Alexander Bowdoin (the_maestro) wrote in athensrising, @ 2008-10-18 17:54:00 |
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Entry tags: | alexander bowdoin, allaster holt |
Alec & Allaster: Reunion
Who: Alec Bowdoin & Allaster Holt
What: Two friends are reunited
Where: The train station, then Allaster's flat
When: Friday, August 19 around noon
Warnings: None.
Summary: Alec and Allaster are reunited at the train station, and Alec becomes jealous of Allaster's summer 'romance'.
The train terminus was packed with people. Milling throngs waited for one of the three trains departing Boston -- Providence, New Haven, and New York -- while others paced restlessly for the two incoming trains -- New York City and Portland, Maine. Alec Bowdoin pushed his way through the mass of people, craning his neck to read the placard indicating what track he needed.
Finally, frustrated, he caught the arm of a young newspaper boy and barked without preamble: "The 12:30 from New York City?" The dirty child wiggled to escape Alec's grip, and Alec growled: "I said--"
"I heard you," the boy muttered in return, twisting his body to wrench his arm from Alec's hand but he continued, voice sour: "Track three."
"Thank you." Spinning on his heel, Alec started for the appropriate platfrom, ignoring the boy's sputtered insults. He didn't have time to bother with riff-raff; Allaster would be here soon.
Allaster shouldered his way past the crowds waiting on the platform toward where the porter was unloading the baggage car. His mother had insisted on buying him several new coats, shirts, ties, and pants for the fall so he'd ended up coming home with two trunks when he'd only left with one. Luckily he could already see several street urchins huddling around the columns, ready to be hired to do the heavy lifting.
Allaster approached a couple of the larger boys and removed his hat with a flourish.
"What do you say young masters?" he said with a small bow. "Ready to help out a doddering toff who's too soft to lift his own..." He paused and smirked. "Well, there are ladies about."
The boys gaped and Allaster sighed. "Look, just follow me and carry my trunks to a cab." He perused the luggage that had already been off-loaded and pointed his trunks out to the boys who hurried to get them and then turned to look for Alec who was to meet him.
Finally he saw his friend pushing through the crowd and he waved.
"Alec," he yelled, earning startled and disdainful looks from a group of well turned out women. He smiled his most charming grin and inclined his head. "Ladies."
Alec raised his hat in polite deference to the women Allaster had shocked and tried to look sternly at his friend. But the effort was wasted: after three months, it was impossible to be anything but overjoyed at this reunion.
"Holt!" Alec's greeting was hearty; any illusion he'd had of appearing underwhelmed by his friend's return was erased by the warm enthusiasm in his voice. "Welcome back!" Hand extended, he clapped Allaster's shoulder with his other. "How was your trip?"
"Don't be stodgy, Bowdoin," Allaster said and used Alec's outstretched hand to pull his friend into a tight hug. "And you smell devastatingly good, as always," he said softly, just to see Alec get discomfited. He released Alec and guided them away from the train.
"The trip was insufferably boring. Father has sworn that if I don't add at least three economics courses to my schedule this semester he's cutting off all support once and for all. The old gull is just blowing hot air, of course, but I might add one just to see his face." He checked to make sure the boys were still following them and then clapped Alec on the shoulder. "What about you? Any tales of grand adventure to share?"
Alec grimaced at Allaster's whispered compliment and shuffled uncomfortably backwards a foot or two.
"What do fathers know?" Alec muttered as they started, his shoulders automatically hunched in his typical posture, as if battling a hard wind. "Mine thinks I need more German; I can go to Frankfurt to work if I wish." He snorted derisively and gave Allaster a pained look. "No Bach or Goethe, however." Despite his discomfort with Allaster's hearty attentions, he smiled at his friend, a little wan, and shrugged. "No grand adventures for me. Still searching for the right librettist for my opera..." Alec dropped his voice, feigning casual indifference, but he couldn't resist another glance at Allaster.
"Somehow I can picture you in Germany, dressed in dour gray, losing your head in sturm und drang. I'm sure you would work yourself into a colossal brood that would take me weeks, nay, months to break you out of. No, my friend, after giving the matter the long hard consideration it's due I cannot possibly let you go to Germany. It would be very bad for you constitution.
"Besides," he continued, not giving Alec a chance to respond. "You don't want to churn out something as ponderous as Götterdämmerung," he said and grinned. "To bad my skill's not with the pen or I would write you something utterly scandalous that would have all lovely maids of the city swooning. But really, Alec, this search for a librettist is dragging on far too long. What about our very own Noah? I'm sure he would write you a marvelous libretto. The world needs your musical genius!"
