Back in a Flash VII: An afternoon at the cafe
Marguerite sat alone at her usual table at her usual cafe on a sunny spring afternoon. Sipping some coffee and munching on some fresh cheese and bread. She sat alone, using her paper to keep her company. It was a Royalist paper, a rare copy still around since most are taken by the Committee of Public Safety, but no one dared harass her. Even a pair of guards walking through the street began to approach, but merely nodded and continued past when they realized the who the reader was. Few would bother Paris' most well known actress and the hostess of one of the city's most fashionable salons. Of course, if anyone wanted to question her, she also had a Republican paper on the seat next to her.
As she lowered the paper to flip the page when she saw him. Walking slowly and casually down the street towards the cafe where she sat, it was, without a doubt Sir Percy Blakeney. She had seen him after the performance for two nights this week. Last night she again saw him at the stage door and he invited her to dine with him, but she declined due to the fact she felt very tired, although she did allow him to walk her home.
She held the paper up a bit and watched over the top. As he neared, she lowered it a bit, and adjusted her eyes so she could watch him without being obvious. He looked as if he was without a care in the world. Marguerite wondered if he would notice her, or even recognize her, being he hand never seen her in day light. Quietly, she pretended to read her paper and waited.
Without a doubt, the Englishman decked out in top hat, can, suit, double draped cloak and gloves stood out like a annoying gem amongst the French poverty and middle class about him. His cheery spirit did not match most of the grief stricken, and many did not care for his cane twirling nor his off key whistling rendition of English folk songs.
He hadn't paid a bit attention to them really. His ego far exceeded his want to blend in today, therefore he decided to celebrate by toasting good fortune as his mind raced on the last few nights conquests.
He had spoken with her. Step one was complete and went off better than his last game of cricket. She allowed him to see her again. If he remembered the rules of this painfully risky game, this was a very good sign. She didn't seem interested in his money, like Mary had been. Of course, Blakeney reminded himself he hadn't recognized Mary's interest in his money however observant and clever his ego may have lead him to believe in the past.
He whistled a cheery tune and passed some of the local townies sitting around reading or eating or drinking at the outside of a cafe. As he passed, Blakeney turned his head and observed the place inside. He hadn't ventured in before, and it looked a little too dark and dreary for his cheerful mood. Turning to continue walking, his gaze caught a pair of men discussing things in a low voices, a woman reading a paper, a waiter trying very hard to balance three large dishes of food without dropping them on his patrons.
Marguerite watched as Sir Percy came and went. Oh well, she thought to herself as she turned her attention back to her paper. Perhaps he hadn't noticed me, or if he wasn't looking for me, he might not have realized I was sitting here.
This last sight caught his eye and he smiled and continued onward. Twirling his cane about in front of him, he began to once more think of the beautiful vision of the actress he was trying to court. How many years had he lusted after this creature that slipped near if not better into the roles that she played than he? Four yearning years.
Even if he was in another country, Blakeney took to the theatre. He found himself comparing the lead actresses to the exact movements and style of the young woman he had adored from a far and placed on such a high pedestal. It was no wonder they never quite measured up. Who could move about and make themselves heard when no words were spoken. Each and every graceful move.
When Marguerite Saint Just did speak, it commanded his very attention. When the drama of a final act climaxed, he literally felt on the edge of his seat. One of the first times he saw her, he almost called out and disrupted the performance during a particular scene where her character was torn to run to her family or back to life on the streets. Since then, Blakeney always made sure to appear asleep and uninterested at the theatre. He never wanted to speak out in that bad habit of his, like he often tended to do so.
Skipping over a crack in the pavement, Blakeney remembered the first time he laid a gaze upon the mysterious actress. On the stage, her beauty is what made her stand out. From his box seats, he could never make out her eye color, but those intense eyes demanded the attention of all in the audience. Then as she gestured about, her small frame swayed from side to side where he could not pry his eyes away. And of course, there was the mounds of Auburn hair!
Never had he seen such a color in England. Not quite brown and not quite red, it seemed to glow of warmth and never had another strand of hair on a head shone as such. Why, never oddly enough, that is until he just saw that paper reader just now.
As suddenly as he walked, skipped and twirled, the Baronet of Richmond stopped dead in his tracks. At first, he just stood there, staring straight ahead. Thinking with his back to path he had just walked. No. It couldn't be.
Slowly, almost in a stupid and dumb manner, the richest man in England turned to glance over his shoulder. There was a woman with strikingly similar auburn hair back at the 20 meters he had just passed. Tilting his head, he took out his eye piece and squinted down the lane, feeling more comfortable in this situation to borrow Sir Percy's innocent confidence.
Marguerite continued to watch over the top of her paper until he was a few shops down and then turned back to her reading. a soft breeze blew and she took a moment to move her saucer over the other paper sitting on the table so it wouldn't blow away. A solider stepped up to her and addressed her in a threatening tone regarding her choice of reading, but once she raised her face to him, he left the actress, known for her strong political views, alone. Marguerite believed before one could form an argument on a subject, they must understand all sides of it, including the opposition's.
