Coming from Dover/Breakfast with Blakeney

Marguerite, suddenly feeling rather tired and fatigued herself, reentered the manor and went upstairs to lay down. In the hallway that lead to her suite, she stopped and instead entered Percy's suite. The door was cracked but she didn't see anyone in the main room. She heard some shuffling, perhaps Frank or another servant was attending to things in one of the other rooms, but she generally ignored it. She laid down on Percy's fine bed and closed her eyes, gently sobbing wondering why the request of a few hours time were too much for her supposedly loving husband.

Andrew bit his lip. Had he been wrong to say anything? What on earth was going on with Percy? Percy was certainly not acting like himself today. . but then again, neither was he.

Keeping the white horse walking at a steady pace, he turned onto the road and headed away from the Manor, waiting to see what Armand and Andrew would do.

Andrew didn't know what else to do, so he simply turned his horse and followed Percy down the road.

He kept his gaze forward and the white steed at a slow steady pace onward down the road. When he heard a horse near, he shifted his lazy blues to the side to make out Sir Andrew. He did not once turn his head.

"Back there, you muttered something. Tell me what you said Sir Andrew." He needed to talk to them both, but for now, if Armand was even coming after such a display to his own sister, Blakeney would speak with Andrew.

Andrew looked up at Blakeney, anger flashing in his eyes. Anger had been boiling up inside for a few days now, over this whole episode with Lord Dewhurst. He had gone ill, and had he gotten thanked for it? NO. Well, Blakeney was about to get of his own medicine. Andrew had to let his feelings out, otherwise he would explode. "I SAID, perhaps Lady Blakeney is right."

Nodding, Blakeney listened to Andrew. His friend was still his best, having the courage to boldly repeat the phrase to his face. Hearing in the distance another horse approaching restored a little bit of the pride that Lady Blakeney had ripped out from his soul. They both passed the odd test he had offered.

No word from Percy . . Andrew felt safe for the time being. Percy was angry and Andrew knew it. Even so, he kept on pressing. "Percy, you and I have been best friends for years, which is why I feel I can tell you this to your face." Andrew had to keep his temper in check or else risk losing the best friend he'd ever known. "Somebody needs to. Damn it, Percy, this has gone on LONG ENOUGH." Andrew let loose, no longer caring. "Have you ever once given people's feelings a thought before your own?" Andrew seethed. "I go to Dover, ill, in place of you because you have to attended some damned garden party? BLAKENEY! What kind of leadership is that?" Blakeney looked at him, then. "Have you ever given Marguerite a chance to explain herself? She's got to be hurt, Percy. I can see it in her eyes! You practically ignored her today. And every other day! Oh, bloody hell, I'm not blind Percy, nor stupid. "Dewhurst is in trouble and needs your assistance. You know he can't think straight during a crisis. He was a WRECK when I saw him. He kept watching for you and did you show? NO." Andrew paused, trying to catch his breath. "You treat this whole affair as ridiculous, well, it's not." Andrew was referring to one of the notes Percy had sent him in Dover. "This is serious, deadly serious. Yvonne could die. If that Martin Roget were to have his way with her..."

Quietly he kept his tongue in check and sat atop the white steed, listening as Andrew speak what was on his mind. "There is a lot of truth in your beginning Andrew and I sincerely appreciate you having faith in me and our friendship to tell me. However it is not 'perhaps she is correct, Lady Blakeney IS correct. A woman married to her husband *should* be able to spend all the time she needs with him. Under normal conditions, if Marguerite was the wife I thought, and had I been the husband she thought, we would be spending all the time in the world together. However it is not to be."

He turned his head now and looked at Sir Andrew. "I know you are fully well aware of what my *wife*," and this word he said with great distaste, "has done, as you are fully aware of what I strive each day to do." Not really up for arguing, as he was strained on rest and Lady Blakeney drained all the fight out of him, Blakeney just spoke as even-toned as he could.

"I know you have always been short sighted Andrew and unable to see the big picture, but Damn me. What do you make of me to say such things as you have? Do not care for Lord Tony or his kidnapped wife? Have we not had this discussion already or did I conjure it up in a dream? While I can appreciate your concern, as we ALL are concerned Andrew, did you not just witness me trying to go for a ride on the suggestion of my wife? What did you just see? Tell me Andrew. You were observant enough to watch the display I just received for going about for a few hours during the daytime? How can I possibly steal away for days after just returning from being gone?

"Yes, you went ill. Bully and Bravo good man. That *is* the job we do. You are not blind or deaf Andrew. By God. You can sympathize with Lord Tony and Lady Blakeney, but are you so sympathetic to them that you excuse the very actions of Lady Blakeney which prevent me from seeing to Lord Tony personally? I had no choice but to rely on you and Frederick to help. What you witnessed in the stable yard was just a mere taste of my new life."

The mere thought of the huge argument that was done for all the staff to see between himself and his wife angered him all over again. His voice rose a little, but he remembered how he treated the others the night he found out about St. Cyrs. There was no brandy in his system today and therefore, he continued to keep himself in check. By this time, he felt the other horse coming up on his right and heard Armand.

He watched silently as his sister stormed away before anyone could stop her. He had seen her this mad few times before, none of them he wanted to remember. He felt bad for his sister, but he knew he was obligated to follow Percy.

Turning his new horse, he touched his heels to the animal's flanks and galloped after Percy, who was getting a scolding from Andrew. He didn't hear any of it, for Julien's hooves, but he came up beside Percy in the pause. "All right, Percy," He said, annoyed. "What the HELL was that about?"

He noted the tone in Armand's voice and turned his head to see his other "loyal leaguer". Keeping himself calm, he answered, "What in the HELL that was about, as I was explaining to Sir Andrew here, was simply this." Blakeney dropped the reins to rest on the saddle and proceeded to pull forth from his sleeve the note Ayden gave him. Unfolding it, he glanced back and forth between the two man on either side on him. Sir Andrew on his left. Armand on his right.

