Worried, Armand took her hand. "Do you want me to stay?" He asked. "I
will, if you want! You shouldn't be alone if you're ill. What should I
tell Percy? Wait here, I'll tell him you're sick and that he ought to go
alone and give Axelia my regards." He turned to run out the door.
"No Armand, you should go see her. I'd hate to think you'd miss her."
Marguerite said, hoping her heard before he dashed out the door.
He did, and he decided that he would go. "Percy, Marguerite isn't well.
She isn't going to go after all." He looked up at Percy. "You don't have
to go, Percy. I can ride."
Well, so much for his wonderful plan. Alas, Improve was his thing. "Alright
Armand." He said and stood, offering the reins out to the younger man. "Let
me have a moment with her, say? See if some water will do. She did just look
so fresh and chipper, now didn't she?"
He clambered down and strolled his long lanky self over near her and Sir
Percy smiled. "Well now, what is this I hear you have taken ill? All of the
sudden eh? That is rather dreadful. Let me get you some water dear. You
seemed so happy to go to the theatre just now, I would hate to not try and
make you feel better."
He stood a moment more, to allow her to respond before he turned into the
Manor for her drink.
"Oh thank you Percy," Marguerite said. When Percy returned a few minutes late with a glass of liquid, Marguerite took a few sips, but it was not
enough. Her body just ached for apparently no reason at all. "I think it
may be best if I stay in for the night Percy. But you go, and keep an eye
on Armand." She paused before he left, "Will you come see me when you
return tonight?"
There were two roads to take. The road of staying in with her and dodging
artfully all her questions... and there was the road of going and having to
come back and pay her a midnight visit. Neither sounded appealing.
He took out his handkerchief and covering his mouth, stepped back. "How
dreadful! Are you catching a bug?" He waved his hands around. "If you are my
dear! I dare say I should be here to help you, but drat! I should not go
near else I catch my death of it."
The more he said to her that night, the more he puzzled her. It was just a
few weeks earlier that he had stayed with her when she was ill. She had a
burning fever, hacking couch, sneezes, and in much worth shape then she was
in now and he stayed with her all through the night. She vaguely remember
him there, giving her water, trying to cool her fever, rubbing her back,
but she did remember him there. Now he wanted to stay away? Suddenly,
and for the first time, tired of Percy's company, she excused him, "No,
it's alright Percy, please go with Armand, but if I am still awake when you
return, come see if before you retire. Please?"
He was the master at the card table. The purse was his. "Oh, it was you
that wished to see the performance. We can go the theatre when you are
feeling better." With that, he turned and waved Armand off. Waved him off
with the handkerchief.
"I wouldn't dream of leaving you here alone another night. Why, I will go
now to find Candice to prepare your room for you. Poor ill thing!"
Marguerite stood and stepped over to Percy and took his arm. "I've already
let the girls go for the night Percy, being I thought we would be out."
She took some steps towards the foyer pulling Percy gently along, "I'm
sorry I'm spoiling your night out Percy, but thank you for staying with
me."
Augh. Oh well. At least it won't be a midnight call to her bedroom. He
patted her hand and lead her in. "As you wish."
Marguerite made her way with Percy's help up to her rooms. She lit a few
candles and one by one closed all of her drapes before pulling off her
shoes to begin to change into her night clothes. Percy stood silently
until she asked, "Percy, what were these rooms before they were mine?"
Part of him melted watching her in the candlelight. His eyes took on a look
of lust and wanting the minute her shoes came off and it did not stop when
she began to change fully. He thought back to their first night together. On
the honeymoon. Oh god, how it felt! Could a man ever have been happier?
Damn! This was a true test. Was he a Baronet or a fool?
Regrettably, he turned his face away to no longer witness the beautiful
scene before him. Blakeney reminded himself that he was her good looking toy
to be seen with. He reminded himself that she still thought him duped with
the St. Cyrs. His mind wandering, he realized that the small threesome
family he just witnessed being beheaded could have been the St. Cyrs. With
only 1 person besides himself to fault.