As he leaned in closer, although honestly, what good did the leaning do at such a distance, it slowly creped into his head that the woman reading the paper had to his heart's desire. How many women would be sitting reading the paper. Such an odd thing for a woman to do. In France. In England. Anywhere. Tugging at his cravat a little, Blakeney composed himself and let go of his eyepiece, letting it bounce off his chest and hang around his neck. Clearing his throat, he boldly headed back those 20 plus meters to where she sat.
As he approached her, he could smell her perfume and it near made his head spin. Mary never smelled so much like anything but old clothes. Marguerite's clothes, while nothing notably too fashionable, had a strange sort of confidence how they were worn about. Moving a few feet behind her, he summoned his courage and asked, "Is this seat taken Milady?"
Marguerite nearly bounced out of her seat as she heard the unexpected voice of a man addressing her in English. She dropped her paper into her lap and looked up to see Percy looking down at her. "Percy," she exclaimed, "you're the last person I expected to see here." 'Especially after passing me by at first' she mused, "and no this seat is not take, I suppose I may allow you to take it if you wish to join me."
The Baronet of Richmond smiled and nodded his head. "I believe I may just wish to do such a thing." Without waiting for her to say anything else, less she change her mind, Blakeney pulled back the seat and sat down. "Funny thing to come across you here really," he began, "Hardly a day goes by here in this city where I run into someone I know. Just to think, taking a stroll to clear my mind and enjoy the day. Had I not glanced about instead of keeping my head in the clouds, I may have missed you all together."
Blakeney gave a wolfish grin and leaned forward just a little. "What a terrible calamity that would have been."
Marguerite laughed as he sat down. She fiddled with her paper and folded it neatly and placed it under her saucer to keep a breeze from tossing it away. "It would have been tragic Sir Percy," Marguerite said as she took a sip of her coffee. "I assume then you are not holding last night against me."
He laughed hearing her quick wit and coyness. Was she teasing him with her first comment or toying with him. Blakeney could not tell, and it did not really matter. He had made up his mind that she could toy with him, if the lady so desired.
"Holding last night against you?" The thought never crossed his mind. True, she did not dine again with him, but the conversation was good as she allowed him to walk her home. As always, his ego took that as a good sign. With a chuff, he added, "My dear, how could I ever be in contempt from the pleasure of accompanying you safely to your doorstep? Lud! The privilege was all mine, that I guarantee you."
"Well, I'm glad you enjoyed the company." Marguerite said. In truth, she was sorry for having turned him down last night and was grateful for the escort to the building where her flat was. "Are you hungry, would you like to call a waiter over," she asked, "you must excuse me. I am accustomed to taking my lunch her along once or twice a week. A sort of private time for myself."
With a bit of a look of surprise, he leaned back in his chair. "Am I then interrupting Milady?" A bit of uncomfortable ness passed forth, and Sir Percy spoke almost rapidly, "I hadn't realized. How foolish of me. I understand the need for private time." Oh, how he usually had to much of that! "I held a whole conversation with myself the other day. Not as amusing as one might think, for even I get ever so dry." He smiled a little and stopped the rambling. Blakeney wondered what the hell he was doing here in front of this beauty anyway.
Marguerite giggled as he spoke of having conversations with himself, "No, no, no, Percy, of course you're welcomed to stay with me. I was just reading the paper, nothing that needs to be done right at this moment. Besides, nothings wrong with a little change in routine now and then. Wouldn't you agree?"
The consoling of him worked and he gladly accepted it. "I would." Knowing full well how he could ramble on stupidly, Blakeney sat in silence for a moment and tap-tap-tippity-tapped his cane along the pavement and glanced down to stare at a pebble. He could not get over the fact that he was sitting here having idle conversation once more with the cleverest woman in Europe. How did he come to such a state.
Then it dawned on him. If he sat there like a silent boob, he was going to be less interesting and more likely to be alone. Quickly, he glanced up, smiled at her and added, "I daresay. Demmed nice weather you have been having, say whot?" Blakeney almost winced. The Prince of Wales had trained him better than this.
"Yes," Marguerite remarked, "very nice of late, much better then that dreadful rain we had last week. I certainly do hope we have a nice spring this year, better then last year's hot drought at the very least. The farmers need a good year for their crops and hopefully it will bring the price of bread down."
Good God. Could she carry on a grand conversation. Here he started with something so inferior as the weather, and Marguerite St. Just turned it into something worth while and interesting. Commodity. "Say, have the farmers been having a spot of trouble? Demmed thing, increasing prices. Will end up making more of these Revolutionary folk, hmm?" He realized he just committed another faux pas. Talking of politics. Why didn't he just spout off about government and religion next. Drumming his fingers against his leg, Blakeney wondered if this now was going to be the last time he had the pleasure of speaking with Marguerite. For the time being, he kept his inane smile on his face and told himself he better change this subject, and fast.
"Most everyone's having a spot of trouble as you put it Percy." Marguerite began. "Many people live almost entirely off bread, and the prices of bread and grain continues to rise and rise. Many families can not eat, or must give up things such as fuel or proper clothing to do so. The monarchy did little to help the people, one of the many reasons this revolution began, and the drought last year only worsened things. Hopefully a better crop will lead to more grains and lower prices for bread, and that will help the tensions."