Glancing over at Allaster, Alec cracked a hint of a grin, secretly pleased by his friend's loyalty. But immediately he frowned, not wanting Allaster to tease him for the uncharacteristic expression. "Perhaps Noah," he echoed, shoving his hands into the pockets of his trousers, and he turned to look at the other man. "But you know how serious my music is," he started, bracing himself for Allaster's inevitable ribbing.
"Good Lord, Alec, there's serious and then there's serious. Write something romantic. You're always mooning over some girl or another," he said off-handedly as he patted down his pockets for his cigarettes. "An epic love story, that seems spot on for you. A ha!" he exclaimed as he drew out his cigarettes.
"Mother hates me smoking around her. I haven't had a proper fag all holiday." He lit his cigarette and inhaled deeply before offering one to Alec.
Alec hrumphed noncommittally at Allaster's ribbing, but he extends a hand, taking the cigarette. "It's hardly 'mooning'," he muttered, striking a match on his leg, quiet for a moment as he drew in the flame. "You wouldn't know true love if it--" He floundered a moment, buying time by taking a drag on his cigarette. "You only mock love because you've never experienced it." His voice turned sanctimonious and he turned to give Allaster a dark look.
Allaster felt his temper rise as his friend fumbled over his words.
"I mock love because it is forbidden me," he hissed angrily. "And you love to keep this shroud of malaise around because you've not the..." He clamped his teeth shut, realizing what was about to come out would be completely out of bounds for public discourse but would also hurt Alec, and, despite his anger, Alec was his friend.
"But, look," he said after taking a steadying drag of his cigarette. "That is neither here nor there. People love a good love story and you're in love with the idea of love." He smiled, trying to diffuse the tension and his own anger, but it was tight. "Hail us a cab and I'll fill you in on the latest in my love life. You'll not believe whose father has invited me to call on his daughter."
Alec immediately regretted his unkind words but couldn't think of a way to soften them; so he frowned. It was easier to pull the 'shroud' close than admit a mistake, and he felt a burst of gratitude when Allaster reined in his angry response. He was discomfited by Allaster's admission -- a hint at the hard way his friend fell for an Antinous or Adonis -- and shrugged, trying to say with the gesture what he couldn't aloud.
At the curb, Alec lifted a hand, gesturing at the driver of a waiting hackney, and glared at the urchins who jostled behind him and Allaster, waiting for their tip. "Just pay them, man," he snapped, waving one away, sure the dirty thing was reaching for his pocketwatch. "Wait until we're in the cab before you start revealing names." He looked over at Allaster and cracked a hint of a smile. "We don't want to ruin any reputations by linking you with an innocent woman."
Allaster accepted the silent apology for what it was and smiled at Alec's snappishness regarding the urchins.
"Thank you, young masters," Allaster said, dropping a coin into each waiting hand and then looked at the trunks they had loaded. "My mother has absurd ideas about what a young man needs in regards to clothing. And I hope you realize that you are helping me get this up to my apartment."
He opened the door of the carriage and swung himself inside, sprawling himself scandalously across the bench seat.
"And I'll have you know," he continued, far too loudly. "That any young woman would leap at the chance to hold my elbow on a promenade, including young Caroline Hubbard."
Alec sighed dramatically, eying the trunks a moment before following Allaster into the carriage. "I assumed as much. At least you're pretending you'll help." He kicked Allaster's foot aside to slip onto the seat across from his friend, and he adjusted his jacket before sitting. He automatically snorted at Allaster's snobbish pronouncement but it took a moment before the name sunk in. "Miss Caroline Hubbard?" Alec repeated, kicking Allaster's foot again. "I can't believe it." He slouched back, wincing as the hackney lurched to a start, and stared at his friend. "Have you ever seen Miss Hubbard?"
"Would you stop knocking me around?" Allaster huffed and arranged his feet and legs so they were as inoffensive to Alec as possible and promptly undid his tie and all but one button of his waistcoat.
"And why do you sound so damn shocked? I'm well-bred." He shot a glare at Alec, defying him to say anything. "Good looking, an excellent conversationalist, an artistic talent such as this city has never seen, and I can quote books upon books of poetry."
He paused and narrowed his eyes as something Alec said finally sunk in.
"What do you mean have I seen her? I've caught a glimpse here and there at concerts, parties. You say it as though she's a third arm growing from her belly!"