Too tired to want to deal with such things tonight, Marguerite gently laid
her fine dress over a couch so that the material would not wrinkle. She
would take care of that and the other things in the morning. Marguerite
noticed how Percy turned his head while she was changing and could not help
but to give a gentle smile to what she thought was his modesty. Marguerite
crossed the room to her bed and gently ran her hand up his back, "Even with
your wife you still play the modest gentleman."
He felt a deep part of him whimper at her touch along his body. His knees...
they became weak and he braced an arm against the back board of a nearby
chair to remain turned from her. Hearing her soft voice so close, it was all
he could do to not turn and re-live the 7 weeks of pure joy. Forcing out his
voice, defeated, Blakeney said tiredly, "A man can not change what he is."
Turning towards her, he felt his eyes sting. He did not weep nor did his
eyes threaten to. She was changed now and he moved over to help her into her
bed. He felt old again. The youthfulness of the bounders helped him, but now
he was alone with only his age. He then proceeded to tell her that the
rooms she occupied were the rooms of his youth.
"They were my childhood rooms." He said and tried to get her under the
covers quickly to take leave of her. He suddenly had no desire to talk about
such foolish and forgotten things.
Marguerite thought it was interesting that he would give her the rooms that
were his as a child, but something about the tone in his voice kept her
from perusing the topic any further. Marguerite sat on the massive bed,
which could probably sleep three or maybe even four people very
comfortably, where Percy had pulled the sheets back and slide her legs
under the soft covers. She slid back a bit from the edge of the bed,
hoping Percy would stay for a while with her.
Pulling up the covers around her soft and inviting form, the lump in the
Baronet's throat hardened and he could not meet her eyes. Many feelings
passed through the lump, all threatening to be released at a moments notice.
Anger: For getting married and being committed in a falsity. Fear: For
living the rest of his life in such a lonely and miserable state. Love: The
times it was he and her alone, she made him feel like the youngest and only
man in the room. Hate: He hated himself for what he was once more becoming.
Lust: Seeing her lying there as she was, he wished only to shed his mask and
crawl under the covers with her. Such turbulent times that strove through
this man's heart and brain.
Sir Percy gave a small smile and leaned over to kiss her on the forehead,
tucking the last part of the blanker around her shoulders.
Marguerite smiled as Percy so lovingly tucked her warm covers around her,
and cherished the sweet sensation of his soft lips brushing her forehead.
A warmth filled her heart to see him once again and have him so near.
Being without parents at such a young age, Marguerite rarely had anyone to
look after her. Armand was there but often of little help when he was so
young. Percy's tenderness was one of the most wonderful gifts anyone had
given her. Before he could step away after giving her the tender kiss,
Marguerite reached a hand out from under the covers, "Will you stay with me
a short while Percy, at least until I fall asleep?"
"As you wish Madame." He still felt defeated and nodded, giving in. He moved
a chair nearby and sat in it, leaving on his coat. Not looking at her, he
methodically took off his gloves and folded them neatly. Placing them in his
pocket and then leaned back in the chair, resting his head and closed his
eyes.
Marguerite watched as Percy pulled away and sat in the chair. She watched
him plop in the chair and close his eyes. He was more worn then he was
giving in. "Percy," she started, waiting for him to open his eyes, "Percy
why don't you lay down with me. Surely you'd be more comfortable then in
that chair, it will probably cause you back to stiffen if you fall asleep.
You'll wake up in worst shape then I'm in now." she teased.
Hearing her, Blakeney did not open his eyes nor did he move. "Nay Madame."
Sir Percy offered a smile on his face. "I actually prefer such stiffness
tonight. Riding on that demmed horse these past days has made my back soft.
I would only toss and turn next to you and you need your rest. I will stay
until you sleep, then perhaps get a bite to eat."
