The Next Morning/Back to Richmond/Homecoming/Hasty Armand

After a sleepless night spent in the adjoining room, Percy knocked softly upon his wife's door at the break of dawn, hoping that she was already awake. He felt almost sheepish, returning to her after a night in which the last thing he wanted was to be by her side, but he convinced himself repeatedly that it was justified: her own fault.

He heard her voice calling him to come in, and he opened the door cautiously, to find her arranging her things for the ride to Blakeney Manor. Having forgotten to unpack in the first place, there was nothing that Percy needed to do, so he merely asked, "Did you sleep well?"

Marguerite absently rubbed her tired eyes, half asleep, and part angry. "No Percy I did not. Percy, why didn't you come to bed last night?"

Slightly taken aback by her unusually edgy manner, Percy paused a moment, wondering for the first time what his excuse would be. "Well, my dear, you kept saying last night how tired you were... and by the time I came back upstairs, you were sleeping so soundly that I didn't want to disturb you. I apologize if I worried you, dear."

"Percy," Marguerite started slowly, "I waited up for you to come back to the room, hours I waited. When I couldn't help myself I finally fell asleep but never soundly. I tossed and turned all night."

As a man who just a short time ago adored her completely, Sir Percy found himself naturally moving next to his bride, reaching out with his hand. In a yearning whisper, he spoke, "Sweet Marguerite." His fingers brushed her shoulder and almost as if on fire, the hand recoiled back at the touch. The memory sharpened and he made no further attempts to comfort her. His footsteps fell backwards in retreat. Turning from her to stare at the window, he forced loose a tired yawn and made little effort to excuse the action. What to say to the woman who had him completely duped? What could he ever possibly say?

Marguerite was puzzled. He seemed distant this morning. Maybe it was her lack of sleep, or was he angry at her? He said he did not mind her leaving him last night, but then he never came to join her.

”A thousand apologies to you and your missing sleep, my wife.” He tried to control his voice that wavered from natural sounding to icy cold. Parting the window curtains in the room, Sir Percy glared outside to search for something he could use. For now, he spoke to buy time, “Your small, fragile self must be completely exhausted. Lud! How could I possibly ever make it up to you?" Ha! Percy's eyes snapped across the lawn. His answer! It appeared from the far side of the yard, at the stable.

Before she could take him up on his offer, Percy grinned in a cunning way and spoke, his back still to her. "Well darling, your prompt planning and early packing seems to have done well after all. It appears you will now be able to regain all your lost sleep and soon. I see the boy has brought around Sultan and the rest of the team."

He removed his hand, bringing the curtains to a close, and turned to face her. His voice was low and aloof, "Odd thing really. I do not recall asking for the coach so early... however it seems I am at a loss on this morn for many a things I once cherished and thought important." Marguerite did not appear to take a liking to what he could be implying. He was being careless, he knew it, so Percy added merrily, "Oh how I used to love an early morning ride! Seeing you here now, well! Damn shame that the coach is here. Shall we, my loyal wife?"

He had done his best to remain civil, but the wound was still fresh and he was angry being so close to her. Sir Percy lashed out with his tongue and felt his body stiffen when she watched him. The last blow driven, he stood there, offering Marguerite a forced smile and his arm.

Marguerite swallowed the lump in her throat and reached out to him, but instead of taking his arm she put both arms around her husband and buried her head in his shoulder. All she wanted now was for him to be with her, to hold her and make her feel safe. After Chauvelin had followed her to England and confronted her the night before, she had felt so vulnerable, as if even here in England she was not safe from the blade of the guillotine.

He was a well trained man. For years he had practiced his game face for various different reasons. None of it mattered right now, as the vixen spun her web. He was still, after all, just a man.

Sir Percy felt her take a hold of him tightly. The smell of her perfume and the feel of her softness was making his knees go weak. She was his wife! Just a few days prior, they were talking merrily and laughing. He loved her. He loved her for all the reasons he envisioned he would finally marry a woman. Her sweet disposition reminded him of his mother, yet Marguerite was hardly a motherly figure. He loved her because of her sharp wit that secretly mirrored his own. She kept him thinking when she teased him so. She was beautiful and this is why he loved her.

