Back in a Flash VII: An afternoon at the cafe
Marguerite followed him up the stairway until they reached the main hallway, where she stepped in front of him and lead the way to her private dressing room. She unlocked and opened the door once again for him to enter and pointed at a table, "You can just put those things down there, and then have a seat if you'd like."
With a bit of a grin, the Baronet was more than happy to oblige. Placing her dress gently on the table he opened her burlap sack and began to try and see into it. Turning his back to the shadows, Blakeney tilted the sack a bit, trying to get the candlelight to shine down directly so he could see. When his eyes spied what he was after, he gave a slight chuckle and talked to the bag, "Hide on my think you? I daresay not."
Sir Percival Blakeney, Baronet took out the red apple that allowed him to purchase the market goods for Mademoiselle Saint Just. Taking out his handkerchief, the Englishman made quite a fuss over polishing the apple just so, where most men would have used their very available sleeve. When he near could see the outline of his head in sort of a reflection, Blakeney took to the seat she pointed out. "Nothing like a damn good piece of fruit if you ask me." With a nod of his head and lifting the apple a bit at her, he might as well been toasting her with a glass of Champaign, then he took a bite.
"Ah," Marguerite began, "So that's what you were hiding in my basket." In the corner she slipped out of her shoes before taking a seat on the little couch in her dressing room. She grabbed a small clip and pulled her hair up as she relaxed for a few minutes before she would be forced to get ready for the night's show. "So Percy, does it taste as good as it looks?"
His glance varied from the apple to the floor very quickly when she took off her shoes. For some strange reason, he felt this to be more seductive than when she neared him with her very low fronted French fashionable dress. All his life, he had a thing with feet, and seeing her shoes lying there, he slowly chewed and imagined what those bare toes looked like under her skirt cloth. He smiled and watched to see if he would be able to steal a glance, answering her, "It does. Forgive my rudeness for getting only one." Finally pulling his stare back to her eyes, the Baronet leaned back in the seat and chuckled. "I don't suppose me offering you a bite after mine would make up for the rudeness I just near displayed?"
Marguerite giggled and stood up taking a few steps closer to him. She lifted the hand that held the apple and without removing the fruit from his hand, took a small bit. "Had the apple been tart I wouldn't have minded, but that apple is too good and I am now very offended by your rudeness." Marguerite said as she retook her seat on the couch. "To make up for it I insist that you bring me my own apple when you call on me tomorrow."
"Done." He liked it when she took hold of his gloved hand so and helped herself. Just like when she teased him with the meats and cheeses a few nights back. Why he allowed himself to be taken by her, he never could say nor think. So many years of swearing off the opposite sex or allowing himself to become a victim to them again, but here he was, more than willing to bring her whatever her heart desired.
'Damn me', he thought, 'if I can call on her more, I will buy her her own tree.' With a wink, he looked across the room and took another bite.
Marguerite sat on her couch watching him munch on his apple. "Well Percy, are you really so content sitting all the way over there, so far away from me?" she asked. 'All that way' was really only a few feet away, but she liked when he was closer to her.
"Sink me, I am full of rudeness this day." He stood and made short work of the small distance between the two. Taking seat next to her, he teased, "First I interrupt the lady while she partakes some private time and a meal. Then my English ways obstruct her properly purchasing perishables." He smiled. He loved talking silly yet smartly. "Then I proceed to eat without offering the lady a bite. Ponder that, will you?"
"I would, but I am sure there are many better things to do," she said as she once more pulled his hand closer and nibbled off his apple.
"Are there now?" A bit of his ego allowed itself to press onward. "Better things to discuss and ponder than my actions with you?" Blakeney couldn't help but lower his voice a little, trying his best to flirt a bit more seductive. "Do parish that thought." His eyes were locked on her touch to his wrist and his eyebrows lifted watching her eat at his apple. Mlle Saint Just did have a way of going about things.
Marguerite watched the way he watched her as she nipped as his apple. "Alright then, I suppose I'll just dismiss certain thoughts. Leaves me more time to consider other things."
He said nothing but wondered exactly what she meant by that. Thinking of him? Thinking of things in general or of other suitors? He dared not guess and Blakeney certainly was not going to ask. Instead, he brought the apple back to his lips, thought slightly of Eve tempting Adam, and took a bite.
Marguerite put on a playfully pouty look when he pulled away to take a bite of his own apple. She moved to sit in a more casual manor, pulling her legs up under her and moving to stretch her arms and back muscles a bit all while Percy remained quiet and concentrated on his apple. "Why so quiet Percy? What are you thinking about?"
