian did the same, motioning Una to follow him to bridge the short gap. The Maltese Knight looked both like he had something to say and like he was not pleased with the interruption.]

[Luckily for this little manoeuvre, Ralph was still on good terms with Dorian, and he greeted both Dorian and Una with warmth.] "I had no idea you were back from Austria. And this friend of yours--"

This is Jeremy Cornelius. Jerry plays the violin. [In other words, like Dorian, he did absolutely nothing. Dorian hoped Una wouldn't mind, but it seemed to fit with her act.] Jerry, this is Sir Ralph Lingen, Permanent Secretary to Her Majesty's Treasury. Sorry I haven't called yet, Ralphie. I've only been home a little while. [He smiled at the Italian knight.] And this is?

"Giovanni Candida, a guest from Rome. Giovanni, meet Dorian Gray, an old friend. Though you wouldn't think it to look at him. You must tell me your secret one of the days, Dorian."

[Dorian's laughter was charmed (Ralph was easy to get along with if you showed fondness for him, probably because a steadfast willingness to say "no" to every government proposal made him somewhat unpopular in Whitehall) as he politely greeted Giovanni. Dorian suspected that there was a lie in the name--the introduction had been evasive at best--but that wasn't what mattered: Dorian was counting on city pride. Dorian had deliberately omitted Rome from the list of places to visit, and he hoped Giovanni loved his city enough to go for the hook.]

[una_persson]

[She had to admire how skilfully he played the game; though once she saw the path he was laying out, it was easy enough for her to follow his lead. She let her features assume a slightly dim but well-meaning expression as Dorian introduced her.]

Pleasure to meet you, Sir Ralph; always a pleasure to meet a friend of Dorian's, what?

[So she was channelling a dash of Bertie Wooster a few decades early; what of it? She could see a decidedly judgemental look in the Secretary's eye—dear god, what pond did Gray fish this one out of?—and was satisfied that the persona was sticking. She turned her attention to the Italian.]

Mr Candida? Sorry, that ought to be Signor Candida, oughtn't it? Jeremy Cornelius, at your service. What brings you to this scepter'd isle, Signor?

[Ever so briefly, but not so briefly that Una missed it, the Italian glanced sidelong at Sir Ralph before answering. He didn't seem entirely put off by "Jeremy's" effusiveness, at least, though the question seemed to throw him a little—to say nothing of the use of "scepter'd", Shakespearian reference or otherwise.] "Oh, merely a friendly visit, that is all, to my good friend Sir Ralph. But what is this you say, you have never been to Italy?" [He looked at Dorian with an expression of mock reproach.] "You would take your friend Signor Cornelius to Italy and not visit Rome?"

[And—hooked. Nicely done, Dorian, Una thought.]

[depicted]

[Dorian smiled, seeming a little embarrassed.] I would never question Rome's beauty, of course...

"And yet?"

It... [Dorian sent Ralph a look. Save me.] I'm merely not wholly convinced that it would appeal to Mr Cornelius's interests, that's all.

[That had not been one of Dorian's more skillful evasions of awkwardness, and Giovanni's was not impressed. Being named capitol city was in living memory for all of them, and Dorian suspected that a preference for Florence over Rome had particularly sparked the man's pride.] "I am sure we could find something. What are Signor Cornelius's interests?"

[una_persson]

[There were a few ways out that presented themselves, but the quickest one was to make an even bigger fool of herself than Dorian. It meant that from now on, Jeremy Cornelius was going to have to be a bit of a dolt, but Una could live with that. She passed a hand over her face, in that gesture concealing a wink to Dorian.]

Well, you know, I like a bit of art and all that and I hear the Uffizi's grand. But Rome's all High Church, isn't it? Can't say I've ever been all that interested in those big old buildings with the incense and the hymns...

[Out of the corner of her eye, she actually saw Sir Ralph wince. A look of outrage briefly passed over Candida's face, but was quickly replaced by a faintly evangelical expression of pride and determination to win over this pretty heathen boy with a big mouth.] "Oh, Signor Cornelius, you do not know what you are saying! I know that the Church in Rome is not popular here these days—" [a glance at Sir Ralph that you might have missed if you blinked] "but if you are a lover of art, how can you turn down the greatest works of Michelangelo? Of Raphael?" [He went on in this vein for some time, then, extolling the art treasures of the Vatican, and Sir Ralph grew increasingly, visibly uncomfortable—no more so than when Candida clapped his hand on Una's shoulder, leaned closer, and said, joking but sort of not:] "And fear not, my boy, we shall not try to convert you. Unless the wonders of Rome should change your mind, eh?"

[There was a second where you could have heard a pin drop. Una let it hang there before laughing heartily and clapping the Italian on the back.]

Well, Signor Candida, you certainly do paint a pretty picture. What d'you think, Dorian? Add Rome to the old Grand Tour after all?

[depicted]

[R'lyeh. Even with the warning wink, Dorian could hardly surpress his laughter. Dorian might owe Ralphie an apology drink or two.]