Against his better judgment, he found himself wrapping his arms around her and closing his eyes. He did not embrace her as strongly as he normally would have, for images of the dark cloaked man thanking Marguerite about the endangered family St. Cyr remained. Damn! He loved her still. Percy painstakingly held Marguerite a moment longer, wishing he knew nothing of the rumors so he would not have to let go his embrace. Hoping she would speak only made the silence more maddening. Silently, Percy prayed for St. Cyr's forgiveness in his actions during this weak moment. He indulged himself, for soon he would let her go. This was the last chance he would allow himself to hold his wife.

Marguerite felt Percy's arms wrap gently and tenderly around her. Thinking back to the night before, she could feel the tears of fear and remorse begin to prick at her bloodshot eyes. She pulled her face of her husband's shoulder and looked up at Percy, still holding him tightly. Marguerite gently nuzzled her nose against his face as she pressed her lips to his smooth cheek. She wanted so much to tell him about last night, but he images of Chaulevin played over and over again like a terribly nightmare in her mind and she could not bare to do it. Once she was at Richmond though, Armand would be there. Armand her loving brother and the person she was closest to, he would listen, but for now there was Percy. "Percy," Marguerite whispered, "Percy, promise me you won't leave me like that again."

Her lips pressed hard into his cheek and Percy felt his face grow hot and his eyes red. He quickly looked up to the ceiling, hearing Marguerite ask him what he could never promise. He knew what he was.

Gingerly, he peeled her arms from around her body and turned his head from her. He needed a moment to recompose, as his heart was wretched. "I can not make such a promise Marguerite. I am a simple man who does not ask much, and some things can not be helped you know."

Marguerite felt a lump in her throat that she thought would cause her to chock. "Percy, it is such a complicated request for a man to be with his wife?"

Moving towards the door, Sir Percy opened it and gestured his arm outward to lead her through. "Silly of me to make an 'always' promise Marguerite. Why, I might ask of you to 'always' wake up with your sweet disposition and sing God save the King. Perhaps reach up and grab the moon as it were? Who can say such things?" His face donned a slight smile, still stomaching his broken heart and pride.

"Percy, I would gladly do all that and more for you if you wished." Marguerite could not bare to look at him at the moment and turned her back to him so that she might allow the a few of the prickling tears to begin to gently a flow, only to be caught staring at his reflection in a mirror over a vanity table.

"Come now, we shall speak no more of my nonsense like moons and stars. The coach awaits and I believe you are all ready to go to Richmond. I'll send someone for the bags."

“No, no, you go Percy. I'm not quiet ready yet. I'll follow you in a few minutes." Marguerite said, as she waited for Percy to leave her so that she may let the tears flow and then dry her eyes.

He did not answer her and quickly Marguerite begin going on about other idle things. Sir Percy was deeply in love and his foolish heart still hung onto a shred of hope that she would reveal her part in the rumor. Her words never touched on what he wanted to hear, and he noted her behavior of turning her back to him.

Percy had not grown up how he did, had not snuck in and out of France alone, had not made personal arrangements for the family St. Cyr, without knowing how to read another being. He knew what turning your back on someone meant: Hiding the truth. Hell, he just did it to her not but a few moments ago! Having trained himself in these matters so over the years, Percy's eyes quickly scanned the room for any reflective surface that could reveal. In the past he had used windows, flat sides of steel carriages, and on his most recent trip to France, while in disguise he lost the trail of an officer by using this very same survival method. What saved him? He looked into the shiny reflective surface of a shovel that was hanging in display outside the local blacksmith.

Marguerite was making him become more and more aware of her actions. Percy darted his eyes to the mirror, seeing her tears. It started to tear at his heart, but soon Marguerite's eyes met his in the mirror and when she tore them away, breaking the glance, his mind was made up. She told him to go on ahead and he took the opening.

"As you wish." He said sternly and without another word, Percy turned and headed downstairs. A fire blazed in his soul that he did not realize he was capable of. He ordered the nearest boy to fetch their things upstairs immediately and to bring down the lady. Then Sir Percy climbed aboard top the carriage and waited. So angry was he, that he slapped the reins in his hand without giving his usual greeting of hello to Sultan.

