As expected, it was freezing. The ice-cold chilly tub did little to take Percy's mind off what he just heard. The rumor was true. There was no escaping or hoping for it to be otherwise. He heard it from both their very lips. Percy doused water over his untied, long blonde locks and leaned forward, burying his head in his hands. Tired. He was so tired. Tired of being who he was. Tired of hiding who he became. Tired of being married already. He was taught the need to cover up his true self all his life. And for what? The sake of English Aristocracy? Was all this worth the price? As he sat in the freezing water thinking, his teeth chattered together and he rubbed at his arms.
The eyes stung as he blinked back more than just the water. He felt it coming on. That hopeless lost feeling. He felt it when his mother passed away. He felt it worse when his last remaining family, his father, passed on and left him alone in a big empty house. Just when he had started doing some good in the world, he thought he was being rewarded and blessed with Marguerite and took it as a grand sign. Now he mourned the death of his marriage. The lack of sleep allowed the hopeless feeling in. It was making him weaker and he had to bite his hand in order to fight back the sobs.
Percy shook his head and began to convince himself otherwise. "I'm tired. Just tired. Only tired. Nothing more than tired and I need some sleep...." he did a lot of talking to himself inside his head. When one is raised to be quiet and hold back, when one has no one else to turn to for love, comfort and advice, one tends to look inward to themselves.
Closing his door, Percy doused the single candle by his master bedside so no light came from under his door. He had a simple plan now on how to handle Marguerite. In an hour or so the guests would arrive. Her ladies-in-waiting on her hand and foot would be shuffling her around, doing the best job they had ever with the new wife of Sir Percy. She would not even be aware of him, he hoped. She was worried about making first impressions to his friends and worried that she, as the host, would be ready before the first single guest arrived.
The down pillow called to him and he rested his head, too tired to think anymore about what had happened and what was to come. Percy would have to forget the happiness he had for a brief moment in time. His life had always been people in and out and him alone in the end. He would force himself to accept this way of life again.
No more than a minute after his head hit the pillow, Sir Percy Blakeney, Baronet - Husband to Lady Marguerite Blakeney, fell into a deserved and needed deep sleep. The man fell into slumber with no intentions of waking up in any amount of time to get ready for the ball.
After her talk with Armand, Marguerite tried to find Percy. She felt horrible about what had happened, and especially for yelling at him just after arriving home. She got lost in the house but was pointed in the right direction by a young maid but ended up lost again. The second time a butler escorted her to Percy's quarters. Marguerite hesitantly gave a silent knock on the door, but there was no answer. Carefully, Marguerite opened the door and peered in to see Percy sound asleep in bed, taking that nap he so desperately wanted before. Marguerite slipped of her shows at the door and crept across the room. She softly laid down on the bed next to Percy and laid her head on his shoulder. She wanted to speak to him, she wanted to say she was sorry for her behavior before, but right now, she just wanted to sleep with her husband out her side.
As the hour got later and later in the day, the entire downstairs staff began to look at each other questioningly. Since Frank had been sent out, they looked to Thomas for what to do. He mentioned that he saw the ladyship hours before, leading her to Sir Percy's room, but hadn't seen her since. Soon the entire staff began calling their names. Thomas went to look for Armand, the nice young gentleman that had been staying with them. The other staff members split up. Some went outside and called in the gardens. Some took to the stable in case Sir Percy wanted to show off his fine steeds. Candice, one of the cooks, had recently had a promotion. Being the only female staff member at the time, Percy made her the official head lady to his new wife. She took a few of the newer woman staff and searched the upstairs of Blakeney Manor.
Candice lead them to quietly check Lady Blakeney's room. She had not yet met Lady Blakeney, but had heard her from the heated words of earlier. 'Poor things are tired.' she tried to rationalize, knowing full well that Sir Percy, who normally would stand his ground, did not dare speak back to his new bride.
"Lady Blakeney?" Candice called softly, knocking on her ladyships door. "Lady Blakeney? Mam?" Pushing the door open, and bringing the candle around, Marguerite had not even been in the room. Nothing was out of place or touched. Frank had done something for the master, so Candice directed the other females of her ladyship's new staff. They all started calling at once.
"Madam?" "Lady Blakeney?" "Sir Percy?" "Lady Blakeney?!" "Sir Percy?!"
Their little chorus turned up a notch when one of the younger women started calling out in the little bit of French she new. "Bonjour? Mademoiselle?" "Bonjour Lady Blakeney?" Soon the little band of women, having not the knowledge that they were calling Marguerite as an un-wed women, turned towards the quarters of Sir Percy and continued calling out in such a manner. When they saw the small female shoes outside Sir Percy's door, the smiled and giggled amongst themselves and called out more persistent and louder.
Inside the deep and richly dark depths of his room, the Baronet sleep soundly. There was a bit of peace about him, as his sleeping form felt the warmth of another and his nose took in her perfume. Percy had no idea he had a visitor as he slept, and slowly, his sleep was disturbed from the calls of annoying sounds from the main hallway.
Marguerite heard slight noises calling out to her in the darkness. Strange voices calling out her name. Still in a state of half sleep half awake, she tried to shut them out and hope to fall back into peaceful slumber
He snorted and shot up in bed, one hand clenched tightly in a fist at his side. His eyes went wide and wild trying to take in his surroundings. The room was pitch black and he felt a stir next to him in the bed. Reaching down, his hand struck out like a cobra and grabbed in the darkness at whatever was next to him.
As the mix of French and English words started to make sense to his awakening brain, Sir Percy realized he had his fingers tightly wrapped around a soft wrist.
Marguerite let out a muffled cry as something painfully grabbed onto her arm. As instinct she instantly sat up and tried to pull away. She looked in the direction of her wrist but her eyes had not yet adjusted to the poor light and all she saw was darkness.
"Good Lord!" His wits were coming about him now, hearing Marguerite's soft cry and feeling the tender fingers pull out of his grasp. He quickly leaned over and fumbling, with the nearest candle and flint. Finally, the demmed thing lit and Percy stood up, looking at his bride fully dressed, looking like a spooked horse.
The annoying chorus still continued outside and the decision on which to deal with was as simple as if someone had asked Percy if he wanted to have a teaspoon of sugar or a teaspoon of castor oil. He crossed his room and flung open the door, his hair wildly draped around his face.
"She's in here ladies!" He put on his smile and closed the door partly, turning to face Marguerite. "My God you scared the living daylights out of me... not that there was any daylight to begin with in my dreadfully dark room. Marguerite! You looked simply paled!"
Percy leaned back to regard her and continued on his little verbal outburst. "Please darling! Come meet Candice and the rest. They have been dying to meet you. Damn nap interrupted by this little visit, as ladies take longer to get ready I'm told."
Percy gave a loud and obnoxious yawn and covered his mouth. "My goodness! Come Marguerite. Do not stay there like an old hat, let's get a moving. Chop chop." He clapped his hands and smiled at her, reaching across the bedside with his hand to help pull her up. Outside, Candice and the rest heard him and giggled, waiting to meet her ladyship.<
Marguerite hopped up off the bed, clutching her recently released wrist, which was now slightly throbbing with pain, "No, no Percy, please, I need to speak with you before we must prepare for the ball."