"Just a biblical thought really." Smiling at Marguerite, Blakeney was more than happy to share what got him through his day: The random silly and humorous thoughts. At least, he found himself entertaining. "You see, Adam and Eve, to be more specific. Here I am, lounging about and eating my own apple, while you sit there with that incredibly cute pout on your face. I am wondering what really temps a man." He winked at Marguerite, and before finishing the apple added, "If I may be so bold to say."
"You may be so bold to say, but I insist that if you dare pose such a question that you attempt to answer it as well." Marguerite said, changing her expression from the 'cute pout' to a coyish grin, "so then tell me Percy, what does temp a man?"
He felt a little flusting wave pass through him. This woman could just breath a small sigh and he would wish to fall at her feet. Blakeney knew this of himself and was careful to not slip into complete adoration of her. Not yet anyway, as he did not know her intentions. He did, however, know his. "Anything you do temps this man." He glanced away, not used to be so forward with women. English society would not look kindly upon Sir Percy Blakeney's words, but somehow, with Marguerite, he felt it was quite appropriate.
Marguerite felt herself flush, while watching him do the same. She watched him turn away, a bit of embarrassment on his face. Finally she giggled and lifted one hand and let the back of her fingers brush against his cheek to turn his face to look at her, "Much of what you do, does the same to me."
Hard to describe, it was, the thoughts that ran through Percy Blakeney's mind. Unfortunately, he would not allow himself to believe that if he sighed, this woman would wish to swoon. Too many times in the past he fell victim to the innocence of himself, and although he was very fond of Marguerite, he did not allow himself to act just yet anything other than taking things slow. He was a man of action. For him, going slow went against his very nature. Still, for now, the memories held him fast to his mission.
Closing his eyes, he lowered his chin a little so his cheekbone pressed into her hand, feeling more of her warm touch. "Thank you Mlle Marguerite." The dressing room became quiet and he did not move or flinch. There was a comfortable pleasantness inside this room.
Marguerite leaned in and placed a gentle, lingering kiss on his soft kiss. Slowly, she moved her parted lips away, but still so close to his own, she thought he might dare attempt to kiss her just when the door to her room flew open and Claire, one of the costume girls entered with her clothes for the night. Marguerite immediately retreated and leaned back into her couch. Claire seemed just as startled when she caught sight of the two sitting on the couch, "Oh, Mlle., I'm sorry, I didn't mean to interrupt, you're usually not in so early, I just didn't expect,"
Marguerite stood as she began to babble on, "Don't worry Claire, it's quiet alright," she said taking the costumes from her and hanging them on the rack. The girl nodded and quickly left.
Marguerite closed the door behind her and retook her spot next to Percy, blushing slightly, not sure of what to say now.
Softly, an exhale escaped his lungs and passed through his windpipe and got caught in his throat. What sort of sorcerer could have put him under a more powerful spell where upon he wished to take this woman in his arms and return the kiss. Blakeney had his share of foul play and always sworn off the opposite sex thinking them in his mind nothing but a pint of trouble. Still, he found himself drawn towards this woman for so long over the years, his strange obsession made him feel like he knew her.
Just as sudden as her kiss to his cheek came, the dressing door swung open and the English gentleman shot upright and straight back, his estranged thoughts of what he wished to do with her making him up tightly uncomfortable. His pale face and white skin reddened and he glanced away from both Marguerite and the woman who spoke. Stoically, he remained near like a statue that couldn't been seen, even when Marguerite returned. He dare not look at her.
When he wouldn't even so much as look at her, Marguerite was deeply hurt. She wanted to say something, but couldn't find the words. If she had been so tempting to him, why was he so put off by a kiss to his cheek. After all, he often kissed her hand and she had previously ventured to kiss his cheek. Finally, she tore herself away, standing and moving across the room to sit on a chair at her small vanity table.
The silence that passed between was tearing at the inner being inside. Too often the wolf that wished to be Blakeney was submissively pushed behind thanks to someone else's rules of society and properness. When he thought of everything he could have possible said, but nothing that ventured passed his lips, Blakeney stood and cleared his throat quietly. "I suppose my actions in your dressing room are most unbecoming for a lady such as yourself." He blamed
himself fully. True, she had invited him in, but it was he who accepted the entrance, thus threatening the good lady's reputation. With a silent curse, he badgered his own actions.
"And what actions might those be Percy?" Marguerite said with just a hint of frustration in her voice. "It seems as if you have done little here to merit such thoughts."
"Tell me if I am wrong, Mlle Marguerite, but do you often entertain strange Englishman behind closed doors in your theatre?" He looked at her, trying to explain with his eyes the predicament he found himself in. All of his schooling and knowledge flew away as if it meant nothing when she invited him in. Blakeney forgot himself.
"A man of my statue knows better than to dare threaten the reputation of a lady. Forgive me Marguerite St. Just. I realize wanting to be near you clouded my better judgment of properness."
