Back in a Flash V Percy's return from Business

Not that the nights an entire loss. Somehow, between the last time she left her dressing room after her last change and the time she returned after the curtain call, a bunch of flowers appeared on her table. The first night was a bouquet of sweet smelling lilies, the second night was a dozen deep red roses.

Each night after the show she would join her friends as she used to for dinner or a night at the bistro. The time passed a little quicker, but when she returned home she was saddened by the fact Percy was not there to hold her and wish her sweet dreams.

The "business" or show as they say, must go on. The Baronet, who never thought he would be extending his little weekend rendezvous into the four weeks it had now grown, had to still continue on as planned. The thought occurred to him that he could tell this new lady friend of his what is was he did at night once he was left alone to his thoughts. The obsessive compulsive planning and plotting. Still though, it was all new to him, and although he trusted her, felt it best not to rock the boat as it were.

Oh but did he have a rough time of it. The three days he was gone was to complete two very important tasks. The Victome de Sultou and his wife were to be slaughtered and he needed to make final arrangements with St. Cyr and family. Just a few weeks prior the man finally agreed to let Blakeney help, and for that he was thankful. He could tell he was running out of time.

The first visit was to the St. Cyrs. He dressed as a poor delivery boy, bringing them vegetables. When needing to dress young, Blakeney always wore a large flat rimmed hat, so his face was mostly covered and his 32 years did not betray him. He kept the meeting brief. Told them what they needed to do. Where to be. When. Frank would be meeting them in the middle of the night while he himself would not come this time. They didn't seem to mind. They were thankful to be forming an escape.

After that, Blakeney made his way to find the Victome de Sultou. He and his wife were already jailed and Blakeney had begun the proper steps to go about freeing them. He dressed in the garb of the main key jailer. He had no weapon on him. Just the keys, which worked to his advantage and disadvantage. The first night found him walking around the corridors, finding where they were located and checking out the best possible escape. The second night is when the "fun" began.

He waited until the West guards made their walkabout and then quietly stole himself over to the cell. His hands made quick work of the lock and once the two of them were out, he tossed the keys into the next cell for the prisoners in there. Best to let them make their own go of it.

The three of them tore down the hallway, Blakeney had run through this plan so many times in his head, it was as if he worked these prison walls all his life. No one said a word, but shouting from behind started. The other prisoners that made their escape attempt were not so lucky. Shots rang out and footsteps quickly approached.

"Now!" Blakeney grabbed a hold of the Vitcome's wife and hoisted her up so she could climb through one of the roof metal grates used for ventilation. Once she was up he boosted the husband. "Head west! Just run, jump, don't stop, keep heading west! No matter what you hear!" They quickly did as they were told on the roof and Blakeney glanced around.

In the event of such a capture, he planned to slit his own throat. He always had however tonight, thoughts of the beautiful St. Just actress made him want to fight harder and longer to stay alive. Running as fast as he could, Blakeney pressed his back into a partial shadowy corner and held his breath. One. Two. Three guards raced on by with long bayonets in their hands. They raced to the gate up ahead to only see no one. One. Two. Three guards headed back and if he could have only melted into the wall, freedom would have been his.

As it were, two guards passed. The third never did. Blakeney remained perfectly still. Minutes passed. Where was the bloody third guard? When it seemed like forever, Blakeney slowly crept from his shadowy hiding place. It was then that his ribs were sharply met with the blunt end of the bayonet and crunched. He cursed in English, not expecting it and the immediate sting surprised him so.

Having no weapon, Blakeney immediately grabbed for the bayonet and the third guard and he struggled in the hallway. Having height and strength on his side, he was able to wretch the weapon from the shorter Frenchman. As he staggered back with the bayonet long ways in his hands, the guard reached to his side and brought about the thick wooden stick called a life preserver. With it, he quickly took to slamming it into the knuckles of Blakeney. The weapon dropped, and with his knuckles bleeding, Blakeney took to the fine art of boxing and left his blood on the jaw and cracked cheek bones of the third guard.

Limping and favoring his left side, Blakeney ran up ahead after his last blow sent the guard to the ground. Too much noise and not enough time to get out his knife and finish the guard off. Not this time anyway. Running out of the prison, into the night, he looked back and up at the roof, but saw no pair of people. His only thought was a prayer that they escaped.

His heart pounded and he foolishly ran west into the countryside. Ripping off part of his clothing, he wrapped both hands to stop the bleeding from the split knuckles. Climbing into an old abandoned farm house, miles away from the city, he lied down and tried to rest while his cracked ribs throbbed......

That entire day was spent with him searching to find out the whereabouts of the Victome and his wife. He had no word on them, captured or escaped. He made his way to the coast, where he would try and spot them. Blakeney easily took on a limp, as his ribs were still in much pain. The get-up he donned was of an old man. He spent hours overlooking the coming and going and finally, he saw them. They had crossed the main square and in the distance they boarded a ship to take them across the channel. He did not approach or interfere. They too, at his earlier instructions, were dressed in garb and he sat down on a pile of rope, and did not move until his lazy blues saw the ship safely off in the distance no more.

But tonight was the forth night, and she was sure he'd be in the audience. During the performance, she tried to strain her eyes to see if he was there, but she couldn't see up into the boxes, where he usually sat. She sent one of the prop boys up during the break, but he did not see anyone that might have been Percy. With a sigh she completed the second act and rushed back to her room after the curtain, only to find that her table lacked the usual bouquet of flowers.