Percy let out a long sigh and looked tiredly at his ladyship. "What is it you need Lady Blakeney?" He did not mean to sound as annoyed as he was.... he still was tired and really was not happy to see her in his room. He gave a thin little smile, at least trying to appear still chipper. Damn. He wanted her out of his room and his ice blue eyes stared at her with this intent.
Marguerite swallowed hard and paused. Percy seemed so cold now, maybe he was still tired. Still clutching her aching rests, she softly began, "I want to say I was sorry about what happened. . . "
"What happened? What do you mean 'about what happened'? Your beloved brother crying in my foyer? His miss at giving me back the handkerchief?" His thin lips moved into a little larger smile and he moved over near the door.
"I dare say Lady Blakeney, think nothing of it. People do what they do." He put his hand on the doorknob and glanced back at her. "Now then, shall we let these anxious ladies get you ready?"
"I wanted to apologize for my actions Percy, but I see you seem to care nothing of it, or of me today." Marguerite winced at the pain in her wrist which was now beginning to swell. She glanced down and even in the dim candlelight she could she it had turned a dark red. "Now if you'll excuse me, which, given your current manner towards me today, not doubt you will, I must go get ready to meet your guest. As for the ladies they can busy themselves elsewhere. I am a grown woman and perfectly capable of dressing myself."
He glanced down when she did, seeing her wrist turning red. Her words were finally music to his ears. She was leaving him alone.
"Lady Blakeney..." he started, not even believing himself he was stopping her, even if only for a moment. She turned with that look in her eye. Maybe she hoped he would say something nice or maybe she expected his next action.
Percy clicked his heels together, standing there in his richly ornate day robe and bowed to her. "Forgive me for your wrist there my lady. I would never harm to your person. As for the ladies outside, I doubt they will leave you alone. They are quite excited to host you and perhaps they can find a bracelet or two to help cover up..." his eyes glanced at her reddening wrist. "Well, that. Forgive my milady and you are excused to get ready as you wish."
He straightened his tall lanky form and gave her a sheepish smile that showed in his eyes he had not meant to hurt her.
Marguerite could not bear to look at him in the eyes, "I wish not be excused from your quarters, my husband." She turned and in a painfully slow manner, begin towards to door of Percy's room. More then anything right now she just wanted Percy to be there, to listen to her apology and tell her everything was alright; to nurse her wound instead of hoping the hired help could disguise it; to feel his arms wrapped safely around her around her again instead of showing a cold disposition.
A knot formed in his throat. Her swelling wrist only made him want to kiss it. Her distraught face, he only wanted to comfort it. Percy did nothing as she turned and walked away. Her words bit into him sharper than the swiftest blade. This was not the marriage he envisioned. He had not been given the chance to be the husband always pictured in his head.
The young ladies followed Marguerite, and Candice lingered behind to look from the Baronet to where Marguerite went. Waving her over, he shook his head and sighed. "Life's funny when you are in love Candice my dear. Please, I have done the most unthinkable thing... Would you, Candice, please? Go and prepare some of your wonderful remedy lotion and massage it gently into mine lady's hand? An accident has occurred and I am such the fool with words at the moment. Please bid my apologies to the lady, and tell her I will see her when the guests arrive."
Candice left to do as instructed, to comfort the new wife of Sir Percy and deliver his sorrowed words.
Marguerite silently left Percy's room only to be confronted by the stares of several pairs of curious eyes. Marguerite held her injured wrist behind her back and nodded to the girls and meant to head of to her room when she realized she did not know which room was hers. "Would one of you be so kind to show me to my room please?" she asked, and unrepentantly, all of the girls walked with her, one leading the way, the others following at what the English must consider a respectable distance. Being follow by such a group made Marguerite very nervous. She entered into the room to see that a gown had already been laid out for her. She meant to tell the other girls that they may go, but they all seemed so excited to see her and fuss over her, she couldn't. Imagine that, she thought to herself, being happy to wait on someone, especially someone you did not know and possibly might not even like.
The balls of his past were gallant affairs, much like the ball of tonight would be. Percy knew it was his social duty to put on such things. He never got excited over them. He never cared one way or another. It was another reason to be with friends and show off his wardrobe to high society. Percy was actually looking forward to tonight's ball however. He was supposed to be proud, showing off his beautiful wife. He was finally married and she was witty and clever. He had a new waistcoat made just for the occasion, done in a light tan trimmed with patches of dark brown and black. The dress for Marguerite was similar in color theme, but Percy had it made to bring out the best of her features. A small thread of soft reddened lace trimmed the entire dress, to mimic her hair and flush cheeks.
Alone in his room, he had planned on sleeping until the damn affair started, but now he was wide awake. He felt awful about what he had done to Marguerite's wrist. He had no idea where he was and he certainly had not gotten used to waking up next to someone. Percy never would harm a female. Never would he unless they were pointing a pistol to his forehead, would he even think of such a thing.
Sir Percy dressed slowly, glancing in the mirror to make sure every lapel and collar was tucked and flattened. He turned and fanned out his waistcoat tails. Taking the brush, he hurriedly raked out the waves that were caused by falling asleep with wet hair. A little bit of hair wax mixed in gave the smoothed look that was acceptable to him. He used one of the large ornate bows and fastened his hair in the back. Standing back, he thought with the exception of his more than average tired eyes, he hadn't looked better in all his life.
A sigh escaped his lips and he felt that hopeless feeling creep in again when he played over in his head the St. Cyr's situation and his wife's treacherous part in it. He had hurt her delicate wrist. Oh, what a position to be in! To want to help those he did not know, yet could not comfort his own spy of a wife.
Marguerite sighed as the other young women scurried around her, putting her into her dress, doing up her hair and make-up, and helping her with her shoes. The whole time Marguerite sat there passively, wishing Percy had not let her leave.
During all of the scurrying, one woman came in and delivered a message from Percy, sending his apologies and told her to take care of her hand. Marguerite just nodded as the girl rubbed some lotion of some sort into her still swelling hand. Her sleeve did not even fit properly over her wrist because it had swollen so. The lotion had lessened the pain and the swelling had stopped getting worse. Hopefully soon it would begin to
lessen.
Grabbing his black cane, Percy powdered down his hair a little for the finishing touches and left his room. His eyes glanced down the long hallway to where he could see many pairs of feet moving about from under the door in Marguerite's room. Heading down the stairs, Percy left the front doors, thinking of Andrew and Tony. At least tonight he hoped he would see Tony and try and soothe his own mind.
Entering the garden, Percy found a white rose and plucked it free of the others. He smelled it, closing his eyes. Heading back towards the house, he stood downstairs in the card room and waited for her. Even a man numbed can feel compassion; so Percy waited for his vixen bride to appear, to offer her the white rose in hopes she would forgive his abrupt reflexes and not think him an evil man.
Marguerite quietly made her way to the top of the staircase, alone save for one of the girls that led the way down the hall. She glanced down to see Percy standing by himself in a room just inside the foyer. With a gentle wave of her hand she wished the girl away and slowly, carefully made her way down to the bottom of the stairs.
