The sun came in a blink's time, for Blakeney recalled telling Sprout
to sleep and the next he knew light was threatening to appear in full
to further remind him of the lateness. Sitting up in a near bolt, he
cursed himself under his breath. Tiredness put him into a fast sleep
that even he could not wake himself from in the planned few hours
time. Hoping to have left hours before the dawn, the Pimpernel took
to waking the others and urging them to leave.
Roused from her dream world, Suzanne looked up to find morning
creeping in. Covering a yawn, she then raked her fingers through her
hair and with one glance down to her dress, gave up on that. Strangely
a smile crossed her face. Though it did not last long for every time
she thought of her family, it reminded her they were missing one.
Standing she waited further instructions and stood between her mother
and brother.
They small group was limited to three horses, Armand's, Andrew's and
the one that raced away from Paris with the De Tournay's on its
back. Putting the three woman on horseback, he insisted that Sprout
ride in back of Suzanne due to his leg wound. Expecting a protest,
before the young man could reply, Blakeney ordered, "You will slow us
down, so no arguing."
Not sure who this new person was, she had not seen him before now,
made Suzanne a little leery of riding with him. Though with Andrew
nearby, and her brother who planned on walking between the two horses,
she knew everything would be fine.
The journey from the barn to the docks was long but manageable and he
kept to himself for most of his walk, glancing back now and then to
the old man and his wife. Purposefully he did not try and place
himself near Andrew and Suzanne. Their looks and small flirtations
he expected to continue and wished to distance himself of such
unpleasantries. In the mind of the Baronet, he dwelled and again,
mourned silently of a love betrayed.
Selling the horses for a ridiculously low price, they ridded
themselves of the beasts and walked into the sea shore town.
Blakeney paid a captain and sooner rather than later, a barge was
ready to embark to England.
There were staterooms for those that wished them. Blakeney wished to
urge Armand to rest, but he steered clear of most of them, the want
for his identity and name to not slip out of the protectiveness he
held so closely onto. Drumming his fingers along the side of the
ship, a plan of action was formed as he felt it best.
He would leave funds and simply suggest two things: The De Tournay
family stay at The Fisherman's Warf Inn in Dover and the parents
would be told to contact Helene where upon they could learn of the
child's temporary whereabouts at the Blakeney Manor. For both these
things, he would let Andrew handle them and told his best friend when
they were alone. From here on out, Blakeney knew his involvement
should be next to none, for God only knew if Sir Percy would meet up
with these folk in the future.
The last thing he could do would be to take Armand to a doctor just
outside Dover. The boy could become stitched properly in
confidentiality, and Blakeney already planned on telling Marguerite
that due to the Frenchman's own foolishness of refusing to rest,
Armand rode his new horse constantly in London while Sir Percy
purchased a few new pairs of hand sewn boots. Made to order of
course and like any fine custom made apparel, would take days to
make. That would give Blakeney the needed time to actually order
them for the footwear to arrive in a few days time.
Watching the walk, Armand limped about and even the cleverest woman
in Europe could believe a young, eager boy was stubborn headed enough
to refuse to dismount. Lord knew Armand was certainly headstrong a
few too many times. Blakeney wanted no blame put upon himself for
this situation. He would probably catch enough of it for the boots.
The ship arrived on the shores of England and wishing to be back in
clean linens, Blakeney took to the shore before the boat was properly
docked and tied. Wanting no more interaction with the others, he let
the cover of the night protect him as he headed to the room owned
by 'The Navy sailor'. One of his many personas. Climbing into the
window and taking his blade to open it, he entered and quickly took
to washing and changing.
He told Andrew to go on ahead without him and make whatever
arrangements were needed for the England's newest escapees. Armand
was left with strict instructions to wait for him just outside the
inn, where upon Blakeney would bring him change of clothes and their
horses.
As he scrubbed and washed, the Pimpernel wished he could say his mind
was filled with the next step to take in order to make known the
whereabouts of the Comte. In direct contrast, his mind weighed
heavily and thought nothing but of Marguerite and the stress she
would cause him the minute his presence was known back in Richmond.
When the ship was tied, Suzanne went up to catch her first sights of
England. Sighing for the home she had left behind, and for the father
that was not with them. Standing out of the way she watched the men
move about and finish securing everything.
Having no idea where they were going, and the darkness around did not
help to ease her mind on what they were to do here. They were left
with practically nothing. Suzanne felt out of place with the others.
Something she could not explain.
Seeing her Mother and brother come up from below, she went to stand
with them and wait to find out what they were to do now.
He was still annoyed that Percy had made him ride. Oh sure, he knew that he
wouldn't have been able to make it the whole way. But Percy didn't even give
him a chance to TRY.
He had cleaned up the best he could when they had crossed the channel, using
the facilities in Andrew's room. But he had slept out on the deck when night
fell, and they had docked while he slept. When he had awoken, it was from
Andrew shaking him gently. Percy had disappeared, leaving instructions for
Armand to wait outside the inn.
