The Next Morning

His sleep had been a fitful one, with many dream of visions both past and present. The vision that forced him awake was a mixture of it all: On one rim of his Father's ship, Marguerite stood hanging onto one of the sail ropes, leaning over to stare at something in the ocean. She was looking down. Percy was his 8-year old adventurous self and he was curious as to why his older wife was on his father's ship. Moving alongside her, he looked up into her pretty green eyes and then followed her gaze.

Under the water, drowning, was his mother in her chair.

Percy called out a cry of help as he sprang himself upright and then settled back into the bed, resting on his elbows. His blue irises adjusted to the morning light streaming in through the open window. The heartbeat slowing down and the tingling sensation in his legs fading.

"It was a dream...." he said aloud, and as he sat up, he swung his legs over the side of the bed to see the note placed on his bed stand. Part of his dream was fantasy. Some facts remained: He had married a betraying wife, he lost the family St. Cyrs, he spoke to his friends and recruited them, along with recruiting another French spy that he would have to watch like tooth and nail.

Looking on the bright side, at least he got some sleep.

Percy opened the note and scanned his eyes across the script written there. It was from his wife, which could only mean... He stood and moved over quickly to the door, seeing it still locked he scratched his ribs, puzzled. It made no sense, this note. How did it get here?

He went about the rest of his morning rituals, putting on his bathrobe and scrubbing in the tub. He glanced at his chin and moved his head from side to side in the mirror. That is when he noticed it. She had been in his room!

A faint vision of lips from lipstick on his forehead. Appalled at the sight, the Baronet rubbed it off. Frank had already taken to filling the bathing tub with hot water. The small steel barrel never quite held him and sitting down, he looked awkward with his long, gangly legs bent up and pressed against the side.

After the cleaning, Sir Percy dressed in his riding britches and his favorite brown jacket. He tied the lace around his neck and tucked it neatly into his jacket. He slicked back his wet hair, leaving a small amount of hair wax so it would stay in place and let the air dry it.

The finishing touches were his tan leather riding boots and his favorite riding cane. Short, brown with white trim to match his outfit and his horse Sultan.

Percy glanced down the long hallway that lead to the chambers of Lady Blakeney. Good. Her door was still closed. He was in the clear. Sneering back his lips in somewhat of a snarl, the Baronet reminded himself of the foolish position he allowed her to put him in. Shaking his head, Percy trotted down the steps and began his long stride into the dining hall for a quick breakfast.

Marguerite sat quietly and along in the dinning hall the morning after the ball. She had been up at the crack of dawn that morning, a time that she was not often awake, unless that is, she had not been to bed the night before, which while living in France had become a common occurrence. Even though she had only had a few hours of sleep, they were some of the most pleasant and relaxing hours of sleep she had had in a while. Once she had seen all of the guests home the night before, making apologies for Percy in the process, she went to her own quarters and fell asleep even before her head had hit the pillow.

Expecting to be eating along that morning, she had asked one of the servants that was in the dinning area just for some tea and fresh fruit. The servants still made her slightly uncomfortable, but she thought that treading on into their areas and their responsibilities would make them equally uncomfortable.

Marguerite heard some clicking footsteps from the hallway that were gradually growing louder. As the footsteps neared the entrance to the dinning hall, Marguerite turned to see Percy enter.

He strolled with long strides right into the dinning hall before he even realized he was not along. He nearly gagged, not expecting her down here and when she looked right at him, he began to cough and pound on his chest.

"Percy!" Marguerite said in alarm as she jumped up from her seat and rushed over to her husband. Marguerite gently patted his back while Percy suffered through the coughing fit.

Sir Percy straighter up his chest and pounded it ever so slightly. "Forgive me Madame." Forcing his cheeks flush with embarrassment, he waved his cane about his face as if it were a cloth.

"Percy, are you alright, have a sip of tea, it will help the coughs pass." Marguerite said as she motioned down to the end of the table were the chairs and her breakfast, including a small kettle of hot water for tea was.

"I take it you received my fool hearty apologizes from last night?" Sir Percy smiled charmingly at her. He was not expecting her down here, thinking she was still in her room. Glancing about, he did not take to a seat and moved over near a bowl of fruit.

Blakeney was forcing the blue eyes to not look upon her angrily.

Marguerite followed him as he moved about, "Apologies? Sir Andrew said you were fixing your cravat and when I went to check on you, you were already asleep. Oh my poor darling, you must have been so tired last night, I do not blame you for wanting sleep." Marguerite smiled and leaned in closer to give her husband a soft kiss.

Blakeney saw the lips coming in closer to him and he quickly retracted. "Bah, you must forgive me Madame." he waved his hand about his face forcing Marguerite to keep her distance. He stepped back, further from her and the table, "Cravat you say?" He could not believe it. Why on earth did that fool Andrew say that?