"To also answer your question Andrew, do I care about anyone but myself.... What in all of England do you think I have been doing for the past year? Getting slashed and sleep deprivation, hit and caught and then escaping because I am a some sick and absurd self-serving masochist? In a nutshell: I have to go to France tomorrow. I *had* planned on leaving early, but thanks to no backup from my two most trusted Leaguers, I now have to... what was it again?" His irritated blue eyes looked at Armand. "Oh, yes! Purchase a present! My God you two! Don't you understand? In my hands is a list of people who are *dying* tomorrow. People I love and care about and now either I figure out a way to break my word with Lady Blakeney or figure out a way to send you two in my place to begin the charade.

"Armand, good God. Louise's parents are on this list! Do you think I want that little girl orphaned? Its bad enough I am not able to prevent all the blood that France spills.... I can not have this little girl's parent's blood on my hands because I am out gallivanting along looking for her own school books! I guarantee you both this selfish bastard before you speaks truthful..... Louise would rather have her demmed parents!"

He didn't look at either one of them now and his voice grew soft. "For God's sake Andrew. Lord Tony's wife has been kidnapped by some jealous lover and her own father. She is not going to die." He hit the paper with one hand, as he held fast to it with his other. "The names on this list. I know some of them. Some are straight to the guillotine. The others into prison. The Count and Countess de Famtne, The Count and Countess de Tourney, Suzanne Tourney, The Baron Castille and his Victome son.... my god, this is the longest list I have gotten yet.... There must be over 40 names here." He glanced over at Armand. Did he know some of them?

Putting the list back up his sleeve, he looked sorrowful at Andrew. "You dare accuse me of not caring? Poor leadership? I will not hear of it again. I have shed blood and risked my life for others. Why do you think I recruited the lot of you? Because I can not be everywhere at once. Tell me Andrew. You think I am cruel to Lady Blakeney. And to Lord Tony. Shall I now be cruel to Louise and the others on this very long list? With my self serving ways?" He stared at Andrew, not in anger. Not in hurt. Just as a man leading a group and trying to drive his point home.

Andrew was silent now, not sure what to say. Part of him felt guilty for saying what he had, but it had been necessary. "I've got to go to Nantes." Andrew finally said in a quiet voice. Percy would not like this. Not one bit. "It'll be on my head if I don't. But if you need me, I'll be there."

"Go where you feel you need to Andrew. You were to go originally. I will have to manage alone or with Armand if he will go to HELL with me." He shook his head. Did Andrew not hear a word he just said? "I still do not think a father would kill his own daughter, but I suppose anything is possible. Frederick has my complete trust and faith." He pulled back on the white horses reins and looked at them both as their horses made their way past. Was the information and importance of his words still sinking in?

Then a certain name hit him. SUZANNE?! Had Blakeney just mentioned Suzanne de Tournay? Dear God...Andrew felt sick to his stomach and doubled a bit. The very thought of her going to the guillotine...no...no. . it couldn't be true! "Percy...please tell me that you didn't just mention Suzanne de Tournay.." Andrew's voice was barely audible. He felt sicker than ever, being trapped in England, not being able to do a damned thing about it! By God, he had to get to her. Suzanne was almost more important than Tony at the moment. He had Frederick. But his first duty was to Blakeney....

"Please tell me you didn't say that name just now.." Feeling lightheaded, Andrew sank down to his knees and tried to collect his thoughts. Percy had to be wrong. HAD to be...

He had not known Andrew was with this woman, or if it had been mentioned, his mind was on St. Cyrs and his wife's part in it at the time he was told. Seeing Andrew pale, Blakeney raised a brow. "Yes Andrew. The Count and Countess de Tourney and their daughter. My father knew them. I feel it is my duty to make their names a priority, as I can not rescue 40+ people in one day."

He watched Andrew. What was going on? Andrew's shoes remained in the stirrups, yet his knees sunk down as he slumped himself against one of Blakeney's horses. "Andrew! Get it together! What is it now? Did I now just turn my self centeredness back to me?" Glancing at Armand, he looked to see if the young Sprout had more of clue than the Baronet. Nothing.

"Dear God, no, it's nothing like that." Andrew went pale. "Remember that woman I met in Paris the day before your ball?" Percy nodded. "Well, that woman was Suzanne de Tournay." Andrew shook. "I've got to get to her, Percy." Andrew looked up at his friend with pleading eyes. "I just can't believe it..." Andrew's mind whirled. Suzanne. In prison. It was like a living nightmare. He wouldn't sleep soundly again if she wasn't in his arms.

He wasn't paying complete attention, just gazing numbly at the list. More than 40 people... all about to die tomorrow, or soon after..... De Tournay... why was the name so damned familiar? "Because she was Marguerite's friend!" He said, softly, under his breath. Armand finally realized where he knew the name-- and the woman. "Percy, we have to save them. All of them. There has to be a way!"

"I'm sure there is, Armand- try not to panic." Andrew could have kicked himself. Why had he gone and said that? He was scared to death that Suzanne would be dead before he could get to her. "Percy will think of something." He looked at his leader with new respect. "He always does." Andrew felt bad about his harsh words a few minutes ago. "You can count on me, Blakeney.."

Sitting there, observing them for their reactions, slowly Blakeney watched as the implications of everything he said sunk into their minds. So eager to help, they lashed out at him. He couldn't blame them. Andrew and he hadn't a chance to speak and catch up since rescuing Helene. Armand had to witness each day the ugly relationship between his sister and his brother-in-law, as they would have a go at it with disgust.

Nodding to them both, Blakeney spoke even keeled. "I know I can count on you both. Otherwise you both would not be at my side right now, say?" He was becoming more tired and drained from all this. He spoke softer and his words dragged on a little.