All he could do was nod. He lived on meat and fine wine. Not bread. He spent his money fairly conservative, but he never held back on his clothes. At the mere mention of attire from her, his eyes naturally glanced down at the cape, cane, top hat, gloves, lace, cravat, suit and eyepiece that he commonly adorned himself in. Suddenly, Blakeney wondered if he had picked the wrong day to feel cocky. Sitting in front of Marguerite St. Just, he felt anything but.
After the silence grew too long on his part, he looked at her with a bit of a embarrassed grin. He added simply, "Indeed. Let's hope so."
Marguerite leaned in a bit as Percy remained silent, "Sir Percy, is everything alright?" she asked, "You seem uncommonly quiet this afternoon."
Looking at her, he waved his hand a bit on the table. "Quiet hmm? I'm afraid you read me rather well Milady. More at a loss of word, I admit. Tis a terrible thing to be sitting here in my fine attire and hear of those giving up their wearings in order to eat what I have to admit, is a filler at my dinner table."
His look became a little sour and that flash of the future Pimpernel crossed his eyes. "Is a bloody shame if you ask me." What more could he say? He had done his part, but nobody save Frank and Paul really knew. He barely knew this woman. What a topic to have run into.
"It's an awful shame." Marguerite said. "Armand and I are very lucky. Even with the rising prices we can still afford bread, and we don't have to wear our clothing out until they are rags or go cold in the winter to do so. We cut our slices a little thinner then most people used to, but we also often enjoy a little meat or cheese as well. But things will get better, I can't imagine them getting much worse."
The agreement nod could not have come quicker. A chance to change the subject. As she spoke of her minimal clothing, the thought crossed his mind immediately to offer to purchase her something. What fun it would be, he thought, to go shopping in France for women's clothing. How he did love to watch and admire a lady when she partook in just merely browsing.
But no. Today was already touchy enough. He had a very strong indication that if he even hinted at such an event she would object strongly and what he viewed as nice would be taken as insulting. The English gentleman decided to have nothing to do with that. Instead he added, "You asked if I wished to dine. I am quite well and do not need a waiter, but thank you."
Marguerite laughed at him, "A slightly belated response, but it will have to do I suppose." She took another sip of her coffee. "How long have you been away from England on this trip of yours Sir Percy?"
"Scarcely a week so far." He was thankful that the subject did entirely change. In his mind, he was of the opinion that Marguerite shared a similar view on this whole Revolution that he had. Her perspective, since she was in the thick, was definitely different from his own but the goal was the same. This pleased the Baronet.
"So do tell me, when you are not out singing, dancing, crowing lines like the admirable peacock that you are, what else do you occupy your time with, say? I am quite fully aware of the dinning, which you have already partook in as I so happened to stumble across." And near stumble he did. Leaning back in his seat once more, the small cocky grin began to resurface as the talk of politics subsided and Blakeney slipped back into a courting sort of fashion. "Do tell me what you do for fun on such a summery day."
Marguerite blushed a bit as he complimented her again in his sweet, but not blunt or over sugary. Hearing people compliment her was nothing new, but she liked when he did. "What do I do for fun? Well, that all depends on what else is happening, on what time of day I have free. I enjoy reading of course. Not just papers such as this, but novels, and plays. I try to attend other theatres, but it's difficult since most of them hold performances the same time as la Comedie. At night I go to bistros or occasionally when some of us feel daring taverns and play cards. I also host a salon, usually about once a week where many gather to discuss current events and such topics." Marguerite wondered what this proper Englishman would think of a woman who hosted a political salon and played cards in taverns.
"A salon, say?" His smile grew on his face. "I've often wondered if the French salon's are as dull as the English ones. Oh please, do tell me of the one's you go to are not all about the King and where to purchase the best feed for the livestock." He was making fun of his native land, which sometimes he felt about as connected to as a cat in water. His other goal was to make fun of himself, hoping she would smile.
"Oh no, our salons, my salon at least, tends to be rather lively." Marguerite said, proudly of her salon. "With so much going on around us it's hard to find one with dull conversation I imagine. Of course I, unlike some other hostesses don't limit discussion to merely politics. Other current events, philosophy, literature and the arts are also frequently discussed."
"Really?" His look was one of surprised, however the Baronet was working it just as planned. He was a clever one, the idle fool Sir Percy. "How often to do you have such an affair?" Slowly, casually, he planned on working himself into the next one. His training after Mary was now coming all back to him. Thank George.
Marguerite took another sip of her coffee and bit into a berry on her plate. "Usually about once a week, but it varies depending on my rehearsal and performance schedule. It's been a while since my schedule's been rather unpredictable of late, but now that the run has started it should settle down and hopefully I start back to the usual schedule." She took a quick glance at him, did he want an invite? That might be tricky. As much as she liked him, and he didn't seem to mind an intelligent woman, but how well would the group the frequented her salon appreciate an English aristo in their mists? Most were open minded and probably wouldn't mind if he was a person guest of the hostess, but there was one in particular she worried about.
