Boyling Over (Boyle House April 18th 10AM)

[Will Whitaker]

God's work was never done.

He dressed in the finest he had, and it still wasn't much. It was cotton, but plain by noble standards. His hair was down, in a proper ponytail with leather boots and gloves to cover the scars on his arms. He was there at five minutes to ten, as hasty meetings had left him much practice in Virginia of dressing quickly. In his forest greens and blacks, he was actually attractive despite being built like a brick wall.

Though his eyes were a little weary from the previous events, he tried to ignore the various strange statues. Some he recognized as native to the New World, but he knew now was not the time to dawdle. Apparently the situation at the bank had upset the poor lady's father, and he wanted to assure him that all was well.

Taking in a deep breath, he knew he was in for it from the sheer magnificence of the place. This man was not a noble, he was a self-made man. As a Colonial, he feared and respected this man already. He simply prayed that the lady would not receive any punishment. He heard that she was ill, but that was the extent of it as the chaos at the bank did not allow him a view of her face.

[Hope]

Heels clicked loudly upon the marbled stairs that led up to the front doors, doors that were carved in such a curious manner with a multitude of heathens in unusual positions - they were plainly an import from India. However the music that filtered though the karmasutric door was far from exotic, rather it was a familiar melody, indeed one William could recognise from the may Ball only a week ago.

"Sir?" A stony faced butler opened the door to Charles, the question with his tone bearing the obvious question of 'who are you?'.

[Will Whitaker]

It was such such a pity that he was still on the boat tarried from Spain a week ago, but he recalled the song from last year's ball. His brow quirked for a moment, wondering what on earth could prompt music at this time of the morning. He knew the man was rich, but for what appeared to be such a hasty meeting, the music was a little out of character. It was not often to hear music if one was going to get their ear torn out.

"Reverend Will Whitaker of Virginia here to see Mr. Boyle. I apologize for not arriving sooner. I had a meeting with the Bishop and received Mr. Boyle's message just last night."

[Hope]

"Please do come in." The butler remained reserved of expression throughout, though found it highly irregular that his master had invited someone who was thigh deep in the Anglican Church to his house. Plainly the Bishop that Will mentioned was not Catholic, there were currently no Catholic bishops in London.

Will was left in the hall a moment while the servant entered the study. Wafts of summery music entered the hallway from the opposing door that opened out into a well lit salon. A moment later the Reverend was shown through to the study, very much a mans room with dark wood panelled walls, and one entire wall lined with the luxury of books.

Sat at the desk with stacks of paper all round was Peter Boyle, and his introduction then given was short and to the point.

"You manage to come, thank you for your promptness. As I said, I am most concerned of my daughters involvement the other day. I read of the event in the papers, but had no idea that she had been there. I would appreciate your account, if you would."

He was plainly a man who did not beat around the bush, but possessed a single-minded focus.

[Will Whitaker]

He appreciated a prompt man, but was slightly concerned with his stern nature. He wondered if she would be in trouble with her appearance there, but he had to honor her father's wishes. There wasn't even a seat for him, which gave a very tense atmosphere. Still, the Reverend was cool and kept a smile on his face.

"Absolutely, Mr. Boyle. She was present when the man entered the room, locked the door behind him and threatened everyone with his rifle demanding money, standing next to the other woman there. I told him I was a man of the Church and told him to ease up and relax. He then pointed the rifle and me and demanded that I collect the money when the other woman rose her voice up against the man from stealing from a priest, to which he pointed the gun at her instead. I offered to give him my money in exchange for standing in front of the woman and as I was trying to negotiate, your daughter was inching towards the back door next to the owner who was reaching for his own gun. I am not sure what caused him to misfire, but he was startled and accidently fired his rifle at the ceiling, at which point your daughter ran into the back room. The fool made haste to catch her when the owner gave me his own gun as I rushed behind him, demanding that he not harm the woman. In the room with the safe, I arrived with your daughter cowering in the corner as the man went mad trying to find something to open the vault with and he told me I could take the woman because she was screaming too much. I told her to get out of the room and she fled with a thank you. I assume she ran straight out the door, as she did not stay for the constabulary. It was shortly after that the fool tried to struggle for my gun and I ended up killing him while I was wrestling him away."

He took his gaze away for a moment before returning his gaze to Mr. Boyle.