Marguerite sighed and shook her head, "Percy, sit down," she commanded, "I am an actress, not to mention one that rose to prominence at a very, very young age, and so I have no reputation, not one that needs any type of protecting anyway. And to be truthful, you are not the first man, or Englishman for that matter, who I have entertained as you put it, behind closed doors in my theatre. I entertain guests of all sorts here just as I do in my parlor at home."
"But of course." She was trying to ease him into a relaxing mode, but then the idea crept into his head once more that his actions, as silly as it sounded, were solitaire. He sat down as she directed him and looked at her pleasantly enough, but inside he reminded himself that she was Europe's cleverest woman. That was the reputation she had earned and he had heard over the year. Why did it bother him then to know the truth he should have already suspected? Sir Percy smiled and took her hand, kissing the back of it and then resting it on her knee, patting it gently.
Marguerite relaxed a little as Percy took a seat on a chair next to her, even going so far as to venture to kiss her hand once more. She was a bit surprised when he allowed his hand to rest on her knee, but was not about to become alarmed by it, it was comforting in a way. She took his hand in hers and allowed her other hand to run over his fingers, "I'm glad you stayed."
Nodding, he answered, "I am glad as well." He felt happy with her, although too stupid to realize that other men would be calling on her. If what she said was true, there was no telling how many men, 'including Englishmen', that were back up here with her. This made him a bit jealous, but he had only known her a few days. Better to not speak of such things anymore, for the idea of asking would only give him knowledge to make him bitter. "What time do I need to depart so you might get ready properly?" Always the gentleman.
"So glad you stayed, yet so quick to leave me?" Marguerite said, "Well, I usually like about an hour to get ready, so we still have a little time if you don't mind keeping me company."
"Not at all," he smiled, "Keeping you company is the highlight of my day." When it came to romance and swooning, the Baronet had never been well practiced at true courting save the outgoing ways and knowledge of the Prince's teachings. Over the years, at plenty a gala or ball he would put to use his flirtatious words and actions but never a lady did he try and swoon nor ever court. Luckily for his ego, he was constantly surrounded by women, yet, oddly enough, never wished to take to any particular one.
Some thought him a bachelor for life. Some thought he was too stupid to realize that he ought to get married with a wife. In the most remote parts of English society, those that were jealous of his wealth, said much nastier things about his not favoring women at all. Sir Percival Blakeney, Baronet, had at one time or another in his life heard all these rumors. Like the ones of his ignorant youth, he ignored them and pushed them aside as simply as if he ordered the wrong drink.
In Marguerite St. Just's company, he was anything but inattentive however. Had he an audience to his meetings with the actress, it would become very obvious that Blakeney was a man, after all, with a caring heart. A little unpracticed due to being tainted all those years perhaps, but like all things he did, very passionate in action. He believed in her. "Do say, how long has this theatre running production of yours been, oh whot, running about, eh?"
"This production? Oh about six weeks so far, and there's another six weeks yet to run. Rather successful run considering it's a commonly done revival I would say." Marguerite commented, giving his hand a soft squeeze. She was truly glad he had stayed with her, even if only for a few more moments.
He nodded his head and returned the squeeze of her hand. When a woman did this, it was a good sign, wasn't it? Blakeney had to believe so, for when he flirted, the English women who dared touch him always grabbed an arm or elbow of his. Rarely would they go near his hand or shoulder, but on occasion, when he could detect their true motive, he noticed they did this.
Silent, Blakeney wondered if he was making a mistake at all. Vulnerable, the thought did cross his mind wondering if it was his wealth that appealed to this young woman. No. He quickly dismissed the thought. Not Marguerite. She, unlike English women, had depended solely upon herself and had probably many men asking for her hand. Why, with her looks and wits, who wouldn't? Again, that line of thinking he was not wanting to admit to and the tall blonde man ignored a possible truth.
Bringing her hand to his lips, he brushed them ever so gently and returned it to her lap. This was Sir Percy, and for now, he was forced to take things slow.
Marguerite smiled as he kissed her hand, but he was so quiet again suddenly. "Percy, is very thing alright? You're so quiet."
"Everything is just fine. When one has been put before such beauty, words would only destroy the magic." He kept his voice low and courted her. A little bit of Prince and a lot of Blakeney. If George ever heard him speaking like this, the man would surely shake his head. As things would seem, the Baronet was quite well enough alone.
Marguerite felt her lips tremble as he spoke. She dropped her eyes for a moment before looking back up into his. "I think that is one of the sweetest things anyone's ever said to me."
His pleasure was apparent in a boyish sort of smile. What did he know of going about with numerous women like the Prince? What happiness had either one of them truly had over these lonely years? The Prince was rumored to have found a love, but lost her. Perhaps she found out what type of man George the fourth really was. Perhaps the rumor of the King becoming involved was true. Blakeney was not one to gossip, so he took it at face value. Neither one of them had found any sort of comfort or companion. At least here, he felt he was with someone whom he could envision being faithful too. "Tis a smile I make hearing you say that I have pleased the Lady." The lazy blue eyes watched her greens for a very long time.