Taking a deep breath, he sighed. "We can not rescue all 40 people. It physically could not be safely done. Free them and let them chance it like we did during the last one, yes. But with that, we chance loosing track of the important ones. From that list, we must rescue Louise's parents. From that list, we must prevent the De Tourney's from becoming imprisoned. Fear not Andrew. She will sleep safely in her bed tonight unaware. Come dawn however....."

He glanced up into the sky. "Oh, I know what you are going to think Andrew and you will hate me for what I am going to say. But say it I must. It is important that listen closely to me and obey my orders, and it must happen now." Blakeney moved along on the white stallion and glanced at Andrew. Hard. Stern. "You are forbidden to leave alone and go to France to rescue her before the guards call on her tomorrow and her family is captured. Do you hear me? FORBIDDEN. I do not get these lists to have the prisoners rescued *prior* to their capture. If we do that, then it puts my contact at risk and could end this sort of information from coming to me. There is so much riding on all this. Every detail depends solely on the others being followed. If you disobey my orders Andrew, you will kill us all, I swear to it."

Looking at Armand, he needed his words to sink in and apply. "That goes for each and every last member of our saving league. This is not a game of cricket or a frivolous garden party I flaunt about at. This is my life. Your lives. Their lives. We choose our battles and stick to the plan." He brought his hand up to his face and shook back the yawn forming. "I have a plan in mind, but it now will require me to break my honor and word to Lady Blakeney. Come gentlemen, let us ride out a little further and we can discuss it more securely."

With a swift kick into the flanks of the white steed, Blakeney proceeded forward and headed into the woods.

Andrew's face fell at Percy's words. He did not like the sound of his words, but he had no choice to obey. Andrew didn't want to lose his head or anybody else’s at the expense of his carelessness.

Blakeney led his white steed into the deeper part of the woods with Andrew and Armand at his side. The trees became dense and then just as thick as they became, a clearing suddenly opened up. Andrew and Percy had played in these dense thickets and woods as children, racing up and down the long natural trail and treeless path.

Dismounting, the Baronet led his horse over hear a big shady area and wrapped the reins around a branch. "Well, I don't know about you blokes, but Armand, you need to race up and down here numerous times on that young spry fellow. Sir Andrew I'm sure would love to share his infinite wisdom on horses with you.

"How about it, Sir Andrew?" Armand grinned childishly. Julien pawed the ground anxiously.

"Now, if you boys don't mind, I rode to Dover all last night and again on the return this morning. If I do not sleep now, I'm going to miss a detail for tomorrow and I can't have that." He didn't really wait for a response and took to taking out a blanket from the saddle bag. He carelessly flipped the cloth open to rest in the mossy grass. Sir Percival Blakeney, Baronet of Richmond, the now deemed mysterious Scarlet Pimpernel, laid down tired as all hell and closed his lazy blue eyes.

He exchanged a look with Andrew. Shrugging, he backed Julien, snorting, away from Percy's own calm, white mount. With an impish grin, and possibly condemning himself to hell (or worse), he gave a cry and spurred his horse Julien took off galloping loudly past the Scarlet Pimpernel who was trying to sleep and into the woods.

"YAH!" Andrew kicked the sides of his horse and took off running, trying to keep up with the eager young sprout on his new horse.

He lied down and closed his eyes. No sooner did he do that, but Armand raced on a fly by, too close for comfort to his head. Sitting up startled, Blakeney looked at Armand with a *look* but then shook his head, smiled and raised a brow. He was glad to see them both in good humor, despite the distressing news. "Damn maverick sprout." He shook his head and watching Andrew join Armand, lied back down and curled up to get some needed rest.

"Think you can outrun ME, eh? We'll see about that." Andrew gave his horse a hard kick in the sides and easily slipped past the young sprout on Blakeney's horse.

Damn! He was fast. But not fast enough! Armand came up behind Andrew and wove around the trees at the other man's left. He was ahead by a little but, but not enough to be safely ahead.

Andrew was coming to where Percy lay sleeping and ran SMACK into a tree branch. "DAMN!" Andrew yelled, when he slipped off the horse's back and onto the ground. "That HURT!!" The poor Englishman rubbed his sore backside and looked up in time to see the horse take off to only God knew where. "GET BACK HERE YOU DAMN HORSE!" Andrew jumped to his feet and ran after the animal.

Armand nearly died, he was laughing so hard. To see Andrew in such a spot was one of the funniest things he'd ever seen. He laughed as Andrew's horse charged past his, making Julien rear. Easily, Armand caught up to the other horse, grabbed the reins and slowed the beast. Seeing as Andrew wanted to feel like he'd succeeded in catching a horse that was running away, Armand dropped the reins when the horse was at a tired trot.

By the time he got to the horse, it had slowed down almost to a trot and Andrew attempted to jump on from behind, only to land back on HIS behind. "Demmed impudence." In the background, he could hear Armand laughing at him. "Shut the hell up!" Andrew yelled, but wound up laughing.

Armand giggled furiously, leaning on Julien's neck, shaking with laughter. He caught the horse's reins again, and he held on this time. He slid off, still laughing, and he walked himself and the horses over to where Andrew was.

"You're a dead man, St Just!" Armand had gotten off his horse, and was walking to where Andrew was laying. Bad idea. Sir Andrew George Ffoulkes was up on his feet in two seconds and soon had St Just pinned on the ground, begging for mercy.

The horses were standing patiently side by side, while Armand was on the ground, pinned in an uncomfortable position by Andrew. The man was almost twice his age, and still a child. Like Percy, but not as serious. Still laughing, but gasping from the discomfort, he managed to ask, "What are you so riled up about, Andrew?" Then he choked on the dust.

"I've a lot of energy built up. . been laying around too long." Andrew smirked and pretended to glare at him. Armand giggled helplessly as Ffoulkes continued to pin him to the ground. "What the in the name of England are you laughing at, my cravat?"

