Ambushed in the Night
Blakeney had a way of waking himself up in the middle of the night, even when he was in a sound asleep. Just before he entered that sleepy portion of dreams, when you are not sure if you are awake or asleep, he would repeat phrases in his head. "Get word to St. Cyrs." "Find out from Paul how soon more papers can be drawn up." Whatever phrase pertained to his thoughts, he would repeat it until his eyes gave in and let his brain rest. Some would call what he did obsessive torture, but he was thankful for this learned skill.
The house was quiet. It must have been about 3:30 in the morning when his blues snapped open and he bolted up in bed. Immediately his brain started the phrase he had thought before falling into dreamland. The Baronet was clad in nothing but undergarments and swung his long thin legs over the side of the mattress. Grabbing his bed robe and tying it around his waist, Blakeney quietly crept out of his bedroom and without a sound, snuck down the long hallway and over to the room where Monsieur Armand St. Just slept.
The knob turned with barely a creek, but nothing in life is without sound. He paused a moment and listened. Ah good. He could hear the little wheezing coming from the mouth of the sprout. All was well.
Tiptoeing into the room, one of his childhood toy rooms when young, he knew exactly which board he could place his foot on and which ones to avoid. Scary was the precision he was able to do this act. Years of repetitive practice builds up in memory and tonight proved that the Baronet, young child or married man, had learned well these skills.
He slowly crept down and crouched next to the sleeping Armand. His eyes were adjusting to what little light shone in the room. The moon outside was near new, but the lack of light did not matter. In these situations, Blakeney would close his eyes and let all his senses concentrate on hearing. Armand's breath came in long sighs and wheezes. A few more repetitions of this and the Baronet had pinpointed the location of his mouth. Like a rattle snake attacking its prey, Blakeney shot his hand over and wrapped it quickly over Armand's mouth. He held it there tightly, to make sure Armand did not cry out as he gently sat on the younger man's bed. As Armand struggled, he gave a soft whisper, "Shhh... it's Percy. Don't say a word. I don't need you waking up the entire household."
Armand choked and squirmed as his air supply was suddenly cut off. He jerked
up and found Percy there.
When Armand seemed to quiet and settle down, he took his hand off the
Frenchman's mouth and gave a languid yawn. "Have you seen Helene yet
today Armand? I was thinking it might be rather convenient to have
her meet us at the theatre to watch your girlfriend perform. What do
you make of that?"
His voice was jovial as if he was sitting in the middle of the
afternoon conversing and having tea with the Prince, instead of
sneaking around at 3:30 in middle of the night clad in only his
bed robe. In the darkness, he smiled as only Blakeney can when he was
executing a grand idea in his mind.
"What time is it?" Armand hissed, then looked at his clock: 3:30 He gave a
disgusted sigh. "Percy, you push it sometimes. Couldn't this have waited
until a sane hour?"
He didn't answer his questions.
Blakeney sat there and stared at the outline of the little
Frenchman. "Could it have waiting? Lord no! There is a time and a
place for everything Armand. I certainly can not ask you with risk of
your sister overhearing, now can I?" He tapped his leg and stared
out into the darkness. "Yes, there is a time and a place for
everything and the time for this conversation is now." He smiled
kindly enough, not that Armand could see it. His voice was pleasant
enough, but Blakeney was dead serious.
"All right," Armand groaned and sat up. "What is it that is so damned
important that you're up and completely awake to wake me up? Did I miss
something? Are we now sleeping during daylight?"
The soft laughter escaped his lips as Blakeney chuckled in the
darkness. "Everything I do is damn important, don't forget that
sprout. A rhyme and reason to it all." His mind raced on that
thought. He thought how he would toss and flail his arms about in
with the gaiety of Sir Percy. It always had a reason.
"Sleeping in the daylight. You are a funny one Armand. Perhaps Sir
Percy is rubbing off on you, say whot?" With barely even taking a
breath, Blakeney continued, "Now, I need for you to contact Helene.
I'll leave some money with Frank along with instructions that he is
to give it to you discretely. Make sure you pass this along to
Helene. I am talking your sister to the theatre tomorrow night.
Tonight. Whenever the next daylight breaks and the night then
falls. I would like Helene to meet us there. Run into you by
accident say? You invite her to the Manor? I think it is a rather
charming plan, no?"
"Yeah..." Armand yawned. "Really, very charming plan, Percy. Especially the
whole wake-me-up-in-the-middle-of-the-night-to-tell-me part. I love that. In
fact--" Her yawned again "-- I think you should do it more often!"
Yawn.
"I'll... figure... *yawn* something out *yawn* when I'm awake..." And he
fell back asleep.
Blakeney sat there and listened to the tired young Frenchman. He was
about to talk about another plan, but he felt Armand slowly go from
sitting, to lying back down in the bed.
"Well Sink me." He whispered softly. "I guess I will have to wake
you more often. You can be sure of that."
With that, the Baronet stood and tighten his bed robe around him.
His mind still raced with ideas and plans. He hadn't heard from Paul
D. in a while either. Hmmm. He would have to write a note soon if
one did not come by carrier.
Exiting Armand's room, not caring where he stepped, now that the task
at hand was complete, the Baronet made his way down the main foyer
steps with a soft hum. There was a midnight raiding of food to be
had. Little did he know how much past midnight it was.