Marguerite gave his hand a soft squeeze and leaned in a bit closer to him, "Do you know what would please me Percy?"
He gulped a little and felt his lips go dry. "No." Anxiously, he awaited to hear.
"To hear you call me by the pet name you gave me the night we met. I liked the name you choose for me, and I don't believed you've used it since then."
A bit of his cockiness shone through, and Blakeney leaned back into his seat. Still however, he held fast to her hand. "Name? Name. Now what was that name I gave, say?"
Marguerite playfully tapped on his hand with her free one, "Oh Percy, don't you remember what you called me, the night at the bistro, after I sang on stage."
"After you sang on stage?" He glanced at her and gave a broader grin. "La, but Do you sing my dear?"
"Yes I do, and you have forgotten so soon. Perhaps I should perform again and refresh your memory," she said in response to his teasing, "Although if my performance is so forgettable to you, I wonder if it is worth the effort."
He raised a brow and began to work the conversation to his benefit. "You realize, an uncultured Englishman like me, it may do me the world of good to hear you sing privately." He rubbed his chin. "Yes, I bet I could perhaps make a memory of that name in which you speak."
Well, as an artist, I suppose it is within my duty to help an uncultured Englishman, but, first of all it is best if I stand." Marguerite said, as she stood up, and pulled on his arm, urging him to stand up as well.
It was a most pleasant scenario to be in and Blakeney gladly stood as she lead him upwards from the chair. Marguerite St. Just could tease him and call him uncultured and it was music to his ears. With this woman, he felt like he knew her, and she knew him even though it was less than a few days time that had passed. For him, he watched for four years, but they were unknowledgeable and lonely years. Anxiously waiting, he stood and leaned on his cane. "I am ready to be 'helped' whenever you are ready Mlle."
Well," Marguerite said as she pushed her stool out of the way with her foot, creating a little bit more space in the room, "I need a little inspiration." Cautiously, she took a step closer to him and place the hand that hand been clasped to hers on her waist. She brought both her arms up and placed them gently on his shoulders and began to sway back and forth as she lifted her face so that her cheek just missed brushing his, and softly began to whisper a song into his ear.
In his head, he actually had to remind himself he was a gentleman and
would not ruin this good woman's reputation by endangering that fact. Unbelievable this was, having her actually place his hands on her sides. When had he ever done such an event? He remembered a time a woman placed his hands on her legs and Blakeney quickly dismissed the idea. He swayed her gently in a small dance for her inspiration. The Baronet did not say a word.
Without looking at him, it was hard to judge his reaction, although he seemed to go along with her gentle dancing. "Well Percy, is this stirring any memories?"
Mmmmm," he teased in an obvious voice, "I'm not sure if anything is coming to me... but I seem to remember... Mmmmmmmm.. perhaps a little bit more." He was milking this for all it was worth.
"Ah, ah, ah" she teased him, "If you want another song, you must at least venture a guess me dear Percy."
"If I must..." he grinned and rested his cheek against hers so she could hear his voice near her ear. "I would guess.... Mable?"
"Mable? No, that's not it," she whispered as she felt him move so their cheeks met, "Keep guessing," she said as she began to sing quietly to him once more.
And quietly he kept in order to prolong breaking the music that filled his ears. When she did stop to force him to answer again, he offered, "Merriwether?"
In between verses she paused only to say no before she continued singing, "To bad it looks as if you won't get it right. If you did I'd be tempted to sing many, many more song for you after the performance tonight, a free, private concert just for you."
"Would you?" His eyebrows lifted
I never go back on my word Sir Percy, better hurry, only one more verse left." she whispered into his ear.
Without missing a beat or loosing a second, he answered "Maeve."
Once she finished she couldn't help but to laugh. "Yes, I believe that was the one. So, now I owe you a private little concert. I expect to be picked up promptly at the stage door following the show tonight."
He grinned and pulled back, trying to get a little bit of a spin out of her like at the end of a real dance. It did not really make her spin, only lifted up her arm but that satisfied the Baronet. "Twill be my pleasure Mlle Maeve." He winked and kissed her hand.
"Of course it will," she said, "you're the one receiving the performance tonight." Marguerite giggled, "But I don't mind, I would love to sing for you again tonight Percy."
"In the great words of Shakespeare, 'To what honor does a man like me deserve such a fate?" Oh damn me, or something to that effect." He was more than happy to come back for this performance. Again, he would have to remind himself of his behavior. Flirt she may and flirt she might, he still had a society to answer too, although worrying about a reputation never bothered the Baronet.