"I asked around who she was because I was concerned for her. That is not something any woman should have had to experience. I wanted to make certain that she would have left the incident behind her. If I offended you or her by the sentiment, I humbly apologize. I was trembling myself after it was over, and the poor lady looked terrified out of her mind."

[Hope]

Boyle, in absoluete seriousness, asked several questions for clarification.

"She was already in the building before the man going by the alias Books, arrived?"

"Then was headed towards the back of the building, where I assume the safe was, before Books went there after her? How long was she in there before you arrived to find her 'screaming'."

"Did you see anythign else peculiar before she left, without giving her name."

[Will Whitaker]

"Yes, she was already there."

He paused for a few moments, trying to think about how long he was in there.

"There was a moment, but not more than a quarter of a minute when I heard her scream behind the door. There was a pause where I tarried slightly to check on the owner when I was given the gun. I am horrible with guns because of my big hands. Rushing in, I venture it was about half a minute before I got into the room. He was hitting the safe with his rifle when I came in, so he couldn't have reloaded it."

He heard a lot of peculiar things, but he never would have paused to put Wilma in the equation. He looked down for a moment before returning his gaze. His smile faded slightly and his eyes got serious.

"I heard a lot of peculiar things about this situation, but nothing about your daughter. I fear I may be getting much deeper into the involvement of a Duke if I do. If you think she is much more involved in this than being present, I can tell you what else I observed... but know that I do not have the skill to meddle with higher court. I will need your protection."

[Hope]

The more Will told the more Peter found himself relaxing. While his daughter had a knack for becoming embroiled in drama, it seemed that this time she was an innocent party. The oddest part of it all was that she had screamed at all, he'd thought her to posses more gumption and cooler head, and was oddly disappointed at her shrieking.

"Thank you Reverend." the man uttered then, "I dont think I need hear any more, Wilhelmina was merely unfortunate enough to be in the wrong place at the wrong moment. Nor am I interested to be meddling into Dukes affairs, whatever they might be, I have no swing at court, and that breed are a law of their own. If it was a Duke behind the burglary, and that is a shocking thought, then we are wisest to let it be. I am just relieved that it was not my daughters mischief. Now." he stood. "You wanted to assure yourself that she was all right, let me take you through to see her. That is her you can hear upon the piano."

[Will Whitaker]

When he relaxed so did the Reverend. He literally sighed relief hearing she was alright and smiled.

"Not behind it, but the man kept raving about a debt he owed a Duke. He may still be looking for his money is all. Now that it can not be paid... well... I am a little afraid he might take that out on me sometime."

He left it at that with a shrug. When told it was her on the piano, his eyes widened with an impressed gaze. She was much better than his dear friend Anne was, but considering the pressure that was put on her last year, it was no surprise. Still, he couldn't help but admire the tune.

"Incredible! ... I can't carry tune even in Church. I just make a 'joyful noise'!"

He smiled and laughed lightly, following Mr. Boyle through the study and just taking in the atmosphere. One could tell he was getting relaxed in conversation when he started using contractions. Around a fellow trader, he felt more at home than he did in other homes around England.

[Hope]

Though he was relieved that his daughter was not in more trouble, he was still a rigid sort of man. Still, he gave a bemused nod as William praised his daughters ability upon the piano. "Yes, well." Boyle himself was not one to give in to accolades upon his daughter, he was a realist, and the truth was that she was a homely and contrary woman, already 25, she was a spinster. He had well given up on ever finding her a match.

There at the piano was a thin woman with a mass of curly auburn hair drawn back as tightly as she might in an attempt to gain a tidy appearance (curls alwasy look so messy). Her expression however was serene as she played, her fingers dancing lightly upon the keyboard brining forth warm melody from the cold ivory and ebony keys. A floorboard creaked, alerting the girl to spectators, and she stopped quickly closing the lid of the piano.

"I am sorry father, I was just leaving." She knew better than to get in the middle of one of her fathers business meetings, and then she recognised who it was. "Oh, you." she blinked.

"Wilhemina, where are your manners! That is no way to address the man who saved your skin." The stern father thundered at the girl.

"Oh, I am sorry sir." she got up from her seat and dipped into a curtsy.

[Will Whitaker]

He blinked. A flinch, really, as he had not seen her face during the chaos at the bank. He paused for a moment, his brow and eyes reflecting an empathic pity. His head turned to Boyle as he yelled in a stern fashion.

"Oh, no. It is quite alright!"