Damn! He had promised to meet her at the theater tonight, and he was not even going to make it into town at this rate. Changing into something less comical, Blakeney hired a swift horse and rode, crying out at the demmed pain from his ribs, back to the outskirts of Paris. Near falling off the damn horse, he tossed money to a stable boy and made his way to the back of the inn where he stayed. It was already dark and he climbed up the side and pried open his room window with the knife.

She dropped into her chair and without the help of a dresser pulled off her costume. When her friends stopped by, she declined their offer to join them for dinner. After nearly everyone else had left the theatre, Marguerite, with a sigh and a heavy heart, left the stage door, keeping her head down in disappointment, and slowly walked in the direction of her flat.

There was no time to waste, and he bathed as fast as humanly possible, fixing and putting on the easiest outfit of his to primp. His ribs still throbbed, but he would have to ignore that for now. He glanced down at his freshly scarred knuckles. What to do? Gloves! Blakeney found a fashionable, and thankfully, loose pair and donned them. Grabbing his walking cane and top hat, he quickly, made his way in the direction of her flat to the theater. He missed the entire performance. Of that he was sure. Perhaps he could catch her, or find her at the bistro.

Marguerite kept her head down and watched the cobblestone walk as she made her way home. For the most part she was fine until she nearly walked head first into something. She glanced forward only to see the chest of a taller man. With out looking up into his face she said, "Excuse me citizen." and stepped to the side to pass.

Hearing her sweet French was music to his ears. He made it. He found her. "I beg your pardon Mlle," Blakeney spoke in perfect accented English, "but I do not speak French. Perhaps it is I that should offer an apology to you for my tardiness?" His lazy blues glanced down at her, and his gloved hand gently, very gently, reached to tip her chin up.

Marguerite nearly froze in mid step. She recognized that voice. Feeling a hand touch her face Marguerite allowed her face to be tipped up and looked up into those familiar blue eyes. "Percy!" she nearly screamed in excitement. She tightly wrapped her arms around him and held her head against his shoulder. "Oh Percy, I missed you so much. I'm so glad you're back, I was so upset when I thought you weren't back yet." She only paused to stop her chatted the tiptoe up and plant a number of quick pecks all over his smooth face.

He should have known she was going to do this, but in his excitement of catching up with her, Blakeney forgot himself. As she wrapped her arms around him tightly, he felt the intense pain shoot across from his ribs and straight up into his eyes. They began to tear as he gritted his jaw to keep from crying out.

As she kissed him, he leaned down, and pulled his torso out of her painful death grasp. He returned the kisses, but they were forced and mechanical as he still was trying to ignore the pain she just caused him. The light blues remained shut, until he felt he could open them as well without giving away his current predicament.

Marguerite felt Percy take her hands and pull them from around his body. She laced her fingers in between his as he kissed her back. With one hand she wrapped around his neck, she pulled him closer to her, letting her nose press against his cheek. "I missed you so much my Percy. When no one had seen you at the theatre during the performance, I thought some of the worst things." Marguerite paused and pulled her face back to look at him, but only for a second until she pushed her lips against his.

The smile across his face tightened as she wrapped her fingers over his gloved hands and around his scarring wounds. In fact, the smile was covering up his gritted teeth, and his eyes became teary again. The ribs calmed, but the new pain increased. Oh! If only she hadn't done that.

When she pressed her nose near his cheek and neck, he sighed a little relief and nodded hearing her.

"I am sorry Maeve that I was detained so. How can I ever make it up to you?" She then kissed him, and suddenly, he didn't feel any of the pain for the moment. Only the soft and gentleness of her lips brushing against his.

Marguerite giggled and pulled away. "I don't know if you ever could make such an awful crime up to me." she said as she lowered herself to her normal sigh and gave a coyish, mocking smile, "but I suppose you can start with taking me dinner, if you think you can stand the company."

Blakeney smiled down at Marguerite as their lips departed. The pain he endured to swiftly ride back into Paris was well worth the trip for her lips were deep pools of tenderness that he wished to get lost in tonight. It was these exact pair of lips that made him fight stronger and harder for his survival in the hallways of the prison. As if nothing else mattered in his life, these two soft cherry red hills upon her face held for him all the wonderment of exploration. A place he wished to venture into again and again.

At her suggestion of food, it reminded him that he had not eaten well in the past two days. That isn't to say he did not eat. Always dressed in garb, Blakeney would toss a few francs for a piece of fruit or a vegetable to snack on. He never ate largely though. Keeping his stomach near empty it never slowed him down nor did he risk feeling ill. Sitting down to a meal was the second best thing he could have heard tonight next to her song like voice. "I will do my best sweet Maeve. Please, you lead. I shall gladly follow." His lazy blues along with the smile light up his face. One man could not have been happier.

Marguerite stepped to his side and put her arm through his. Beginning to walk in the direction of a street which had a few restaurants still open this time of night, she leaned over and gently rested her head against his shoulder. Just his presence tonight was enough to make her heart soar with pride and happiness. as they near a cluster of restaurants, she looked up to Percy, "well now, where do you feel like eating tonight? I don't believe we've actually been to any of these restaurants together."

As she took his arm, a naturalness came across the Baronet and he reached over and patted her hand. There was something strangely familiar to him, although he could not place what it was. He had grown used to her. While he was away, he had missed her. Blakeney had come to France from Tony's taunt of him never having a wife. His mind raced with a scared excitement. Had he found someone to spend the rest of his days in happiness with? "How about a nice mutton? Do not ask me why, but I have the taste for a good potato and mutton meal." He looked down at her and smiled, then leaned over and kissed her gently.

