He thought he could placate Marguerite by having a luncheon of cheese and meats. Part of him abhorred the very idea, for it once meant a loving relationship filled with kisses and flirtations. Another part of him wanted to watch how she responded to such a luncheon.
Curiosity for human behavior got the best of him and he did indeed order the staff to make up a fine display of meats, cheeses, wine, tea, bread and honey dipping sauce and a nice small arrangement of fruit. Blakeney usually ate whatever was put in front of him and unless a grand event like a ball was planned, never cared to dictate the menu. He did today.
Better to play the game first then to follow it, he went over to her room and rapped his knuckles on her door. "Madame? I am all ready for you. If you still can withstand the distaste of my company." He waited outside her door. Rocking on his heals. His hands behind his back.
Absorbed in a book she was using to occupy her time until the chimes of the
small clock in her room rang for the noon hour, Marguerite was roused by
the unusual knocking at her door. Hearing Percy's voice and the fact that
he himself had come to fetch her before the decided time shocked her.
Although more then anything she wanted to spend time with Percy, she was
almost dreading this lunch with him. What if he wouldn't speak to her?
What if he made stupid jokes at everything she said? Marguerite was
honestly not sure how much longer she could handle the biggest fool in
England.
Marguerite marked her page in the book and placed on the table. Walking to
the door, she took a moment to glance at herself in the mirror. She did
not look like the Marguerite St. Just she was a few short weeks before.
Her skin had paled, her eyes seems oddly duller, and the clothes the Percy
had arranged for her, which were a perfect fit when she arrived, now hung
slightly loose on her. She had noticed little changes over the past week,
but it wasn't until the night before after her argument with Percy did she
notice how drastically her appearance seemed to have changed, not he
probably noticed anyway.
She sighed to herself as she opened the door to find Percy waiting in the
hallway.
Carefully watching her, Blakeney could almost swear she looked tired.
Perhaps she dreaded this luncheon almost as much as he did. No matter. Time
alone is what she wanted and he would grant her that. Offering his left arm
to her, Sir Percy chimed, "Shall we Madame?"
Marguerite just nodded and took his arm, silently following him as he lead
her through the house to the garden.
Giving his off key hum, Sir Percy lead Marguerite down the steps, through
the main foyer, down the long hallway, passed the grand ballroom, through
the kitchen and past the dinning room. From there, he took her through the
long and covered back patio porch and led her over to the left of the two
back yard gardens.
Thomas had the staff arrange a small table in the middle of the garden.
Blakeney purposefully asked for a table. He did not wish to be seduced by
lying down on the ground by his wife. Marguerite was beautiful. She seemed
to have lost a little weight, not that it made her any less pretty. Her song
like voice had always had a way to entrance him. Long before he ever spoke
any words to her. The Baronet planned ahead to the very last detail. He was
not going to allow her to seduce him again.
In the distance, the babbling creek/river flowed calmly, with the bull frogs
singing and a few jays cawing. The sun overhead was half hidden by clouds,
but the clouds were pure white and did not threaten to spoil the luncheon.
Blakeney moved over to her chair, holding it out for her. Sir Percy's lazy
blues gleamed, "I hope you are hungry."
Marguerite surveyed the table. While courting, Percy's favorite meals were
always full of finger foods that he would eat from her hand. She was
puzzled. He constantly seemed to be avoiding her, brushing her off,
ignoring her when ever possible. But now did he want more, alone here in
the garden? At almost any point in their marriage she would have been
willing, but while she welcomed the possibility of change, she was not some
possession of his to be used when he felt fit and brushed aside in the
meantime.
She watched as he pulled the chair out for her and sat down, without saying
a word to her husband.
So far, so good. The she-vixen said not a word and he continued to whistle
in his gay, off-key manner. After she was seated, he still stood and poured
her some tea and a crisp glass of cool water. "Well, it seems everything is
in order. Let's eat, no?" Blakeney sat down and began grabbing at the
finger foods, near all but piling them on his plate. He watched her
carefully, taking note of her slow movements. He could tell he was wearing
her down. "Good." Blakeney thought to himself, and sipped at his tea.
Marguerite watched as Percy helped himself to the food, she herself only
bothering to sip her tea, not really in the mood for food.