Marguerite lowered her eyes, unable to look at her husband. She'd rather
sleep with someone that tossed and turned in their sleep then in an empty
bed. A single tear came to her eye and ran down her nose. She rolled over
and turned her back to Percy, closing her eyes and pretending to be
asleep.
He rested against her chair for a while. The man could honestly fall asleep
anywhere. Soon though, his nodding on and off passed through the hour and he
sat up. Everything was dark, as the candle exhausted itself completely out.
He stood and slowly moved over near the bed. Again, like the rest of the
house, he knew exactly where to step and where not to step to avoid noise.
He avoided the spots, save for his shoe hitting wood, and that was fairly
quiet.
The waning moon outside tossed enough light down so Blakeney could see her
outline. He wanted so to forget everything he knew about her and just kiss
her delicate neck. With a silent sigh, he turned and exited her room,
heading towards his den and study.
As quiet as he was, Marguerite was still wide a wake. She heard the click
of the door and turned to see Percy had left the room. Left alone in the
moonlit room, a sudden loneliness tore at her heart. Only a few moments
passed but it seemed like ages to Marguerite. Her back and head still
ached but they paled in comparison to the ache in her heart. Marguerite
got out of bed and reached for her robe, tightly wrapping it around her
body. She crept into the empty hallway and over to Percy's rooms. She
knocked on the door, but there was no answer. The door was unlocked and
Marguerite entered to find Percy's room empty. She assumed he must have
gone downstairs to get a bit more to eat. Determined to stay and be with
him tonight, Marguerite laid down on top of Percy's fluffy covers.
Curling into a ball on his bed, Marguerite rested and waited until she
actually did fall asleep.
He sat downstairs at the small kitchen table that the servants used.
Marguerite gave the night off to the lot of them and although the night was
relatively young, he was glad to be alone. Sometimes the aloneness bothered
him. Sometimes he welcomed it like an old addicting friend. Tonight he
yearned for company, but the one he yearned for did not exist. What a fool
to have named her Maeve. The more he reflected on the entire situation, he
realized he could not have picked a better name. Maeve: The goddess of song
who tricked and killed a king.
Well, he was no king less you consider his own property his own to rule. She
did trick him, that much was factual. Would she kill a king? Yes. In a way,
she already had. Every intention of loving her blindly for the rest of his
life, he lifted the cloth that covered his eyes and saw. Saw the deceit and
betrayal. He sat at that kitchen table with his fist up to his mouth, biting
on it like he did when he was a child to keep from allowing his emotions to
over come him. No one was around, but still he remained silent and mourned.
What would Sir Algernon say if he was alive? "Yes, that small impish trouble
maker is MY son. God help his mother." Blakeney did not know why he was
allowing this. His father's memory to rule over him after so many years. He
had been dead 10 years. Blakeney was a model Englishman. The family fortune
had only grown more under his care and he lived mostly modestly.
"My son does not understand the value of money. Spending it on such
frivolous things... teach him and do not dawdle!"
The words echoed in his head and he bit down harder on his knuckles.
Leaning his head on his hand, he sat there at the table, frozen from moving
thanks to the ghost in his mind.
The large free standing hallway clock donged out ten chimes and broke him
from his trance. He glanced up and looked about the small service kitchen.
Thomas had wandered in and gave a startled look at the non-moving statue
sitting there. "Good Evening Sir. Can I get you anything?"
Blakeney shook his head and held up his hand. Thomas was not used to the
master's extremities and when Blakeney walked away, he shook his head and
went about to retrieve his tea.
Walking around the downstairs Manor, he moved about in each large and small
room of the entire estate. His father's hall. Built for grandeur and in
actuality, never once held a dance until the young foolish imp held a party.
The small card playing rooms that held the occasional visitor and guest. The
grand library, that started off modestly small until that fatal day of the
beating. Since then, book after book after book was purchased and stored
here over time.
"Come Blakeney," he began to talk to himself. "Let us get a deserved sleep."