"Among other things," Armand wheezed, still choking. He tried to relax, then, taking a deep breath, he managed to flip Andrew off him. The other man fell to the ground, and Armand launched himself on him.

"Well, now, you're in a position, aren't you?" Armand twisted Andrew's arms, and the man winced. A cold breeze mad the boy shiver, and he looked up. Clouds. Rain, maybe? He stood up, brushed off his breeches and grabbed the reins of both horses. Watching Andrew get up, he led Julien and the other horse closer, tossed Drew his reins, then leapt easily into the saddle. He gave Andrew a cocky grin as the other scrambled less gracefully onto his horse.

Digging in his heels, Armand set Julien galloping, calling, "Four pence to the first one back to Percy!" As it turned out, Drew caught up with him and they arrived to where Percy was at the same time.

It did not take him long to fall into slumber. The cool breeze and the surrounding sounds of the wind rustling branches and leaves into one another was most soothing. During part of the rest, he pictured Paul at his side. The two men were laughing like old times and no sooner than it started, did the dream turn dark gray. Paul was being dragged away in the distance towards a wooden stage, and when he moved forward to reach for Paul he could not move.

Heavy hands held him fast and a gag was being put into and around his mouth. His wrists were bound tightly behind his back and someone's strength forced him down on his knees. He tried to call out, but the cloth in his mouth began to make him gag.

With a startled cry, Blakeney gasped himself awake and held his upper body up partly with his hands and arms bracing in tension. The mid afternoon sky was turning quite dark and cloudy overhead. It took him a few moments to re-orientate himself. Taking in a few deep breaths, he calmed his racing heart and listened around for Sir Andrew and Armand. His white steed eating grass was the only moving sight he could see.

The baronet was sitting up, looking tense and... scared? Disturbed, whatever it was. In one smooth motioned, Armand was off his horse and the reins were over Julien's head. "Are you all right?"

Andrew shared a concerned look with Armand, but didn't say anything. He wasn't sure it was his place. He looked at Percy with worry. What was on the man's mind?

Eyes adjusted to the approaching figures and he near stared at them like he did not recognize them. "It was a dream" his lips said hoarsely. He turned so he was not sprawled about on his belly and sat there on the blanket. The blues shifted back and around quickly, almost in a paranoid fashion. Finally, they settled on the darkening sky.

"What time is it?" The rest of his wits caught up with him and he looked at the horses remembering the riding lesson. Then he remembered the fight with Marguerite and the promise of dinner. "Good Lord. What time is it?" He rubbed tiredly at his face. He had needed more sleep.

Andrew glanced at Armand. Why was Blakeney so worried about the time? He looked at his friend. "It's almost six, I think." Andrew had no watch on him currently, but judging from the color of the sky...it had to be around that time. "Why?"

"Damn!" He got up wobbly to his feet, the sleep still slumbering in his limbs. "We are going to be late for dinner. I do not need to hear about that as well." Blakeney grumbled and began to pack the blanket away in the saddle bag.

Turning and looking at Armand, he asked, "What did I teach you on your riding lesson today?" Seriously, he looked back and forth from Andrew to Armand. He had to get his story straight for the plethora of questions that awaited him when he returned.

Andrew didn't say a word, just waited for Armand's answer. He shifted uncomfortably in the saddle. Andrew wasn't sure what to do in this situation. . except keep quiet. And that's exactly what he was going to do. Unless Percy told him otherwise.

He cocked his head. Why was Percy so worried? Of course Marguerite would understand that Percy was tired and had to sleep.

"Riding lesson?" Armand asked, then added, "I don't need lessons, Percy... not anymore. It's my sister who--" He stopped. "No, honestly, what lessons?"

He shook his head. They did not live in the world that he did. "When Marguerite asks what I taught you, or showed you, or however you damn well want to put it..." he waved his hand about and glanced around in these back parts of the woods.

The sun was beginning to set which he fears meant the vixen's anger was going to rise. ".. tell her, I had you jump that large fallen tree over there." He pointed to it and straightened out his hair and clothes. He was a little wrinkly from the nap, but could probably pass it off from the "idling" he had done all afternoon.

Armand nodded, then turned Julien towards the tree. Kicking him, the boy galloped over, jumped the tree with ease, and returned to his former spot. "Good lesson, Percy," He said cockilly.

Slowly, he began to mount the white steed. "Oh, and boys. Marguerite does not realize I went to Dover late last night and that is the reason for my tardiness this morning. So. I was riding to keep up along with you both all day today. There was no 'nap' taken, say whot?" He looked at them with a slight smile. Over time, they would learn he would do this. Tie in the stories so Marguerite never found out. He dared not chance it.

Now he was confused. "She doesn't know...?" He murmured. But he remembered how Percy had not wanted Marguerite knowing about the trips to France; this was the same thing. He shrugged, ready to go.

Glancing at Armand, he raised an eyebrow. Did the young Sprout ever pay attention? Thinking on this, he realized he would have to rely more and more on Frederick. That man seemed to be the most reliable as far as keeping it together and detail. True, Frederick had no stomach for the beheadings, but then again, who did? Blakeney had accepted it as part of his job. No more. No less.

He nodded at Armand's boyish taunting and gave a smile. It was good to see them in higher spirits than when he first embarked on his nap. Glancing at the sky, it must have been near or after six. He rode in silence, planning and plotting the escape from Richmond to France tomorrow. In the distance, the Blakeney Manor appeared. His eyes searched the Manor to pin point which room she might be in. Where were the candles lit?

Marguerite sat alone at the table in the dinning room, She had been sitting there for a while, trying to eat, but all she had really done is push her food around on her plate like a stubborn child refusing to eat, only managing a bite or two so far. There were other empty place settings, for Percy and Armand of course and another for Sir Andrew if he would to decide to stay for dinner before returning to his own home that evening, but all were empty.

