Louis & Harry

Act I: Scene V

In the Styles house, Paul and the other serving men bring out napkins to the guests.

"Where's Potpan? Why isn't he helping us clear the table? He should be moving and scraping plates!" Paul huffs, taking away some empty glasses.

"When only one or two men have all the good manners, and even they are dirty, things are bad." One of the older serving men replies.

"Take away the stools, the sideboards, and the plates. You, good friend, save me a piece of marzipan, and if you love me, have the porter let in Susan Grindstone and Nell. Anthony and Potpan!" Paul shouts.

"Yes, boy, I'm ready." A blonde server says.

"They're looking for you in the great chamber." Paul tells him.

"We can't be in two places at once, both here and there! Cheers, boys. Be quick for a while and let the one who lives the longest take everything." The same older server says, and they rush about to finish their work.

*In the ballroom*

"Welcome, gentlemen. The ladies who don't have corns on their toes will dance with you. Ha, my ladies, which of you will refuse to dance now? Whichever of you acts shy, I'll swear she has corns. Does that hit close to home? Welcome, gentlemen. There was a time when I could wear a mask over my eyes and charm a lady by whispering a story in her ear. That time is gone, gone, gone. You are welcome gentlemen. Come on, musicians, play music." Lord Styles welcomes his guests and the music begins to swallow the room.

"Make room in the hall. Make room in the hall. Shake a leg, girls." He makes his way past some ladies to get to his servants.

"More light, you rascals. Flip over the tables and get them out of the way. And put the fire out-- it's getting too hot in here." He directs the men.

He gets interrupted by his cousin coming over. "Ah, my man, this unexpected fun feels good. No, sit down, sit down, my good Styles cousin. You and I are too old to dance. How long is it now since you and I last wore masks at a party like this?" The Lord asks, taking a seat on one of his many grand sofas.

"I swear it must be thirty years." He replies.

"What, man? It's not that long, it's not that long. It's been since Luke's wedding. Let the years fly by as fast as they like, it's only been twenty- five years since we wore masks." Styles denies.

"It's been longer, it's been longer. Luke's son is older than that, sir. He's thirty years old." His cousin laughs.

"Are you really going to tell me that? His son was a minor only two years ago." The Lord denies, and they continue a conversation away from the crowd.

On the other side of the room...

"Who is that, on the arm of that lucky knight over there?" Louis asks one of the serving men.

"I don't know, sir." He mutters, walking away quickly.

Louis stares at the dancing figure, taking in every magnificent feature. Their curly brown hair that flows elegantly down their back. And those eyes, those emerald green eyes that light up the dark room. Oh and those lips, he had never seen any sweeter. And oh, it's a boy... A beautiful boy none the less. Louis couldn't look away, mesmerized by him.

"Oh, he shows the torches how to burn bright! He stands out against the darkness like a healed earring hanging against the cheek of an African. His beauty is too good for this world; he's too beautiful to die and be buried. He outshines every other person like a white dove in the middle of a flock of Crows. When this dance is over, I'll see where he stands, and then I'll touch his hand with my rough and ugly one. Did my heart ever truly love another until this moment? My eyes were liars, then, because I never saw true beauty before tonight." Louis says to himself with an adoring sigh, leaning against a wall, never taking his eyes off of the boy.