The Admiral's Widow
Sep. 15th, 2019 01:52 am![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
tgarnslI've always wondered how caricaturists would have lampooned Hornblower in universe.
So I wrote something faintly slashy.
--
“Is that — oh, by George, it is,” said Bush over the marmalade. He had a piece of paper in his hands which he was studying quite intently -- it had come just that morning with a letter from a friend in London.
“What is that? Give it here,” demanded Hornblower.
“Let the captain be, dearest,” said Barbara, scribbling notations into the margins of The Ladies’ Diary.
Hornblower pulled the paper from Bush’s hands and froze when he saw the caricature before him. A woman lay on a bed, her skirts in disarray, the outline of a man’s body beside her. It was very clearly Barbara, with her dark hair and aristocratic nose, albeit cruelly drawn. Beside the bed a door was ajar, and through it looked — ah, thought Hornblower. At least they got the nose right. The caricature of Barbara had words too, unkind words: ‘I never was satisfied with just one.’ And there, peeking out from beneath the blanket was a wooden leg. Hornblower could make an educated guess who that was supposed to represent. It was captioned ‘The Modern Candaules, Or The Admiral’s Widow.’
He wanted to burn it, he realised, rising to his feet, but Barbara had caught hold of the cartoon and was examining it.
“At least they got your nose right,” said Barbara coolly, crumpling the caricature and throwing it to the floor.
“You’re not upset, my lady?” asked Bush.
Barbara’s eyes were cold. “I am furious, Captain Bush, but there is little I can do. It is libellous, but it is also art, and no doubt the so-called artist of this little piece would claim that the characters are but figments of his imagination, and thus have no bearing on reality. There is not much a court could do to prove this was a malicious attack on myself or my husband. Besides, is it not preferable that the public believe it is I who shares your bed?” There could be no answer to that: Bush and Hornblower shared a guilty look as Barbara looked on in silent satisfaction. “I thought not,” she said, picking up her pencil, and went back to her magazine.
A/N: Candaules was a king of Lydia who was so determined to prove his wife's beauty to his favourite bodyguard that he allowed the bodyguard to watch his wife undress. Here it's the 'modern' version where the Candaules in this case allows his favourite bodyguard to do a bit more than just look at his wife.
(Also Lydia.)
So I wrote something faintly slashy.
--
“Is that — oh, by George, it is,” said Bush over the marmalade. He had a piece of paper in his hands which he was studying quite intently -- it had come just that morning with a letter from a friend in London.
“What is that? Give it here,” demanded Hornblower.
“Let the captain be, dearest,” said Barbara, scribbling notations into the margins of The Ladies’ Diary.
Hornblower pulled the paper from Bush’s hands and froze when he saw the caricature before him. A woman lay on a bed, her skirts in disarray, the outline of a man’s body beside her. It was very clearly Barbara, with her dark hair and aristocratic nose, albeit cruelly drawn. Beside the bed a door was ajar, and through it looked — ah, thought Hornblower. At least they got the nose right. The caricature of Barbara had words too, unkind words: ‘I never was satisfied with just one.’ And there, peeking out from beneath the blanket was a wooden leg. Hornblower could make an educated guess who that was supposed to represent. It was captioned ‘The Modern Candaules, Or The Admiral’s Widow.’
He wanted to burn it, he realised, rising to his feet, but Barbara had caught hold of the cartoon and was examining it.
“At least they got your nose right,” said Barbara coolly, crumpling the caricature and throwing it to the floor.
“You’re not upset, my lady?” asked Bush.
Barbara’s eyes were cold. “I am furious, Captain Bush, but there is little I can do. It is libellous, but it is also art, and no doubt the so-called artist of this little piece would claim that the characters are but figments of his imagination, and thus have no bearing on reality. There is not much a court could do to prove this was a malicious attack on myself or my husband. Besides, is it not preferable that the public believe it is I who shares your bed?” There could be no answer to that: Bush and Hornblower shared a guilty look as Barbara looked on in silent satisfaction. “I thought not,” she said, picking up her pencil, and went back to her magazine.
A/N: Candaules was a king of Lydia who was so determined to prove his wife's beauty to his favourite bodyguard that he allowed the bodyguard to watch his wife undress. Here it's the 'modern' version where the Candaules in this case allows his favourite bodyguard to do a bit more than just look at his wife.
(Also Lydia.)
no subject
Date: 2019-09-15 03:45 pm (UTC)Thank you for posting this! I'm so glad I asked after it.
no subject
Date: 2019-09-15 11:54 pm (UTC)The cartoon is infuriating but not a crisis. It’s rumour, nothing more. And it’s thankfully the survivable kind of rumour - the worst thing that might happen here is everyone thinks either a) Barbara has an insatiable appetite, b) H is so unsatisfactory in bed she has to seek comfort elsewhere, or c) he’s an idiot. They do not think d) he’s the one sleeping with Bush. So it’s not a dangerous cartoon, just rude.
Yes, they ought to be extra nice to her. It’s an unfortunate fact that as a woman she would be the main target. She’ll weather it, though.
I’m glad!