Marguerite willingly accepted the brush of Percy's lips against hers. She wanted so much more from him, but on a populated street with numerous restaurant patrons around, much more was out of the question. Such things would have to wait until after dinner. "I think that sounds like a good idea." she said as they passed through the doors of the restaurant they were in front of.

The matre'd seated the pair in a booth in the corner of the restaurant and handed each a menu. "Now Percy," she began once the two were alone, "are you going to stay with your choice of mutton, or do you wish me to translate some of the menu for you?"

He smiled at her coyness. She certainly had a way to speak at him just so that got his blood racing. He glanced at the menu, which Blakeney could translate five times over. In his mind, he had the though of telling her he could speak French, but Lud! How tantalizing was this flirtatious offer?! His lazy blues shone at her with a spark of wickedness. "Well Milady. I dare say I do have my heart set on mutton. However, I would be most interested in hearing what else you have to say that could be offered." He glanced at her just so, and for a moment, part of him realized he wasn't speaking on the menu.

Marguerite leaned in close, placing a soft, lingering kiss on his cheek. "Not all of the things I have to say to be offered are on the menu." She gave that soft flirty giggle of hers as she pulled back a bit and read off some of the choices on the menu.

A shiver went up his spine and the smile crossed Blakeney's face. His gloved hand reached across the table, and as she read, he slowly brought the menu down, to see her face better. "These things you read, they don't really sound all that interesting. Perhaps you would not moving on to the things 'not' offered on the menu? Say?"

Marguerite glanced about, as she expected, no one was really looking in their direction. On the bench, she slid closer and whispered, "Perhaps you'd like to sample what's available." She let her lips caress behind his ear and work down the back of his jaw a bit as she moved her leg to rub against his. "Of course, such treats are usually saved until after the meal."

He had never been touched in such a manner before. Although he had encouraged it, with his underlying meaning for a response, Blakeney's face turned beat red and he reached for her hand. Clearing his throat, his voice went up slightly in pitch and he managed the reply of, "Yes. Well I see. That will do quite nicely."

Marguerite smiled, "I just hope I'll be able to get some sweets after dinner too." she said as she pulled back, "but until then, are you still set on the mutton?"

She moved back over to her place setting, and Blakeney was actually relieved. Until that point, holding hands and the occasional kiss was involved. He nodded at her, glancing over at his cane and top hat. He reached his gloved hand across the table, and grinned. "For now, the mutton will suffice."

The waiter came over and Marguerite ordered the mutton for Percy, roasted chicken for herself, and a bottle of wine. She turned her attention back to Percy, as they waited, letting her hand gently rest in his. "So Percy, tell me about this trip of yours."

He rubbed her fingers every so gently when she laid her hand to rest in his. A smile crossed his face, hearing her order for them both. Having a woman order for a man was completely absurd, but as we well know by now, the more absurd, the better it was in the mind of Blakeney. She was so different from any woman he had ever had contact with. No woman could pull of her blunt and forcefulness, while at the same time, hold the air of elegance and beauty. He knew. He knew it when he was pacing the halls of the prison. He would have to ask for her hand and not settle for anything less.

The question did not really startle him at all. Sometimes his staff would ask such things of him and he always had either a great story or a grand souvenir. Seeing as how showing off his war wounds would not impress her, he decided upon the story. "I had to meet with a friend back North. It seemed he desperately needed some papers that could not wait until I returned. Tricky things, filing papers. I had it stashed away in some stack or another, but hidden away it was still. Rather a boring time if you ask me. How did your performances go?"

Marguerite let her other hand some over to caress his as she looked into his soft eyes. "The performances were fine I suppose." she said. "Too be perfectly honest though, they were some of the hardest shows I've had to do." Marguerite said as she lowered her eyes a bit. She had been performing in a romantic comedy, but without Percy at the theatre, or even planning to meet her at the stage door, her heart just wasn't there, it was far off where ever Percy was.

"Hardest?" He laughed and patted her hand with his other. "I've seen you perform that role all last week and then some. You know it forwards and backwards and do a marvelous job, if my opinion is of any worth. What on ever do you mean?"

"Romantic comedy isn't the easiest thing for a woman to perform when the man who has her heart has taken it and gone away." she said as she raised her head again and looked into Percy's eyes, wondering if he knew what she was eluding to.

The man was dense when it came to detecting certain things in relationships, so he jerked his neck slightly back and blinked his surprise when Marguerite clarified it for him. "Oh..." Blakeney was not really sure what else to say for the moment, so he smiled at her. Smiled proudly that he was such a man.

A few silent moments passed, he looked into her young eyes and wondered how on earth he ever fell so quickly into such a position. He had to ask for her hand. Of this he knew. How could things become more perfect for him? Finally, he spoke. His voice low and attempting to match her coyness and wit. "So.... tell me Maeve. How in the name of the King did you ever perform the role before meeting me?" He was fishing, and he knew it.

During the silence, Marguerite continued to hold his hand in between her two hands. She looked up into his eyes and searched them out. Sometimes things between the two of them were so simple, other times they played little games. Not games of deceit or other vices, but of flirting and sweet compliments. Marguerite smiled and plainly stated, "I still held control of my own heart then."

He wasn't sure, but he thought he just let out the softest and weakest of sighs. What did she just say? It was amazingly clear to him. He reached around with his other hand and took hold of both of hers. The gloved hands pulled her fingers forward, and he kissed each fingertip. Each one in turn, taking his time. He was simply in awe of Mlle. Marguerite St. Just.