He reached up behind him and yanked out the hair tie. Each step he made his
feet feel heavy and awkward. His mind still clouded with Sir Algernon, he
entered his room and began to take off his clothes. Only when he began to
unbutton his silk shirt did he glance over to the bed, seeing her sleeping
silhouette against the blankets and moonlight.
His body just sighed again. "Is there no escape?" he whispered in the silent
room. Shaking his head, he went back to his coat and produced his keys,
trying to make them not jingle loudly at all. He turned, heading towards his
den.
The aches kept her from falling into a deep sleep, so even the light jingle
roused Marguerite. In the dark room she could not see, but wondered.
"Percy," Marguerite whispered, "Percy, are you there?"
He froze in mid step hearing her voice. Damn keys! He did not answer at
first, debating how long he could stand there and be undetected. Glancing
down and seeing the moonlight shine upon his socked feet, he decided the
white britches would stand out.
"Yes Madame." Oh how he should have slept in one of the card rooms!
"Percy," she whispered as she rubbed her eyes, trying to strain and see
him. "Percy, where are you?" she said with a certain longing in her
voice.
Would nowhere he turn thus grant him peace?
"In the hallway Madame. On my way out."
"On your way out? Where are you going Percy?" Marguerite inquired,
confused and curious, "Percy, can't you please stay with me, please."
"Nay Madame. Frank has just informed me of an emergency that needs my dire
attention." He stood back and kept in the shadows. His shirt half open and
his shoes off, he did not wish her to see him like this. In fact, he did not
wish her to see him at all.
"An Emergency?" Marguerite sat up startled, "What sort of emergency
Percy?" Marguerite carefully slide of the bed and in the dark dared to
venture towards Percy's voice. "What in the world could come up at this
time of night that could not wait until morn-umph" Marguerite stumbled in
the dark, ramming her foot into some piece of furniture. She bit her lip
to try and muffle the cry of pain. She felt weak and pitifully enough as
is she tried, somewhat in vain, to hide her newest affliction.
"Riots threaten Madame." He had already begun buttoning up his shirt hearing
her voice in the darkness. For lack of shoes, he began to move near, hearing
her muffled cry and was curious for it.
"Riots? That could be dangerous, aren't there other people that can handle
such situations, police or someone? Why must you go?" Marguerite
exclaimed very worried about her husband.
"Nothing to excite yourself over." Sir Percy stood next to her, shoeless in
his socks without a coat. "Tis something that happens. I need to try and
find some old records and that could take all evening. Do try and get
yourself some rest." He wanted to reach out to her and hug her close. To
resist this temptation, Blakeney took two steps back towards his den and
study.
"How can I rest Percy in such a state, and without knowing where you are.
Where are you going, will anyone be with you, is there anyway I can help?"
Marguerite asked while trying to hobble her way over to Percy's voice.
Ah yes. He was smarter than one man ought to be. Did he not know she would
try and corner him with what seemed to be a thousand and two useless
questions and statements?
Blakeney heard her shuffling towards him and took two more steps back. "Nay
Madame. You miss what I say. Riots are common thing and perhaps the wrong
words to excite you so. More like a dispute between a disgruntled attendant.
I am not going anywhere save my den to shuffle through paperwork all evening
so Frank may have them by morning. Do go to your room.. or wait in here for
me."
The light dawned in his head. "Yes Madame, perhaps if I hurry, I will find
the bloody papers and you lie where what pleases you. I can join you when I
am finished."
Too tired to put up any further, Marguerite resigned to the idea of waiting
here for Percy to return. "Percy, I will wait here for you, but the room
is dark and I am unfamiliar with it. Could you lead me back to the bed so
that I might lay down once more."
Fine, he thought. Fine fine fine. Just lay down, silence your mouth and let
me be. He moved near and took a hold of her arm. He was none gentle, but he
was none harsh. He led her to the side of the bed and stood there. "Here
Madame."