The horse turned its head at its friend and Percy looked at Sultan for a moment. "Oh don't even YOU start! I know I am in yesterday's bloody attire!" Percy leaned back in the carriage and surveyed the countryside, longing to get home and find out whom he could seek for help. Obviously not his beloved wife by God and marriage! When was she coming down anyway? Damn it all! Percy was becoming more and more bitter with each passing moment waiting on her, so he began to think of the planning again. The St. Cyr needed to be freed and Percy's usual cover would not be enough this time.

It was time to go home. It was time to recruit help.

He purposefully now took on the tired and 'uninterested in life' face. Percy did not want to talk to Marguerite. He did not want to look at her. After helping her in the carriage in his gentleman manner, Sir Percy held onto the reins and began to drive the horses home.

Normally he would glance at her and perhaps tease her that he was going to give Sultan such a whack, he would drive them off a cliff if she did not kiss him immediately. Not today. There was no laughter in his eyes. Not even a smile on his face. Although they both had each other company, it was a long and lonely ride back to Richmond.

As soon as Percy left, Marguerite dropped to the floor and let the tears flow from her eyes. She cried almost violently. She was fiercely angry at Chauvelin for following her here, and ashamed of herself for what she had done. When finally her eyes ran dry to she hastily wiped her cheek on her sleeve and washed her face with some cool water. Her eyes were red and blood shot, but there was no way to change that.

After catching her breath, Marguerite made her way downstairs to see Percy sitting in the carriage. She did not want to stay down below on her own if Percy was to drive and with the help of one of the stable boys she climbed up top. Marguerite gently forced her arm around her husband's and lay her head on his shoulder. "You must forgive me Percy, I'm not quiet myself this morning."

"Who was today?" he thought. Percy did nothing by means of removing her head or arms. Part of him guiltily enjoyed the comforting touch of his wife and the other part was not ready to deal with more questions had he removed her. So he sat there stoic and rode home, glancing down at her sleeping form every now and then.... wondering what was passing on inside her mind.

Marguerite lazily rested her head against Percy's shoulder, drifting in and out of sleep as they journed home. She yawns after waking up once more and asked Percy, "What time do you expect the guests to arrive this afternoon?"

"Bugger!" Percy realized he had to figure out a way to stay awake, get washed, changed, and figure out the best diversion to get the selected others away from the main group tonight to discuss his idea.

Realizing he let that one escape out loud, he charmingly smiled over at Marguerite. "I thought dinner was at 7, but I be a frog on a lily pad before I can actually remember. Do you recall lovely lady?" He still refused to look directly at her. Keeping his eyes on the passing trees the landscape told him it would thankfully not be too much longer before they arrived near Richmond.

"That sounds right Percy, although would you expect your guest to arrive much earlier? I would like to spend sometime with Armand before everyone arrives. I know he misses France so and he's been in England all alone for a week now." Marguerite's voice cracked at the mention of her brother, the only family she had left. Deep in her heart she doubted any two people could be as close to each other as she was to Armand, not even a husband and wife, and he was willing to stay in England for while the dangers in Paris were to great, for her sanity, even though it meant leaving almost everything he knew behind.

Percy nodded his head and listened to her and the hooves of the horses all pitter patter away.

"By all means, take the time you need Lady Blakeney. I am sure our guests will be pleased to see your lovely and enchanting face when it arrives. However everyone knows it is fashionable for an English woman to be late, so carry on as you see fit."

Flippantly he spoke to her, ready to get home and have some much needed space. Percy could only hope she would take all the time she needed. 'Infinite' came to mind and he quickly suppressed the joke with only a smile.

Marguerite smiled at the thought of seeing her dear brother again, but at the same time it seemed like Percy was taking a tone with her. She snuggled up closer to Percy, "Percy, in England is it also fashionable for the host to be late? I'm missed you so last night."

He let out a long and anguished sigh. There was no avoiding this dead issue it seemed. "In England, Lady Blakeney, the host or hostess does not need to be late. In fact, how right you are. What was I thinking? It must be this demmed heat shinning down, making me forget that we even are hosting a party tonight. Such as my mind is."

“My poor Percy, how tired we both are. I think a nap would suit us both before the ball tonight."