"Will you be starting up with your usual routine?" The Baronet smiled and boldly asked. The Prince always said, if you wish to speak of something, do it boldly and with purpose. No point letting this one go to waste. He may have been out of practice, but he was still well taught. "I say, when you do, I can only hope I may be considered for such a gala." Blakeney smiled.
Marguerite took in an uneasy breath, considering what he was proposing. Then she looked into his eyes. Percy was innocent enough. He might not be on the same level as most of the people there, but then again he was a foreigner. She smiled and looked at him, "Well, next time I arrange for one, I will let you know. Perhaps you will be able to fit it into your schedule."
"That would be most delightful." Blakeney glanced back behind him a moment, just to par-take in his favorite past time of observation. One never knew who could come up quickly behind you and although his dress caused him no true reason to be cautious today, an ink well never likes to be left dry. Satisfied that all was well and he was in the clear, he returned his gaze to the lovely pictureque woman before him.
"You clue me in say, to the next event of yours and I rearrange the world if I must, in order to be present." One thing the inexperienced mind and overly trained ego did not pick up on, was her uneasiness with the situation he had placed her in. Whether it was his happy ego that refused to recognize it, or the fact St. Just was a remarkable actress, this particular Baronet of England sat there in a simple humor, very pleased thus far.
Marguerite took a quick, easy breath, "Well then, we'll just have to see what we can do about that won't we." she said, hoping for another way to change the subject.
Taking everything as a good sign, Blakeney laughed in his good natured way. "Of course, we can." He did not want to appear desperate and figured this was as good as time as any to not speak on it anymore. After all, he had the best teacher in the world on woman. This one fell right into place. "Do you have plans for the rest of the afternoon and do I need to be letting you get on with your way?" Always the perfect gentleman.
Marguerite smiled and shook her head. "I didn't have any plans really. Just taking the afternoon for myself, relaxing, reading, maybe run a few errands or pick up a few things I wanted. Nothing that is set in stone or has to be done today, except of course performing tonight."
"Do you wish for company on such a day to oneself? I would not dare dream to intrude upon your partaking of relaxing or reading, however running errands is never a task I enjoy alone." The Baronet was not exactly telling the truth, to date, everything the man did was alone and over all in his life, he preferred it that way. No one to remind him of his foolish family past. No one to laugh at him when he unfortunately perfected the fop to a tee. What a relationship to have with oneself. For the ego to pat itself on the back when the role of the fop received the desired results, yet at the same time the bitter taste in ones mouth for carrying on and on specifically against the true self. It was the life he had tossed upon him as a child and he clung to it like a thistle to a burlap sack. To let go was to loose control and Blakeney hated to be in anything but complete control, even if it was all in his mind.
So why did he seek out this woman when he had sworn them all off for so many years? Had the pangs of solitude raked against his solo heart and this time he broke down and felt their burning bite? He watched her from a far, yet nothing changed when he now sat only inches away from her. The vision he had build up in his head of how she would act, how she would speak to him, it all was true as he had built it up. True, that is, save the part where she in turn would throw herself at him and tell him she loved him and only wanted to be at his side. A silly sort of grin crossed the face of Sir Percival Blakeney. He knew he dreamed too much and too often, still the vision in his head remained a hopeful reality. Perhaps if he could just continue talking to her as he had been. So far, she seemed to not reject or detest his company. 'Proceed on Sir!' He could hear George in his head and followed the learned teachings.
"Yes, I should think such a creature such as yourself should not have to carry a thing save your parasol to keep off the sun's light. If it is errands you run today, perhaps you will allow me to make use of these arms and carry whatever it is you might be in need of carrying." He smiled politely and gallantly at Marguerite Saint Just.
Marguerite smiled, "That's not really necessary Percy, I am capable of running errands on my own as I have been for a number of years. However, if you have no pressing business or anything better to do than accompany me to the market and the dressmakers, I'm not going to turn down the company."
"Dressmakers you say?" He sat up in his seat and rickety-tip-tapped the round knob of his cane against the cafe table. "By Jove, that sounds like a most splendid plan." Could she read his mind? Hardly, he knew, but it certainly was rather slippery of him to work his way into her afternoon.
Without wasting another moment, he stood and out of habit, left some francs on the table. Offering his arm, he beamed, "Shall we? Mustn't keep good fashion waiting." Some things in life one can never change and the Baronet looked forward to any time he could spout off and give advice on clothes.
Marguerite couldn't help but to laugh at Percy. "It doesn't take much to get you all excited now does it?" she said as she placed her napkin on the table and picked up her papers as she stood and took his arm. "Well, I guess we shall be on our way."
"Scoff at my boy like actions, will you?" He gave a teasing glance and thought of using his cane to her rump but the gentleman in him held him back. "Just for that, I should warn you, you should be thankful that "bootmaker" was not mentioned. Think it takes next to nothing."
Once she took his arm he waltzed about and hummed off key while twirling his cane once more in front of him. He had no idea where she was leading him, but it mattered not at all. Blakeney waltzed about, caring on as if he hadn't a care in the world.