Marguerite's mood had continuously swayed from sadness to anger as she watched the clock on the wall. It was half past six and she had expected the group home by now. She sighed hearing the clock chimes announce the half past and continued to push the food around on her plate.

As they neared the stables, he could see the candles here and there as normal. Not in her room. Not out on the back covered patio and porch. Part of him really dreaded what he had to now do. The darkness that came over the sky on this fall day seemed to loom and laugh over the Baronet's head. He was tensing up just upon viewing the Manor knowing she was in it.

Glancing at Armand and Andrew, he doubted they comprehended the situation he was in. Armand, who was the closest to viewing the situation, seemed to absentminded to even pay attention to anything other than the yelling. Or at least, he thought that was the case.

Dismounting, the stable hands came over to take the reins and horses back into their stalls. Taking a deep breath, Blakeney tugged to straighten his coat and headed towards the Manor from the back.

Marguerite could hear the doors from the back terrace opening. She knew it was him, it had to be him, no one else would be coming through those doors. But she didn't rush to see, she didn't greet him, she didn't try to offer him a warm hug or a soft kiss, she just sat in her seat at the empty dinning room table, still pushing the food around on her plate. No doubt he was hungry and would soon be brought to the room where she waited for his dinner.

With Armand and Sir Andrew near, he looked at Thomas who seemed to smile at the master of the house. The old man pointed towards the dinning hall and smiled. If Blakeney did not know any better, he would swear the aging butler was getting some idle pleasure out of knowing a secret. Blakeney feared a fuming wife. Perhaps that is what he was waiting for him.

Sir Percy entered the dinning room and glanced about with a grin. "Lud, that was a mighty good ride. I hope you did not have to wait for us long Milady." Blakeney took immediate note of her posture. She did not come and cling to him, and for that he was thankful. Still. He dreaded the explosion that was sure to come.

Marguerite didn't even bother to look at him as he entered. Calmly, she laid her fork on her plate and took her napkin and began to fold it as she spoke. "You're late, I had expected you much earlier. There's food in the covered dishes over there, because you're so late it's cold, so that's how you'll have to eat it. Don't bother summoning the kitchen staff to heat it up or cook something else for you, they have all been dismissed for the evening along with most of the rest of the house staff, save Thomas and Frank. No doubt you find my presence even more repulsive then the cold food you have for dinner so I will leave you to try and stomach at least one. if my brother wishes to visit me, I shall be upstairs." Marguerite rose and walked coldly past her husband, turning just before she left the hall to add, "And that, Sir Percy, will be the last meal I attempt to take in this house without your presence."

He swore he heard footsteps slightly following them when they entered. No doubt the biggest gossiper, worse than the women, of the house was listening. As she began, he felt all was well. But then she added her little twist. Using cold food against him, as if that would suddenly bring down his world. Well, in the fake world of Sir Percy, it actually did. Still, his face reddened. She was challenging him and he could not rebuttal or rise to meet the challenge.

Sir Percy stood there silently like the fop he was. Blakeney did not make his mouth drop open in shock. Even Sir Percy could expect his wife to be angered. He had not expected enraged however. Damn. Upon hearing her cold and final words, all he could think was "She is going to wither away into nothing before too long."

He made no attempt to stop her and watched her go on her angry way. Sir Percy played with his eyeglass for a moment, pondering over the events of what just happened. He could not even look at Armand or Andrew. He had wanted to ask Thomas if he just enjoyed that little scenario, but that would not do to come out of Sir Percy's mouth.

Instead, like the punished cub he was, he moved over and took the wrap of his dinner setting. Silently, he began to eat the cold food.

He stared.

He didn't even mind the cold food. He was starving, and was silent the entire time he ate.

At least she wasn't mad at him. Armand knew Percy was going to get it if he was late again, and the wrath of Marguerite was not a pretty thing. He was a little scared, though, for Percy. Even though HE, Armand, knew Percy was not the fool he masqueraded as, once Marguerite was mad... well, it was.... frightening.

He choked down the cold food. This time, he didn't want to visit her. He was scared. He knew she would grill him about why Percy was not there for dinner. What could he say? He was giving riding lessons that long? Marguerite would see right though that one. Armand wasn't THAT bad.

"Percy... you do realize you're in for it, right?" This was said with complete seriousness. Armand was not trying to be funny. "You can't do it again... WE can't let it happen again."

Glancing up at Armand, who was rapidly eating the food before him, Blakeney gave a bit of a disgusted look. He barely begun to eat and watching Armand always left his stomach a little queasy. He glanced down at the cold food. If he didn't know any better, he would have sworn she planned this and had the staff make dinner early than normal. Then again, who was to say what is normal.

Slowly eating, he talked to Armand, but refused to look at him. "Thank you Armand for restating what has been made most obvious to the entire household." He shook his head. "If it happens again, it happens again. And if ears are around, Thomas?" He stopped talking and listened. Speaking of such potential things would not do openly in the Blakeney Manor.

Andrew, had barely heard Marguerite's long speal. He was back to daydreaming. About Suzanne. In fact, he didn't even notice the cold food on his plate. Andrew would have gladly eatin' dirt and been considered happy. Right now, he just wanted to get Suzanne out of France and into England. Andrew munched on some strawberries, and jumped when Armand spoke, nearly dropping his glass of water onto the floor. "What do you mean, we?" Andrew asked, completely unaware of what had just happened. "I'm sorry, my mind was elsewhere." And it wasn't now..

He looked over at Andrew and kept quiet. Andrew had feelings for the girl on his list. The daughter of his father's old friend. He remained quiet because he feared if his mouth opened, he would be angry and say something he might regret later. These were his men. He needed to respect them in order to get their respect in return. Armand could repeat himself if he felt it needed. For now, he stared at the cold food that he consumed.