Marguerite watched as the soft breath escaped Percy's parted lips. As he brought her fingers to his lips, she let them glide over his lips and felt his warm breath. It was only when a soft cough from the waiter bringing the wine and glasses did they break from their own little world. Once the waiter filled their glasses, he stepped away and Marguerite couldn't help but to giggle at the near scolding look the old many gave the younger couple.

He froze mid kiss, halfway done with the second hand when the server gave the near "A-hem". Once the man finished what he was doing, Blakeney, still holding onto her fingers, looked at her laughing face. He could not help himself, and gave out his inane Sir Percy laugh. It was just too bloody funny a situation.

Once she heard Percy's silly laugh, she let go and stopped trying to hold back her giggles. Once after a moment of calming herself she picked up her glass, "Well then, my Percy, what shall we drink to?"

He watched her, and it made him laugh all the more. He lifted his gloved hand to his face and wipes at the happy tears that formed in his eyes. "My god! Let's drink to years of good humor!" He hadn't quite meant it the way it came out, but once thrown out there, Blakeney did not regret saying it.

Marguerite gave him a thoughtful look, and then touched her glass to his, "To good humor it is then, to the years we've experienced, and the years yet to come."

He lifted his glass and nodded his head to the fair young maiden. "Well spoken." Tipping his head, he brought the wine about, smelling it first, and then drank. "Ahh. I swear England has yet to master the fine art of winery. At least, master it like the French have."

Marguerite took a sip of the wine and raised her eyebrows at his comment. "Well, I’d hate to point out the faults of any other country, but I will say few other places have mastered the art of winery as we have here in France." Marguerite titled her head to the side and gave a curious little smile as she slid one foot over under the table to brush against Percy's ankle. "Well my dear Englishman, is there anything else you'd like to admit French are better at?"

Blakeney grinned at her. "Well now, that is an open invitation if my sour ears ever heard one." He rubbed his chin and playfully glanced around. "Well, you have finer clothes. Wine. Tea, no contest because England will wipe you silly." He glanced at her. "I'm not sure my Maeve. Have you any ideas?"

Marguerite continued to rub her foot against him, working a bit higher up and rubbing against the back of his leg. She put one elbow on the table and rested her chin on her slender hand. "I'm sure we can find some other things to compare."

He glanced over at her and smiled. He was getting used to her ways. Too used to them. Mighty comfortable. He was about to answer her when the meal was placed before them. With a smile and a shrug, Blakeney laughed, "Well, you certainly have a good race going with the food."

Feeling slightly dejected from not getting a response to her little flirty ways under the table, Marguerite sat back in her seat and looked over her dinner. "Well then Percy, how does that mutton you've been yearning for smell to you?"

He smiled at Marguerite and leaned over to smell it. "Simply Devine!" Blakeney smiled and looks at her chicken. "And how does that, that, whatever you called it smell?" He had no idea he offended her and was thankful to be in her presence.

Marguerite gave a slight nod, "I call it chicken, and it smells fine." She picked up her knife and fork and took a bit of the meat and waited to watch Percy start his meal.

The voice that came at him was not exactly cold, but it certainly changed from the flirtatious warmth he had just been enjoying. "Maeve?" He asked curiously. "Did I say something incorrect to you?"

Marguerite put her utensils down and sighed, reflected on what she had just done. She couldn't blame him for ignoring her little signals leading to her slight feeling of rejection. Percy didn't always get her slight signals, not that this was a slight signal. She shook her head and placed on hand over one of his own, "No Percy," she said softly as she shook her head, "Everything you've done has been just fine with me."

The confident inane smile returned to his face and he brought her hand up to his lips and kissed. "Simply delightful." He smiled and released her hand, so they both could begin to eat.

Before she pulled her hand back, she let the backs of her fingers brush against his cheek and jaw. During the meal they ate and made small talk, catching up on what seemed to be two rather dull days without each other. She flirted a little more, and he seemed a bit more receipted to her coyish glances and girlish giggles. Together they also went through a fair amount of wine together through the meal, and Percy seemed to be flirting back with her a bit more then usual, not that she minded.

Smiling as she touched him, he winked at her in a jovial manner and the two ate and gabbed. He was so thankful Marguerite could carry on a conversation without him having to ask her question after question. In fact, it seemed she was just as well versed as he was when it came to the fine art of talking. He enjoyed taking a break.

Without even realizing it, he was ordering another bottle of wine, as the first was finished rather quickly. Maeve did not seem to mind. Part of him was not sure, but her eyes almost light up in an impish sort of manner when he did so. He leaned forward on the table, feeling completely relaxed and swooned over her beauty in his playful manner. Two years earlier, if the man could have watched himself from afar, he would have covered his face in shame. In present time, Blakeney was thoroughly enjoying himself.

The waiter cleared the table and brought back a small menu of desserts. "Well Percy," she said, "would you care for dessert, or," she said, as she leaned in closer and lowered her voice, "would you rather sample some of the sweets I tempted you with earlier?"

He snapped his head quickly up to the waiter. "The bill, promptly, if you would my good man." The wine was making him more forward than usual and he gladly wrapped his arm around her waist and pulled her near. Whispering back, so close to her ear, he near giggled, "I think I would much prefer your temptation to that lame excuse he held for a desert tray."