Marguerite giggled almost like a school girl as he strolled along whistling again. It was a short distance to the dressmaker Marguerite usually went to and she had received a note the other day saying her dress was ready to be picked up. A short time ago Marguerite cleared out her wardrobe, giving clothes she didn't often wear to the church to give to the poor, which left her with a few less outfits than she usually kept and so she decided to buy some new clothes, and a light spring dress was the first thing she wanted to get. As they approached she pointed out the shop to Percy, glancing inside to make sure everyone hadn't left for lunch.
Seeing the shop in the distance, Blakeney wondered what type of quality in cloth and stitch the place had. Being that is was women's clothing only, he never paid it any attention or looked into the potential of it as it would never suit his purposes. Never that is, until now.
At first glance, he kept his mouth quiet and did his favorite observation and testing of the place. It seemed clean in the front. The mirror was long and clean. The quality of cloth at sight seemed to offer bright and fashionable colors. Of course, any cloth could be bright. Only once he touched the fabric would he know the exact placing of quality in his mind for this shop. With a tender smile, he looked down at Marguerite, his mind reeling with many thoughts and ideas.
Once inside, Claudette greeted Marguerite and went into the back room to bring out the dress. "I know you got all excited Percy, but I really just need to pick it up. Claudette is very good and I've never needed alterations on anything I've gotten from her.”
Marguerite turned her attention as Claudette brought the dress out for Marguerite to inspect. It was an afternoon dress made of a soft, light material, light green in color with only short sleeves which would barely cover her shoulders.
Bringing up the eyepiece, he leaned a bit over Marguerite and glanced down to inspect the dress. It was simple enough. Not anything he would have picked out save the color that matched the lady's eyes. It seemed very French, and for that, the style he thought would intrigue him once on. Still, it was simple.
Taking off his glove, he leaned over and stopped inches in front of the fabric he reached for. "Might I?" He looked at Claudette and smiled charmingly. The true test of any article of clothing was feel. Feel on and in this case, of fabric.
Marguerite took a step back and nodded, "If you wish to Percy." she said as she watched him look over her dress.
Inspecting the dress as a tax man looks over the books, Percy took a hold of the fabric and rubbed it in between his fingers. When that part of the inspection satisfied him, he ran his hand down to the bottom seam and noted the nice small stitches. So far, he was pleased and his face nodded in approval.
"Well the color is definitely you." He turned his head and looked at Marguerite. "How forward would I be to ask to see it on?" The Baronet had a few plans in mind but knew he would have to take very careful steps to pull them off.
Marguerite smiled and turned to Claudette, speaking in their native French, "I'm not sure who's worst. This one who wants me to model it for him, or Armand who stands on the other side of the street while I'm here."
The girls shared a little laugh before Marguerite turned back to Percy, "I don't think that's too much to ask for." she said as she and Claudette took the dress into the next room and she changed to show the dress to Percy.
Hearing the French, Blakeney could not help but smile, so he turned his head from Marguerite's view. Model for him? She seemed to say this with a bit of fun to her dressmaker. Another good sign.
How stupid he was though. He watched as Marguerite and Claudette went into the back room at his request. Even in France, some things translated perfectly from English society and having the dressmaker help the patron into the product was alive in this shop. So much for his master plan. Oh well. He was a clever one and always had a trick or two up his sleeves.
While he waited, he thumbed through the rolls of fabric on a far wall as his mind spun with ideas.
Marguerite stepped back into the main room wearing her new dress. Percy was on the other side of the room, examining fabrics it appeared. She cleared her throat and waited for him to turn and most likely attempt to reinspect her dress now that she was wearing it.
Turning around, the lazy blue sparkled as if he was seeing more grand that his eyes had ever laid up before. "What a vision!" He covered his face with his arm, lifting up his elbow in a teasing sort of manner. "Egad! I should be struck down by lightening if I stare too long."
Peeking around his arm, the Baronet smiled and then lowered his hands at his sides. She looked beautiful in it, but he envisioned her looking alarmingly stunning in perhaps another style. Another fabric. Trimmings. Ornate knots bunched up around her bossom. He suddenly could see in his mind her wearing a completely different green dress.
"I am delighted in your choice, milady." The Baronet bowed cordially before her and tipped his hat. Standing back upright, he crooned, "Your dressmaker is most remarkable with a seam."
Marguerite watched as Percy tipped his hat to Claudette who giggled and stepped back into the other room for a moment. Marguerite stepped closer to Percy and looked at him in the eyes. "You say you like my choice Percy, but I have the feeling you're not telling me the whole truth. Don't you like my dress Percy?"
Meeting her gaze, he smiled and yearned to reach out at her exposed elbow. He had met her only three times prior. It would be against all the rules of English society for him to do such a thing therefore he resisted. When she referred to the dress, being so close, he had no choice but to look back down at it.
Close up however, as the dress hung off her shoulders so, he felt his throat dry up. He had perfect access for viewing down the low cut of the dress. He realized he was staring and quickly turned his view entirely away from her and the dress. Meaning not to do it, it happened and it was done. Quietly, glancing at a mannequin who was half clothed, he said, "It is a most admirable dress, and I admit I have grown quickly fond of its style."
Marguerite was disappointed as he turned away, but she didn't know why. She never really cared about what anyone else thought of her appearance and dress, but his reaction upset her. "Oh, you don't like it." Marguerite said, "I know it's probably not as done up as the dresses that the women you see most often wear, but it suits my purpose. It's for everyday wear and I don't need any frills or lace or such." she said as she turned her back to him looking in the direction of the room where she had changed.