He was already mad she followed him around like a lost puppy. Now she was
going to made his entire bed stink of her wonderful perfume! Hell if he was
going to be joining it anytime soon.
Now I do not need to tell you that Blakeney had no intention of ever joining
Marguerite in the bed. I do not need to tell you that he restrained himself
against his heart to climb in and join her.
Everything about Marguerite being so close and smelling so well drove the
man nearly out of his mind. Nearly. He bit his tongue, clenched his fist and
stiffened up his back. Blakeney was going to get some well deserved sleep
tonight. Despite what the vixen wanted with him.
Something about Percy's demeanor bothered Marguerite. The way he led her
around the dark room, the way he addressed her, never mind that he said
Madame not Marguerite, even her ladies referred to her as Marguerite, but
he was somewhat cold and formal. "Percy are you angry with me? I know I
must seem sort of attached tonight, but this was the longest we've spent
apart since we met, and to be separated from so long so soon after being
married and coming here, I just missed you Percy."
He sighed again. Those damn infernal questions once more. He had no answer
and stood there dumbfoundly in the dark. There was only so much he could
dodge and avoid. "I naugh know Madame how to reply."
"It's not such a difficult question Percy, are you or aren't you angry with
me for some reason?" Marguerite asked.
Blakeney had been taught all in life to never speak poorly of the women in
his life. The answer was simple: Yes. Yes Yes. YES! He gave a sigh and did
not know how to answer and managed, "Nay Madame. I could never be angry at
such a beautiful creature as you."
He too could play games.
"Matters of the eye and matters of the mind and heart are very different
things Percy." Marguerite stated, confusion growing in her mind. "If
circumstances were the same, but I were ugly, would you be angry with
me?"
"Aye. You have a good point Madame. I believe long ago I became accustomed
to your beauty, but over time you showed me your honest and caring heart."
He did not even flinch when he said the words.
"Then why do you refuse to be honest with me Percy? It's quiet clear that
you are angry with me, why will you not say it?" Marguerite said, becoming
increasingly agitated as the conversation wore on and her back continued to
ache.
"I am tired Madame. I am upset at my current situation, and therefore seek
to take your leave, if you allow it."
"Would that be the situation in that you are being forced awake to work or
the situation here in this room, with your own wife?" Marguerite pushed,
determined to get an answer from Percy.
He frowned in the darkness. Into a corner again, was she. "Forced awake
Madame! What you insinuate in preposterous!"
"So then I am the cause of your troubles. Percy why won't you just say so
and tell me what is bothering you. Surely if I have done something wrong
if you make me aware of it I can somehow make amends." Marguerite stated.
Percy had always seemed so open, so honest, why was he hiding from her
now?
"Why you insist on pushing me Madame is unknown to my small brain. The trip
was long and the food horrible. I am tired. I wish to sleep yet I must try
and make sense of numbers! If you can not sympathize Madame, at least do not
prolong it!"
"It's hard to sympathize when you yourself have done little to help the
situation. You would been much further through your work and therefore
much closer to your bed had you simply answered my question in the first
place. Although you still refuse to do so." Marguerite let out a
frustrated and defeated sigh, " If you are so tired and drained why not put
the work off until the morning and rest Percy, surely the work will be
attended to quicker and with more ease if you were rested."
The will of Blakeney was strong. It needed to be to deal with the vixen and
her plethora of questions and accusations. She was right in this line of
conversation, but he would never give into that fact.
Instead, he tossed his hands in the air. "Then I shall sympathize alone! I
will not be well rested thinking of the work you keep me from!" And with
that, he turned to leave the room.
Frustrated and finally defeated in a way, Marguerite refused to say
anymore. Yet, in her ornery way, she laid down on the bed and turned her
back towards him. IN her mind this discussion was not over.
Finally! Viva la Victory! She did not try and keep him further. He wore her
down. He knew how stubborn Marguerite was, so he went into his study and
locked the door. This door, no servant had the key too save Frank, and he
would not open it for anyone. Not Marguerite. Not if the place was on fire.