His heart moved slightly as he looked to the floor for a moment before reaching behind him and pulling his ponytail loose. He raked his hair back to reveal his own pox scar on the upper side of his head. He hoped the gesture would make her feel more at ease as he tied his hair tightly behind him to make sure the mark could be seen. His own hair was very long, and hard to keep pristine. His understanding gaze returned to her as he smiled sweetly.

"I was worried. I hadn't seen you after you fled. I know I had raised my voice to you, so... I wanted to apologize, but I was afraid for your safety."

His eyes shot open for a moment. Where were his own manners?! He returned her gesture with a belated bow, keeping his eyes to hers. He slowly stood up with his trademark sheepish look. He paused for a few moments, staring at her eyes, a twinkle of respect slowly crept into his look.

"... I... suppose was silly to worry so. I was shaking myself after the encounter, I couldn't imagine what it was like for you."

Was it turning to admiration? Will himself wasn't even that certain. He was not repulsed by any sense of the word, having seen similar cases back home... sometimes worse. Still, having to deal with her loud father on top of her condition made her a stout woman, which was a rarity to him in London. His smile never left him, and he was still staring at her eyes.

[Hope]

Wilhelmina was puzzled as Will loosed his hair, and then something lit within her soul as she understood. It was more than any man had ever done for her, this silent gesture of empathy. Yet raised as she had been, she did not naturally respond with girlish gush. The self-protective shell she wore slid back over her eyes and she nodded to him and said, "I took no offence sir, the goodness that you did was far greater than any ill. You have my sincere thanks."

Her eyes flicked towards her fathr with these last words, as she looked to him for a hint of his approval. He was a hard man to please.

"That's better." Peter Boyle gruffly nodded and then turned to the Priest again. "So then, now that is settled, would you join me in a drop to warm the day."

As it seemed that William was about to leave, Mina felt a poignant regret that she had no reason to offer him to stay. Her mind scrambled, and she blurted, “I did wonder how the other lady fared? Was she all right?” He had seemed rather close to the other lady.

[Will Whitaker]

Will had noticed that slight glint. He was about to turn around to join Mr. Boyle when she blurted out to inquire more about the situation. His gaze was a little confused, but still kind. Deep inside, the priest pondered what was so strange about his own feelings.

"She was startled fairly well herself, being right next to the rifle when it went off. I had to stay and pray with her to calm her down enough to return to her Embassy."

It was then he finally realized that she didn't want him to leave right away for some reason. He turned to Mr. Boyle for a moment.

"Mr. Boyle, if I may be so bold... she still seems a little flustered on the matter. Perhaps she could join us for tea to calm her nerves?"

He turned back to Mena, looking in a concerned fashion over to her while keeping his expression away from Mr. Boyle. He winked briefly, keeping the facade of concern. Even if he said no, the Reverend wanted to leave her with the feeling that he did wish to see her again.

[Hope]

Mina nodded, and then asked, "Do you possess her name? I had wondered to perhaps contact her.."

Boyle had not been planning to drink tea, and frowned at the ludicrous suggestion. His beverages were strong coffee or Whiskey. And what was the look upon the Reverends face? Anglican Reverend, more to the point. No, this would not do."

"My daughter, Reverend Whitaker, is made of sterner stuff than you think, and not given to flusters at all. Now, I think I can see what is going on here, I am not blind. I would thank you for relieving my fears Reverend, but I would now see you to the door. And I shall make this plain to you both, you are banned from ever speaking again. I have not worked my ass off for a half century to have my daughter and a penniless Anglican reverend become entangled. I shall be obeyed on this matter!"

He was a hard man, was Peter Boyle.

[Will Whitaker]

He was a Reverend! Was he supposed to drink such things? Turning slowly to Mr. Boyle, his brow quirked at the man's temper, remaining calm through the entire ordeal. Would he be penniless if he was wearing cotton?

"Penniless, Mr. Boyle? I beg your pardon, but that was uncalled for. I come from a long line of Theologians to whom even the Catholics nod a head to and I have come to England to enhance trade between the Colonies and here. Two of my in-laws are in the tobacco trade and another is a shipwright. Back in Virginia, anyone who doesn't attend Church pays the Reverend in the head of the congregation a pound a day missed and fifty for a month."

There was a quick 'forgive me' glance to Mena before his brows furrowed. He placed his hands on his hips and faced his accuser. He tried to remain civil, but his own temper was starting to flare up with his integrity being challenged.