Hearing her, he took a few steps back and then re-looked back to her. It was with a bit of a laugh, she had not caught him, and yet, now if he did not explain himself, he was the worse off.
Waving his gloved hand in front of his chest, he spoke quickly, "You read me wrong Milady. For everyday wear, why, can you understand that it is not everyday that an Englishman get's quite that style under his view." He could not help himself, and his face broke out into a smile.
"I will admit however, since the style tends to show it off, I will be bold to say I enjoyed a certain vantage point I had a moment ago." He looked at her and glanced down at his own chest and then at her again. Perhaps she would understand, perhaps not. At the moment, it did not matter for he could not hold back a small bit of embarrassed laughter.
Marguerite had turned back to him as he began to explain his reaction, which she understood, but was a bit confused by his last statement and the way he looked down and then back at her. After a moment she took looked down ad realized what he was speaking about. "Percy!" she gasped as she quickly brought both hands up in front of her chest while her cheeks turned a bright red.
Now he matched her in redness and turned fully away as if she stood in the small dress shop stripped entirely of clothes. "Forgive me Milady." He spoke to the window in which he stared out of now. He tried to feel remorse over what just happened, but it had been an awful nice view. How could a beautiful young woman wear such a garment and not know what its viewing yielded. No matter, he dared not to turn around again and make her more uncomfortable. Instead, he stifled his laugh.
Marguerite was still surprised. Dresses with such a neckline were common and she had no doubt that men would look at her and other women in such a way, however she doubted many would be so honest about it as Percy had been. "Well," she said, after swallowing a lump in her throat, "I'll have to remember next time I wear such a dress not to stand so close to someone so tall."
Still with his back to her, he laughed, "It is a curse I've lived with for a long time now." He let out a bit of his inane laugh and toyed with the top of his cane. "I shall stay like this until you are changed back dear Marguerite. Again, you must forgive my earlier actions but damn me, you just sort of snuck up on me, didn't you?"
Marguerite shook her head as Percy remained as he was. She quietly stepped closer to him and stood in front of him, yet not so near as the last time. "Do you really think I plan on buying this lovely dress and then shoving it in my closet because I wouldn't want to risk running into you again while wearing it?"
Two things were working in his favor. She was still wearing the most wonderfully revealing dress he had ever the pleasure of seeing so close up, and two, she was implying he was to see her again. Encore! What more could he ask for at the moment.
Taking her hand in his, keeping great caution and care to meet her eyes and only her eyes, he lifted her hand to his lips and kissed it gently. "I think it will be a risk worth chancing." He spoke and smiled, slowly releasing her hand and letting it return to her side.
Marguerite felt herself flush a bit as he took her hand, but not the embarrassed flush of before, but a soft, warming rush through her body. She gave his hand a soft squeeze as he released it. "Well, I think I like my new dress so much, and after all it is a nice day, perhaps I will ask Claudette if I can just wear it out."
"I'm all for that. If Claudette gives you a spot of trouble, please, allow me." With that, he pretended to lift his fists and box a little around Marguerite's shoulders. He didn't tap her but teased in his own silly manner.
Marguerite lifted her hands to lower his down, "You'll do no such thing. No you wait here and I'll be back in a few minutes." She stepped away and rejoined Claudette in the back room. Claudette packed Marguerite's other dress and suggested a shawl to keep her bare arms warm and although she is rarely talked into such extras, Marguerite had to admit her other shawl was beginning to become a bit worm.
Stepping out with her pack and her arms now partially wrapped by her new white shawl, she stepped out into the main room, followed by Claudette, to rejoin Percy. "Well Percy, are you ready to go, or would you insist on inspecting my shawl as well."
How she spoke to him, he was quickly becoming accustomed too. Her tone was sharp, but not angry. She ordered him near like a servant or animal, but he found it made his face flush. The Baronet enjoyed it very much and hoped she would not stop it. Perhaps he would have to box at her more.
When Marguerite returned, his smile passed a little into a straight lined form. "Inspect your shawl?" Suddenly, he got a most grand idea. "Yes, I think I shall... but once outside in the proper light." He took her old dress from her hands and opened the door so she could pass. Looking back, he nodded and smiled at Claudette. He would be back.
Once he stepped out behind him, she took his arm and steered him in the direction of the market. "I also should get some food to bring home, my little brother is probably near wasting away." she said with a laugh.
The market was busy as always, but Marguerite only needed a few things. Some bread and fresh fruits and vegetables would do for now. With Percy in tow, she dragged him though the shop picking out items she wanted to buy. "Have you ever been to such a market Percy? I'd imagine you don't do most of your own shopping."
How intriguing it all was. Her thinking he never bought a thing in his life, being an Aristocrat and all. Why, in the past four years he often bought things from the very market she was leading him too. Still, however, it was more fun to play along with her. "I suppose I have had to walk through one or two in my lifetime." He glanced down at her and winked.