Save and sound inside, Blakeney took to his favorite soft chair and undid a
few buttons of his shirt. He was so tired and Marguerite only drained him
worse.
Finally! Sleep at home!
After a rough night of tossing and turning, Marguerite awoke in the early
morning. She had forgotten that she had fallen asleep in Percy's room
waiting for him to return that night. She looked over to the other side of
the bed to see not only was he not there, but it did not appear as if he
had slept there. Wearily, she went back to her own rooms, inquiring with
one of Percy's men if he had been seen that morning. He had not which lead
her to believe that he had fallen asleep in his study. She went to her
room to find Emma waiting for her, offering to get her clothes for the day
or some breakfast. An idea came to Marguerite. She quickly dressed in a
simple green skirt and blouse and rushed to the kitchen.
Several cooks were milling around as some of the servants were having their
breakfast. They all appeared very shocked when Marguerite entered, but
Marguerite paid little attention. She quickly sought out the head chief
and inquired at to what was Sir Percy's usual breakfast. The chief said
oatmeal and fruit was his usual breakfast, though the idea of oatmeal
seemed very plain and bland to Marguerite, who set it in her mind to make
Percy a breakfast with her own two hands.
Rushing around the kitchen, Marguerite went to work. The kitchen staff was
very disturbed by her presence, not used to having the lady of the house in
their domain, however, Marguerite insisted that she knew her way around a
kitchen and went to making sweet French crepes for Percy.
A short time later, Marguerite found Frank, who had been enjoying breakfast
with several others before Percy rose, and sent him ahead to tell Percy
that his breakfast was on its way, but not to tell Percy that she would be
bring in. A few moments later, with a try holding a plate of sweet apple
crepes, a bowl of fresh berries, and a dish of oatmeal, just in case,
along with some tea and milk, Marguerite headed up to Percy's rooms.
When he was told, Frank immediately went upstairs to the master's den and
study. Unlocking the door, he saw no one in the room. This puzzled Frank
until he moved over to the desk and chair and found his master curled up on
the floor. Waking Blakeney, he quickly hurried him out of the room with the
warning of Lady's Blakeney's plan.
Blakeney was none too happy to be awoke in a hurried manner, but did not
wish to face any in his house unshaven, dressed and wrinkled as he was. He
allowed himself to be rushed into the bath house room where he quickly
stripped and dunked. When the servant came with the food, they could leave
it out his door until he was properly dressed and shaved.
Standing in the hallway, Frank met Lady Blakeney with her tray and was very
surprised to see her. "Sir Percy is freshening up Lady Blakeney." He spoke
with a funny tone in his voice seeing her carry the tray. "Shall I leave it
for him, or do you wish to wait and have me take leave?" Frank knew of the
strange behavior between the two of them. Everyone in the house knew by now.
"Oh no, thank you very much Frank, but I think I will wait for Percy. You
may go unless Percy needs you for anything." Marguerite happily answered
as she entered the room and placed Percy's breakfast tray on a small table.
"Oh Frank, did Percy give you the papers he was looking for last night?"
Frank nodded his head and took his leave. "Oui Lady Blakeney." He had no
idea what Lady Blakeney was talking about, but played it off like he did.
When the Master adjourned from his bathroom, he was neatly shaven however
his hair was damp dry from the towel and he was clad in nothing but his day
robe. He expected Frank to be near with his attire laid out, so he began
talking to him with the towel upon his face.
"So after that is done Frank, I really think it is about time we invested in
some additional steeds. If I can just find another like Sultan for Armand we
will be..."
He stopped dead in his tracks and his words, seeing Marguerite in his room
and on his bed. Blakeney almost just started talking about the League right
in front of her and the look of surprise was evident on his face. He did not
even look at the food she brought, so shocked he was at her presence.