He had taken great care in wrapping the bottom stem of the rose in lace and tying it with a single tan ribbon that matched the cloth their outfits were made of. Sir Percy was not sure what was emerging. He knew he had been simply awful to her, and now that he had given her physical harm.... well... no gentleman he knew of ever did that.
While he stood alone in the room, Percy nervously tapped against his leg and paced slightly. He still felt worn down from the ever growing lack of sleep. While he was thankful for the few hours he got, they did not make up for the majority of sleep lost.
He began to doubt himself while waiting there alone. Perhaps Marguerite had a reason for doing what he overheard. If he left early enough tomorrow, he could go himself to France and find the St. Cyr and free the family. Surely he could try and be more civil tonight to her. He had loved her once. If he could free St. Cyrs, well, maybe he could love her again. Find out what came to be and why Marguerite would want St. Cyrs to stay in France.
He heard the sharp clicking of heels on the steps going down to the foyer. Sir Percy turned around to see the vision he had been waiting for, which could seem, all his life. His mouth gapped open a little and his heart blood pumped. Sir Percy Blakeney's wife looked stunning.
Marguerite could see more and more of her husband as she furthered her way down the stairs. She was hoping now after being rested and recovering from the fright they had both suffered before he would speak to her. Her hand was beginning to feel much better now, and she felt sorry for not having properly apologize earlier and for the manner in which she left his room. But as she made her way to the room where she had seen Percy, she heard another voice calling.
It was Marguerite, looking quite magnifique and stunning. "Margot!" Armand exclaimed, delighted. "Do you remember Axelia Mulheim from the Comedie Franais?"
Margot was startled by Armand's calls and shocked to see Axelia there, but right now not even Armand could take her thoughts away from Percy. "Why yes of course, what a surprise to see you here in England! You must join us tonight, but for now you must excuse me, there is something I must do." She went to leave the pair but not before fussing over Armand. "Now Armand, the guests are beginning to arrive, go to your room and clean yourself up and get ready. Oh, find one of the girls and have them help Mlle Axelia if she needs anything, I'm sure they will help her"
Percy slowly brought around his arm, his hand, covered in the tan glove, was bearing the white rose he had plucked and laced from his garden. His eyes glanced over near the main foyer door where his servants had begun to show the signs of receiving the guests.
Percy heard Armand before he saw him, as his eyes were glancing upward, locked on beauty coming down the staircase. He looked at Armand and saw both Marguerite's and Armand's face light up in their excited way whenever they encountered each other.... again, sharing a private bond that would never include him.
He wasn't sure why, but he was feeling more and more foolish. Here he was again, doubting which road to take. Love his wife and free the Cyrs? Hate his wife and live miserably? It would appear that trying to care for Marguerite as a husband was the best route.
Percy stood back in the doorway to the adjourning room. The hand holding the rose slowly moved down to his side as he witnessed the guests coming in and greeting one another. Servants started moving back and forth from the rooms with articles of clothing and trays of wine and cheese. His eyes scanned across the mass of people filtering in. He was looking for Marguerite now that she seemed engulfed amongst the crowd.
Not being much of a host at the moment, Percy's face held a lost look. He tried to make eye contact with Marguerite. The rose dangled in his hand and his eyes held a feeling of being utterly lost.
Marguerite carefully made her way across the marble floor of the foyer to the room where she saw Percy standing. The foyer was already beginning to fill with Percy's guest, but Marguerite did not know any of them. She noticed one or two people glancing her over, but she doubted any of them knew she was the new lady of the house. After working her way through the crowd, she entered the room where her husband was and gently closed the door so they might she a few moments together. She smiled shyly at her husband, who had rarely looked more handsome then now. There was an odd and awkward silence for a moment, she was hoping he would break it first.
Making final eye contact with her, Sir Percy found himself looking at her in a way he hadn't felt since he heard that blasted rumor three long days before. "So the rumor is true" he thought. "There is yet time to rescue St. Cyr." After his next most urgent task was complete, Percy could investigate was going on with Marguerite.
They both stood there, Percy still dangled the white rose at his side. His throat felt dry, but he convinced himself to speak. "Lady Blakeney" he started, "You do look such the splendor this eve." He moved nearer to her and gently took hold of her injured hand. He looked it over and it appeared Candice's remedy had already begun working its charm. Stooping the six feet of Baronet over, Percy brought his lips to her fingertips and kissed them tenderly. With barely a touch, he ran the soft petals of the rose along the side of Lady Blakeney's wrist.
He stepped back and meet her eyes. "I do hope you will forgive my actions of a boar earlier. Strictly an accident, as I could never move a hair out of place on your lovely head, no more than I could ever bring you harm." Lunging forward slowly, Percy bowed to Marguerite, wrapping his left arm around his midsection. The right arm was brought up and straight out. It was in this manner that he offered the single flower to his wife.
Marguerite smiled and took the rose in one hand, and held onto his hand with the other. "Oh my dear Percy, I know you were not expecting me to be there, I must have gave you a bit of a start. Truly, I am the one to apologize. I am sorry for my outburst before. You know that for many years Armand has been the only family I have had. I raised him from a young child until now and as you can tell I am very protective of him. Even here in England, we are not safe from all the pain the guillotine brings. To see him upset like that, it just troubles me so. I understand if there is nothing you can do, I will gently explain it to him, but please pardon my outburst." Marguerite, relived to finally be able to tell Percy how she felt smiled gaily at her husband and gave his hand a warm, gentle squeeze, hoping he would accept and that they might have a pleasant evening together.
He smiled. There relationship was not one of "I love yous" or any swooning. Percy was attracted to Marguerite's sharp wit and fast words. To say he was a compassionate man would be to say the truth. However, he was also striving every moment to uphold the ideals instilled into his brain since a youth. Always be the English gentleman. Emotional displays were not part of the game. So Percy never said those words to Marguerite. Even when they wed, he did not swoon over her as much as he could.
"Yours is none to pardon Lady Blakeney. Let us not think of turbulent times. The guests are here and I swear, I can hear a few familiar voices asking our whereabouts." With that, he offered his arm to her and gestured to the closed doors.
Marguerite smiled and gently ran her hand over Percy's arm, but before taking it to be escorted out, she stepped closer to him. Looking up into Percy's sparkling eyes, Marguerite brushed her hand along the side of his smooth face and pressed her lips against Percy's cheek. "I love you so much. Being with you is the best thing that has ever happened to me." Not accustomed to such declarations of emotions, Marguerite felt tears once more, but this time, tears of happiness.
Percy gave a bit of an uncomfortable smile at Marguerite's words. He could not say the words back and could not even be sure had he said them, if there were true. Her secrets that he had thought about so much in the past three days had been beaten to the ground. How could he possible love someone he was not sure he trusted? What did it mean, anyway, to truly love?
The only person in his life to say those words were his mother. He was just a small sun-tanned, white-headed young thing, running around playing pirates on his father's ship. Sir Percy's memory wandered down boyhood lane and for a moment, he stood there in front of Marguerite, his eyes became about as distant as orbs could be.