Marguerite gave a startled little laugh as Percy pulled her body closer to him in the booth. Hearing him except her little offer, she gave a soft smile as she rested her forehead against the side of his face, letting her nose brush his cheek, but keeping her lips a short distance to tease him.

He glanced around quick for the waiter, but he was looking in the wrong direction. He wasn't sure what he was going to do once he got her alone, but he certainly wouldn't mind offering his ear again.

The older waited gave a stern look and a cough as he dropped the check on the table. Marguerite once more had to stifle a laugh as he interrupted their happy reunion on the night. If only he had know the loneliness she had felt just hours before.

Blakeney glanced up and nodded his head. "Thank you my good man." He stood and patted down his entire coat. "My god." He had to laugh, in such a rush he was, he completely forgot in which pocket he stuck his pouch of francs. He glanced at Marguerite. "It seems my dear, trying to catch up to you so, I have made a most grave error." He started to laugh again and felt inside every pocket his coat and pants had. Sitting down again, he just laughed and held his forehead. Glancing at Marguerite, the Baronet laughed some more, the French wine having such an effect on him.

The Richest man in England had not a large franc or a small pound on him. In his quick change haste, he had forgotten the money in his room.

Marguerite watched as Percy oddly started to search each of his pockets, only to sit down, hiding his face and giving a nervous laugh. Marguerite debated what to do, she hoped Percy's pride would not be too hurt when she quietly reach into her purse and pulled out enough money to pay for the meal and the wine, but it seems there was no other way out. She lays a stack of francs on the table in front of him and put an arm on his shoulder, "Will that be enough to take care of things Percy? I didn't see the bill so I'm not sure."

He looked at her, his face reddened, but he kept laughing. Could barely stop. "Yes, yes. By God this is such a dickens of a situation!" He stood and took a hold of his cane and carried his top hat under his arm until he could put it on outside. "I swear, mum always said I would lose my head if my neck didn't hold it firmly in place."

Actually, that statement wasn't true, since the wife of Sir Algernon rarely spoke. Just a commonplace phrase, that Blakeney felt would do well for a nice cover to his absentminded situation.

Marguerite giggled as she took Percy's hand and slid out of the booth. She took his arm as they walked towards the entrance, giggle herself, "It's just a good thing that I am a woman of my own means, and today happened to be the day I got my pay from the theatre, or else we would be in a bit of a bind. Besides," she said in a lowered whisper as they walked out the door, "I'm sure you can thank me for it later."

He nodded and led her towards the door. Once outside, he placed his top hat upon his head and with his free hand, waggled about his cane in front of them both. "You are a real woman of the world Maeve. So, now where shall we shove off to, say?" He smiled down at her, hearing her comment about him making it up to her. It sent a thrill making his blood pumping.

Marguerite wrapped one arm through his and leaned her head against his tall shoulder, taking in a deep breath of the cool night air. "Let's take a walk, shall we, it's such a nice night out."

Percy didn't object, not that she expected him to, and she lead him in a somewhat random direction away from the few crowded restaurants. "So Percy, you never did tell me exactly what sort of business you're involved in that keeps you so well traveled."

Blakeney loved her being so close. Warm. Smelled wonderful. Graceful. What about her was there not to like? When she asked her question however, out of habit, it was Sir Percy who responded. "Land Maeve. I am involved in renting out houses, buying and purchasing land. I wish I had an easier time with it, but sometimes the math eludes me so."

The phrase even surprised himself. So standard was it for Sir Percy to act dumb, he found himself telling her he had trouble with math. Not even sure how to recover, he gave her a near boyish smile and glanced away.

"Well I would imagine after a time such aspects would become tedious." Marguerite giggled to herself, "When I was little I hated doing the math work my mother would give me. I would volunteer to read more books; huge books, books in different languages, books I found boring or even repulsive, just to avoid doing the math. It didn't help though, I would read the books and end up having to do the math afterwards anyway. Now, as long as I have enough money to get to the next paycheck, I don't care for any other number work."

He laughed hearing her diversions. "I used to play with wooden swords to avoid homework." Giggling silly now, he gave her cheek a kiss.

They continued to walk until they came to a wooded area the was part of a park area. She looked down to see Percy had a sturdy pair of boots on before asking, "Percy, do you mind getting your shoes dirty?"

The face he made, well, it showed he did mind. He looked at Marguerite with a forming smile, as the wine still made his blood a happy luke warm and his senses a little sillier than normal.

"For the Mlle? I would gladly get my coat dirty!" He felt that was a chivalrous enough answer and took a strong hold of her arm. "Again! You lead the way Mlle and I will strongly follow."

Marguerite giggled as she crossed the street and entered in between two trees ahead of Percy, reaching one hand back for him to hold onto. "It rained this morning. The ground isn't too muddy, but some spots might be slippery."

He glanced around him. The last thing he needed tonight was to end up head to toe, covered in mud. He was careful with his step.

They walked until they came to a dirt path, a small strip that winds in between trees and has been worn down to bare ground after years of use. Before leading on, she pulled out a stone about the size of her two fists together from the side of the path and put it in the center of the strip to mark where she and Percy had entered the forest. Marguerite stood up and looked both ways, trying to get her bearings and remember which direction it was she wanted to go. Finally recognizing a fallen tree that was still propped up at an angle, Marguerite knew she wanted to go off to her left.

Of course, Blakeney tried to protest when she leaned over and picked up the huge rock. "Mlle!" He began, but it was of no use. He had thought it before, she was a real woman of the world. Again, she was proving this as she just grabbed the muddy stone and moved it about as if she were Andrew.

