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breakinglight11Finished the challenge! FOR THE EIGHTH CONSECUTIVE YEAR IN A ROW, WOOOOOOO!
Today is something new! I have been talking about how much I miss Nathaniel's charming rake of a brother Justin for a while now, so I thought I'd do something with him to finish things out this year. I love his combination of caddishness and principle, humor and sincerity. I also introduce Clara's twit of a little brother Damon, six years younger than her and Justin, who would love to be as smooth as Justin but really cannot pull it off.
So glad to be done.
Day #31 - Uncle Justin’s School for Rakes
From the Hawking series
By Phoebe Roberts
London, England, 1875
JUSTIN HAWKING, Nathaniel’s charming rake of an older brother, mid-twenties
DAMON PARTRIDGE, Clara’s callow twit of younger brother, late teens
~~~
(JUSTIN leads DAMON out of a brothel practically by his ear.)
JUSTIN: You’re lucky I found you before anyone else did.
DAMON: Oh, go on, then. What are you even bothering me for? You don’t need to worry what Clara thinks of you anymore.
JUSTIN: Oh, so you’d prefer they sent Nathaniel after you? God, you’d never hear the end of the sputtering and pearl-clutching until the day you died.
DAMON: Still, I don’t know why you had to ruin my night.
JUSTIN: Your mother thinks you're dead in a ditch. She'd heartbroken to hear just whose ditch, and that you're very much alive in it.
DAMON: You won't tell her, will you?
JUSTIN: Do I look like an informer to you? Still, I must say I'm disappointed. Gentlemen earn it fair and square; they ought not need to pay for it.
DAMON: Oh, come now, haven't you ever had an off night?
JUSTIN: No, as a matter of fact, I haven't. There was the one time a tear with the lads ended us up in a bordello, and I didn't fancy waiting in the parlor all night, so I decided to give it the old college try. While admittedly instructive, I must say I prefer the thrill of the chase.
DAMON: So much for that. Seeing as Clara gave you your walking papers.
JUSTIN: Well, she is a lady of good breeding and sense. If not taste.
DAMON: Can’t be that ladylike, if she went about with you.
JUSTIN: Here, now! You can grouse at me all you like, but you’ll not bandy about your sister’s good name. Not with me nor anyone else. Do you hear?
DAMON: All right, all right! Though I don’t know what’s got you the white knight for her. I thought you’d be sore.
JUSTIN: You know how it is. I can’t be tied down.
DAMON: Not over tomcatting, for certain. But for throwing you over for your brother and all?
JUSTIN: Indeed, thank you for that. But what do you think it serves to go about maligning the reputations of girls that interest you?
DAMON: I don’t know, everybody does it.
JUSTIN: Just so. And if you’ve got every girl afraid of what you’ll say about her when the whole business is through— how likely is she to want to have anything to do with you?
DAMON: I suppose not very. I never thought about it like that.
JUSTIN: So instead, I insist that every girl that ever caught my eye is an angel of propriety, no matter what may occur, for well or for ill, for naughty or for nice. So if any of the former sort are tempted, they know they’ve nothing to fear from me.
DAMON: That’s… that’s rather good.
JUSTIN: Kind of you to say so.
DAMON: I could learn a lot from you, I think.
JUSTIN: Uncle Justin, headmaster of the School for Rakes. That’s me.
DAMON: So is that why you won’t say a word against Clara? On second thought— never mind. She is my sister.
JUSTIN: As I said, young man. Clara is the sole of decency.
Today is something new! I have been talking about how much I miss Nathaniel's charming rake of a brother Justin for a while now, so I thought I'd do something with him to finish things out this year. I love his combination of caddishness and principle, humor and sincerity. I also introduce Clara's twit of a little brother Damon, six years younger than her and Justin, who would love to be as smooth as Justin but really cannot pull it off.
So glad to be done.
Day #31 - Uncle Justin’s School for Rakes
From the Hawking series
By Phoebe Roberts
London, England, 1875
JUSTIN HAWKING, Nathaniel’s charming rake of an older brother, mid-twenties
DAMON PARTRIDGE, Clara’s callow twit of younger brother, late teens
~~~
(JUSTIN leads DAMON out of a brothel practically by his ear.)
JUSTIN: You’re lucky I found you before anyone else did.
DAMON: Oh, go on, then. What are you even bothering me for? You don’t need to worry what Clara thinks of you anymore.
JUSTIN: Oh, so you’d prefer they sent Nathaniel after you? God, you’d never hear the end of the sputtering and pearl-clutching until the day you died.
DAMON: Still, I don’t know why you had to ruin my night.
JUSTIN: Your mother thinks you're dead in a ditch. She'd heartbroken to hear just whose ditch, and that you're very much alive in it.
DAMON: You won't tell her, will you?
JUSTIN: Do I look like an informer to you? Still, I must say I'm disappointed. Gentlemen earn it fair and square; they ought not need to pay for it.
DAMON: Oh, come now, haven't you ever had an off night?
JUSTIN: No, as a matter of fact, I haven't. There was the one time a tear with the lads ended us up in a bordello, and I didn't fancy waiting in the parlor all night, so I decided to give it the old college try. While admittedly instructive, I must say I prefer the thrill of the chase.
DAMON: So much for that. Seeing as Clara gave you your walking papers.
JUSTIN: Well, she is a lady of good breeding and sense. If not taste.
DAMON: Can’t be that ladylike, if she went about with you.
JUSTIN: Here, now! You can grouse at me all you like, but you’ll not bandy about your sister’s good name. Not with me nor anyone else. Do you hear?
DAMON: All right, all right! Though I don’t know what’s got you the white knight for her. I thought you’d be sore.
JUSTIN: You know how it is. I can’t be tied down.
DAMON: Not over tomcatting, for certain. But for throwing you over for your brother and all?
JUSTIN: Indeed, thank you for that. But what do you think it serves to go about maligning the reputations of girls that interest you?
DAMON: I don’t know, everybody does it.
JUSTIN: Just so. And if you’ve got every girl afraid of what you’ll say about her when the whole business is through— how likely is she to want to have anything to do with you?
DAMON: I suppose not very. I never thought about it like that.
JUSTIN: So instead, I insist that every girl that ever caught my eye is an angel of propriety, no matter what may occur, for well or for ill, for naughty or for nice. So if any of the former sort are tempted, they know they’ve nothing to fear from me.
DAMON: That’s… that’s rather good.
JUSTIN: Kind of you to say so.
DAMON: I could learn a lot from you, I think.
JUSTIN: Uncle Justin, headmaster of the School for Rakes. That’s me.
DAMON: So is that why you won’t say a word against Clara? On second thought— never mind. She is my sister.
JUSTIN: As I said, young man. Clara is the sole of decency.
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