~
The year was 1768 and the boy who would grow into Marguerite St. Just's husband was a strapping lad of eight. Having been on the open sea since age two, Percy Blakeney would act out fight scenes on the ship, running around like the small energetic terror that most boys his age were. Having only himself to play with, he took on all parts of his games and acted out all the roles.
"Take that!" his high pitched voice would call out in French as he hailed his 'weapon' around. "Your have stolen the King's jewels and you English friends will return it or I will cut off your thieving hands!"
Young Percy began swinging around the makeshift wooden sword he used for fencing practice. His father, who encouraged Percy to learn the languages of the places they had been, would watch his son from afar as he steered the ship. On most days, Lady Blakeney, Percy's mother, would sit on deck in her chair, a shawl draped about her shoulders and a blanket around her lap. She rarely spoke to Percy or his father. She barely seemed aware of the world happening around her.
It was on this calmed open sea in May when Percy continued one of his many pirate games. He ran rapidly around the ship, his tutor not due on board for another hour yet. He played out both parts aloud, speaking back and forth in perfect English and French. "We will get you prigs! Return the gold!" the high pitched French sounded out.
"No! We surrender our flag! Don't kill us!" Percy muffled the voices in English, pointing his weapon at the "enemy", a barrel of ale.
"Too bad! You die!" The French words escaped his little lips and the white haired, tan boy thrust his wooden weapon into the barrel many times.
"PERCY!" The sound of the voice made his blood curl and the little lad turned his head to see his mother sitting in her chair, her fists balled up at her side. "Come now!"
The small head cowered a little and reluctantly, the boy went to his mother's side, putting a hand on the armrest of the chair. His mother took a hold of his shoulders and shook him. "What is the matter with you!? Denouncing England like this!? If we were back home they would hate you for what they would hear! You must never do this again! Do you hear me Percy?! NEVER!"
The hot tears streamed down the boy's cheeks as the wooden weapon fell out of his hands from being shaken. His mother, who was half mad took out her handkerchief and pressed it not so gently on his cheeks, wiping the tears away from his blue orbs. "You must grow up so others see you how you should be seen. In England, gentlemen do not cry Percy! Stop it this instant!"
The small boy choked back his sobs and his body shook when she suddenly pulled him forward in her arms and grabbed him tightly in a hug. Tenderness filled her voice, very different from the tone she just took as she stroked his hair, petting it down. "I love you Percy! You must always be smart! I love you so much......"
~
Sir Percy Blakeney, Bart. took in a deep breath as the memory flashed before his mind in a matter of seconds. He glanced down at Marguerite, her words echoing in his ears. "I love you so much...." The Baronet wondered if this was how love was for everyone. One minute harsh words and pain. The next minute, tenderness and confusion.
"Your kind words are more than I deserve Lady Blakeney." Percy smiled a little, the signs of his discomfort apparent in his hesitant moves and words. He pulled out his handkerchief and dabbed at the tears that fell down her perfect cheeks. He gave a nice, yet uncomfortable smile. Sir Percy reached for the door knob and pulled it back quickly, before Marguerite could stop him. "Let us greet our guests, for your beauty and charm deserves to be shown off for all to see." With that, Percy took her hand and started to lead her into the foyer.
Marguerite smiled as Percy held her hand and lead her to the doorway. This was the one part of the last week that she had been dreading most - her formal introduction into English high society. What would they think of her, after all she was working class, an actress, and French! While she had already meet a few of Percy's friends, most of the English aristocracy, including the Prince, had been invited to attend this evenings gala. Before entering the foyer, Marguerite asked her husband, "Percy, in England is it custom for married people to address husband or wife by their title rather then their name?" Marguerite had noticed Percy had addressed her several times as Lady Blakeney, and did not want to refer to him as Percy is the English thought it bad manners.
”Ha! Madame!" With the doors open, Percy put on his good natured smile and gave a floppy laugh. " 'Sir Percy' would be most acceptable." His eyes scanned over the filling foyer. He knew Ffoulkes would still be in France, as Frank the valet had gone over earlier in the day to meet him. Percy saw Armand, Tony, Hastings, Frederick, a few other familiar faces and many lady guests that he did not know. Leading the beautiful Marguerite nearer to them, he smiled.
"Lud! Whoever do I hear through mine own doors calling me fashionably late?"
Edward Hastings stares minutely at himself in the mirror. Remembering he would be finding himself, moments from now, in the presence of many single ladies, he had decided to be very thorough in his self examination. "Lud, but I look dashing in blue!"
This ball Percy was throwing was indeed a welcomed event. A chance for him to mingle among both men and women, and to relax, and let his mind wander from business to pleasure. That thought entering his mind, he walked briskly to his full length mirror, to get a better look at his outfit, and to keep his mind off such dreary remembrances. His costume for this night, as most of his other costumes were as well, was French. "Only the best of course, Hastings," he reminded himself, smoothing out a crease some. The navy blue French satin was perfectly cut, and flattered his broad, strong frame quite nicely. He was always astonished by the perfection of French fashion, despite their terribly horrid habits of treason and execution, which, as of late, have become most popular. After examining the coat further from two other angles, he reached for his hat, just as a servant arrived to announce the preparation of his carriage was complete. Taking hold of a pair of white gloves, and his hat again, Hastings nodded a thank you to the servant before descending down the stairs. He could not help but dream, as he stepped swiftly up onto the drivers block, of the ladies he would see that evening. Among those dreams, he secretly wished that perhaps one would be present that would make him as happy as Marguerite had made Percy. Idealizing over his perfect lady, he set forth toward Blakeney Manor, with high hopes and a dashing smile.
Having taken the most scenic route to Blakeney Manor, Edward Hastings was most relaxed upon reaching the large estate. Having departed of his carriage, he was quick to spot Frederick and walked briskly over to him, strangely in high spirits and full of good humor. "Frederick, my friend, why are you lingering about outside? Don't you know all the ladies prefer the warm air of the dancing hall to the fridged evening air? And I'm sure there are two charming ladies inside just waiting for charming men like us to sweep them off their feet. By God, Percy cannot be the only man alive that can so quickly woo a lady, and I intend to prove it." He laughs gaily and ushers Frederick inside, eager to scan the crowd of guests. His face falls slightly when he realizes he's just on time and that many of the guests won't arrive til a little later. "I assure you my friend, there is a lady out there somewhere, who is ready and waiting to fall desperately in love with yours truly. And I intend to be there to ease her fall."
As Edward scanned the room for ladies, Frederick looked for his host and hostess. Gad, it wasn't that he actually wanted to *see* them, but he'd rather say hello under his own terms...now, that was silly, he told himself. It was just his nerves acting up. He thought he saw them up the staircase a ways, but they disappeared again. Finally he shrugged, wondering why he was so uptight.
Just then he noticed Anthony Dewhurst entering the hall, just arrived. Placing one large hand on Edward's shoulder to get his attention, he raised the other in greeting to his friend.