Keeping her former wrapped dress tucked under his arm, he stopped her and needed once more to resist the urge to take advantage of his height mixed with her attire. Still, there were other ways. "Now you said I could inspect the shawl. Demmed pale thing it is, do step a little closer." He locked his eyes in hers, a devilish little grin going on inside.
Marguerite giggled and holding onto her basket she was using to gather things to buy, she took a step back closer to Percy. "Well Percy, what do you think of my shawl, is it a nice choice or should I bring you along more often when I go to my dressmaker."
Since she allowed him to touch it, he gripped it tightly in his hands and continued along on his verbal game. "I think you should bring me to your dressmakers anytime you like. As for the shawl...." With that, he whipped it back and off her shoulders, with a laugh that was in synch with his long lanky legs stepping back and away from her.
Holding the shawl above his head, the Englishman grinned and took more steps quickly back. "I think the shawl does nothing for you and you should let me dispose of the demmed thing before it infects everyone's sight in the marketplace." Blakeney was having fun.
"Percy!" Marguerite cried. She placed her basket down and attempted to reach up to her shawl, even jumping a bit as he swung it around and teased her. Then she thought of a better way to get it away from him. "Fine then, and the more you hold it the more wrinkled I'm sure it will become. Would you really want me walking about with a wrinkled shawl?"
"Sink me! You are right." He took her dress in his hand and now held the shawl high above his head with both arms looking all the more tall and ridiculous. Had he wished to blend in before, he certainly stuck out now. The shawl was held gently outward, so it hung perfectly straight and was not the least big twisted. He glanced behind him, and moved back as a rapid pace, dodging the short French people as he passed.
Marguerite quickly gave up her chase, deciding that since in this case height was not to her advantage, she'd fine some other way about it. She let Percy dash away and returned to the spot where she had left her basket, and resumed her shopping, knowing sooner or later Percy would come back.
He stood there now with eyes on him that were numerous, but none were from the one person whose attention he sought after. Lowering his arms, he disappointedly watched her resume her shopping. What to do... what to do indeed?
Slowly, he took to holding the shawl in the middle, so as not to wrinkle it much, and swayed it back and forth as he walked around the market place until he was in front of her. Casually, he walked near her, waving it about still in a teasing sort of manner. If she reached for it, he would be quick like a snake and pull it away with a smile. He only feared she would ignore him further.
Marguerite saw the light fabric cross in front of her eyes and followed it to se Percy standing in front of her once again. She gave him a slight smile before saying anything. "You want me to take it don't you? But I won't," she said in her own teasing manor, "I know you'll just pull it from me, so I won't bother." She turned and began to walk down the row in the direction away from him, "You'll get bored eventually and let me have my shawl back so that it keeps the chill off my bare arms. After all, you wouldn't want me to get cold would you?"
He wasn't about to give up yet. Not so easily. "Well now, I've only known you for a few days. What does it matter to me if you get cold? I'm only looking out for your good sense of fashion, remember." He moved in closer again, and waved the shawl about a few times slowly.
Putting the shawl behind his back, still holding her packed dress in one hand, he continued, "Besides, who's to say your understudy didn't pay me for this? You attend every performance... the poor understudy might think a cold should do her the world of good." He was trying to reach at her where it would sting back, since she took the cheap jab at his terribly honorable sense of not wrinkling the shawl.
"Because as talented as an actress she is my understudy suffers from the worst case of stage fright I have ever seen." Marguerite said as she stepped along, trying unsuccessfully to ignore Percy. "Although it would be a shame if I were to fall ill, then you couldn't take me to dinner tonight. Wouldn't that be a shame?"
"Rather presumptuous of you, isn't it now? Who's to say I will even be in town tonight?" He leaned in closer to her, where he caught the fine scent of her perfume lingering and mixed with the equally intoxicating smell of new fabric.
Coy as he was trying to be, he brought his hand about and offered her the shawl back. She got to him.
Marguerite looked at the shawl in front of her and then back to Percy. She raised her eyebrows a bit and then stepped on. "Well, as an educated guess, being that you've already been to watch me three times this week, and have invited me out each time, I wouldn't call that presumptuous at all. Although if you're going out of town tonight, it would be a shame if the ticket you bought for tonight goes to waste." Marguerite looked back at him with a coy smile, "The people backstage aren't the only ones I know at the theatre."
His heart raced a little. Why, if she had been asking about him.....
Running up to be at her side once more, the Baronet grinned in a cocky manner and said, "Well, now Milady St. Just. It would seem as if you might hope I would be there." He brought forth the shawl and held it up and over her back slightly. Not quite on, but the gesture was there as he stood behind her. "May I?"
Marguerite watched as he offered the shawl, "Well, it's easy be spoiled by a kind gentleman admirer." She smiled and he didn't pull the shawl away again. She turned her back to him and looked over her shoulder, "and yes you may."
No sun star could have beamed more than his own face at that particular moment. What a nice compliment to have received from the woman whose affections he desired. "Hold still then, and I shall with the shawl." His little rhyme made him smile despite himself and he did lean over just a wee bit to make sure her shawl rested properly on her delicate shoulders. While there, he may have used his height to his own advantage again, however this time he did not tell what he was up too.