Sir Percy leaned back in his chair, the tea cup and saucer at his lips,
sipping and watching her. "You know, if you do not like my taste in clothes,
feel free to purchase whatever you like Madame. Both Thomas and Frank can
tell you the stores in which accounts are set up for you." He smiled and
sipped some more. "So tell me, how are you finding things in grand old
England? Are your ladies treating you well? Have you wished for anything?
Just say the word, and it will be yours. As always, I am at your disposal."
The lazy blue eyes of his watched her mindlessly, as if the man did not have
a single original thought in his head.
Marguerite silently pondered the last part of his statement. Looking his
way, but avoiding his eyes, in a soft voice she near whispered, "I only
want one thing Percy, but for sometime now I've continuously been denied.
He heard her, but that statement was down a road he did not wish to take.
Sir Percy put a hand to his ear and mutter loudly, "Mmm say again Madame? I
swear this demmed hot weather is ruining my eardrum no less. It sounded like
you said you were 'fried'. However, seeing it is fall and certainly not
summer anymore, I can hardly say you are fried, now could you?" He gave a
smile and chuckle at himself, leaning in a little to regard her more.
Marguerite just shook her head. Now he was lying on top of everything
else? She was tiring very quickly of these acts and his company had grown
to be hardly worth her time and draining energy. "You know very well what
I said."
He just sat and sipped at the tea, not really having the appetite for
anything anymore. He watched her and just nodded his head, glancing off into
the distance. Sir Percy mumbled, "I suppose I did."
"And that's all it's worth to you?" she continued in her drained manner.
"My pain is only worth a the effort of silly lie?" With her sadden, dulled
eyes she look longingly at the man who not even a month before seemed to
adore her completely.
"Madame!" Blakeney's face contorted uncomfortably and stared right at her.
His lazy eyes betrayed him, for it was not Sir Percy staring at her, yet the
longing for times past.
"What is it you expect from me?" The rage inside burned and the Baronet used
his wills to keep it in check. "Upon my first night in my own home, you yell
upon me. I try to please you. Purchase you fine clothes since this is what I
wear. You toss them at my feet as if I am a dog!"
"On the first night yes, you upset me and I became angry. Later that
night, twice, I asked for your forgiveness and you granted it to me. Is
that what this is all about still? Are you angry for one little spat near
a month ago?" she said swiftly and with a rising panicked tone.
He stood now, part of him was shaking. He did not want this conversation. He
did not want it at all! Pacing, Sir Percy and Blakeney fought an internal
war. It was Sir Percy who, thankfully, came out the victor. He kept his back
to her and sadly spoke. "I wish I had your wit Madame, so I might keep up
with you. But Alas, I do not. I thought you would care for the jewels. But
like a cur, that was thrown back at me as well."
"Percy, I do not care for money and titles or jewels and clothing. The
only thing I want in this world is you. I promised myself to you and
thought you had taken that same vow. Why is it you keep turning away from
me?"
He turned to face her. The lazy blue eyes burning with something hidden
behind them to her. "If this is about jewelry and clothing, find Thomas and
he will provide you with two burlap potato sacks to wear if it pleases you!
If my money and English title disturbs you, I am sorry Madame! It is not I
that has changed. I don the same title and clothing that I have upon meeting
you, and the very same attire we both wore upon when we wed and spoke to
each other those same vows."
"Percy, that's not what I said. I never said such things disturbed me, if
they had I never would have allowed the courtship in the first place. I
knew from the beginning of your position and I did not care about it. And
I would gladly wear the burlap sacks if it meant keeping the company of the
man I once loved." she stammered before he continued.
Crossing his arms, he overlooked the river in the distance. "You do not care
for money or title. Jewelry or clothing. I do not care to be treated like a
ghost and have the very things I have been about, all along, tossed at me as
if they were mindless toys thrown from a child's tantrum!"
"If feel that you are treated as a ghost it's only because you've acted as
a phantom since we came here after the honeymoon. You come and go often
without so much as a word of where you're going or when you'll be back.
And when you are around you always find excuses to leave me to be, in that
large house, all alone, day after day after day. This is not the life I
wanted and it's not the life you promised me."