He looked at his friend, a positively glowing expression creeping over his features. He hadn't caught the sarcasm in his friends voice, and even if he had, he probably wouldn't have taken it to heart at all. The thought of ladies lining up to share a moment with him danced in his mind and a rather goofy grin spreads over his lips as he continues to scan the small, but growing crowd. "It seems our host and hostess are doing a grand job of keeping themselves well hidden..."
Just then, Frederick's hand falls onto his shoulder, giving him a start of surprise. "What?" He spins around quickly, expecting to see some ravishingly beautiful woman that he could fall feet over head for. Instead, slightly disappointed, he sees his friend Tony Dewhurst. "Dewhurst!" Momentarily breaking away from his lady search, he waves to his friend, then wanders over to Dewhurst for a brief conversation. The plan is both to keep himself from looking desperately single, and secondly, Dewhurst is closer to the door, giving him a clear view of all the new guests that arrive. "Good evening Dewhurst, how goes it?" He smiles good naturedly at his friend, then arches his neck some to get a better look at the door, all while waiting for a response.
Frederick followed Hastings over and nodded to Tony with a smile. Any casual observer would have marked the difference in the two friends: Edward, young, dashing, energetic; his walk gallant and his coat of a brilliant blue in the latest fashion. And Frederick, older, careworn, serious and stolid; following gracelessly like a shadow in his dark and severe-looking formal clothes.
"Thank goodness you've arrived Tony. Our friend Frederick has been trying to discourage me in my endeavor to find the lady of my dreams. But now that you are here, I insist you help me in my search. Provided, of course, you do not spot some lovely creature and then slink away to steal her for yourself." Grins playfully and continues his search.
"Edward is thoroughly convinced that he is a veritable magnet for every eligible lady on this side of the Atlantic," Frederick commented dryly. "I beg you to talk some sense into him, Tony."
Turns on Frederick, grinning slyly. "You're only jealous that you haven't the good looks and wonderful sense of fashion that I have, Frederick. Perhaps if you did, your words would be quite different."
"Fortunately, *my* words always reflect reality," murmured Frederick, the playful tone of his voice making the comment a tease rather than an insult.
He laughs again and shakes his head "I have no desire to have any sense talked into me this evening. I am out, simply, to have a good time and to dance with as many ladies as I wish.”
"I suddenly find myself feeling sorry for the poor ladies," Frederick answered sardonically. "Come, Tony. Let's leave our gallant friend to his sport and see if we can't find our host and snag him into a quick card game before the festivities begin."
If there was one thing Frederick liked doing with Percy, it was playing cards. Although not very good at hunting and most other sports, Frederick was an excellent--and quite competitive--card player. He enjoyed testing his skills against Sir Percy, well known as one of the best card players in England. It was a small victory every time he won a game.
He frowns greatly. Dewhurst and Frederick departing would leave him to look stranded and pathetic, rather than gallantly involved in striking conversation, which is what the ladies quite adored, he believed. Because of this, he was forced to follow them instead. "Come now, let me tag along. I suppose I should greet the host and hostess before wooing one of their unsuspecting guests. Besides. Perhaps Lady Blakeney could give me a hint or two on a few of them..."
Frederick stopped in his tracks and turned toward Hastings, his mouth open. "What? What's this? The Cassio of London asking for tips on *women*?" He shook his head, pretending to be horrified. "And from Lady Blakeney, no less. Gad! You'd better watch yourself, fellow, or Percy will grow jealous and become your Othello."
He laughs gaily. "He, my Othello? Gads man, I intend to find my own lady! And she shall be far more radiant than even Lady Blakeney." He grins contentedly at the beautiful image forming in his mind.
"And furthermore, Frederick, I ask not for tips, but for names!"
This concept was very agreeable to him, and now he moved a slight bit quicker "Well, where are they?"
Frederick glanced around again, rather impatiently this time, but the Blakeneys had yet to make their appearance. "There's Frank. Shall we ask him when to expect our host and hostess? I daresay that Percy is trying to start a new fashion by being late to his own ball."
Tony gave a surprised look to Percy, "Calling you names?" He tried an innocent look, then pointed an accusing finger good naturedly at Fredrick. "That, dear friend, was Fredrick! I shall have nothing to do with such comments."
He eyed his friends and then looked to his bride. To say he was completely proud of his catch would not be true on this night. The black curtain still draped around his confused mind, but Sir Percy was a man with many talents and tonight he used his ability to suppress those feelings that might show through and become known.
His eyes held his famed lazy expression and he moved Marguerite out in front of him for display. "Lord Tony, you young fool. Stop swooning over women and come give proper greetings to Lady Blakeney."
Ah! He comes at last! I regret, I must take the blame, rather than Tony. It is I who has been swooning over the ladies, or rather, the idea of the ladies that hopefully will be present soon." With the air of a gentlemen, he retrieved Marguerite's hand and placed upon it a light kiss, then flashed her a charming smile. "Lady Blakeney, you are looking more beautiful, than I recall." He nodded a polite hello to Percy. "Demn you Blakeney. Until you saw fit to show yourself, I had been the best dressed here." As if to emphasize his words, he gives his clothes a quick swipe of the hand to smooth out some threatening wrinkles which, fortunately, were not present just yet. All the while his charming and playfully smile never leaving his lips.
"Fredrick, eh? Tis a remarkable thing you say within a host's earshot. No doubt I should have known it come from his quick tongue." Percy smiled at Hastings. "Too bad for you sir that your business does not take you to the extremes of this great Europe of ours. Why, to look at you, one would think you never left London for your attire."
"I must ask the two of you, as you no doubt created the guest list, that you ease my poor nerves. Reassure me that there shall be single ladies present to keep your old friend Hastings entertained for lengths of time. Of course, none shall possess quite the beauty of Lady Blakeney..." He grins again. "Methinks you did wrong in marrying Sir Percy, when you could have had a strapping gent like me instead!" He laughed gaily, in heart believing the two to be right for each other. "Since I have not yet had the chance, I congratulate the both of you one the wedding, and curse you only that I was not invited. Bridesmaids have a beauty all their own, what?" He laughs again and at the remembrance of possible ladies, he turns quickly to gaze at the door expectantly for a few moments.
Percy glanced over at Marguerite and gave a more relaxed smile. Amongst his friends, especially the mental reassurance of Tony present, he was beginning to feel about as normal as a man in his position can. "Me thinks you would be wise to not entice your tongue like Frederick, Hastings old boy. If the poor ladies knew you inside and out like I do, why, not a one would dare accept your approach!" Percy gave out his witty laugh and tossed his head back, mouth wide. "I've started a demmed plague among you single gentlemen! Now that Marguerite has captured me and denounced my once happy bachelor life, how can I ever rescue you?"
Lord Tony stood taller, trying his best to look the gentleman he really was, and took Marguerite's fingers to his lips with a very picturesque bow. "Lady Blakeney, what a pleasure to see you again! My apologies for interrupting your stay at the inn.."