"Every single man can quote a book of poetry," Alec grumbled, crossing his arms as he leaned back. He lifted an eyebrow as Allaster virtually undressed and Alec sighed again melodramatically. "No third arm but," and he shrugged. "She lacks a kind of..." Pausing, he winced, as if finding the right word was painful, then tried again: "She's hardly the embodiment of feminine grace, is she?" He shrugged again, slouching a little further, hunching his shoulders. "She's no Christina Nilsson, but few women are..."
Allaster p'shawed dramatically and waved his hand.
"What do I care for her grace or lack thereof? It's not like I'm actually going to marry her. But it will put my mother in swoons, and it's time I had a lady on my arm to take to certain events. And besides, her father asked me to call and there's no good way to get out of that. Can you even it credit it? Wrote me a letter telling me he thinks I'm a fine, upstanding young man with a bright future!" He paused dramatically. "Perhaps he didn't actually mean to send that letter. Perhaps he wrote it as a lark, having a good chuckle over the obvious lies! Or perhaps he's just gone off the deep end. Hmm."
He looked out the window, seemingly lost in thought.
"Don't be a cad," Alec grumbled, lifting his foot to nudge Allaster's. "Perhaps he indeed meant to send it to someone else." Alec paused, considering. "Saville?" He shrugged. "Gardiner Hubbard quite dotes on her I understand. I'm not sure that bodes well," and his voice dropped, as if in warning. He watched Allaster for a moment, before giving in to the nagging thought, and he asked: "Did you have an opportunity to see Christina Nilsson this summer?" Instantly he regretted asking; now Allaster wouldn't stop ribbing him.
"Saville!" Allaster exclaimed. "I love him, don't get me wrong, but no one would intentionally write that letter to him either."
Allaster rested his head back, thinking about his impending meeting with Miss Hubbard, dreading it every moment it drew closer. Then Alec's hesitant query broke his into his reverie.
"How dreadful of me not to mention it before now!" he cried, leaning forward, but there was a mischievous twist to his lips. "I did in fact have a chance to see her at the Metropolitan Opera as Juliette in Romeo et Juliette. She was divine, of course, but that's not the best part." He sat back in his seat and ran a hand lazily through his hair, disarraying the carefully pomaded locks. "Have I ever mentioned that a good friend and business associate of my father's is on the board of the Metropolitan Opera? Well, it's true and he got us stellar seats in the Presidential box, but he also escorted us backstage after the performance. Introduced us to all the performers," he added in his most bored sounding voice.
Alec sucked in his breath, hardly daring to believe what he'd heard. He tried to disguise his response, however, and glanced out the window. "I'm sure the experience was wasted on a Philistine like you," he growled, jealousy stirring in his stomach.
"Oh, my dear Alexander, it would be appropriate at this point to crack a smile, ask me if she's as stunningly beautiful beautiful up close as she is from the seats. Ask me if she's pleasant and charming or a hissing, spitting diva!"
The cab jerked to a stop in front of Allaster's brownstone and he climbed out, holding the door open for Alec to follow him while the driver pulled down Allaster's trunks.
"You know if you're truly sincere in your adorations I won't poke too much fun at you." He paid the hack driver and clapped Alec on the shoulder. "And the faster you help me carry these in, the faster you can see what little trinket I brought back for you."
Alec nearly admitted agreement but thankfully the cab stopped, saving him from an unnecessary show of weakness. He staggered out of the hackney, shaking out his coat while waiting for the driver to drop the trucks to the curb. "I hardly think I have to prove my adulation of Miss Nilsson to you," Alec groused but he sighed, defeated. "Well, how was she? Divinity made manifest?" After Allaster paid the driver, Alec bent down and caught the handle of the closest trunk and waited for his friend to do the same. "How many flights of stairs do I face?"
"What on Earth do you take me for? I am a civilized man and I live on the first floor. You need only labor under your burden for the few steps up from the street."
Allaster lifted his trunk and silently cursed his mother for making him bring home an entire trunkful of clothing which he would most likely never wear.
"She was, in fact, quite a charming lady. Rather on the loud side, though," he said as he mounted the stairs and led them into the main foyer. "In fact the whole lot of them seemed to be rather loud and boisterous. And immodest! I probably shouldn't tell you this," he said conspiratorially as he slipped his key into the lock, "but they were, to a one, including your beloved Miss Nilsson, lounging about their dressing rooms in various states of undress."
He let them into his apartment and dropped his trunk unceremoniously in the middle of the foyer before turning to Alec with a wide grin.
"Perhaps I should give up art and take up singing? They seemed a rather loose crowd that I might well enjoy myself with immensely! But never mind that. Put down that trunk, your gift is inside."
Allaster knelt and spread the trunk open, reaching behind all the clothing to fetch Alec's gift.