He still could not face her constant questioning of last night, so he simply choose not to answer it. "Look dear, see that tree yonder?" Percy randomly pointed at the next passing foliage. "It means you will soon get to see your brother not before long. Doesn't that make you thrilled?" Sir Percy was finding that getting Marguerite off a subject was harder than avoiding the prison guards back in France!

"Yes, Percy, it does, but it also means I will be seeing my new home for the first time too. Tell me more about Richmond Percy." He still seemed oddly distant, yet Marguerite found comfort in his voice.

“Yes... a nap would do me well." Clearing his throat, he never wanted to be at his door so badly before. He just wanted silence. He needed to be alone. Where in the devil was the person that should have warned him that wives were never silent? Was silence too much to ask for? Percy thought not as he did not want to talk. He was in no mood to narrate his entire estate. Glancing down at her, the alternative dawned on him. She could be asking him again about last night.

"The house was purchased in the late 1600s by an uncle on my great grand-grandfather's side." Percy glanced over at her and continued. "The walls are made out of the strongest oak, and the foyer has inlaid marble that stretches from the front door all the way back up to the worker's quarters. The kitchen has been remodeled by my ownership a few years back for convenience sake.

"There is a spiral stair case that is rumored to have tripped my grandfather as a child, on so many occasions that my great grandmother forbid him to run in the house without proper shoes." Percy smiled a little remembering the stories told by mother when she was awake and able. "You will find all rooms to your liking for changing, as woman do. The only exception will be my private study. It has not been changed in four generations, so there is no reason I see in starting now."

“I'm sure I'll find little reason to change any of it Percy." Marguerite said happily, trying to picture Richmond.

Percy glanced over at Marguerite and let out a yawn and quickly covered his mouth in a gentleman type fashion. "Forgive me. Yes, a nap would do the trick indeed."

Marguerite, much more comfortable and happy with Percy again, hugged his arm tighter and laid her back down on his shoulder. "What are the grounds outside the house like Percy?”

"Only a few more miles of this...." he reminded himself in his thoughts.

"The grounds, ah, the grounds. Mine ladyship will find the main front house garden in abundance with nearly every flower that has ever grown on the English soil. In the two backyard gardens, you will find various imported plants and exotic flowers from many different foreign countries. There are even a few of those lovely Chinese bloomers, whose name eludes me at the moment.

"The land stretches for acres and our nearest neighbors can not be seen from the house. The river, or creek, depending on if you took my grandmother's side or my great aunt's to its true definition, runs along the backside of the yard. There is little fishing to be done there but I find the water having a nice cool refreshing taste on a hot English day. The bullfrogs can keep you up at night during the summer. Frightful thing that those little throats can do."

His thoughts turned to Tony, Andrew and the others he would see tonight at home. Ah, at his home. He smiled and gave Sultan and the team a extra little whap with the reins. "If we hurry, you might even catch the myna bird that sits to sing in the late afternoon on his favorite large branch of oaks." Percy found himself missing Richmond.

Marguerite sighed happily, "It sounds wonderful Percy. It should be a nice change from the crowded and noise city of Paris." Marguerite paused at the mention of her old home. She missed it dearly but even if she wanted to go back, it was too dangerous.

Percy fell back into silence and whapped the reigns hard. "Let's take her home hard Sir!" He voiced out to Sultan who knew his master's habits. Sultan shook up the coach and plunged forward the rest of the way to the Blakeney Manor.

Handing the reigns over to the awaiting crew, Percy got down and in his gentleman manner, helped the lady down. Heading for the house, he pointed out a few things here and there to her. "It's all yours now my dear. You probably will want for nothing."

Turning to face her, Percy gave a languid smile. "Now then, your ladyship should go take a nap. I will catch up on a few things and hopefully find a nap myself before long."

"Percy, won't you show me into my new home? I know you're tired so the grand tour can wait, but surely there are rooms I will need to know of tonight." Marguerite said, happily scanning over the front of the building and the front gardens lining the front of the building and the path up to it.

He nodded, as he opened the front door for her. Immediately his butler came and handed off each of them the notes and important papers. Percy saw a few things he expected to be there and quickly slipped then into the inside of his waistcoat.