"Anytime, Percy," Armand said dryly. Fine. Percy wanted to be nasty, that was fine. He stood up quickly, and headed for the door. "It wouldn't have been so obvious if you would at least pretend to love your wife!" He walked calmly up the stairs to his room and locked the door. And he sat on his bed, pouting.

Now he entirely lost his appetite. He hadn't slept, save the few hours just taken. The plan in his head, needed Armand's help and he needed to get them gathered up and soon. Looking near helpless at Andrew, so tired he was, he sighed. "Will you please go see to him? Get him down hear Andrew? I will be in the main library."

With a shake of his head, leaving most of the food on his plate, Blakeney went to the library. He flopped down on a small couch and covered his eyes with his arm. Where in the devil was Frank?

As Sir Andrew left the dining room Frank entered, taking this opportunity to speak to Sir Percy alone. As he approached Percy he saw the exhausted, care worn man lounging on a couch. "Can I get you some brandy sir? Something to relax you a bit mayhaps? You have had quite a trying evening from what I've heard." As he spoke Frank busied himself about the room and waited for a response from his friend and master.

"Please Frank. Good old Loyal Frank. Tell me, why does my entire household feel the need to yell at me?" He did not uncover his eyes and remained lying on the couch. Then it hit him. "Damn me, Andrew doesn't know Armand's room. He is going to get himself lost or worse yet, end up in Lady Blakeney's room. Heaven forbid *that* happen. Will you please go find Sir Andrew and fetch them both?"

"Of course. We wouldn't want them wandering around the house now would we?" Frank headed off down the corridor towards Armand's room, hoping to find Sir Andrew on his way. When he arrived at Armand's room he knocked softly on the door and called "Armand? Sir Percy would like to see you" and then in a whisper, so as to prevent the entire house form hearing, "it is important." He then waited for a response from inside the silent room.

Keeping his arm draped across his face, the Baronet took this small brief bout of silence to reorganize the plan in his head. It was near worked out to the last letter and he only hoped he did not overlook a single detail. When he worked by himself, he near Improv- ed everything he attempted. With the others now involved, he had to make sure each instruction was carried out and that he included any possible scenario. With a languid sigh, he waited for Frank to return.

'Really...' Armand thought dryly. He came to the door, turned the key and opened it a couple inches, leaning casually against the doorframe. "And why should I?" He asked. He was still mad about what Percy had said to him.

Frank gave Armand a look saying just how important it was that he comply with Percy's wishes. He normally liked the young man but this was not the time for games. Percy was tired and over worked and he needed Armand's help.

"I... oh all right." He pushed open the door and followed Frank.

Frank smiled at Armand, knowing that the younger man had overcome some pride to follow him. As they headed down the hall to the room where Percy was taking his much needed rest Frank scanned the corridors for Sir Andrew. "Where in the devil has he gotten himself off to?" he wondered as he and Armand made their way to Percy.

Upon hearing them, he lifted up his arm slightly and peer out from under it. Frank and Armand entered, with Sir Andrew close behind. Swinging his legs around the side of the couch, the Baronet sat up and rubbed his temples. With a lazy look, he gazed at Armand. "I loved my wife once and showed it for all the world to see." Without missing a beat, he continued on, "Tell me what I am doing wrong gentlemen. There were probably 20 heads sliced from their shoulders today. I turn to you for help, and somehow, someway, still get resistance. Shall I forgo this very idea and continue it along alone?" He spoke to them all, but his gaze never wavered from Armand.

"Percy, you don't have to give anything up." Andrew said quietly, finally finding the courage to speak up, without worry of getting his head bitten off. "No, you're not doing anything wrong." Andrew hung his head, completely ashamed of himself. "I doubted you this morning, and I apologize for that." Andrew looked curiously at Armand. Then he turned back to Percy. "I'd do anything for the league, Percy." He paused. "I'd willingly give my LIFE for this very cause that we're fighting for." He looked up at his leader, his friend, waiting for a response. "And you don't have to go through this alone."

Andrew's words gave him encouragement. He had never led a group quite like this before and his temper got the best of him at times. "It is all right Andrew. I know I gave a poor display with the Brandy that first night." There is a plan and it will work if I am not alone. I can not do it alone or someone will die. If I don't have everyone behind me 100%, what is the point? My personal life can not and will not get in the way of what we strive to do. She is your sister Armand. I respect that. But nothing, nothing is more important than saving who we can. Not even Marguerite."

Glancing at Frank, he scratches at his hand. "Speaking of Brandy, didn't you offer some not too long ago?" He needed it.

"Are you sure you ought to have any?" Andrew chuckled. "I could use some tea, myself. Brandy doesn't sound that great right now." He made a face. Andrew thought for a minute before speaking. Then he simply nodded. Andrew didn't quite agree with Blakeney as far as Marguerite was concerned, but he didn't say a word to the man about it. Lest he should cause a war to break out between them. "There

would> be no point, Percy." Andrew chose his words carefully. "The revolution has gotten out of hand, Blakeney." Andrew shook his head. "We've got to stick to the game plan. Speaking of, what is it? You never told us." Andrew glanced around. "I think we're quite safe, Percy. I don't think that Lady Blakeney will surface for awhile."

It was as if Robspierre enjoyed watching people die. Andrew thought it insane. He gave Blakeney a sly grin. "I promise not to flake out on you this time, Percy." Then he gave a slight chuckle and stared at his shoes.

I know you won't Andrew. And yes, I really could use some Brandy. There are still a few hours left in the night before we can leave the Manor and head for France. We are safe to speak freely in here. Myself and Frank always scout out the location of others when speaking here. So far, all is well."