[Dorian looked temporarily startled at Una's address, bearing a certain resemblance to a deer having heard a gunshot. He faked a forced smile and fell hard into his social voice.] It sounds an absolute delight. Though I have to admit, I don't know Rome as well as I would like. We shall need to find a guide. Might you have any recommendations?

"Hate to interrupt," [though Sir Ralph looked more like he was delighted to have an excuse] "But they will be missing me in Whitehall. Signor Candida?"

[And there Ralphie went, trying to drag away their fish. Dorian resolved to be very nice to him for the next few weeks.]

[una_persson]

[Candida, perhaps belatedly realising that he might have said too much, too loudly, cleared his throat.] "Ah, indeed, my apologies, Sir Ralph. You will forgive a man his love for his native city, I hope?" [He turned to Una and handed her a card.] "My address in London. Should you wish further advice on your travels, Signor Cornelius, you may reach me here."

[Una, meanwhile, noticed Dorian's reactions and hoped she hadn't overplayed her hand. She kept her attention on the Italian in the meantime, and also decided to make a cursory—deliberately foolish—attempt to smooth over relations with Sir Ralph, who she guessed had now firmly written off Jeremy Cornelius as an idiot. Which could, ultimately, be useful.]

Much obliged, Signor Candida, much obliged indeed. Thank you. Sir Ralph, didn't mean to monopolise your guest, pleasure to meet you, as I said. I'm sure I'll see you again?

[depicted]

"I will look forward to it." [Sir Ralph sent Dorian a look that was clearly instructing him not to let this happen again, and Dorian offered the tiniest apologetic smile. Yes, he'd be very nice to Sir Ralph. Pay him all kinds of compliments, send him over some pretty souvenir from Austria, maybe even play him a bit of piano--music was Sir Ralph's one real aesthetic area. Though Dorian liked to believe that his mere company would be enough to charm Ralph into forgetting his discomfort.]

And it was a pleasure to meet you, Signor.

[The moment they were out of sight, Dorian had a hand over his mouth. He turned the amused smile into a social one.] This way a moment, Jerry. [He steered Una to a more private corner of the club where, certain he wouldn't be seen or heard, he promptly broke into laughter.]

That was marvellous. Poor Ralphie looked like he might die on the spot. If you decide to follow up that, please invite me along.

[una_persson]

[Una grinned, maybe a little smugly.]

Was it very good? I hope I haven't caused you any serious inconvenience with Sir Ralph by playing the well-meaning idiot.

[She took out the Italian's card—the name was the one given, and the address in Knightsbridge.]

And of course you will absolutely come with me when I call on Signor Candida. I shouldn't dream of depriving you of the pleasure. My goodness, what are these gentlemen up to?

[depicted]

[Dorian was still grinning, too delighted and arrogant to worry.] Oh, Sir Ralph will forgive me. He always does. [Dorian leaned over to see the card, his shoulder brushing against Una.] They're up to something interesting, I should hope. That isn't Sir Ralph's residence, and I didn't think the Catholic Church owned any land on Knightsbridge. I wonder.

[He pulled away, his smile bright in the joy of the game.] Should we call it quits, or will you play another round?

[una_persson]

Private residence, leased house, perhaps? Or something attached to the Italian embassy? Perhaps a casual walk through the neighbourhood might be in order, before any further moves are made. Nevertheless, I'm quite sure I smell a conspiracy of some kind, and I'm rather intrigued.

[She tucked the card away again and clapped him on the shoulder, her hand lingering for a moment.]

I'm game if you are—though if you think that was enough of a stir for Jeremy to make for one night, I'd be amenable to any other pursuits you might find entertaining. [He could take that as he liked; she was certainly open to any interpretation at this point. The charge she'd gotten from the game with Sir Ralph and the Italian had gotten her colour up, and she was in high spirits now.]

[depicted]

[Dorian glanced up at her and smiled.] It is something of a detour, but why not stop off on Knightsbridge on our way to Grosvenor Square? It couldn't hurt.

[una_persson]

[She nodded.] Let's do that, then. Just to get a sense of where our Italian's lair is—and, if possible, a glimpse of any other company he may keep.

[Then, a knowing smirk.] Lest we forget, I still have a thing rightfully yours to give to you, incidentally. But that ought to wait for a more suitable setting.

[The bell, that was. Which she still had on her; just not around her neck.]

[depicted]

[His sweet smile widened.] I look very much forward to having it back.

[And then he put his mask back on again, a hand on the door back out to a populated room of the club.] Shall we?

[una_persson]

[Likewise, Jeremy's benign, slightly silly default expression settled back on Una's face, and she shifted the pitch of her voice back accordingly.] Indeed we shall, Dorian.

[depicted]

[He let one last true grin through before settling on his mask, opening the door, and guiding them out. Before he hailed a cab, he paused and glanced back at Una.] I didn't ask if you wanted to change. [He doubted he'd be overheard, but unnecessary clothing changes weren't out of place for Dorian's set, so Dorian's wasn't concerned.]