Marguerite thanked the man, and thought to herself that should must remember to ask Percy to introduce her to the staff at the house. That idea seemed so odd to her. She had just come from a country where oppressed people were crying out for equality and now she lived in a mansion with servants. She was sure Percy treated them well, but if not, that would be the first change she saw to in this house. After all, Percy said she could change anything.

Marguerite thumbed through the mail and saw that there were two letters from friends in Paris. As soon as Percy showed her around she must answer the letters. She missed her dear friends so much.

"Ready for the tour milady?" Percy stretched out his arm to lead her on a short tour of the rooms. "After you. And remember, watch those steps on that spiral. My great grandmother would roll over in the grave if you tripped." He tried to look happy and kidding with her.

Marguerite gently took her husbands arm and gently lifted the skirt of her gown to keep from tripping as she walked up the stairs. "It is a beautiful home Percy." Everything was immaculate, in perfect order, save for those items that were out of their usual place and being prepared for the ball tonight. It was such a drastic change from the crowded and dirty streets of Paris. Even private residence of middle class were nice but nothing like this. Even buildings like the Comdie Francaise paled in comparison to Percy's home. Marguerite stared at everything around her as Percy led the way while aimlessly thinking to herself out loud, "I wonder where Armand is."

Marguerite quickly let go of Percy's arm when she heard Armand's yells. She happily held onto her brother as he hugged and kissed her. "Oh Armand I missed you so much little brother." Marguerite pulled back a bit from him and started her motherly fuss as she looked him over, she ran her fingers through his hair the fix it and adjusted his cravat before hugging him tightly again. "Oh Armand I missed you, now tell me, what have you done this past week. Do you like Richmond? Oh, I know this last week must have been hard for you but I'm glad you are here. Now, tell me everything."

"I am well, Marguerite," Armand said, and he told her of the things he had done while she was away that week. He was so energetic and happy that his sister was home that Jacque's letter in his coat pocket was forgotten for the moment. He rattled on, until-

He watched the two of them for a moment, and saw a bond between them that he himself had with no other being. He was supposed to have it with his wife, but it was not meant to be and Armand seemed to fill those shoes quite nicely. Sir Percy would never admit there was a hint of jealousy that laid to rest in his head now of Armand. How absurd? It hadn't been there before. He had meet Armand on many different occasions in France. Percy always had liked the young man. After all, Marguerite was crazy about him. What was there not to like? Armand always appeared generally happy and so very energetic.... could it be that Armand too was mixed up with the Cyrs?

"Greetings to you Armand." Percy butt in after a while when the two did not include his presence in the little brother/sister love fest. "How lovely it is to see you again. I hope you have found everything so far to your liking." Percy saw the two of them still engaged with each other and decided now would be a great opportunity to escape away.

"And you, Percy. It's good to see you again, dear brother-in-law." Armand smiled, untangled his arm and shook Percy's hand in greeting. "Welcome home."

"Milady has been talking all about you. It seems you, Good Sir, have been quite missed." Percy nodded his head to them both, not sure what to think. In times like this, he found it best to wade the storm and see what the tide brought in. "I'm sure you two have much to catch up on. If you both will excuse me, I shall make sure everything is in order for this evening. Armand. Milday."

Percy began to climb the staircase, nodding and smiling at them both. His lips pursed together and he watched; looking at Armand... wondering....

Marguerite watched Percy walk away. She wanted to invite him to join them but she stopped herself. Percy was tired, she thought to herself, let him take care of business and then nap before the ball. "Come little brother, you must show me around my new home while Percy rests before the ball tonight."

"In a moment, sister. Percy, wait! I need to speak with both of you before you rest after your long journey! Please... it may be a matter of life and death!"

Percy turned his head and his eyes narrowed just every so slightly. Life and death? NOW what had they done? Percy dropped back a few steps, coming down towards the main foyer floor. On the bottom staircase step, he stopped and regarded them both.

"'Life and Death' you say?" Now Armand has his full attention. His mind raced with the thoughts of St. Cyr. What in the name of the King had they done? "Well, let's have it out at once, Hm?" Percy stood on the bottom step, not approaching either one of them.

Marguerite clutched Armand's arm tightly and nervously. "Yes, yes Armand, what is this about?" marguerite asked, although she could have guessed, word had come from Paris and one of their friends was in danger.