Marguerite laughed as he quoted a work she wasn't sure if she was aquinted with. She lifted one hand and stroked his cheek. Once more she leaned in a bit closer to him. Who knows what might had happened if a rush of footsteps in the hall not startled her. Someone had arrived and was bouncing about the halls for whatever reason. she hated to admit it, but soon she would have to send him off so that she could get ready.
The same sounds fled to his ears and for fear of the door bursting open again, Blakeney pulled back and stood upright. What siren tempted him so should ever be treated in a manner of denial? He grew fond of her and thought of her when they were apart. Blakeney asked softly, "Shall I bid you good bye for now and pray the minutes pass quickly for your work here tonight to be done?"
Marguerite silently shook her head and pulled herself close to him again, putting her arms around her and giving him a hug. "I wish you didn't have to. I often entertain here before shows, however I don't think you'd approve of the idea of staying here while I changed into costume."
The ways of the French were not the ways of the English. Blakeney nodded slowly and stepped back out of her touch that he was enjoying more than her entrancing voice. "I fear you read me well Mlle."
Marguerite nodded, but as he stepped back she grabbed onto each of his hands. "I used to have a screen, but got ride of it to make more room. I wish I had it here again, but it will only be a few hours. At least I will have the joy of knowing even though I can't see you, you'll be watching me."
Secretly, he was glad the temptation was removed. Could he honestly sit there in a lady's room while she changed only a few feet before him? Blakeney supposed he would have no choice in the matter, but was glad he did not have to suffer and pretend to not think the thoughts that would normally enter a man's head if ever put in such a situation. "Yes, I will be watching." His mind had wandered as she spoke, so as he answered her normally, he could only think of this woman in her corset and underskirt. Taking her hand, he kissed it again and departed with, "I shall be waiting."
Marguerite let the back of her fingers run against his cheek after he kissed it. "Well, I don't know if I can, I suppose thoughts of later tonight will have to do for now." she said as she followed him to the door of her dressing room.
He wondered if she had any idea what context of their conversation was running around in his head. Best that she didn't know, he decided and silently did a few Hail Mary's in his head. If he was another man, 'later tonight' would have a whole new meaning and the Baronet kissed her hand once more, his eye linguering on hers. Placing his hat back upon his head, Blakeney gave the rim a tap to keep it secure and winked at Marguerite. "Good luck tonight." With a formal bow, he left her dressing room and then exited the theatre.
With a happy go lucky whistle, the Baronet continued about his
afternoon twirling the cane once more. His thoughts reverted back a bit to his parents, judging how they would view their son and his decision to court this French woman. His mother, had she been awake to understand, might hear the word French and weep. She was the one that pushed him to be a perfect English gentleman all those years. It was the only attention he had from her, therefore it was all he knew and held fast onto.
He gave a little shrug and stopped to purchase some fruit from the very stand he left hours before. Something about the apples pulled him in again, and although he had a taste for a papayaa, the memory of Marguerite and the eating of the fruit remained a vivid image in his mind.
When he left with his two apple, eating one, the Baronet strolled
around a nearby park and sat on a bench. His posture was very
relaxed and he enjoyed watchig a couple with their children play near the pond. Soon enough, he would head to the theatre, until then, Blakeney made himself comfortable on the bench and took a short nap.
Marguerite sighed after she closed the door behind him. At first, he was jut another admirer, someone for her to parade around with in front of her friends, maybe even get a present, flowers, or dinner from, but Percy was different. He didn't make any grand overtures, he didn't seem to expect anything in return, he didn't even try to kiss her, even today when she
gave him the opportunity, an opportunity not because she wondered if he would take it, but because she wanted him to take it.
Finally settling down, Marguerite took a few moments to relax in peace, although she felt rather lonly, until one of the girls came in to help fix her up for that night's performance. At least she knew he would be watching again.
Once more in the theatre, Blakeney puzzled to humor himself over the idea of wonderment on his facinacion for these sort of musical whims. Denied as a child, hearing about the theatre, he guessed an obsession to obtain what he could not have sparked the flame which he drew himself towards.
Watching from his vantage point in the box seat, Blakeney began his favorite game of observing others as they filed into the belly of the theatre and took their seats. Soon enough, he would watch Marguerite perform this show again. He had already seen this performance five times.
Once relax and ready, Marguerite waited in the wings of the theatre for her cue. from her vantage point she could vaugly make out some of the people in the boxes, and wondered which one was Percy.
Watching from his vantage point in the box seat, Blakeney began his
favorite game of observing others as they filed into the belly of the
theatre and took their seats. Soon enough, he would watch Marguerite
perform this show again. He had already seen this performance five
times.
Once relax and ready, Marguerite waited in the wings of the theatre
for her cue. from her vantage point she could vaguely make out some
of the people in the boxes, and wondered which one was Percy.