He coughed into his hand and then yawned. "The plan is this: We will await around the prison and locate the two main parties. The De Tourneys and Louise's parents. From there, we know Louise's parents are to be put in the cart for her Madame. The De Tourneys are to be taken from a cart to the prison. First, we intercept Louise's parents and then fly through the square on horseback. Grabbing the De Tourneys. That is the plan. I plan on barging our way through the gates. The fools have guards posted up along. They have not yet gotten smart enough to lock it, so we should take advantage of this fact while it is still available to us. I suspect after tomorrow, that will no longer be an option. I hope you both are up on your shooting skills. They will probably give chase."

"I haven't shot anything as of late." Andrew remembered clobbering a guard over the head with his gun last time they were in Paris. "As for the French being smart, Percy, who said that they were?" Andrew gave a sly grin. Then he turned towards the wall, deep in thought. " Andrew felt an adrenaline rush go through him at the thought of this upcoming adventure.

He had remained silent, listening to Percy and Andrew talk. Now.... "Hey, I take offense to that!" He threw Andrew a look. "And while those guards might not be smart, but Robespierre and Chauvelin are no fools. Once they catch on to us, it will be a good deal more difficult to get around the prisons, and in and out of Paris," Armand added. His green eyes, identical to his sister's, gazed placidly at Percy when he spoke.

His dull blues glanced over at Armand. "If one of us becomes imprisoned, while yes, it will be difficult it is not impossible to escape. However, I have a rule that I insist be obeyed as well: Don't get caught." He mused over the irony in what he told them and gave Frank a quick look. Frank should understand.

On the couch, he turned his upper body around and glanced up at the clock. It threatened to strike eight. Sinking back into the furniture normally, he looked at the three men. We have still a few hours before the Manor will settle down and we can take a carriage towards Dover and onto France. I plan on resting during this time. Have you any questions for me?"

Andrew thought for a moment. Actually, there was something on his mind. Maybe now would be the best time to bring it up. He glanced over at Percy uncertainly. "Yes, I do have a question, Percy." Andrew paused, as if in deep thought. "I know how much you're depending on me for this mission." Percy nodded. "I won't let you down. BUT- I did let Dewhurst down. When I became ill. Is there any possible way that I could stay in France once everybody else has reached safety? I know it's a mite inconvient, but it's the only thing I could think of that might work. Please, Percy- let me do this one thing..."

It was to Frank, Armand, and Sir Andrew that he spoke last to in the room. The words were simple: "Seek out rest now or get yourself ready how you best see fit. Andrew, you wish to remain behind so help Tony, that is fine. If I need you, as always, I will send my coded word. Until the house settles and the clock strikes one."

Departing the main library, Blakeney paused in the kitchen and glanced about. He wasn't all that hungry to eat; the last slap in the face with his cold meal turned his stomach sour. Slowly wandering about the downstairs, he entered the large and dark ballroom. Leaning upon his arm, as it cradled in the doorframe, his mind remembered a time when parties held were about festivities and gayity. The last party was supposed to uphold this tradition.

Shaking his head from the memories, part of him wished to steal another quick nap, but he needed to tend to the pistols first. They were locked up in his study. Frank might have prepared them, as he usually refilled them when they came back into the household. Still, his restless mind would not allow the smallest mistake if he could prevent it.

Glancing down the hallway towards his childhood rooms, Blakeney felt a bit of distasteful bile move up in his throat. Quietly, he ascended the staircase, his gaze never left the flickering candlelight that shone from under her doorway. It was almost painful, the way he put a foot on a step and maintained the silence.

Marguerite had bathed and changed into a night gown and robe. She carefully went through her long arburn hair, which like the rest of her body wasn't as full or lively as it was four weeks ago when she had first come to the manor. She wasn't sure whether or not Percy had come upstairs, but at this point, she wasn't waiting any longer. Marguerite was tired of playing these games.

She placed her brush down on the table and gently tied her hair back. She took one last look at her empty bed, which one of the girls had turned down, but she had no plans of sleeping there that night. Picking up her candlestick, she blew out the few candles and left her room.

Stepping out into the hallway, Marguerite was shocked to she Percy standing there. Suddendly over taken by anger she slammed her bedroom door behind her and just stared at him for a moment. Without a word she crossed the hallway to the entrance to his suite, opened the door and entered his bedroom.

Seeing her appear from the darkness, the single strong candle flicker where light had been absent, his blood ran fluidly. Warmly. The vision of his wife, in her nightrobe and her hair down, it made his knees wish to go weak. Sturdily, he dug his fingers into the banistar railing to steady himself. She slammed the door, echoing it throughout the quiet house, and Blakeney was startled by this.

The cold stare the two seemed to have shared could not have been anything further than the truth for the Baronet. In that split second when she stood as stupified as he, and the two could only look at each other, Blakeney saw his Maeve. His true wife and love. She appeared near the same as she looked on the night of their honeymoon. Of course, the clothes did not last very long... and while standing there, he could feel his eyes imagining what once laid before him under those cloth restriction.

No sooner than it came, it was ruined. She stormed past him without a word and for the second time that evening, he felt like he had been slapped across his face. His room. She went into his room. The Baronet could only shake his head once the vision of pure beauty disappeared. She would sleep alone again tonight, as he inserted his key into the den room and locked it behind him.

Marguerite entered Percy's room, leaving the hallway door wide open and removed her robe. She began to pull back the covers carefully when she heard Percy moving about in the hallway. She paused, hoping he would follow into the room, but she instead heard him go into another room, shutting and locking the door behind him.

In response she roughly pulled all of the covers and sheets back from the bed and virtually threw herself on the bed. She wasn't giving up so easily and was determinded to make it difficult for Percy to avoid her much more. Fustrated and weary, she got into the large bed, and tried to sleep.