Marguerite smiled back at her husband, "Well my dear Percy, if even you can manage to successfully attract a wife I see no reason why all of your friends are not capable of the same." Marguerite gave her husband's arm a slight reassuring squeeze. "Well, Sir Percy, I do not believe I have been formally introduced to all of your friend. Do you care to do the honors or shall I have to fend for myself in discovering who each of these handsome gentleman are?"
"Bah! Are you in need of my spy glass Lady Blakeney? Handsome gentlemen? I do say! I may have to walk around the grounds to find you some of those to introduce to." He gave out his inane laugh again, smiling right at the group of men before them. "Of course, I can always offer a mirror to my lady and stand just slightly behind it, if that satisfies. Gentlemen, for your eyes only, please meet the newest member to England's fine society, my wife, Marguerite."
"Lady Blakeney, you have already meet Lord Tony. Allow me to introduce you to Lord Hastings and Lord Frederick. Lord Frederick has a nasty wicked way about his tongue Lady Blakeney. I'm sure however he is not match for the likes of you."
"Well, having spent the much of the last seven weeks with you, Sir Percy, I'm afraid my tongue is slightly out of practice when it comes to verbal wickedness." Marguerite gave a slight curtsy to the two gentleman, "I am very pleased to make your acquaintance gentlemen, as I am glad to see you again Lord Dewhurst. You must forgive my quick departure in the inn last night." Marguerite nearly bit her lip at the mention of the night before in the inn, and did all she could to maintain a smile, but then she looked into her husband's bright eyes and his soft smile, and all of her troubles and worries from the night before were forgotten.
Releasing his friends from his grasp, Tony brought his hands to his cravat to straighten it, and furrowed his brow. "I, on the other hand, must say," He paused, put his finger to the side of his mouth, supporting his elbow with his other hand, seeming to think. All of a sudden he came to a conclusion and straightened his posture. "Yes, indeed I must say that I am quite perfect."
"Quite perfect indeed" He spoke quietly in response to Lord Tony, but his eyes were indication the true intent on which his words did fall: His wife. Percy smiled hearing Marguerite being so charming. So perfect. It made his heart beat a little faster. Yes, all would be well and good soon enough. Sir Percy knew he could make right of all this. He would implore Lord Tony's help. Perhaps Frederick and Hastings too if they were game. Unbeknownst to him, Ffoulkes was already involved and knowing Andrew, he would be up for a good sport. Yes... soon all would be well. Marguerite continued chatting with some of Percy's friends. While he had taken a step back from her, Marguerite saw how his eyes were following her and how he smiled. Things were just as they were a few days ago: peaceful and blissfully happy. The foyer had been transformed even from a few hours earlier and was now filled with fresh flowers; people dressed in extravagant clothes, although none more extravagant then the clothing worn my herself and Percy; and the smells of the feast busily being prepared for the evening. Marguerite at one point turned and gave her husband a smile and playful wink; happiness once more.
Seeing her wink, it did not occur to Percy that Marguerite was teasing him in her normal witty matter by saying she had no need of using her utmost wit and tongue against his slow intellect. No matter, his mind was occupied on other things that had him at ends. His eyes found comfort in Marguerite's wink, feeling as if he had just spoken to her for the first time back in France. The comfortable ease in which she carried herself, the presence of friends, the smell of orange-sauce goose... it made him relax.
His attention was brought elsewhere quickly, hearing the servants become excited as they started bustling and gossiping amongst themselves. Sir Percy glanced at one of Lady Blakeney's ladies in waiting as she near fainted speaking so quickly about the arrival of George III, the Prince of Wales. Percy had to laugh a little as he moved off to the side to watch the entire household seem in an organized disarray. Percy had been friends with the Prince for a very long time and to him, he was just another man.
Marguerite had been lost a bit in conversation until she noticed that Percy was no longer at her side. She glanced about and noticed a number of people, who she assumed to be servants, hustling about. She excused herself from the guests to find her husband, all the while scanning the room to try and spot Armand as well. When she finally reached Percy, she asked, "Percy what is going on? Why is everyone suddenly rushing about so?"
Well, it would appear my dear that I forget that while I have been to London on many an occasion, this is the first time the household has ever been in the presence of our future King."
Percy strained himself taller than normal, looking above the crowd to see the fancy six teamed white horses pulling up to the front of the manor. He smiled and shook his head. The Prince of Wales never left anything to be desired. Luckily, the Baronet always keep his ear to the fashion ground to ensure he could stand out, not with title, but style.
"The future King? You mean the Prince is coming here? To the ball?" Marguerite was shocked by this news. She knew Percy had many friends among the upper class of England and he had mentioned the prince before, but she did not expect the prince to be present tonight.
Marguerite was unsure how to take the events of the night, and the announcement of the prince attending just added to a small but growing feeling of guilt inside her. For years in France she supported the ideas of brotherhood and freedom and putting an end to the monarchy and the aristocracy was part of that. Now she was married to the richest man in England, surrounded by nearly all of England's high society, and about to be in the presence of the Prince of Wales. Of course, she reasoned with herself, this is England and that was France, they were very different indeed.
Marguerite took Percy's arm and whispered to him, "Why didn't you tell me the Prince was to attend?"
Percy glanced down at her small form. "The great French actress is not nervous I hope. Lud! Wouldn't that just be a charming thing?" He smiled broadly at her. "Madame, if I failed to mention the Prince, tis probably I failed to mention anyone. One can not run off and get married, plan a ball, invite the people and have proper attire of splendor dress and inform you of all the details. I swear my mind must be slipping on the most intimate details you crave."
Percy glanced into Marguerite's eyes and swore he saw a look of contemptment. Or perhaps of the same hero worship the other women always held when in the presence of the Prince. "Take care, Madame." He chuffed, "He's only a man after all."
Marguerite drew in a deep breath and held onto both of Percy's gloved hands in her own. "I do not mean to be nervous Percy, but all of this, grand balls, the lavish halls, meeting with royalty, this is all very new to me, and very different from my life in Paris." Marguerite gave a slight sigh, "I suppose being on the presence of people such as the Prince is routine for someone like you."
Percy glanced over at Tony, Hastings, Frederick and smiled as Marguerite grasped at his hand. He gave the expression of "What can one say?" and he tapped Marguerite's wrist tenderly.
Marguerite glanced down at her wrist, which no longer hurt but showed a fresh bruise. Suddenly very self conscience, Marguerite fought with the material of the sleeve to pull it down the joint in her wrist to cover the mark.
"I suppose in due time milady this all will become about as old hat to you as it does to me." Percy gave a yawn and turned his face away from the lady. His eyes took note of a scarlet pair of candlesticks burning on the anwoire. Shaking the sleepiness from his head, he lead Lady Blakeney over near Tony and the others, to accept the Prince and his accompanying servants to the Blakeney household.
Marguerite held carefully onto Percy's arm. As she walked with him she realized that there were many pairs of eyes staring at her. All of the members of England's high society have finally picked out the new bride of one its favorite member. Middle class, orphaned, an ac tress, and worst of all French, Marguerite knew that the many people there were not just here for the sheer fun of attending a ball, but they were here out of curiosity to see - and judge her. Marguerite suddenly because very uncomfortable. Her palms underneath her elegant gloves were growing moist, and her hand went from gently resting on Percy's arm as he lead the way, began to clutch tighter onto him. She tried to claim herself. After all, she was one of France's greatest actresses, she had performed in front of crowds as big as this before, but never a crowd as tough as this.