Armand took a step from his sister, who had also questioned him. "Percy, Marguerite, two days ago, I received a letter from Jacques- you remember him, right, Margot?- and he told me that Helene is in prison. She was captured by the Republic, and she may be guillotined. You remember how outspoken she was when we were younger, Marguerite? And now she may die!" Armand drew in a shaky breath, then continued. "And Jacques asked- begged!- me to help him. He asked, did I know anyone who could help him, and my first thoughts turned to you both." Armand turned his green eyes, shimmering with tears, to his sister, then to his brother-in-law.

"Well, you, Marguerite, you are friends with that citizen- what was his name? Chauvelin?- and you, Percy... you have influence! Please, I beg of you... do what you can, and help our friends!" Armand was weeping bitterly now. Every minute was a minute closer to the blade of la guillotine for Helene.

Armand forced himself to stop sobbing, and he turned his tear- streaked face first to Percy, then back to his sister. "Please...." He whispered.

Percy listened and hearing the words from Armand's lips, he quickly pressed tightly together his own. Armand. Marguerite. Citizen Chauvelin? Percy had heard rumors of that name... he was dressed as a young blind waif when he heard the tale. Chauvelin. Some officer of France and nothing more at the time Percy heard of him. Armand made no mention of the whereabouts of St. Cyr. Very disappointing.

Marguerite froze when she heard Helene in was in prison. Helene, a young woman with many opinions but often, as Marguerite noted, not the sense to use discretion in certain times, no found herself in trouble. Thoughts in Marguerite's mind went spinning back to the bloody revolution in France as she listened to Armand explain the news from Jacques, but she was brought back by the mention of her former lover's name. Her face flushed red with anger, "Armand, you know very well of my relationship to Citizen Chauvelin," she started angrily, but stopped herself when she remembered Percy there, "No, no, I'm afraid Chauvelin and I are not on amicable terms."

Percy opened his mouth to speak, but quickly drew his hand up to his brow to half cover the expression on his face. His life's work lately had been to rescue these slaughtered lambs from France. He had planned on sharing it with both Marguerite and her brother, but well, that was before the rumor. What to do.. what to do...

Armand stared at Percy as he clutched the latter's handkerchief. What had gotten into Percy? He had always been a compassionate person, and Armand remembered him as someone who would immediately try to find some way to rescue Helene. But now...?

Rubbing his temples, Percy shook his head and glanced up. "How in the blazes do you expect me to help? Go to France myself, purchase your friend like a slave and catch my own neck on the guillotine as a souvenir while I am at it? My God Armand, they are killing their own aristocracy. I'd hate to think what they would do if they got a hold of the likes of me." Percy took on a scared like face and rubbed his hand across his neck while watching the two.

"Wipe your face man," Percy retrieved his handkerchief and tossed it Armand's way. "You are in England now and it won't do to have others see you in such a state. Lud! I'm terribly sorrowful to hear about your friend. Jack? Helen you say? I can try and inform someone Armand, but really, England has already make quite a stand to not get involved. We do not wish to partake in a war against France for France."

Percy had a first name but that was not enough. His mind raced with the potential prisons and holding areas he was slowly becoming aware of. He tossed out the bait. "Even if some government official decided to try and rescue your friend, surely there would be a whirlwind of a time trying to figure out where in France they would be." Percy's eyes went casually to Marguerite, looking for any signs of her newly discovered profession of spying. Did she suspect him? Did she look at him with any knowledge or surprise?

Marguerite shot Percy a mean look. Armand was still in many ways a boy, and even though they had been living in the middle of the Reign of Terror, one never got used to she, she supposed Percy wouldn't understand, being a foreigner in their land, or else he would have been more concerned about Armand rather then how Armand looked at the moment. Marguerite tightly hugged Armand and then took the handkerchief and wiped his eyes and face and again fixed his hair. Marguerite gently tried to claim Armand down and said, "I'm sure Percival knows many people of influence who have connections and relations in the French government that would be able to find her. Besides, you know as well as I do, according to the new Republic an outspoken woman of little means is more of a pest and they will get rid of them anyway they can, it makes no difference if that's sending them to the guillotine or sending them out of the country. I would not doubt that some of your friends of influence will be in attendance tonight at the ball, isn't that right Percival?"