Marguerite drew in a quiet but deep breath as he put the shawl over her shoulders. She was slightly disappointed that his hand only slightly brushed her arms as he did so. "Well," she said after a moment, "I think I have everything I need here. I guess we can be on our way once I pay for it. Did you need anything Percy?"
Tucking her dress under his arm, he reached for her basket. "Well, might I see what it is you partook in. I could better judge if I may need something." He was sly, and only hoped he was sly enough.
"First my clothes, now my groceries, what's next? Do you plan to come to my flat, perhaps survey my furniture and paintings?" Marguerite teased as she handed over her basket.
He was glad she wasn't on to him yet. With a grin he said, "Anything can be arranged, however I'm much better with the tailor than the apolsterior." He took the basket and lazily strolled throughout the market yard, as if to be looking for something.
Once he neared the man to pay, he took one single ripe red apple and placed it in the basket, then giving it up to the cashier. "How much my good man?" He asked and took out his satchel. He kept his back to Marguerite, in case she figured him out, he could at least block her.
"Now don't you even think of it Percy." Marguerite started to say as she watched him pull out his bag. "Treating me to dinner is one thing but I am perfectly capable of providing for my brother." she said as she caught up to him and pulled out her purse as well.
"It happens to be 'my apple' in there as well. Certainly I can not expect you to purchase my affairs when they are in order." He placed a whole ten francs into the palm of the market man. It was far more than the small basket costs, but Blakeney knew Margot would not win this way.
Taking the goods in the small burlap bag, he turned and looked at her, "After all, wasn't' it you who wished to introduce me into purchasing things on my own in such a place as this?" He grinned and looked at her, holding the sack just in front of her for her to take.
Marguerite watched as he gave the man much more then he should have for all the stuff she had planned to buy. She took the sack in one hand and his arm with her other as they stepped away from the marketplace, "Percy, I really wish you hadn't done that."
He smiled and looked down at her. "You are right. In the heat of the moment, how silly of me." He reached over and took the package back. "I know how much you do not like me being the gentleman, and I momentarily forgot such a thing." He smiled and tucked the package of goods under his arm, along with her dress.
"No Percy, that's not what I meant," she began, "I mean, I wish you hadn't paid for the groceries. I'm going to pay you back for it later and I want no arguments."
He made no acknowledgement that he heard her, or even that she spoke, but he would have had to been deaf to not have done so. Instead, he offered her his arm and smiled, "It is a lovely shawl with the dress. You have found a quaint dressmaker."
"Claudette is very good at what she does and I'm glad you approve of my shawl, but don't change the subject." Marguerite began. "Percy, I appreciate what you did and am grateful for you generosity over the past few days but this is too much. I have to draw the line when it comes to things like groceries. Taking me to dinner and such is a nice treat and I do appreciate it, but Armand is my responsibility, and it just doesn't feel right having someone else pay for his food now that I can provide for him."
He glanced down and over at her. "Then next time, you must not invite me to go with you on your shopping. As an Englishman, I could never live with myself by allowing such a lady to pay for a thing." He smiled and nodded a little more modestly. He was telling the truth as it had been drilled into his head all these years.
"This is not an argument I'm going to win is it? You're just going to let me go feeling guilty about this aren't you?" Marguerite remarked.
"Call it as you need to. I will do my best to not let your face worry so with guilt." He looked at her almost apologetic, but the tall Englishman went quiet now. To make her feel bad was never his intent.
Marguerite sighed and nodded her head. "I suppose we should head to the theatre, I need to be there soon anyway. Do you have you ticket or is it left at the window?"
"At the window. I should thank you for your company Milady Saint Just. It had been a most pleasant afternoon." He reached for her hand and kissed the back of it quickly but with purpose. His lazy blues looked into her greens and he hoped she would like it if he called on her again.
"It has been a pleasant afternoon, but I think you've forgotten the most important thing. You've spent the better part of the afternoon with me and yet, I don't think I've heard you once say my name." Marguerite said as they turned the corner for the theatre.
"I suppose you are right and you have already spoken to me about that before, hadn't you Marguerite?" He smiled and used the informal name. He would just have to get used to this and hoped too.
"Yes I believe I had Percy." She smiled as she said it, she liked to hear they way her name rolled off his English tongue. Marguerite held onto his arm and led him past the box office towards the back of the building.
He was very curious as to how she led him back to her way of entering the building. This was something new and the Englishman remained stoic as to not show how this newly introduced part of their relationship excited him so. "I wish you a well performance tonight. What do they say? Break something?" He teased, so not to curse her. He heard somewhere that to say that was as much bad luck as it was good. Soon, he hoped to get her point of view.
"Oh, you can't leave me now and expect me to carry those packages up and down the steps." Marguerite said as they came to the stage door. She held the door opened for him since his hands were full and waited for him to enter the stairway.
Blakeney allowed her to hold the door open for him, he was more than capable of changing his holdings about so he could get the door for her, and his look at her showed that. However, the gentleman inside told him to wisely not make a fuss over something as silly as her holding the door. Besides, from the sounds of it, there would be other times for him to make it up.
He followed her where she lead him, the backstage of a theatre entirely a new venture for this Englishman. He couldn't help but continue on with his happy go lucky grin.