"Percy, oh, I guess you did not expect me to be here, I hope the shock
isn't too much." Marguerite said as she bounced off the bed, hopped over
to Percy and planted a soft kiss on his wet cheek. "I felt dreadfully
awful about last night when I woke up this morning, so I brought you
breakfast. Come, sit down." she commanded as she took his hand playfully
and lead him over to the table. "I made it myself, I don't believe I ever
did cook for you before did I Percy? I was never much of a cook, but
crepes were my specialty. Armand used to eat them by the dozen when he was
little." Marguerite stopped chattering and looked into Percy's tired eyes.
Still sitting close, she stroked his cheek with the back of her fingers,
"My poor Percy, did you get any sleep at all last night? I know you did
not come back to your room. Perhaps you should take the day just to rest,
never mind about business and such today."
Did he think himself just last night to be victorious? Was it he who did a
dance in the foyer by himself earlier in that evening as well? He was not
winning. In fact, he was loosing at every step. Having to be away from her,
clad in only his bed robe, it was driving him mad.
She cooked for him! In another life this would be pure heaven. In another
world or time, Marguerite's presence in his room with such a meal would mean
romance. He wanted to toss her back on his bed and make her wear his robe.
He wanted to feed her from the food she brought him. What did he do to
deserve this constant pain?
With a defeated sigh, Sir Percy smiled and moved near Marguerite. His lazy
blues looked her over and he nodded at her. "Nay, I did not. I think you
might be right today. I think I need to rest."
"My poor Percy, a day of ease is just what you need. I will see to it
myself that nothing bothers you. And if Frank even thinks of coming near
you with any sort of business that requires you to do more then raise a
finger I will shoo him away." Marguerite offered him the sad, sympathetic
smile she should have given him the night before. Taking a seat near him,
she continued to fuss over him in the motherly way that she usually fussed
over people she cared for. "Perhaps that bit about not doing more then
raising a finger should start now." she stated as she pulled a berry from
the fruit bowl and offered it to Percy's lips.
Sure. Not a thing would bother him... except of course for the vixen and her
constant babble. Was his father a lucky man? A wife who never spoke and
never moved? Realizing the cursing and blasphemous words spoken and thought
in his own mind, he ducked his head down in his shoulders. As if he was
going to be swatted or slapped from above. He closed his eyes and quickly
did ten Hail Marys, begging forgiveness from his deceased parents for the
horrible thought.
He heard Marguerite, and when he opened his eyes, he knew his own thoughts
were the reason he was in pain. He must be punished for his youthful earlier
thoughts and deeds. Too bad he had to drag Marguerite into it now. She might
have lived a happy life alone back in France.
When she fussed over him now, the happy light in his eyes dies out and he
sat there defeated. He let her fuss over him, as much as he hated every
minute to be fussed over. He sat there in his bed robe looking something
short of pathetic. How could he think his way out of this?
He couldn't and like a whipped dog, ate the fruit she gave him.
Marguerite smiled as Percy ate the fruit from her own hands or when she
held a the fork with a bit of crepes or a small spoonful of oatmeal. It
reminded her much of their courting days when they would feed each other
pastries and slices of fruit and rolls of meat and cheese. He would tease
her with tasty morsels of food and she would playfully nip at his fingers.
But now her tired husband simply sat and ate the bits she offered, much
like a child resigned to eating a meal. "Percy, what were you saying
before about getting Armand a horse?"
And he was resigned like a child forced to eat a meal. He did not want to be
here. He wished to dress in his riding outfit, take Sultan out far into the
country side and do his routine alone out there. How else was he to keep
himself in a somewhat youthful shape?
Swallowing the food, Sir Percy looked at Marguerite and states simply
enough. "I had such a good time with your brother up North, I thought it
would be a nice gesture to get him a swift horse of his own to ride. Young
men like fast things."
Marguerite laughed. "I am well acquainted with a man's desire for such
things. I'm sure he would love that Percy, it's very kind of you. Armand
is lucky he knows how to ride. I believe he learned at school. I myself
never did." Marguerite's smile dimmed a bit as she remember being asked by
a stable boy if she wanted to ride one of Percy's fine horses.