The first act went as he expected, he knew a great deal of the
sections of lines by heart and humorly found himself mouthing the
male lead roles when he spoke of tragic heartbreak to the supporting
male character. How odd it seemed to him. What should he care for
the character? Yet he could not deny, despite the ending, the
fondness he envisioned.
The first act, as usual, went off fine. A simple play this classic
was. No bouncing, no dancing, not special effects, no fluffy.
During the break Marguerite took a few moments to stretch out on her
sofa and rest, though nearly falling asleep. Shrugging off the
weariness, she went back to the stage for the second act, knowing
that it wouldn't long before she was with Percy yet again.
During the intermission, Blakeney slumped back into his chair and
quickly took to covering his mouth in a yawn. Some in the next booth
over regarded him in a very distasteful manner which caused him to
smile broadly and give a wave of his gloved hand. Their back to him
was entertaining to him, but when they left, his lids shut halfway
and he glanced down below.
He fell into a small nap and woke to hear the bells chiming for
everyone to return to their seats. Not bothering to move, he kept
his hand resting against his head and continued to look bored and
uninterested. The vision he awaited for would soon appear, and the
Baronet took to covering up his true reasoning for being at the
theatre. Never was it for the great writing.
Marguerite allowed herself to become distracted during the second
act. She kept glance past her fellow actors out into the audience,
glancing up at the boxes. She knew Percy was sitting somewhere up
there, but couldn't quiet pick him out. None of them seemed
particularly tall, so perhaps he was slouching down in his seat and
leaning forward. More then once she nearly missed a cue, but it was
a role she had done to often and could walk through in her sleep.
None was more happier in that theatre that night, nor prouder than
he. It had been a few night, and somehow, he felt attached to this
woman. As if he belonged to her and he yearned very much to belong
to her like a loyal steed or a fine coat. Keep her warm. Protect
her. Yes, it was becoming more obvious that he submissively would do
ask she asked of him. How could one life rise above this wonderful
feeling of belonging? It couldn't.
When the curtain dropped, so did Marguerite. Glad the night was over
and frustrated for letting her mind wander. Once back in the wings,
she calmly dressed, putting on the dress she originally had on that
day and packing up her new green dress and the other things she has
bought from the market and gathered them up and went down to the
stage door to meet Percy.
He took his sweet time in strolling about the main floor of the
theatre and allowed himself to be one of the last few to exit the
theatre. In his mind, she would take time to change and come back.
When he rounded the corner, there were a few others awaiting outside
the state door. Blakeney hung back a little. There were a few
gentlemen, ladies and children. What grabbed the attention of the
Baronet were the two single men standing. Waiting.
With her new shawl around her shoulders, her dress box tucked under
on arm and her bag swung over the other, Marguerite worked to maneuver
through the crowded hallways and down the narrow stairway to the back
entrance. Most of the cast had already left and headed for a bistro
or cafe, not that she minded being left behind on this night.
The sense of belonging turned into a very protective stance, watching
from the distance as others asked for autographs. The two men seemed
to try very hard to get her attention and Blakeney watched as they
called out in French, "Mlle wonderful performance. You must be
famished, no?" The other man, quieter, tried to introduce himself
repeatedly to her. Standing still where he was, Percy watched from a
far.
Marguerite was startled when two men she did not know approached her
at the stage door. The first seemed rather chatty, complimenting her
on that night's performance and asking her to sign his program with
charcoal. The other men kept getting shut out of any semblance of a
conversation. Marguerite remained rather quiet but cordial as she
glanced about looking for Percy.
He stepped nearer into her line of vision and gave an almost
questioning look. It had been only a few days since they were
formally introduced. Well, her to him. He always knew of Mlle
Marguerite Saint Just. No, surely this happened often. She said so,
much to his chagrin. Moving near, he patiently waited and whistled
about in his very English manner.
The first man continued on in his chatty manner for a few minutes,
doing most of the talking for himself and his friend. Finally he
took it upon himself to pick up her packages, which she had laid
aside when he requested the autograph, and began to sweetly offer to
take her to dinner.
At first, he stood there stupidly and watched. The wave of jealous
that flow from his feet to his hairline reddened his pale English
skin. He understood every word, yet he was not supposed to have that
knowledge. Watching, he wished to crack his cane across the man's
hand when he touched the package *he* purchased earlier in the
evening. Again, that would not do and be most unbecoming of a
English gentleman. He had not right to be angry with her, for their
meetings were brief. Still....
His mind racing as they neared, Percy grinned neared like the devil
inside and strolled near. "Lud! I didn't realize you had hired
help! How monstrously clever!" He reached in and grabbed the
lowest English coin he had in his pocket and placed it in the man's
hand. "Will he be carrying all your things this evening Maeve?" He
with great purpose, used the pet name she liked and was giving every
effort to stake his claim. "If he is, that might be a damn
nuisance, I dare declare, for the next 'performance'."