Waving the cane around, and forcing her back, Sir Percy gave out a jovial laugh and muttered, "It was not simply a cravat Madame. I must admit, that would even give me a frightful jump." Reaching down for an apple, he brought it up to his lips and took a large bite. He would keep the vixen away from him, if he gave it every last dandy effort.

Marguerite giggled and shook her head at her husband. "Well then, never mind that, please come and sit down Percy, join me for breakfast." Marguerite motioned her husband towards the other empty seat and place setting.

Placing his cane loosely in between two fingers, Sir Percy tossed the apple up in the air and caught it in his other hand, but then it fumbled out, spatting onto the floor. He looked down and laughed at the fallen fruit, exclaiming, "By Jove! I've been practicing that for months and almost got it right!"

He moved over and leaned against the doorframe, putting himself that much closer to the foyer and the outside door. "I wish I could stay with you on this fine morning Madame but I have been far to much away from business as it is it seems. Accept my humble apologizes and take your brother around the grounds. If you hurry to the river, at this time of morning you can see the tadpoles swimming for food."

Quickly, Sir Percy called over his shoulder, "Thomas! Thomas my good man! It appears I made a mess, if you would good Sir!" Thomas came in from the other room, glancing around near Sir Percy. "And while you are at it, serve Madame and her little brother some of that special honey oat sauce you make. Oooh! It is so good, I wish I could stay to have some myself."

"No," Marguerite begged her husband, "please Percy, please don't go, not yet." Marguerite hoped he would stop and stay with her. "there's something I need to talk to you about, something very important Percy."

Blakeney looked down at Marguerite, not wanting to spend another moment in her presence.

"Bah Madame!" Waving his cane around like the fool, Sir Percy walked away from her and aimed the brown stick at Thomas in a playful manner. "I read your quaint little note and whatever questions you have about the home, I assure you Thomas is more than qualified to answer. If you will excuse me."

"No, no, no, no, no." Marguerite chattered as she scurried along the dinning hall to catch up to Percy. "Please Percy, this has nothing to do with the note I left you last night." Marguerite dashed in what a proper English gentleman like Percy would probably consider an unladylike manor until she had come to stand in front of Percy and in between him and the doorway. Marguerite looked up at her husband, sure that the worries in her mind were also shown on her face. "Please Percy," she begged as she tried to put her arms around him for support, "it's very important to me that I speak to you."

Blakeney let out a sigh and looked down at the manner in which Marguerite constantly kept him away. He would have to come up with more immediate plans to evade her constant speech.

"Whatever can I do for you Madame?" Sir Percy smiled down at her.

Marguerite paused to regain her breath. She cautiously bit her lip and collected her thoughts before beginning. "Percy, while we were away, a letter arrived from a friend of mine in Paris, Marie. I don't believe you meet her but she worked in the theatre, backstage in costumes and scenery and such." Marguerite realized she was beginning to babble on a bit and needed to get to the point. "Percy, with things as they are in Paris, Marie and her husband are very nervous about the revolution and the dangers in Paris, as most everyone is, and Marie is pregnant, and well, could she come and stay here for a while, at least just until the baby is born?" Marguerite looked pleadingly at Percy, still with her arms wrapped around him, hoping that he would allow Marie to join them in England, at least for the sake of the baby.

Marie. Marie? Which one was Marie? Ah, he remembered her. Husband? Pregnant needing a place? His eyes almost popped out of his head, so happy was he with the thought. "What better than to keep her occupied in the home?!" he thought to himself. Blakeney smiled and laughed lightly.

"If it pleases you, but of course Madame! This is your home to do with as you see fit!" Sir Percy unpeeled her arms from him and brought her hands down to her middle and placed them each inside the other one.

He looked at her eyes with his languid lazy smile. Slowly the feeling of doubt creped in. In his haste to be rid of Marguerite did he just invite yet another Frency spy living in his home? Not 100% sure on his decision, he patted her hands with his brown gloves.

Marguerite assumed that Percy was just being the English gentleman he was trained to be, but Marguerite could not hide her happiness. She jumped up towards her towering husband and once again wrapped her arms around him even though he had just removed them from himself. She hugged him tightly and gave him several quick kisses on his cheek all the while laughing and crying at the same time. "Thank you so much Percy. You have no idea no much this means to me or to Marie and her husband." Marguerite paused and pulled back from Percy, still clutching him tightly, but looking up into his blue eyes, "Oh, I must go and write her right away, she'll be so happy Percy. Now, I see that you are prepared to go out, so I will now let you leave, but where are you going this morning? When will you be back? Please say that you will dine with me tonight Percy." Marguerite wanted nothing more then to hold her husband right now, but she knew the sooner she wrote to Marie, the sooner Marie could come to England.

Again, she showed her affection and Blakeney grimaced inside. She kissed him, but this time the very kiss from her lips repulsed him. For a second time, he peeled her off him and bowed his head in the manner of an Englishman to her. Sir Percy did know his manners.