"I admit... my last statement was so that I could have tea with you and your daughter, but I assure you it will take more than that to even get that far, sir! Not only have I just met her, but I am a priest after all! I like her because she is a survivor! She seemed to want to continue the conversation, so I thought I would offer an alternative."

Love or hate the man, he was a man of no bullshit. His anger was starting to get the better of him, but he kept himself from yelling too much. He was still in the man's house, but he was not letting that change the fact that he was slighted.

"Church agreement or not, I actually try to be a man of God. Back home, we trade with the Puritans and even others we don't agree with in order to survive! Think you that I haven't busted my back myself? I served my militia back home as a free man to protect my own family because there is no luxury of soldiers unless you own a ship. I've carried children out of fires, killed savages to protect my family, and I've had to hold up hundreds of families after the death of their loved ones every single winter of my life!"

He took off one of his gloves to show Mr. Boyle his hands... scarred, broken knuckles, scratches.

"Do these look like the hands of a man who stays in his four walls and does nothing?! Yet I have to hide them from the repulsion of these Englishmen because I have to be 'all things to all people that I might save a few'. I didn't get coddled in some da- aaaa..."

He soured his face, taking a hand up to his angry lips. Taking a deep breath to hold his tongue from cursing, he looked to the ceiling briefly to find another proper adjective.

"... wretched university without knowing what it was like to go out and minister to the people I was supposed to! No, Mr. Boyle... I am not a penniless Anglican Reverend! I paid my bloody dues!... Your house or not, you will not accuse me of otherwise!"

[Hope]

Hot headed Boyle rose to the Reverends retorts.

"In the tobacco trade eh? What a coincidence! I'm not standing here claiming that my brothers are of your calling." he growled, believing the man to blatantly lie.

"Since when was a career in the church bound to make a man rich, what happened to storing up your treasures in heaven eh? or does the Anglican church have some other bible to follow now? Does the Anglican religion encourage parishioners not to attending so that they can make a fortune in fines." There were also fines for non attendance in England too.

"Okay." his voice boomed, "So you prove yourself to be a working man, I recognise callouses when I see them. But yours is no life I wish for my daughter."

Forgotten in all this was Wilhemina, who, Boyle now noticed, was left from the room.

[Will Whitaker]

"No, sadly, it's the farmers who have to survive over having the luxury of having time for God. You have the tavern two houses down. The only way anyone even thinks about the afterlife in Virginia is when I have to deliver our form of last rites! I'm fighting to get a real Church out there and not just my estate! If I wanted all the tobacco for myself, I would have kept it at my father's estate, God rest his soul! I learned from my father to give back to the community!"

He raised his head slightly, not moving from his position. He looked Mr. Boyle in the eye, calming down slightly as he was being grilled. It was not so much for Mena, but it was for his own integrity as Reverend Will Whitaker.

"I admit... I had seven sisters, one of them dead at the hands of savages. All of them are married off and I am close with every last one of my in-laws. Maryland with the Peony's where my younger brother is under apprenticeship, the Hamptons in Plymouth, and even with the Jenson's in New York for the grain to trade with the Puritans so those fools could get drunk off their own whiskey. Reverend Anderson married Nancy, Elisabeth married into the Potts shipbuilding, and my youngest Maddy married the brother of the Jamestown Militia Captain. Yet, even with that much dowry to pay, we were one of the wealthiest families in Jamestown. The King Phillips War has torn the Colonies asunder, and I will be staying in England until things settle down. My connections in the gentry are currently aiding me in receiving funds in order to make lives easier down there for everyone. Until I take care of my duty to God and Old Dominion, I will be honest, I will have no time to settle down. It will be unlikely that I will return to Virginia until the War settles down, so yes... I am looking for friends and allies. If I one day find a wife, Glory to God! I am smart enough to know, however, that it is a responsibility."

He took a deep breath for a moment, his temper cooling down. His hands came off his hips and his shoulders relaxed.

"Look... I have nothing against Catholics. I have met God-fearing Catholics. You are a tradesman, though, so perhaps you understand my concern when a Catholic priest tries to tell someone how to walk their marriage without being married himself. Would you ask someone to tell you to captain your ship because he had studied about it for years at a school without being at the helm once? As an Anglican I strive to be a Man of God, not a flawless saint, and that is why I will never agree with the Catholic Church as a whole. I know better not to be a Libertine and run around like some animal, yet I also know 'that a house divided amongst itself can not stand'. I like your daughter, it is true, but I will not ask for any hands until the land that I was born to minister to can worry less about survival and start appreciating God. I have my own house and estate to tend to, and I know trade here has hurt because of the War. Not only that, but the Archbishop of Canterbury was the one I reported to. Until a new one is decided, I don't know if I will be returning to Virginia or not. I could never do that to your daughter or anyone else I might consider for marriage."