"Now Percy, why would I have to hire someone when I have you to carry
my things for me." Marguerite said, teasing him lightly. She gently
tugged one on of the packages the other man was holding, finally
taking it from his grip and handing it to Percy. "Now, it was a
pleasure to meet both you gentlemen, and I think you for you
invitation to dinner, but I'm afraid I have a previous engagement for
tonight. I do hope you'll excuse me and come again to the La
Comedie."
A most satisfied vengeful grin crossed his English amused face. He
gladly took back the package and neared the other two men, using his
height to his advantage to intimidate them. Soon they left and Percy
was most pleased with himself and glanced down at Marguerite. "Well,
Maeve. I do not know what you said to them, but I suppose I tipped
that man for no reason. Tally forth, like, Hmm?"
Moving near her, he offered his arm and smiled, "Well now, where is
this performance to take place?"
"We have a stop to make first Percy," Marguerite said. "I want to be
rid of all my packages before we go, so I want to stop off at my flat
first." Marguerite took Percy's arm and led him in the direction
of her home.
Following her willingly, he continued his whistle and allowed himself
to by led to her section of town. What a fun week this turned out to
be. He should have done it years before.
Marguerite led Percy back to her building. She dashed out into the
street to cheek for light, there was none, but Armand might have been
in the other room, being it was early and he was usually still up.
She quietly took the packages from Percy's hands, "I can take these
from here, I don't want to wake my brother and two make less noise
then one."
"Alrighty." He allowed her to take the package from him and glanced
curiously up towards where she looked. He had no idea if it was the
second or the third floor, but he hoped to learn this information
over time. He did not know why. It occurred to him that he always
dropped a lady off at her house, not a flat and this intrigued and
enticed him even more. How strange and exotic she seemed to him.
Yes, he could want to learn more about Marguerite Saint Just.
Marguerite dashed into her flat as quietly as she could. She dropped
her dress off in her room and the bag of groceries in the kitchen, not
bothering to check and see if Armand was awake or not. She saw his
books, that was enough for her to know he was home. On her way out,
she pulled a soft quilt out of the closet and went back down the
stairs to the front.
"Well now Percy," she said as she exited the front door, "I hope I
haven't kept you too long."
"Had you even left? Time just seems to slip its way on by when you
are near. I scarce can believe the hour of the night is so late."
He smiled and offered his arm. He had no idea why she brought a
quilt, not much of a fashion statement if she was cold, and quietly
he pondered where she would be taking him.
Marguerite smiled and blushed as she took his arm. "Well now, I
believe that there is still the issue of a performance of sorts that
I owe you. Now, I don't suppose you've book a concert hall where we
might hold this event have you?"
Patting down his coat and his britches, the Baronet looked at her and
coyly crooned, "Mmmmmm, well let me see.... I could have sworn this
was my week to book a concert hall...." With a sly glance, Blakeney
took hold of her hand and continued to pat down the outside of his
coat, having a bit of a fun time.
"No.... not here. Mmmmm. Was it last week and I missed my
scheduled date? Nooooo." With a wink, he placed her hand on his
arm and held it with his free hand. "Sink me and call me
absentminded. I plum forgot."
Marguerite smiled, "Well, that's ok then, I know of a nice quiet spot
where we can go, although I hope you don't mind a bit of a walk."
"If it means being at your side, make it as long as you like."
Marguerite smiled. As they walked along they chatted casually until
they were almost in sight of the Seine River. There was an empty lot
with low cut grass and a few trees. Marguerite led him into the
area, now quiet and desert.
Having been to many places before, the sand dunes of an Egyptian
desert, the icy mountains of Switzerland, Blakeney never found a
more common place so beautiful as the place where Marguerite
inhabited. He stood idly by and released her, looking at her with
the intensity of a man and the curiosity of a child.
Marguerite approached a large tree near the bank of the river and
unfolded her quilt. "It's not Theatre des Arts or La Comedie, but
for such a small audience, I believe this would do, don't you?"
"Well, I will have to deal best with it then," he winked, "Seeing as
how it is not your La Comedie."
Once the quilt was spread out, Marguerite sat down and leaned back
against the tree. She patted the spot next to her and looked up at
Percy, "Come now Percy, have a seat here with me."
Willingly, he came and sat next to her, with a smile and a nod,
facing her as the properness of a gentleman demanded. "Tis a lovely
night, whot?" He glanced up and looked back to her, feeling quite
youthful.
"It's a lovely night, and now I feel somewhat obligated to repay you
for helping me today." she said as he sat down next to her. Gently
she touched the fine material of her coat, "Now this won't do," she
began as she gently pulled the lapels back, "I'm sure you'd feel much
better with out your coat."