The lazy blue eyes filled with a sorrow. She was making him remember. He
did not wish to remember as he had vowed to never hold her lovingly in his
arms again. "Madame. Perhaps my memory fails me, but I recall you, there,
at my side for every departure and every return asking me about the inner
most details. I can not think of a time when go off without so much as a
word to my return!"
"No, you never went off with out word of your trip, but what little
information you gave me I had to force out of you. Never willingly did you
disclose any details on your own. If I did not ask, you would not bother
to tell me." Marguerite stated as she grabbed onto the rests of the chair
she was sitting in. He had gotten the best of her too many times and she
did not want him to see her cry again.
Blakeney stared at Marguerite. This part was true, and the vixen was
spinning her words to make him feel sorry for her. She was like a damn moth
and he the flame. Every move he made since returning to Richmond, she was
suctioned to his side.
"The life I pro....promised you? I promised to honor and obey. I do not
recall a conversation where we sat down to draw up some 'phantom' contract
and oh Dear God!" He fanned at his face now. Sir Percy and Blakeney both
sat in the chair and fanned. What on earth was she even talking about?
Finally he snapped and Blakeney barked, "I put on hold six weeks of business
to remain loyally at your side! These six weeks I still make up for, and
although not as witty as you, I RECALL telling you my whereabouts before and
after. What little mind I have! You say I am never around, yet who sits
here before you in the Garden?!"
Of the couple, Marguerite was by far the more dramatic and emotional of the
two. Whether happy, angry, passionate, or distraught, Marguerite showed
her emotions freely, while Percy for the most part kept his in check.
Although she had raised her voice often, Percy had never dared, and she
doubted it was a common thing for him to raise his voice to anyone
regardless of the matter, especially to a woman. Yet here he had been
pushed to the breaking point and yelled at her. Marguerite couldn't face
him and turned away, taking in a few deep breaths to hold back the tears.
finally, when once more in control, she turned back to the table, keeping
hear head down to avoid his gaze, "Perhaps you were right then the morning
after the ball."
Now neither one of them looked at each other. Blakeney, staring out over at
the river, Marguerite looking back onto the house. Hearing her, he said
softly, "Refresh my memory Madame. What, pray tell, am I so right upon?"
"At breakfast, the morning after the ball, you said perhaps we should not
have gotten married." marguerite let her head drop, too upset and
distraught and worn down to do anything. "Percy what happened to us? We
used to be so happy together, what's happened?"
Those exact words he specially did not remember, but under her constant
pressure of questions and assumptions, he wouldn't put it past Blakeney to
say such harsh words. He did not look at her and continued to stare out over
at the river. He was at a loss for what to say.
"I blame myself Madame." He finally spoke. It was he that did not see her
for who she really was. It was he that allowed himself to be duped. Perhaps
it was only he that changed as she still pulled her words and wits. "I only
blame myself." Defeated once more, the Baronet sat there, imagining himself
aboard Sir Algernon's ship. Forever alone.
Marguerite couldn't help but to look up at him. "But what are you blaming
yourself for Percy?" Carefully, she lifted one hand to let her fingers
brush against his cheek. "We can get through this Percy, I know we can. I
know deep down you're still the man I fell in love with. I know the Percy
that used to dance with me in parks in the moonlight is still there; the
Percy that walked through the pouring rain for food when I was sick is
still there; the Percy that rocked me to sleep in the Paris meadow is still
there. And you're little Maeve is still here too. Whatever is wrong we
can fix it Percy, if we both give it a chance."
Taking a deep breath, he pulled away from her fingers and glanced over at
the stables. He felt his eyes becoming red, so tired of this situation. This
conversation. So tired. He stood, and had to listen to her torture him more.
Reminding him of things he just did not wish to remember. Maeve! Bah! How
dare she!
"If we both are willing Madame, it has a chance." His voice was low and his
back was to her. He did not want this, but mores, he did not know what he
wanted. So confused she had made him.
Trebleming, Marguerite finally stood, standing behind Percy, she wrapped
her arms around his torso and rested her head on the back of his tall
shoulder. "Please Percy, I'll do what ever it takes, whatever you want, as
long as it means being with you, and being happy with you again."