"This is the way." she said, grabbing onto his arm and heading down the path to her former hideaway.

He followed, glancing about having no idea where she was taking him. Having no idea why they were gallivanting at such a late hour into the muddy lurches of a forest. There was no game at hand, save the laughing game, which after a few steps, the tipsy Baronet broke into.

Marguerite giggled along with Percy and pulled him along until the reached the edge of either a very big pond or a small lake depending on how one looked at it. Marguerite paused once again to try and remember where the little stash she wanted to find was hidden. Off to the right she saw the small grassy clearing and pulled Percy in that direction. "It's only a bit further." she called behind.

As they walked along, she kept looking up the small hill until she found what she had been looking for. "Wait here," she told Percy as she pulled up her skirt and climb a few meters up the hill. An odd arrangement of rocks laid against the side of it. Stretching her fingers, Marguerite began to shove a few of the heavy ones around until she uncovered the old metal case.

At first, he just thought her mind snapped and she had gone completely mad. For Andrew to do something this odd, it was expected. For the intelligent and beautiful Mlle Marguerite St. Just? It was incomprehensible.

Of course, even the gentleman part of Blakeney could not make him tear his eyes away from the view climbing up the hill. He especially admired the exposed legs as she hiked up her skirt.

It was beaten and rusty, but it looked like that when she and her friends hid it there years ago. With her fingernails, she pried open the box to find a blanket and a few trinkets still inside the case. She happily giggled as she pulled the blanket out. All things considered, it was still in good condition, thought it had a potent musty smell. She closed the case and carefully made her way back down the hill to Percy.

She had now bent over and was, what it appeared from his viewpoint on the ground, digging into the earth. Has the three days without him drove her insane? He chuckled to himself quietly, having these private thoughts of fun. Surely that was not the case, but still, a man can hope. When she returned with the old smelly blanket, the Baronet raised both brows upon her approach.

Marguerite laughed as she joined him, "It's bad enough getting out shoes dirty, I would expect you to get your clothes dirty as well." she offered as an explanation. She wrapped her free arm through his and lead him over to the grassy clearing.

He glanced down discretely at her. Her hands were dirty and he was curious exactly where she was going with all this. "Enough!" He stopped her short and stood in place. When it was Marguerite's turn to now look at him oddly, with the happy feeling running through him, he bent over, with his gloved hands, and ran his index and middle finger in the mud. Stand up again, he reached over and smeared it right down along her cheek bone to her chin. Then, he leaned over and wiped the mud off his glove.

Percy." she exclaimed, "what was that for?"

With a very stupid look on his face, he simply laughed, "Well, you have it on your shoes, part of your legs, your hands and your arms from carrying that rock.... I thought I would help you finish off the look."

Marguerite gave him a mocking look and in a slightly series tone, "Well fine that, maybe I shouldn't let you sit on my blanket and let you dirty your clothes." she said as she wiped the mud of her face.

Seeing her serious tone, he could not help himself. He just busted out laughing. How silly she looked, with the mud on her face and so serious. It was enough to make him laugh and loose his balance, so he smartly took a better stance, else he join her in that look.

Marguerite took a moment to wipe the mud that she hand moved from her face to her hand onto his cheek and turned to finish the walk to the lawn. "Well Percy, do you plan on joining me or standing there with mud on your face?"

He still laughed as she did this. "Well, look at us! We could now go to the library of Paris and be a pair of bookends." He moved those long lanky legs fast over to her and still giggled. He did not stop, even when he offered his arm.

Marguerite, still rather giggly, took Percy's arm until they reached the clearing. She dropped the blanket and then went to the edge of the water, dipping her hands in and drying them on a small handkerchief from her purse. She also wetted it and wiped the mud off her cheek. Smiling as she rejoined Percy, she took the handkerchief and carefully wiped the mud off his cheek.

Watching her return, the giggling had ceased and he smiled as she took to cleaning his face. The wine had him so relaxed, he actually turned his head and offered his cheek to her, so her work would be easier. He leaned back on his hands and looks at her, that silly grin on his face. "Well, this is a nice and quaint little spot."

When I was little, my friends and I used to come here and play. That's why there was a case with a blanket hidden under the rocks on the hill." Once his cheek was clean, Marguerite placed a gentle kiss there and then took to spreading the blanket over the grass so that to the two could possible go for a few minutes without mudding themselves up more.

The Baronet smiled, listening to her speak of childish games. "Really? I used to play games as a child all the time." The thought crossed his mind that he never gave it up really. "What did you and your friends used to play Maeve?"

Marguerite took a seat on the blanket and motioned for Percy to join her. "We would bring our dolls here and play, or sometimes if someone found some cards we would play with them. We didn't know any real games, so we would make our own. In the fall when the leave would change we'd pile them up best we could and play in them, or sometimes play in the snow in the winter." Marguerite laid back on her back and looked up, "Sometimes at night we'd come out and look at the stars. It's darker here with out the lamps and such so you can see them better here."

Sitting next to her, he smiled listening to the typical woman. Playing with dolls. He himself never played with anything except for the expensive knick knacks his parents had collected over the years. Thinking on the many times he was scolded for near breaking them, a smile crossed the Baronet's face.

He watched her lean back and down, but he remained seated. "Oh, if you think this is grand, wait until I take you for a night cruise on the yacht." He hadn't meant it to sound bragging, and thought no more of it. "You will see every constellation those Greeks and Romans were so kind to point out for us."