It was not an easy task to force back her vision, so he took to the task of making himself occupied by menial hand tasks. Moving to the trunk in the corner, he unlocked it and found the arsenal items ready. Taking out a few of the pistols, he looked them over. Frank always did good work. The guns had been polished clean on the inside, leaving the outside to look dull and old. Frank never tried to fix the exterior of the guns used in France. The poorer the better, as long as they shot like English guns.

Moving around in his study, he let the time pass. Part of him stared at his chair for a nap, but he could not chance that up here. If he snuck out in the middle of the night, and the creak of the den door woke her, Louise's parents or the De Tourneys could suffer. Moving over to the map of France on his wall, Blakeney ran his finger along the familiar path the Day Dream had taken in the past. The English Channel. A passage way of water and freedom.

When he felt he had given her enough time to fall asleep, Blakeney quietly exited his den study and glanced towards his room. Her perfume lingured still in the air, and against his better wits, he found himself stepping softly into his room. Carefully placing his boot upon the floorboards that would not crack. He could at least smell her, if not see her well in the darkness.

Marguerite was still awake when he came in. She didn't hear him, but she could see the outline of his body. It was dark, but not that dark. He was trying to avoid her, and she knew it. "I'm still here, and I have no intention of leaving tonight." Marguerite said, almost coldly. "I told you once when we were engaged, I hated going to bed, my bed was cold and lonely, and I thought after getting married it would be different, but I was wrong. the bed is bigger, so it seems even lonelier. I told you tonight I refused to take another meal without your presence in this house, and now I'm telling you I refuse to sleep in that bed without you beside me."

For a third time that night, he felt his blood chill. "Dammit!" He swore at himself. At every blood turn, there she was. He could not even look at her from a far and engage in a precious memory without her ruining it. "No need for you to leave the bed my dear." Was all he could manage without loosing his temper.

Keeping his wills in check and bites his tongue, listening to the vixen before him speak as if her very soul was black. He almost opened his mouth and defended himself, but the vision of the headless St. Cyr kept Sir Percy in check.

"Zounds, you seem intent on doing yourself harm. Is it me or you you wish to punish?"

”Oh," she began, "Punishment? You want to talk about punishment? I'm not trying to harm anyone, but since we're on the subject, I'd like to know for what reason you feel the need to punish me. Since we've been here you've barely paid me any notice, you avoid me as much as possible, you ignore my questions or at the very most offer a joke as an answer and brush off nearly all requests I have no matter how simple they seem like escorting me into town tomorrow. For seven weeks we barely left each other's side and don't tell me it's business because if you can put business for seven weeks at a stretch I doubt that you can't do the same for one afternoon. I want to know why you feel the need to punish me so, what do I ever do to you that would make you want to abuse me so?"

"*I*" and he said this with great emphasis, "have done nothing of the sort to punish you." In the darkness, his eyes narrowed at her, and he took advantage of the cover to restore some of the dignity she stripped him from earlier in the eve.

"La! Had I not warned you that I am a foolish man? Business is business. I am sorry I can think of no other words to explain it to you. My mind does not extend that far." He felt his voice tense.

"You have done nothing of the sort? Do you not even remember this afternoon when you continuously made excuses not to escort me to town tomorrow, and don't go off blabbering about being dull witted or having no memory. I know you better then that Percy. Why is it then you refuse to take me to town?"

"I have my reasons Madame." He tensed in the darkness. She had no business to question him like this in his own house. Damn her! Sir Percy tried to remain, but it was Blakeney's eyes that stared through the black room at the outline of her figure.

"Well then, let's hear them." Marguerite said coolly. "Let me hear the reasons why you can not break yourself away from business for a few hours to be with your wife."

"Every thing in life has a time and a place. I have an appointment tomorrow that I will not miss, as trivial as it is to you. That said, there is nothing left to speak on."

"I would say there's plenty more to speak on Percy. If everything had a time and place Percy, then when is it my time? When does your wife fit into your busy schedule?"

Zounds but he was tired and in no mood for question after question after question. "Upon my return." It was all he said. She wore him out repeatedly in the past, and again, she did. If only she knew how in a few hours he would be running off to France, would she leave him be? Probably not. Perhaps she would quickly take to pen and ink to warn the *Chauvelin*, man-in-black, friend of hers. He turned to walk away.

"And when will that be? A few hours? a day? a week?" Marguerite continued to push him as he turned his back to her. "It seems you're already prepared to go back on your word and not escort me into town tomorrow."

With a sigh of breath, he stopped and stared into the open doorway. Past the opening, the hallway flickered and beckoned him to the freedom that was so close. Just a few steps, and he would be there. Not even Sir Percy could do such a thing, but he could not bring himself to turn and face her either.

Sounding exhausted with her, as if he were to collapse over from her words, Blakeney managed, "A day. Perhaps two at most."

"A day or two?" Marguerite said sourly, "I guess we'll see then. It seems that you are eager to be rid of my company, so goodnight my husband." Marguerite spat that last word, husband, out like a curse as she roughly pulled the covers up and around her as she laid in the empty bed.

If words were splinters, his soul would bleed. Her sharp tongue lashed rightfully out at him and he was powerless to redeem or evade. "Good night Madame." His voice barely above a whisper. The Baronet's face felt hot and feverish, his life an endless torture at the moment. He was tired and he allowed her words to get the very best of him.

Marguerite heard the whisper, and angrily she snapped back. "My name is Marguerite."

Stepping out of his own bedroom, he walked stiffly and stoically down the hallway. The fork in the road, as it would seem, came to him in the form of the downward staircase to the foyer or his den. Not wishing to chance another encounter with the Lady, he gladly took his whipped self towards the right.

Alone he moved about the foyer and headed into one of the card rooms. He was in mourning for the moment once more.

Marguerite tired in vain to warm herself, but it was no use. It wasn't the temperature that was causing the chill, but her husband's in different attitude towards her. Finally, she let a flood of tears flow, offering a sort of emotional release until she had cried herself to sleep.

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