Craning his neck back, he felt his insides threaten to explode. WHY did she
have this overwhelming power over him? He was trembling at her touch. He
was a man, not a statue. It would seem God himself could not give him the
strength enough to ignore this passionate creature.
Yet, still, one image gave him the desired strength. In his mind he
pictured the remains of the beheaded family of St. Cyrs, putting the
potential Helene and Louise next to them. Each time he had seen a head
fall, each moan and whimper that found his helpless ears, each scratch,
bruise, and scar he received from his recent life's work. All of it was
everything she was not. No! He would not allow himself to give in. He was
a strong man. He survived Sir Algernon. He would survive this this
woman!
He did not turn around, but he did not peel her off him either as in the
past. Low was his voice, threatening to spill over into emotion. "Let us
sit and eat and talk Madame." His adams apple jolted in his throat, and he
realized he could not quite yet move.
Marguerite stepped back a bit to let him turn, and slid her arms back from
their position wrapped around him, but as he turned, she let on hand grip
gently onto his close arm and the other one remained on his back until they
both once again took their seats at the table.
Once seated, Marguerite took the napkin and dabbed her eyes. The pressure
from the threatening tears had lessened much to her relief. She looked over
at Percy, also relived that he had once more taken his seat beside her.
There were so many thoughts spinning in her mind about what had happened in
the recent weeks that if he asked, she would have no idea where to start to
ask for explanations to understand him.
Like in a trance, he turned to have her touch him again. He looked weakly
down at her. Had she known the power she possessed over him at that moment,
she would, no doubt, have wielded him like her own personal toy. He tried
hard to resist her, but he felt himself slipping into entrancement.
Sitting down, not even realizing that he would have preferred to be across
the table, he absentmindedly reached out to hold her hand. So, sitting
there, in a dumb sort of silence, his fingers held onto her. They did not
rub, they did not caress, but held on all the same.
At first slightly startled by the feeling of something else brushing her
hand, Marguerite looked down to see Percy's hand covering her own. In
silence the two sat there as she let his fingers wrap around hers. Too
afraid to move or disturb the slight motion, and unwilling to end the first
peaceful moment of their outing, Marguerite drew in a sweet silent sigh of
relief, and forgot the promise that she made to herself when she pledged
she would not let him see tears fall from eyes today.
Frozen in place, he too could not move. His most recent fit thrown on the
Day Dream alone had strained on his emotional nerves. This entire
relationship threatened to make him snap at any moment. He was Sir Percy
Blakeney, Baronet. Who was that?
To London Society, it was a foppish fool that knew nothing about life or how
to live. Only a man interested in spreading money foolishly and making sure
his attire outdid everyone else.
To France, he was a demmed pest that they would before long wish to squash.
Yet in that same moment, he was a blind hero to the few that had escaped by
his deeds.
To the St. Justs: Armand saw him as a brother, but one that held himself
back with his very sister. And that very sister? She had called him a
phantom. Void of feelings. Void of love. Void of thought.
"Who am I?" he asked himself the plaguing question he had since he was old
enough to be yelled at by his awakened mother. He glanced over at her
sorrowful, not sure what to say or do. He still mourned over his parents'
death. Just like he did the death of his identity.
Seeing the tears, he took a deep breath and tried to compose himself into
the mold of Sir Percy. He gently dabbed at the silent tears that spilled
from her eyes. "There there now. Let's not be reduced to tears. We are still
alive, say?" He tried to smile, but it was
half heartedly.
Marguerite smiled quietly as she took the hands that wiped away her tears
in her own and held them gently against her cheeks so that the cupped her
own face. She closed her eyes cherishing the feel of his skin against hers
once again, and then, she turned her head so that her lips would tenderly
touch the palm of each of her husband's hands.
Her eyes were closed thankfully, for his throat jumped again, threatening to
spill over. She kissed his hand and he closed his eyes, hating the feeling
he loved. What did he do as a child to deserve this living nightmare?
Softly, his voice croaked, "Please, have some tea Madame." He leaned forward
and poured the tea, putting in just the right amount of cream and honey. He
desperately needed a shot of Brandy. Lack of options, the tea would have to
do.