Percy glanced down sharply, breaking eye contact with Lord Tony to the sharp grip that now dug into his arm. "Madame," he leaned his head over, to whisper in her ear, "if you grasp any tighter I would bet the winnings I make off Frederick from my next card game that I shall pass out from loss of blood before long." He smiled and patted her arm, glancing back up and greeting the Prince formally with his wife at his side.
Marguerite gave him a puzzled look before she realized what he had said. She loosened her grip, "Forgive me Percy, I am a little nervous tonight. It's all a bit overwhelming for me."
Seen from inside, the Prince of Wales had on the most intriguing outfit. Rumored to be quite the player of a man, he had brought two lady guests, one on each arm. His dress was of light blue satin and lace, gray and silver lining.
As he entered the Blakeney Manor, he saw the same as the other guests. Many paintings on the wall, done by various artists, both French and English. English artist Thomas Gainsborough and Joseph Wright of Derby had many large paintings present throughout the walls of the Blakeney Manor. In receiving his new wife, the master of the house had purchased some Pierre-Paul Prud'hon and Jacques-Louis David. Even the Italians were represented: Giambattista Tiepolo and Sebastiano Ricci. Sir Percy had learned a lot on his travels that he kept silent.
The marble foyer lead off into receiving, card and smoking rooms. Everywhere the marble floor would lead with its tan and brown color scheme, that from the outside, complimented the brick outside of the large Manor.
Marguerite walked along side Percy to the innermost area of the house being used for the event. They passed by many of the other guests who were all at this point preparing for the arrival of the Prince of Wales. Scores of questions about the proper way the address a Prince and English customs still buzz through her head. Marguerite decided just to follow Percy's lead and watch all of the others before them as the Prince enters. Everyone had moved to the side of the grand foyer to create a grand isle. Marguerite peered down and could see the prince and company just entering the foyer for the evenings event. Once more she grabbed onto Percy's arm for security.
Percy watched the entire aisle way form and stepped back before his long lanky legs got trampled by the servants trying to scamper out of the way. Feeling Marguerite's death grip on his arm, Percy reached down to pry her fingers loose.
The smell of the cooking dinner filled the halls of the Manor. One of Percy's favourite meals, Orange-sauce goose, along with stuffed cranberry bell peppers. The cooks prepared wild turkey rice and potatoes al grandiose, or more commonly called baked potatoes thrice with four layers of imported fine cheeses. Various vegetables in a cream flambé sauce was set in individual bowls and the display of fine silverware trimmed in gold as more confusing to those of the lower class, unless one could fake a reason to use four forks. The desert for the evening was Tiramisu, dipped heavenly in rum. Riesling wine important from Germany was already poured along with small taster glasses for the men folks taste in Brandy.
Marguerite felt Percy prying her fingers away from his arm and rather then clutch onto his arm so, rolled her fingers into a fist and rested it there. She watched as all of the guests bowed as the prince walked by them and towards, where she, as hostess, waited for Percy's cue.
"Now Madame." He whispered softly, his lips barely moving. Taking a hold of her hand, Sir Percy lead her with him. When the Prince neared, Percy took a step forward, wrapping his arm around his midsection and bowed formally. “I do say, if I fancied myself around, such as you do, my wife would have my head sooner than the very guillotine where she comes from. Your Highness, please meet Lady Marguerite Blakeney."
Marguerite gave a formal curtsy for the Prince and a soft smile, still slightly nervous in the presence of royalty, who, she was sure not unlike the rest of the crowd here tonight, would be here to judge her. Percy's friendly jabbing with the prince put her slightly more at ease. She was finally able to relax her hand which Percy had been holding, although an unusual sense of shyness still gripped her she finally spoke, "It is an honor to meet you your highness."
Smiling broadly the Prince took her hand and kissed it. In a somewhat loud voice, drawing out each word, he turned and spoke to the rather nervous Marguerite. " Madame-it is an extreme pleasure to meet you but you cannot possibly be Lady Blakeney. For Percy told me that she was most attractive and incredibly charming, not stunningly beautiful and splendidly elegant as you obviously are m'dear." Marguerite blushed slightly while the two young girls looked a tad confused. Meanwhile George was just enjoying the fact that he was the fashionable, single Prince of Wales-and everyone there knew it.
Awaits the arrival of the Prince with a glint of amusement in his eye. When the chance arrives, he is quick to great him, with a great, and gallant bow. "Your Highness! I'm afraid this humble fool must ask a favor of you." He scoots closer to the Prince and looks at the number of ladies his presence has already attracted. "Since you have so many...I was hoping you could, perhaps, help this old fool in his ways and lend him a lady friend to woo. Or perhaps, simply allow me to follow close beside you, so I may come off as a close friend and thereby have some of the ladies deem me worthy of their time...I would be most obliged." He grins, half serious, half joking, all the while glancing at all the ladies that have finally arrived.
"Why Hastings I have not been in the door more than a moment and you already wish to take away my company!" the Prince replied, throwing his hands up in mock exasperation. 'But......I may be able to help you. Providing you play in the card game that is sure to come later this evening." George knew that Edward was as much a ladies man as he, although considerably less discreet. George also knew that if Hastings played, he would be far from the strongest card player at the table. He was always too busy trying to catch the women's conversation in the next room to concentrate on the game! " Lud man I won't just GIVE them to you, but I shall make them come to you of their own free will." Knowing Edward was intrigued George grasped him by the shoulder and led him a few steps away. "Edward! " he said in a voice loud enough for most present to catch. " Next time you visit do try to keep all the ladies from following you when you leave! Damnation Hastings-half the women at court couldn't stop talking about you for weeks!" With that George spun on his heels and returned to the group he had been conversing with. Lifting his head back and letting loose an asinine chuckle he confided to the group " If that doesn't get him some attention from the women in the room, begad! I don't know what will!"
Tony grabbed Hastings by the arm, swinging him around, leaving Tony in his place, performing an extravagant bow to the prince. "Your Maaaaaajesty!" Straightening himself, he pulled Hastings arm once more to end up next to Tony. "You must forgive this poor chap's lack of charm. This handicap of his forces him to seek others that might esteem any charisma he might possibly contain. I believe personally that we should spare these poor maidens of such embarrassment instead of attempting to remedy his pathetic, yet amusing love life." With that, Tony squished Hastings cheeks together to form fish lips, saying in a child like voice, "Isn’t that right, Hastings?"
Slaps his hands away quickly and straightens his clothes. "You dare speak such to me, Lord Dewhurst?" He tries to hide any hint of joking from his voice as he tugs at a glove "Then perhaps I should challenge you to a duel." He looks then at the ladies as well as his Highness. "Besides...would you honestly believe this chap? After all, I dare say he wore that same costume to your last ball, Highness. Why, the man isn't even responsible enough to care for his own clothing. Really your Highness, would you dare dishonor these ladies by forcing them into such a man's presence?"