He stood, hiding his hand behind his back, and said, "You may never again say that I care nothing for you and think nothing of your desires." With a flourish he produced a post card from the Metropolitan Opera gift shop featuring a picture of Miss Nilsson.
"But that is not the best of it," he said smugly and flipped the postcard over. It was signed by the diva herself, addressed personally to Alec, and sealed with a blot of lipstick from her lips.
"You're just trying to shock me," Alec groused, making a face at Allaster. "Miss Nilsson would hardly tarnish her reputation that way." He barely moved in time to avoid having his toes smashed by the trunk, and he huffed at his friend, brushing imaginary dust off his trousers.
All pretense of disinterest, however, went out the window at Allaster's gift. Alec tore the card from Allaster's hands, hardly believing what he saw. "She touched this," he murmured, and for a moment he closed his eyes. He didn't have the luxury of memory to work from, so he had to imagine what Miss Nilsson's lips would look like up close. That Allaster had seen them first hand caused a hot boil of jealousy in his stomach and he glanced up at his friend. "Thank you," he murmured gruffly, unsure of how else to respond, and he slipped the piece of card stock into an inside pocket of his jacket. "You're too kind." The insipid words slipped out before he could stop them and Alec shuffled awkwardly for a moment before clapping Allaster on the arm.
Allaster watched as Alec first stared at the card and then closed his eyes, as if to savor it. Allaster was not a man given over often or easily to sentimentality, but his first thought when his father had suggested the opera and backstage visit had been to secure some sort of token for his friend. He was pleased beyond reason that the gift had had the desired effect.
"You are very welcome, Alec," he said as he put his hand on Alec's shoulder and squeezed slightly. "I hope it brings you some bit of joy."
He watched as Alec continued to shuffle awkwardly and smiled. Then he realized his hand was still on Alec's shoulder and had been there longer than was seemly. He jerked away and turned to walk further into the apartment, plastering a careless smirk on his face.
"And I hope you appreciate it. It took a not inconsiderable amount of charm to get her to put her lip print on it, but then you know," he turned and bowed, arms outstretched. "I am nothing if not charming.
"Now, how about a drink?"
The jealous feeling returned at Allaster's bragging; Alec wondered how Christina Nilsson responded to Allaster's charms. Even though he wasn't a pederast, Alec wasn't insensible to Allaster's effect on people: his Grecian physique, his presence in a room, his smile and warm voice. His brothers admired Allaster; women couldn't seem to stop looking at him. God only knows what Miss Nilsson had done in his presence and Alec very nearly knocked Allaster's hand from his shoulder. But his friend anticipated him, spinning on his heel and stalking away. Alec patted his jacket, feeling the paperboard edge of the postcard, his stomach lurching.
"Yes, yes, a drink." He wished there was a piano in the flat; he'd like to take out his restless energy on it. "Port is fine, if you have it." He paced over to a chaise and dropped onto it, still preoccupied with the tableau in his mind: Christina Nilsson laughing with delight over some quip of Allaster's...
"Was she beautiful?"
Allaster smiled down at the port as he poured.
"Yes, she was quite beautiful." He finished pouring their glasses and walked over to where Alec was slumped on the chaise and handed off a glass. "Her eyes are hooded and quite mysterious, yet when she smiles they twinkle like a child's."
Allaster sat in his favorite chair across from Alec and swung his leg over the arm, studying his friend. This sudden moodiness struck him as something more than Alec's normal melancholy. He took a sip of his port to cover his pause and then continued.
"I also do not lie to say that her skin was like porcelain and glowed with the warmth of her personality."
Alec continued to slouch on the chaise, seeming to crumple under his own weight. Allaster licked his lips and took another sip of his port.
"Truth be told, though she was perfectly pleasant and most accommodating about the post card, she only agreed to it after I explained the deep love and respect my friend had for her. And when I told her of your skill at crafting music, she was happy to do it." Allaster fixed his gaze on his knee, unable to meet Alec's eyes. "Though it pains me to admit it, I don't believe she actually cared a great deal for me. She spent much more time chatting with my sister Rosalind. I've no doubt she's that odd sort of woman who would much prefer your saternine personality."
Alec almost dreaded to hear Allaster's description of Christina Nilsson; it made his teeth set on edge to think of his friend so close to such an accomplished, attractive woman. He could imagine how she smiled at Allaster's droll quips, how she stared at him under her hooded eyes, how her skin flushed at his compliments. Alec took a sip of the fortified wine, savoring the sweetness before swallowing.