He did not mean it the way it sounded, but the thought entered his head all
the same. He cleared his throat and quickly changed the subject. "Frank
informed me the Prince of Wales paid you a visit? The two of you had quite a
time?" Frank informed Blakeney of the heated words most just inside heard.
He also informed Blakeney of her rushing off to speak to the Prince as he
departed, and all seemed smiled.
When he asked the question, it was merely as a harmless question. He already
knew had he asked it with even a bit of a command or impugning her integrity
he would get back ten-fold her wraith and mouth. Blakeney was being forced
to walk on eggshells around her. He still held that whipped look and reached
down for another piece of fruit, which he fed himself.
Marguerite paused before answering, in a way trying to avoid laughing.
Looking back on the event it was somewhat humorous. "Yes George did stop
by the other day. He said he had been wanting to discuss some sort of
business with you but when I informed him you were gone he said never to
mind about it. He said it would probably be taken care of by the time you
returned. Being that business could not be attended to as he had wished we
shared a somewhat lively tea together. I also invited him to join us for
supper once you returned."
"Aye, that is good Madame." He glanced over at Marguerite. This was the
pattern to be. She did not indulge in details of their discussion and the
heated words the servants heard. He must realize her behavior and take it
for the way things would be for the rest of his life. He must accept and
move on like always.
Looking at Marguerite, Blakeney grabbed at the oatmeal spoon and ate it. He
wondered how she knew what he liked to eat, as he did not order such things
on their honeymoon. In the morning, there were other things to do besides
eat food. The servants told her perhaps. Maybe she asked?
He listened to her and took his time eating. She would be on him like glue
today, so no point in trying to rush her away. Slipping further into
himself, he glanced at Lady Blakeney. "Shall I be permitted to send word to
the Prince of a dinner time? As I have returned now but can not lift a
finger according to milady."
"If you wish Percy, but I will do it if you like. I feel I sort of owe
George in a sense after our tea." Marguerite could have kept the
happenings to herself, but felt Percy should know about what had happened.
"We had a rather rousing discussing on some issues on which we did not see
eye to eye on."
He stared at her, wondering why she would never just come right out and tell
him the truth. Not about the St. Cyrs. Not even with the Prince over some
happening of tea. It was simply maddening. As he sat there in the bed room,
he reached over and picked up his bowl of porridgy oatmeal. He silently ate
it while thinking all the while of this situation that puzzled him.
When the bowl was empty and the last grain of oatmeal in his belly, he stood
and looked at her yearningly. Why was she this silent way? She spoke on many
a things, but never what he needed to hear. He could just as easily asked
her about it, but the pride within held him back.
Marguerite could not help but smile as she watched Percy eat the meal she
had prepared, especially when he seemed to enjoy the oatmeal. Armand used
to make a sport of flinging spoonfuls of it at her and so she had stopped
making it long ago.
"If you will excuse me now Madame I would like to finish my morning rituals
alone. I will join you shortly downstairs. In the garden if you will." He
turned his back on her and headed for his bath house room. Glancing behind
him sadly, he added, "Write the letter if it pleases you. I will leave it to
your sharp mind and wit to decide when. Give me the details when the matter
is complete and I will be there." Sadly, his eyes dropped and he looked on
ahead to his bath tin.
Marguerite noted the change in Percy's voice, but excused it as his
weariness. "Of course Percy," Marguerite started as she placed all the
dishes back on the tray, "enjoy your bath."
Marguerite brought all the dishes back down to the kitchen, but this time
was barred from the kitchen by a slightly disgruntled cook who swiped the
tray from her as she entered and was quickly ushered out the door. She was
about to reenter and protest but decided to attend to other matters. After
finding quill, ink, and paper, Marguerite left through that backdoors and
out to a sitting area in the rose garden to wait for Percy as she wrote an
invitation to the Prince for dinner.