He couldn’t help but to smile playfully at Hastings, and raise his hands, surrendering himself. "Alright, I admit I deserved that!" Then a thought crossed his mind. "A moment, Hastings.. a DUEL?" Moving closer to him, Tony looked at his friend quizzically, and rubbed his chin in thought. "Correct me if I’m wrong.. but I could have SWORN that dueling in England was against the law.." He glanced dramatically towards the Prince. "Isn’t that so, Majesty?" Tony’s smug face turned back once more to Hastings, "tsk tsk tsk tsk, Hastings! My dear fellow.. you wouldn’t DREAM of breaking the law, now would you?"
Clapping his hands, Percy watched Tony and Hastings pick of sorts with each other. Giving an approving, inane laugh, Sir Percy moved his arm around and introduced the other important guests. "Lord Hastings, Lord Frederick, Lord Anthony, whom I believe you have meet on numerous occasions with me Your Highness. Lord Andrew sends his best regards. It appears he shares you regards to the ladies, as one apparently has kept him away from my ball. Perish that thought!"
Percy bit his tongue and watched George III do his thing. To flirt with his wife, well, Percy hardly minded. Marguerite always loved attention, its what Percy guessed why she craved the stage. Besides, Percy had already taken a fun poke at the Prince. To do it again would be not socially acceptable unless provoked first.
He stood back and noted the lovely ladies that George brought in. Percy had never been a ladies man. In fact, before Marguerite, he never even paid them any heed. He was not a dense man, but certainly when it came to flirting ladies, he was not schooled in that. Living your entire childhood and adolescent years abroad on a ship with only your father and your tutors was hardly interaction enough to learn the fine art of swooning. Luckily for Percy, Marguerite took a fancy to him and his visits and her aggressive flirtatious manners forced him to learn.
Percy stood off alone, watching them all mingle. In his mind he started picking them out. One by one. Lord Tupit? No. Lord Tony, not even an issue, of course. Sir Archibald? Maybe, but not at first. Lord Hastings and Frederick? Yes, but not until he spoke to Tony first... Percy blinked out of his spacey zoned look of thoughts. Did somebody just speak to him?
Never, if I recall correctly, did I mention a duel in which you are referring. I meant, instead, a duel of the wits. However, after such a display on your part, I think I shall spare you such a duel, for your poor wits would make you a laughing stock in London and furthermore, put your name in all the papers. You might out do Percy's title as biggest fool. So, do not open your mouth again to utter a word against me, for your own safety." He grins triumphantly.
He blinked back his thoughts a moment. No. They were not talking to him. It was ABOUT him. It took Percy a moment to realize what Hastings just said. Take away Percy's title as the biggest fool. Percy smiled. So foolish was Sir Percy that they all believed he was an idiot. Who ever heard of a host to idly stand by while being insulted?
Little use did they have for the true meaning of music, art, math, fencing, history, hunting. And Percy thought "True hunting. None of that riding around dressed to the teat on horseback chasing a fox that has been held captive in a cage for three days time." No, Percy was just like them. He made sure his outward appearance was emasculate. He made sure his only interested seemed to be cards, having estates and inheritance, the occasional grand ball and socially outstanding. Only Percy made his foolishness a mask, not a way of true life.
He took a few more steps back to observe the group and their banter. Soon enough, Hastings would eat those words in calling him a fool. Percy could almost see the stupefied face already. Listening and watching, he gave his usual approving dull smile when being called a fop, fool, nincompoop or idiot. "Yes, go on Hastings, laugh" he thought to himself, "Keep right on talking,"
Is about to open his mouth to question the Prince's motives when several ladies come, and two particularly lovely ones see it fit to take hold of his arm. Suddenly, a very goofy smile passes over his lips and he glances only momentarily at Tony to give him a complete look of triumph, before turning to the ladies and insisting he be allowed to show them the gardens.
Tony chuckled as Hastings left with the ladies. "I certainly give my regrets to any woman who is stupid enough to marry that fool!" Shaking his head, still snickering to himself, his eye caught Percy standing off alone. Seeing the expression on his face, Tony's own smile faded, and was replaced with that of concern. Making his way to Percy's side, he questioned him. "Is something the matter, Percy? You don’t seem quite yourself tonight."
Everyone seemed at play and having a good reception in the main rooms and foyer so far. Percy was waiting until he had Tony's attention so he could waved him over, but sometimes fate steps in and Tony brought himself to Percy. Once near, Percy gave the Prince a hearty slap on
the back. "Your Highness Sire! Would you do a fool a favor and escort Lady Blakeney into the dining chambers? Candice here will show you all the way."
"For you Percy, of course." George replied, giving an over-exaggerated bow. "Although I haven't decided yet if I'll return her, old boy. Shall we Lady Blakeney?" As he offered his arm the two followed Candice into the enormous and elegant dining hall. Fit for a king. Well...a future king. " So how do you enjoy England do far?" George asked as they neared her seat. " Is it everything you expected?"
Marguerite took the now vacated arm of the Prince of Wales, still shaking but trying to control herself. "I do miss France of course, but so far I have enjoyed England immensely, sir, um, your highness. You must excuse me, I am not used to being in such company."
Unable to restrain himself the inane laughter bubbled up yet again. " My dear Lady Blakeney, call me whatever you wish. But please do not continue to call me your highness. It makes me feel so old." The Prince frowned, momentarily contemplating old age. Bah! He was the prince, he didn't have to be old if he didn't want to be! "Besides" he continued, " I get up every morning and tie my own cravat just like any other man here. Just...better." Gleefully he absorbed the fact that, by his presence alone, he was causing women to become so flustered and nervous that they shook, just as poor Marguerite was doing now. Trying to calm her nerves, George absently patted her arm, disengaged her trembling limb and in a sudden swift motion pulled out her chair for her.
"I think Percy may have something to say about that sir." Marguerite smiled and gently took her at the head of the table between two empty seats reserved for Percy and Armand. "Of course a man as charming as yourself, it is surprising that you have not yet been captured in marriage."
It was then the Prince paused and was swept back into the past. Obviously Lady Blakeney was not up to date on the life of the current royals, or not as many people knew as he had suspected-that her witty observation was false. Maria Fitzherbert. That was the name of the woman he had onced loved, more deeply than he thought possible. But she had been a catholic which was by no means acceptable. "Damnable law and tradition" he thought, not realizing he was criticizing the very thing that would make him King one day. Once his family had learned of the secret marriage, it was very conveniently brought up that the law stated members of the royal family under the age of 25 were forbidden to marry without the king's consent. After that Maria had been deftly swept away from him. George did not deal well with pain. After 3 years without hearing from his beloved he had forced himself to forget her. That had been many years ago... Awakening from his thoughts, George realized that Marguerite was still there expecting a reply. Putting on a charming smile he replied with a sigh " Well Lady Blakeney I HAD been waiting for you, but now you have gone off and married that fool Percy and I don't know quite what the point of marriage is anymore." Catching Percy out of the corner of his eye he noticed his host was abot to make a toast and quickly turned his attention.