Marguerite looked up and smiled at him, "I think I would like that. I've never even seen the ocean, or been on a yacht." Marguerite absently reached up and let her fingers brush against his jaw and cheek, "I missed you so much while you were gone Percy."

At the gentle touch, he smiled. Sitting this way, his ribs reminded him that they were not at all comfortable and he actually shifted his weight away from her to favor his right side. Taking a hold of her hand, Blakeney kissed the top. "I missed you too Mlle Maeve."

Marguerite allowed some of her fingers to remain in Percy's grasp while others strayed and continued to brush against his smooth cheek. "Now now," she teased, "only a few short days away from me and you've forgotten how I dislike such formalities."

He smiled at her. The wine must have been wearing off, because he felt burning in his side with each breath he took. "I don't suppose you have any of that lovely French wine stowed among those rocks or in a tree somewhere?" He asked her. Slowly, he was becoming more and more uncomfortable.

Marguerite giggled, "No, sorry Percy next time I plan a spontaneous trip to one of my childhood haunts I'll be a little more prepared." Marguerite was about to tease him more for his wanting of wine, but something stopped her. "Percy, are you alright?"

The burning only increased. He was not running around, trying to save his own neck or someone else’s. There was no adrenaline now pumping in his veins, to temporarily douse the pain. In fact, with him thinking on it, and her asking the question, it became more apparent to the Baronet that his ribs were indeed in need of something.

He stood and looked down at her. He cradled his stomach, but in reality it was his left arm that pressed into his side to relieve the pain. "Perhaps it is something I ate...." His face grimaced a little uncomfortably. He couldn't keep sitting still, of that he new, so he took to pacing around on the blanket.

Marguerite sat up as soon as Percy left her side and stood as he began to move around. Once he said he was feeling discomfort, Marguerite immediately stepped up to him and put the back of her hand to his forehead. At least he did not feel warm, so he probably was not running a fever or catching a cold.

"Maeve, would you mind terrible if we either find something to settle this stomach of mine, or we cut the night short?" He looked at her humbly. Sadly. He had missed her too, but his body was reminding him of his age and of what he had done in the past 24 hours.

"Of course I can get you something Percy. What do you want, what do you usually take to settle your stomach?" she said beginning to harp over him like a mother would her child, "Here, perhaps you should lay down for a few minutes and see if that helps."

"Brandy." He looked down at her and continued the slow pacing. It wasn't really much of a stomach settler, but she asked him what he used. Brandy was his drink of choice. Stirred, not shaken. "And if its all the same, I would like to move on it as soon as possible." He made a face and pretended to hold his stomach more. In actuality, lying down with his ribs in the state they were would probably become evident what was really hurting him. He did not wish Maeve to worry. Let her fuss over his stomach. Not his adventures.

"Brandy?" Marguerite said, "Percy brandy isn't going to help your stomach at all. Wouldn't some broth be better for you?" She quickly bent down and pulled up the blanket, as she stood she wrapped one arm around him so that if he wished her could lean on her. "perhaps it would be best if you went back to your inn."

Smiling down at her, he nodded and pulled away. He didn't need to lean. He needed to walk. Walk away from here. To his inn if he must and to his room where his flask of good English Brandy was tucked safely away among his other little gadgets and whatnots.

"Sad as that is Maeve, perhaps it is best." The thin smile crossed his lips and his gloved hand tighten around his midsection. He was trying not to talk now, just move. Move as fast as he possibly could back to a bed.

Percy's walk was slow and labored so marguerite ran ahead and put the blanket and case safely back in it's hiding place for another time until Percy caught up. She rejoined him on the trail, carefully standing near in case he needed help. She led the way back out of the woods, taking care to return the rock to its original place, and up onto the street. "How far is your inn from here Percy? Do you think you can walk or shall we try to wave down a carriage?"

He tried to move normally, but he was slower than usual. His ribs felt like hot daggers threatening to burst out of his skin. Hearing her, he gave a laugh of a man who needs something but just can't have it.

"I left my pouch in the inn!" He near cursed at himself in front of her. He looked at Marguerite. "You think they will allow me to go to my room and pay them after the ride is over?" He shook his head. "You would have to be dropped off safely first of course." Somehow, his oversight was causing him more problems tonight other than having her pay for dinner.

"I will hear nothing of that, I am going with you to your inn and making sure that you are settled and feeling better before I leave. And," she raised a finger to his lips before he could argue, "I will hear no protests tonight. If you want to argue with me you had better be healthy enough to take it and if I may say so, my dear Percy, you are in no condition to take it." She gave him a stern look as if to say she was not making light of the state of his health. "Now, how far is your inn?"

Even in pain, she had a way with him that made him wish to just kiss her toes. It sounded odd, even to him, but if his ribs were not in such a state, he would have taken off her shoe and kissed each toe. Another time, he reminded himself.

Keeping the speech to a minimal, he nodded towards the far end of town. "Chateau de La Tolei".

Marguerite broke her gaze from Percy as the sound of a carriage was coming down the street. What luck, she thought, a public carriage and an empty one at that. She raised her hand to get the driver's attention. As he pulled over, she told Percy, "That's too far for you to walk in this state." She pulled to door open and held it as he got in as she told their driver where they were going before joining him in the back.

He leaned back and let Maeve take over. He had to get to some Brandy and fast. This pain was getting the best of him and he already had to call on his wills to keep calm. He leaned his head back on the carriage wall and closed his eyes. If he could just think of nothing else, he was going to make it.