His eyes rolled to the ceiling for a moment as he shrugged. He returned his gaze back to Mr. Boyle, a slight smile on his face.

"Until then... I would like to make friends with you and your daughter both. I was primed to be a preacher, thus I lack my brother's business savvy. The only way I can really help trade back home is through the contacts I make here. Once an Archbishop is decided, by then, I might make a romantic inquiry for your daughter. I know that I have to earn your respect first and foremost, and I will show you what a Colonial can do. The Anglican Church here doesn't understand that to reach the working class, you need to do more than preach. All they want me to do is to start building Churches. I understand completely why you scoff at me! However, you tell me of any Catholic priests to date who are reaching to the working class, and I will sing their praises unto God! The gentry, of course! The poor? Of course! Oh! The farmers!"

His tone got slightly mocking about his fellow Priests, in both the Catholic and Anglican Churches.

" 'Oh, we'll just have services for them so they can pay their tithes!' Phah!"

He put his glove back on and sighed, shaking his head at either Church.

"Be honest with me... would you go to a Church who gave back to everyone, and not just the poor and rich?"

[Hope]

Boyle was confused with Will's raving - they were on Grosvenor, there was no tavern two doors down. The man raved on about his family - and then finally claimed his to be one of the most wealthy families in Jamiestown. He was still on about Wilhemina.

"Enough of this. I dont know what you mean about an unmarried Catholic priest telling anyone how to wed, or what you think my trade has to do with that. But you shall not pay court to my daughter, I thought I had made that very plain. Let me spell it out for you once more."

"Now, take your heresy and leave, I shall not have anyone speak ill of the mother Church while under my roof. Now get out, before I have you thrown out."

[Will Whitaker]

The Reverend's eyes narrowed again at Boyle. He had heard about the venom and idiocy of Catholics, but now he had experienced it first hand.

"You have heathen images decorating your doorstep and you are getting angry at me for talking against the "Mother Church"? You were the one taking your tongue at the Anglicans, now that I pointed out a couple of things about your Church, you desire to kick me out? You tell me what they have done to help you and your daughter and I will speak well of them. I see little here that pays homage to Christ or your Mother Church... no this is mostly your exploits."

He put his hands behind his back... no, he couldn't handle this man as an in-law. Though he respected a hard working man, he would not put up with hypocrites, particularly when one spoke of a Church in a somewhat reverent tone.

"It's men like you that make England believe that Catholics are dangerous... I respect your hard work, Mr. Boyle, but for a man to speak of something he considers a house dedicated to God and put more pagan influence in it than Christ? I will have to ask my Catholic aquaintances about that one."

Deep down, he hated pulling that card. No, he would need a leverage point to keep from making a pivotal enemy in his early days. If he could inspire enemies from his own Church, he would have nowhere to hide. Oh, but did he now have a lot on him which could bury his trade with his collection of mystical artifacts... maybe even get an investigation for heresay. He nodded one last bow of respect before turning to walk out the door as he was instructed. Still, he had an eye in his heart for Wilhemena. Poor dear... to be around a man like that for her father.

[Hope]

"Now stop right there." Boyle fumed as this man took his words and twisted them. "I have not just decided to kick you out after you insulted my church. I asked you to leave five minutes ago, but you insist on standing there further insulting me and my my beliefs.

"Get out of my home before I call the city watch and have you dragged out."

[Will Whitaker]

"You insulted my Church under your roof first and foremost, and are telling me to stop where I am so that I can leave your house? You are raving mad..."

Will kept walking as he spoke, going out the door. He shook his head, not understanding what went wrong. He started to view Boyle as sincerely dangerous now and feared that Wilhemenia would feel the sting of violence. There had to be some investigation on this man now. With the terror of Catholics around, there might be a way to save Wilhemenia from this nightmare. The question would be whether or not he would use his Catholic ally to get insulted and use his own Church against him, or speak out in heresy with his own.

No, he would have Boyle's own Church see his pagan artifacts... he had yet to check in with Valencia.