And so he was, and there was still no sign of le pimpernel. Nothing he could do would get the blood out of his clothing, so he moved to the side of the building, to avoid contact with anyone who might ask questions. He leaned against the wall, trying to ignore the stabbing pains in his leg. He had to crook his knee so he didn't sit on the would, since he couldn't lie down.
Dressed in common English attire, Blakeney looked forward to nearing
home where he could don his finest clothes once more. Never minding
the change of persona and rags, his sense of fashion, after a few
days time, would yearn for the normality that was his life. Being
back on English soil only made him yearn for the fine food and cloth
that made him happy.
Turning around the corner, he saw Sprout in the distance. Had the
boy not been injured, he would have snuck up and hollered or tossed
the clothes at the boy for fun. Seeing as how it could cause the boy
to fall or try and fight back, he decided upon a more direct
approach. "Oye! Matie!" his normal English accent cut into the
silence of the night air.
"Thank god..." He muttered, softly. He didn't move; obviously Percy had seen
him. He couldn't help shifting so that he was facing the baronet though. One
never knew when Percy's odd sense of humor would strike. As the Baronet neared, he called softly, "Did everything go well, Percy? You seemed to be gone quite a while..." His voice trailed off as he couldn’t find anything else to say. They were both tired. At least, one of them was.
"Everything is fine. Here, you will want to change into something
less..." his gaze looked down to Armand's mangled leg. "... red."
With a gesture, Blakeney offered the young Frenchman help to move off
into a dark alleyway to change.
He hooked his arm around Percy's shoulders and, with his brother's help,
limped to the darkened alley. He shucked off the blood stained clothing he had on and replaced them with plain clothing like the ones Percy wore. Browns and tans, they were simple. Common. But Armand didn't care. He was no aristo deep down. Anything to get out of those bloody (no pun intended) rags he had been in. He turned to Percy for approval. "Well?" He held his arms out to the sides, almost standing on one foot from the pain.
Stooping over, less Armand suddenly grow ape-like arms, Blakeney was
surprised the Sprout wished for help but was glad to offer whatever
the younger man needed. Inspecting the lad, Blakeney shook his
head. "No matter how we dress you, you will always be a stubborn
little Frenchman." For the first time since he left the barn on the
first day, the Baronet smiled.
"And damn proud of it..." He gave a weak grin. "Come on... I'm dying here,
Percy... Can we go?" He'd had enough of being the tough little sprout. Now he was just a kid who had been shot and wanted more than anything, for the sharp, gnawing pain to leave him alone. He wanted to sleep decently, too. His entire body ached.
The two men headed out on their way to an Inn. Blakeney thought
about how much night was left and weighed it against the possibility
of running into Margot with Armand not properly healed. It did not
take a genius to decide that his timing would wait near a whole extra
day, just to avoid Lady Blakeney being awake.
Arriving in the middle of the night. That was best for the nerves of
the Baronet and he wished for one night's sleep without her voice
troubling his mind with things he did not do or how he was not
around. When Marguerite heard about his boots, he expected she would
throw a thousand fits.
That night Armand and Percy stayed in the Inn, each to their own
separate room. Blakeney enjoyed the mattress and stretched himself
out, near forgetting how on earth he could ever find sleep on
anything hard and flat like the deck or barn floor. Such was the
life of Sir Percy Blakeney.
The next morning, using false names that were not questioned, Armand
was taken to a local doctor in Dover, where upon proper medicine and
sewing was applied. Armand's actual horse along with Sultan were
kept in a discrete location in stables and soon the two were saddled
up and heading home.
"Remember Armand. She will notice your limp, so tell your sister
that you refused to dismount that horse of yours, Julien and that is
what causes your stiffness." Knowing they were close, he added, "She
doesn't really even come and help you dress, does she? To say, tis a
sight your leg and I don't wish her to view it."
He felt a lot better now. The boy laughed and shook his head. "No, she never comes in my room. Actually, there was that once, when you both returned from your..." He stopped. Bit his lip. 'Honeymoon' was the last word that was not added.
"You think I want her to see it, Percy? Even less than you do, trust me..."
He yawned. Despite the good sleep he'd had before, the boy was still greatly
fatigued and the prospect of his own bed was a welcome dream.
The dark blonde eyebrows rose in a questioning challenge about to
burst through had Armand finished his first sentence. Blakeney did
not wish to be reminded of his wife, or that he had a wife, or a
blissful honeymoon with all the actions that went with
it. 'Poppycock!' he thought to himself. 'What a mockery of life!"
Hearing Armand, he knew Armand would do everything in his stubborn
little power to not reveal his whereabouts or his condition. Let the
cleverest woman in Europe not know it all like she thinks she did.
Bah! Here his mind was again clouded with her.
Timing things well, it was quite past the hour of midnight when
Armand and Percy dismounted the horses and headed for Blakeney
Manor. "Go on ahead Armand. I'll see you in the morning." He did
not enter the house, yet whispered to his brother and patted his
shoulder.
Turning and heading for a silent stroll by the riverbed, Blakeney's
mind was too tense and full of questions to sleep just yet. Being
home meant having to deal with Marguerite again. Being back in
England meant once more becoming the idiot.