Remembering a time that seemed ancient when a woman took off his
coat, he gave Marguerite a funny sort of smile. He was being silly
of course, as that was 10 years ago and he no longer was a youthful
22. Keeping an eye on Marguerite and her intentions, Blakeney's lazy
blues grew a little in roundness.
Marguerite worked the coat off his shoulders and motioned for him to
turn a bit. She placed gentle hands on each of his shoulders and
lead him to lean back against her. Slowly she rubbed his shoulders
and whispered into his ear, "Now, my Percy, do you have any requests
for your first song?"
He tried to relax and glanced up at her a bit. Her touch was tender
and her face shone of caring. He did not fear her touch, but at the
same time, could not completely let his guard down. "My song?" He
offered with hope. Blakeney remembered the song she sang on the
stage that night in French. Although he wasn't supposed to, he
understood every word.
Marguerite giggled lightly in his ear. "So I sing on song to you one
night at a crowded bistro and suddenly you have a song? Alright, but
first lean back and relax a bit Percy. I promise not to bite." she
said as she continued to rub his arms and shoulders.
His ego snuck out and he smiled most cleverly. He could not bring
himself to tell her he understood the words, for that would mean he
had lied to her or led her thinking stray. For such an early part in
their relationship, that just would not do.
Leaning into her as she requested, Percival Blakeney held his breath
and reminded himself she was not impressed with money, therefore any
fear of being struck dumbfounded and loosing it to awaken to a broken
soul was not an option here. For her, at her request, he relaxed.
Marguerite smiled as he leaned back, letting his soft hair brush
against her chin and neck. Softly in his ear she began to sing the
same song she sang a few nights ago at the bistro while rocking
slowly and rubbing his shoulders.
Shivering and near freezing still in her grasp, Percy reminded
himself why he liked the song so, and deemed her truly the 'Maeve'
song goddess that she was. He was a most ample audience member,
quietly enjoying what she offered him and at the same time, remaining
quite still to not disrupt the newly claimed 'His song'.
Once Marguerite had finished the song, she giggled and pressed her
nose near his cheek, "Now, do you have any other requests are do you
plan to have me sing that over and over to you again tonight?"
"Tempting... but perhaps, for your benefit only," he flirted, "you
should choose another that is near equal in sound and voice. I
daresay, you could melt the icicles off Santa's castle in the dead of
winter."
Oh, so we're going to be picky aren't we, must be equal in sound and
voice." she teased him before singing another song.
The sly grin that crossed his face remained. After all, it was she
that gave in quickly and began to sing. Hearing her voice, he
wondered if, had he wanted to, his muscles would obey the will to
stand and walk away. She kept him there as easily as a cub to its
mother. Oddly. He rested his head against where upon she laid it,
and submissively looked up at her in a silent worship. It was that
moment he knew without a doubt, he would figure out a way to make her
his, for in at this time, he belonged to her now. Like a pet. Like
a shoe. All he wished to do was please her and the cost was simply
his unused heart.
Marguerite continued to sing for him for a while. After he seemed to
relax she moved her hands to gently stroke the side of his head,
gently brushing through his soft hair. A few more songs sung,
Marguerite stopped for a moment and rested her head against his. She
felt oddly comforted by his mere presence, something she hadn't felt
in a while.
He did not wish to break the silence and kept quiet. Enjoying what
he was given.
Marguerite slowly brought her arms around him as she turned her head a
bit to see if he was still awake or not. It didn't take much to pick
out to dull blue eyes not far from hers, quietly, and almost
curiously looking up at her.
"Show over Milady?" He smiled and remained where he was. "I will get
to see you again, no?" Blakeney was not sure if he should sit up or
not, so he remained still for now and let her continue her lead of
this evening.
Marguerite smiled, "No, unless you've tired of my voice. Think of it
as intermission." She pulled her arms tighter around him and sighed
happily.
"I can do that." Pulling him near to her, Blakeney gently reached up
and rubbed at her fingers with his gloved hand. The sounds of the
night were not as romantic as her voice, but intermissions were never
too terribly long. He looked forward to the second act and did
nothing to rush her along.
Marguerite gently wrapped her little fingers around his. She
continued to rock back and forth gently with him resting against
her. "Well, do you have any more request Sir Percy, or shall I just
continue on with my own set?"
Craning his neck forward a bit to see her, he answered, "Might I ask
for something more along the lines of English tradition, Milady?
That is, to not put you on the spot per say." He smiled and rested
into her again. This was a life he could get used too.
Marguerite nodded. "Well Percy, if you have something particular in
mind, if I know it I would be more then happy to oblige you Percy."
she said as he leaned back and rested gently against her again.