As Percy leaned back, Marguerite slid one arm around his shoulder and gently gilded towards her so that his head rested on her shoulder. She placed a soft kiss on his forehead and cradled his face in her hand to comfort him. She softly sang a whispered lullaby to help calm him down as their carriage made its way across the city.

He thought he was going to give a scream of bloody murder. She was pulling him, making him lean and slightly bend compressing his ribs into his pelvis area. He clenched his eyes more and grit his teeth. Where she could not see, he had grabbed a hold of the seat next to his leg and dug his fingers against the wood.

The song she sang was nice, but he barely heard it. His only goal was to endure every bump the damn carriage ran over and not give out any cries to betray his alleged condition.

The carriage finally slowed in front of the inn. She carefully released Percy, with strict instructions not to move until she came back. She exited and paid the driver and came around to the side nearest the inn door. Holding opened the door, she reached in her hand in case Percy needed some help getting out.

She said not to move, but he'd be dammed if he didn't straighten himself out immediately. The minute she opened his door, he grabbed onto the carriage side and hoisted himself out, keeping himself as upright as possible. "I got it from here. You should go home." His voice was tense and short. All he wanted right now was his flask of Brandy.

"Absolutly not Percy, I would never dream of leaving you in such a state." She stayed a few steps a head of him and opened the front door to the inn to let him inside. "Now, where is your room?"

He did not answer and leaned into the wall outside against the inn to buy some time. He had been thinking the entire way down the path to the inn what he had where in his room. There was a gun. Lots of different pouches of currency from about four different countries. Books. French. English. German. There was his most recent quick change clothes which he strewn all over the floor. Oh god. How was he going to get through this?

"Percy?" Marguerite started as she watched him lean against the wall, her voice growing in concern, "Percy, it's not that mush further, we're already at the inn." She left the door to be with him, worrying even more now about his health. "Percy what's wrong? Are you sure it's just your stomach, maybe we should get a doctor." Marguerite placed a gentle hand on his cheek again, he wasn't burning up but she had never seen anyone in such bad shape over a stomach ache.

His half closed eyes bounded open when she mentioned getting someone. A doctor. "No nonono no Maeve." He looked at her as his mind raced with something he could do to stall her. Seeing her determined face, he knew he couldn't ask her to get him some soup while he went to his room. She would insist on helping him upstairs first. In fact, there was only one thing that made any sense that he felt he had a shot with. He hated to use it. It seemed weak, even to him who is used to coming up with precisely calculated plans. This idea was all Blakeney had.

"Mlle Maeve," his pained light blue eyes looked at her. Silently inside, he prayed this would work. "As silly as this may seem, I must insist upon it." He could do this. He could get through this. With the hand not falsely holding his stomach, the Baronet took hold of her wrist and, in a quick and near messy fashion, kissed the top of her hand. "Please Maeve. Allow me to go on ahead. Just for a few moments to tidy up some things. A man alone on the road is not a very neat one at that. I couldn't bare the thought of you coming in to see such a state." The pleading lazy blues begged out at Marguerite St. Just. A prayer uttering inside his head, the entire time.

Percy, I don't care about the state of your room," she paused wondering if it meant that much to him. After all, her room was in an awful state when he visited her. "Well, I suppose you can go up while I see if the staff could cook up some broth for you.

He sighed relieved. Thank God! "Thank you for understanding Maeve." He kissed her hand again and slowly turned and entered the inn. Looking back at her, he added, "Some broth would be lovely. I'll meet you in room 202." With a grateful smile, Blakeney slowly headed towards the hallway to the staircase.

The minute he turned the corner, Sir Algernon's son broke into a mad sprint and took the staircase two stairs at a time. His ribs were none the happy about that, but he swallowed back the cry and dashed down the hallway. The adrenaline pumped in his veins, but it was not enough to deaden the heated throb. No matter, he gritted his teeth and thrust the key into the lock.

The room itself, was a normal looking room. It had a armoire, a bed, a dresser and a full standing mirror. The other items in the room were his. Blakeney had his travel trunk, papers and books neatly stacked on the dresser. His pouches of money were in with some clothing in the dresser drawers. His pistol was also in that drawer. The bed held not a wrinkle, for he had not slept in it for days. His last traveling outfit and wig was thrown all over the bed and floor.

Ignoring the pain in his side, Blakeney quickly bent over and started grabbing the costume from around the room. Whipping open the trunk lid, he began the frantic act of a person doing a quick clean job when having a surprise visitor. The room itself was clean however. His act was out of desperation to hide. Suddenly dresser drawers were flung open, books and papers were carelessly tossed inside the trunk, pouches of money, save the normal velvet pouch that contained Sir Percy's francs and pounds, were added inside. Finally, the last item was the pistol, in which he took a little more care in handling.

Sweat now covered his brow as he reached for his flask of Brandy. Drinking it straight from the flask, Blakeney swallowed at least two glasses full. If one might have been observing him, they would swear he was an alcoholic. Far from the case. He knew exactly how many swallows it took to temporarily deaden this type of pain. This certainly wasn't the first time the Baronet had acquired an injury.

Replacing the flask, the trunk lid was shut and locked. Moving stiffly over to his bed, he grabbed the pillow from under the blankets and started to shake the blankets about. He had it set in his mind that it should have looked slept in. He sat on the bed and then lied back. He had not the energy to take off his shoes and he reached up with his hand to wipe his brow. He made it.

Part 2
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