"Yes," he stepped back away from her, dusting off his brown riding jacket where she touched him. "Yes, go write your little letter Madame" He took hold of his lapels and tugged at them to force the wrinkles out.

Glancing down at his britches, to ensure to avoid her eyes, he checked there for wrinkles too. "I head North Madame. If I am back in time, we will dine."

Marguerite was still brimming with happiness, but something struck her as Percy addressed her, "Percy, why do you always refer to me as 'Madame'?"

Her question struck him as an odd. Why did he call her that as of lately? Finding out she was a spy? Not recognizing her as his wife no longer? Distancing her out of his life? Hardly the thing to say as an answer. Blakeney's mind raced with some sort of an excuse.

"Why my dear," Sir Percy smiled and bowed at her again, bringing his cane up to tap at his own head. "I am only thinking of your home country. Surely it makes you feel right at home to hear my attempt at Frency, no?"

Marguerite dropped her head in confusion before looking back to her husband, "No, no Percy, that's not what I meant. Why don't you call me by my name?" While in some ways she longed for France she had no desire to return right now. There was too much pain there, too much fear, but more then that, Percy was in England and so that's where she longed to be.

"Our ways are not the same as yours Madame. It would seem Great Britain is a bit more on the formal side. How you say? Whee? Whee?"

This puzzled Marguerite and she could not put it to rest. "Actually Percy it's 'wee' but even when we're along? I can understand formality in the presence of others but when it's just you and I you do not call me by my name. You used to, you used to even call me 'my little Maeve'. Do a few words and two pieces of metal change things so much?"

Forever from this day forth it was going to be like this, wasn't it? The constant questions. Marguerite's constant cornering him for attention. Blakeney had no interest in standing here another moment next to her. After one week of marriage she killed his heart, and the she-vixen needed to be avoided at all possible costs. Why did she plague his head with thoughts of a love that was now extinct?!

Back in a flash I: My Little Maeve

Marguerite could hardly believe what Percy had said to her. Her heart sank as if he had reached in and ripped it from her chest. In anger and disappointment, she could not bare even to look at him anymore. Enraged to stomped out of the dinning hall and down the hallway, through the grand foyer. She walked faster and faster until she had broken into a run and rushed out the doorways to the garden and continued to run as tears began to streak down her face.

Marguerite ran until her legs nearly collapsed underneath her. Tired and out of breath she leaned against a tree for support before finally giving into the aching legs and falling to the ground. Her tears continued and grew until her weeping became a violent and gut-wrenching cries of pain and agony.

Candice must have followed her out but when Marguerite noticed her, standing several paces behind, her anger just grew. She stood up and screamed and swore at the girl in her native French. Candice quickly retreated back to the house leaving Marguerite alone to weep over the loss of her dearest love. Leaning against the tree, Marguerite cried herself to sleep under the warm spring sun.

Marguerite dreamed she was at a mask acting as Lady Blakeney. Dressed in a splendid ice blue gown, face hidden by a sparkling white mask, she had spent the night dancing with a particularly charming man. Although he said nothing, Marguerite was nearly seduced by his movements, by his dancing. Dressed in a blue suit that complimented her own, she assumed that under the mask which hid all of his face and hair, save for that strong chip and soft lips, it was her husband.

Throughout the night, they kept coming to each other. Even as partners were passed around as governed by the steps of the dances, she kept coming back to the same man. In sets the guests left the hall over time until they were the only paired that remained. When even the musicians had left she stood in the center of the great hall they were dancing in and the masked man approached her. The man wrapped his arms around her and held her close without saying a word. Through his mask he looked deep into her eyes until he closed the gap between his lips and hers. Passionately, he kissed her and sent such a sensation through her body that had he not been so strongly holding her to him, she surely would have collapsed. When he finally pulled away from her, Marguerite smiled and pulled back her mask. The man ran his fingers over her face and back through her hair as he placed tender kisses on her cheek, and neck, and lips until Marguerite reached up to his face. Gently she pushed back the mask to reveal her husband's sweet face only to see the under the mask, it was not Percy . . . it was Armand Chauvelin.

With a start Marguerite awoke. The sun now was in the west and beginning to set for the day. How long had she been out here? How long had she been asleep? No matter, Marguerite stood up and brushed the grasses from her dress and hair and slowly made her way back to Blakeney Manor. She had hoped at least that Percy would be there for dinner, if she had not already missed him. Perhaps they could at least talk about the morning.

Upon entering the house, Marguerite noticed a few of the servants moving about, most notably, several of her ladies in waiting peeking out behind doors. No doubt that rumors of her behavior towards Candice earlier in the day had already made their way around the house among the servants.

Absently, Marguerite strolled through the house, looking for any sign that Percy might be home. Finally, one of the servants, a man, came up to her and delivered a note: