Marguerite rarely paid any thought to him when Frank would bring the mail
in, so on this particular day when she saw Frank shuffling through the
mail that arrived at the manor, Marguerite did not pay much attention
until he abruptly stopped at one letter. He pulled it out and seperated
it from the others as he finished sorting through all the pieces of
mail. Frank gave Percy an odd look while handing him the mail but took
the one letter and handed it to Marguerite.
Seeing Marguerite take to her letter, Blakeney excused himself,
anxious to open the odd letter in the stack that he did not
recognize. He knew Andrew was in the back, but if his friend was
sleeping as Frank had reported last, a few more minutes wouldn't
matter.
Making his way upstairs, Blakeney glanced back to see Marguerite's
face smile over whoever the letter was from. Swiftly moving into his
private study, he locked the door behind him and made for his desk.
Luckily for Sir Percival Blakeney, Baronet, the letter Marguerite
read was long, and it allowed him the time to make a brief escape.
Marguerite thanked him as he handed her the letter and smiled when she saw
it was from an old friend in France.
Marguerite's happy spirits quickly disappeared as she read Paul's
letter. All the horros of France that she had somehow manage to force out
of her mind came flooding back to her. Betrayal, lies, deception, was all
the work of some many people done in vain? All of the sufferings and the
sacrafics of the children of France for nothing more then to remove one
tyrannt only to replace him with a group of them? And the children, the
mention of the poor children brought an image of the three children of the
Marquis St. Cyr to her mind. The three innocents that she had unwillingly
sent to the guillotine.
It was too much, she started to tremble and she felt her knees grow
weak. She felt her breath grow frantic and rapid and, due to absence of a
chair nearby, she dropped onto her knees and began to loudly cry out in an
emotional agony. He didn't even need to say it, but it was almost as if
Marguerite had entered a period of mourning for Paul, and all of her
friends still in France.
Armand was walking absently in the halls when one of Percy's servents dashed
by. He stepped back and watched as she ran to Percy's study and banged on the
door. He saw her enter and close the door behind her.
"Now what could that be about?" Armand wondered, aloud. His question was
answered when he reached Marguerite's door. She was on the carpet, sobbing
hysterically. A little frightened, and more than a little worried, Armand entered and knelt beside his sister. "Marguerite? Marguerite! What's wrong? What happened?!"
Marguerite continued to cry, not able to stop or even calm herself. Still
shaking, she couldn't bring herself to stop or regain her composure. All
she could do was look at the letter still in her hand.
Armand, with his arm around her, gave the letter a quick once-over. He understood what Marguerite was crying about: her friend was in danger. He
might die. Paul... the name was familliar. Obviously more of a friend to Margot. But a close one... a good one, apparently. "Marguerite, please... tell me what I can do... there must be something...!"
Marguerite shook her head and gasped through her tears, "Nothing, Armand,
there's nothing that we can do. It's too much, it's gone too far. It's
not jusst the tyrants like St. Cyr that they're hunting anymore. It's
good people like Paul. People that worked for this revolution. I hate
it, I hate all of it, the blood, the pain, the suffering, the fright, and
I hate being here and not being htere to help people like Paul."
Armand said nothing. He had known this for a while now. He did not say this,
of course, because that wasn't exactly comforting to his sister. Still, he
had to find SOMEthing consoling to say. "I... I know that there is nothing we can do to save ALL of them. But there are escapees, like... like Hélène and Louise! There are people who are escaping, Marguerite; precious few, I know... but better few than none."
"But not Paul," Marguerite continued to sob, "Not Paul. Paul's a good
man, he gave his money to the poor, he built a hospital, he worked for
France, he's a good man but he won't leave, he won't try, even if he is in
danger. And he is Armand! He is! Terrible danger I'm sure of
it." Marguerite began to choke on her sobs and unable to even sit
properly on the floor, she leaned over placing her arms in front of her to
support herself. In the tight corset she struggled to breath and gasped
for air.
"I... I am sure he is a good man..." Armand said. "Strong and loyal." He saw
his sister choke on her sobs and almost curl up on the floor. "Marguerite,
please... try and calm down!" He rubbed her shoulders, trying to soothe her.
"Why won't he leave if he is in danger?"
On hands and knees, Marguerite rocked back and forth trying to regain some
bit of composure. "He won't run, he won't leave. He believes too much in
good things and he'll stay and fight it out to the end, that's why
Armand."
"But he must know that no good will come of this bloody revolution by now!
If there were, it would have happened by now! There's nothing left to fight
for.... All the people that we were fighting against are dead or they have
fled the country, and yet the mobs kill hundreds... M. Paul must know that he
cannot possibly help anyone by staying..."
Marguerite continued to struggle but finally gave in, lowering her body to
the floor and leaning back against the side of a soft sofa. She wanted to
scream out in rage and curse Robespierre and Danton and Marat and all the
rest that let this continue, but her body wouldn't allow her too.
'Dammit,' Armand thought. He sat next to his sister on the floor. There had
to be something he could do, something at all. "Marguerite, what if someone were to help Paul out of France? Or forcefully remove him from that country?"
Going for Paul would give Armand another try at trying to kill Chauvelin.
It took a minute for what Armand was suggesting to register in Marguerite's
mind. Through her choking and crying everything around her was a
blur. She wanted to tell him no and to put such thoughts out of his head,
but a random mess of blubbering was all that she would be able to make out
if she tried. Instead she pulled herself up, leaning on Armand for
support and hugged her brother tightly against her.
He slid one arm behind his sister's wasit, and one to her opposite shoulder,
and he hugged her, wishing there was something he could do to stop her crying. And where WAS Percy? One of Marguerite's women had gone to fetch him, had she not? Would he not come?
"It will be all right..." He murmured in French. He kept repeating what he
hoped were soothing sentences, trying to ease her crying and to help her
breathe. She seemed to be having trouble when she was sobbing like that.
Marguerite began to rock back and forth as Armand held her. She
rememebered so many times when they were young when she would the same for
him. Why is it that she is now the weak one?
Her crying eventually slowed to a sob and then a soft whimper. Marguerite
softly kissed her brother's cheek as she calmed down. "I wish. . . " she
started in a whisper, "I just wish that . . ." She tried and tried but
her emotions had left her disraught and she was unable to voice her
thoughts.
"I know..." Armand whispered. He couldn't do much more than he had done. He
had to speak to Percy. Where was the man, anyway? Did he just not care? "You should rest, Margot." He helped her to stand. "Maybe after, we can think of something we can do to try and help your friend."
Armand's first thought was to go to Percy and tell him what Marguerite had
told him. Quietly, Armand slipped the letter into his pocket to show Percy.
Marguerite for once didn't fight and didn't argue. She quietly held onto
Armand, still sobbing, and he led her to her room. As they neared the
doors to her suite, she threw her arms around Armand and let one last
brust of emotion come through.
He tried to comfort her, so he put his arms around her and hugged her. Then
he led her to her bed. He sat her down and seated himself beside her.
"Shall I call you ladies to assist you?" Armand asked.
Marguerite sat down on her bed and nodded. "I. . . I think Emma is
around, or Candice. If they're near I would apperciate it, if not I
can manage."
Armand nodded and he touched her hand. He gave her a weak smile. "I will try to help you friend," He said. 'I dont know how,' was added silently. He would though. Kissing her cheek, he stood up and left quietly. He found Candice and told her that Lady Blakeney required her assistence. The he went to his room.
Taking out another sheet of paper, Armand wrote to Percy, "Can we do
anything for him? Marguerite is very upset about this. Armand" Then he slipped this and the letter under Percy's study door, which had remained closed since he last saw it. Then he went to bed.
The following morning, after calming herself from the painful shock the night before, Marguerite, after much hesitation, finally put pen to paper to write Paul a letter.