Sir Percy raised an eyebrow at Marguerite. Percival? She twice called him Percival. He almost had to laugh. Not even his mother or father, unless they were angry at his wild childish antics called him 'Percival'. He did not even know his bride knew of that name. No matter, it was damn funny. He suppressed the smile forming inside him and kept on the look of shock on his horrified face. He had gotten Marguerite's goat and boy did she ever glare at him. This was good. In fact, this very reaction out of her was something he would have to remember for future use.

Hearing of the officer again and Marguerite having a 'relationship' with this man raised the other brow on Sir Percy's head. Again, was he a fool for marrying this actress? In what other ways had he been duped? His mind started churning, watching Marguerite's mouth move again. Then she stood there and stared at him waiting for him to answer. What did she just say? Did she just repeat herself?

"Hmm? Yes, oh! Right-Oh, Right-Oh. Indeed, perhaps when they get here I will ask them." He stammered a little, still dwelling on all these 'wonderful' hidden talents and tidbits he was learning about his new wife. Percy hadn't been concentrating on a word she had said. For now, he stood on the bottom step of the stairs, still distant from them and conjuring other potential scenarios she could be hiding behind his back.

Then there was a letter from Andrew given to him from Thomas the butler. He was eager to read it and stood there staring at them; giving every indication that he wanted to go upstairs. For now, he looked at them both blankly, waiting for one of them to make the next move.

What had happened that changed his brother-in-law? "Percy, I... never meant for you to try it yourself, and I certainly didn't mean for you to get England involved personally. I just thought... Oh, forget it!" Armand threw the white square of linen on the floor at Percy's feet as he walked away, now angry. "All I asked for was your help, and all you do is get mad at me! What did I do? I thought I was doing the right thing, asking you, because I trust you, but now..." Armand stopped for a moment, staring, incredulous, at his sister and brother-in-law, both of whom had changed so much since he saw them last.

"If neither of you will help Helene and Jacques Leroux, then I will got to France, and... and I'll rescue her myself!!" And with that, Armand stalked to his room and slammed the door.

Marguerite reached towards her brother but missed him as he stormed by, She started to go after him but instead turned as Percy spoke.

'My God Armand!' Percy thought. Hmmm, he was pushing the most important buttons today getting the most needed of reactions. It would appear Armand had nothing more to do with Marguerite and the dreadful rumor. It would APPEAR that way for now. The minute Armand mentioned his friend's situation, Percy's head had started churning on how he, himself could escape away to France. He knew he needed some new help, this was true. Too many people and he was after all, only one man. But Armand? The loving and loyal little French brother to the Vixen?

Percy made his eyes more shocked looking as the handkerchief was tossed angrily at his feet. If he had different intentions out of life, Percy would demand satisfaction by means of glove and pistol. What Armand had just done however played into his scheme all the better. Percy watched Armand disappear and then looked to Marguerite.

"How dreadful! Whot in the devil has gotten into him?!" Percy bent over and picked up the cloth and stuffed it back into his sleeve. "I dare say Marguerite, you better go fetch him before his sorrows find him drowning at the bottom of the riverbed."

"What the devil has gotten into him? What the devil has gotten into you I might ask." Marguerite snapped, not in the mood for wit and games, "How can you do that to him? do you have any idea what it was like for him in Paris? Living in constant fear for his life? And can you even begin to imagine, sir, what life must be like for him here, hundreds of miles away from the only home he has know, where the only news he receives is that a dear friend has been arrested and maybe killed for being brave enough to speak her mind?" By the time she had finished Marguerite was screaming at Percy for what he had done to her brother. She felt he cheeks burn with anger as she swiftly turned and walked down the hallway in search of Armand.

With that, he turned and tried to make it up the stairs... hoping the mouth of his wife would not stop his plight yet again.

After he slammed his door, Armand flung himself down in his desk chair. He pulled out a sheet of paper from a drawer and took up his quill. He dipped it in the ink so fast that the bottle tipped a little, splashing ink onto his hands.

"Damn!" Armand rinsed his hands as best as he could in the porcelain bowl at the washstand by his bed. Then he sat down again and wrote a letter to Jacques Leroux.