He opened his mouth to grouse further but Allaster's admission silenced him. He stared at his friend, shocked, sure that Allaster was lying -- but thirsty all the same for the details. Allaster didn't look at him and Alec was convinced his friend spun an elaborate tale for his benefit. He felt a burst of gratitude but frowned, unsure of how to express himself.
"Few women understand me," he growled, feeling absurd and out of sorts, and he lifted his head to look at Allaster. "Not like they understand you."
Allaster lifted his head, shocked that his friend could actually believe what he'd just said. That his eyes weren't open enough to realize that Allaster was forever playing a part. And it was startlingly painful to realize that perhaps Alec didn't really know him at all.
"You misunderstand, Alec. Women understand the pretty picture I make for them. Women find me charming because I reinvent myself for each one. I am perceptive enough to see what each wants and cruel enough to give it to them. There is nothing real in what I say or do, nothing real in what I feel."
Allaster plowed on, his temper making him reckless.
"It is only with my brothers, with... those of a like mind that I feel some stirring of my soul."
He clamped his lips shut, and blew out a breath through his nose. He wondered briefly at how such a banal and pleasant afternoon had turned so serious and tried to think of something to say to diffuse the tension, but he could not.
Alec watched Allaster and sipped his wine, the jealousy boiling hotter. He shifted on the chaise, tugging the fabric of his jacket to stop the pull. It was bad enough that Allaster could flex influence over one woman but to know the whims and wants of any woman... "Then you should not care if one woman wasn't swayed by your charms," he snapped, swallowing a mouthful of port. "Save a few for us." He considered whether or not to share with Allaster his new found desire to marry but his friend's final words caught his attention.
"Brothers," Alec echoed, lifting his wine glass in a kind of salute. He studied Allaster, noting the kind of restless energy, and he offered a sympathetic smile before another mouthful of port. He was unsurprised that Allaster preferred school to the summer holiday: one's family is well and good but their own lives are only more fully lived away from home. "We'll be amongst our brothers soon enough."
"Oh, Alec," Allaster said and jerked his tie completely from around his neck. He let himself have a brief fantasy of striding over to where Alec sat and choking the very breath from him. He was amazed and dismayed that his friend could be so utterly dense.
"But you are right. And I don't, in fact, care that there is at least one women out there immune to my charms. It was merely startling to discover it was so. So you have my word, I will leave some of the ladies to you and the rest of our band of brothers."
He forced a smile and lifted his glass. "Brothers. May we all be united again soon." He downed his glass and stood hastily to refill it. He brought back the bottle and topped off Alec's glass.
"Speaking of which," he said as he sprawled in his chair again. "Have you seen anyone yet? John, Shadrach, Charles?"
Alec started at Allaster's burst of movement but barely had time to respond before Allaster seated himself again. "I haven't," he admitted, feeling ashamed. He should have written letters as soon as the summer waned, but he got lost in his music and melancholy. "Have you?" He emptied half the glass, swallowing quickly, wanting the burn of alcohol to replace the growing uneasy envy in his stomach. "How was the rest of your holiday, when you weren't seducing international stars?" It came out more bitter sounding than he intended.
"I exchanged a few letters with each, but you know how the summer gets. Times gets away from each of us. Shadrach spent a month in Italy and then another in Egypt of all places. I expect he'll be insufferable for a while, flaunting all his new found exotic knowledge."
He swirled the liquid in his glass, watching thick tears form. His time home had been insufferably boring except for the few days and nights he'd been able to spend with an old, well-loved school-mate, prowling museums and saloons in equal measure, but he didn't want to tell Alec about that. He couldn't say exactly why he wanted to keep the only bit of his holiday that hadn't been torture a secret, but it was something he wanted to hold close and private for a little while longer.
Sighing at Alec's jibe about seducing international stars, he sipped his port, mussed his hair, and decided to ignore it altogether.
"Mother dragged me from house to house calling on, I believe, every eligible lady of the city. You can plainly see for yourself the spoils of the hours I spent at the tailor's. Not to mention enduring my father's lectures on what a respectable like looks like and how mine is most definitely not. But let's not rehash all that. I've an impending call on Miss Hubbard that I am dreading down to my very core, so help me forget about it. What's about town tonight? Or perhaps we can go down to South Boston to one of the Irish saloons."
"Ah, yes, Miss Hubbard." Alec finished his port in a few, quick swallows and he stretched an arm, lowering the empty goblet to the floor next to him. "Is she challenge enough after Miss Nilsson?" He didn't mean to sound so childish and he instantly regretted his sullen words. "Yes, let's forget about women." He straightened and attempted his warmest smiles. "We'll drink tonight to brothers."