Marguerite let her hands follow his away from her face until he began to
prepare the two cups of tea. As he placed one in front of her, she thanks
him and took a sip. The water had cooled during the time they had been
outside, but she drank it nonetheless.
"Percy, I remember once you made a remark about using formal titles and
such, but can't you, when it's just the two of us alone together, can't you
call me Marguerite?" she asked, with a pleading look in her eyes.
"If it pleases you." He said softly, giving in. He stared out ahead and
sipped at the tea, holding the cup in one hand, the saucer in the other.
"Why is that Percy?" she asked, trying to learn more about the society and
culture she had married herself into, "Why would it be custom for married
people to address each other as titles and not as names. After all a
person's spouse is the person that knows one most intimatly, it only makes
sense that the person who knows one best call them by their given name."
The whole affair was starting to give him a headache. His lazy blues looked
at her and he shook his head slightly. "I do not know. You would have to ask
someone much older than I."
Marguerite remembered what Thomas had told her the night before about his
parents, and their marriage before Percy. Was that somehow bothering him?
She could not help herself but to ask, to understand him better. "Percy,
why didn't you tell me about your parents?"
If only a head could whip around faster and lazy eyes could remain inside a
head instead of popping out. "My My parents!?" He near choked on his tea
and set both the cup and saucer down sharply. He looked at Marguerite as if
she had both slapped his face and poured salt into the wound.
Marguerite sat up as Percy reacted so. His face paled as he coughed on a
sip of his tea. She reached over and patted his back as he struggled
coughing but slid back to give him air as he recovered, giveing his arm a
soft squeeze she did. Perhaps bringing up his parents was not the best
idea, but now that she opened the door. If he wanted to close it, he
could, but she would let him make that decision.
"Why why why are you asking about them?" He coughed to clear his throat and
looked at her. It was a brief look. He could not meet her eyes and glanced
over at a stablehand crossing the barn yarn. Of all the things to bring up!
Marguerite sat back, "A person's family is an important part of their life.
I lost both my parents by the time I was twelve but they still had an
impact on my life. I'm sorry if the subject upset you Percy. You don't have
to say anything if you don't want to."
The lazy blues shifted back to look at her. He tried not to look as pale as
he felt. He just cursed out Sir Algernon alone on the Day Dream, and now
she was asking him to speak about his parents. What sort of sick test in
life was this?
"I I have nothing much to say on it Madame." He reached forward and tried
to grab for his tea, but the cup was empty and he was besides himself. "I
had good parents." He nodded, as if convincing himself. Yes, never speak
ill of either one of them. Blakeney reminded himself.
Marguerite saw the look on his face, and the somewhat distraught look at
his empty cup. She took her own cup of tea and placed it in front of him.
Instead of pulling her hand back as she placed the cup in front of him, she
only brought it back as far as his hand, which this time she covered with
her own.
"Thank you" He quickly took the cup and brought it up to his lips. This
demmed lunch was like every other time he was with her. His heart
repeatedly broke and his mind was distracted. Silently, he thought about
planning his next trip to France.
Patting her hand, he placed the tea cup down. What he would not give for
his flask of Brandy! He would have to make it a habit to start carrying it
on himself now. Sir Percy or not. He looked at her, Blakeney's eyes were
still a little shaken at the timing of her question. "You wished to go to
the theatre Marguerite." he forced himself to say. At least he could be
thankful she didn't ask him to call her Maeve.
"I arranged it with Armand to go tonight. I had hoped you would be pleased
by me taking you." His lazy blues looked at her. He was preparing himself
for the worst. He was not sure he could handle another argument or
confrontation from Lady Blakeney.
Marguerite smiled lovingly at Percy, letting the fingers of her hand gently
caress his own hand. "I think that sounds like a lovely idea," she said,
as she thought to herself, "This isn't so hard, to get along with Percy,
maybe things are looking up."
He nodded and offered a small smile. Sir Percy's eyes glanced around and
then fell back to her. Something was not right, but Blakeney could not quite
put his finger on it.
Looking into his eyes, she could not help but to widen her eyes. She
wanted so much to ask him what he was thinking, but she had pushed her luck
enough that evening. Marguerite could just stare into his eyes for an
eternity if he allowed it. This peaceful silence between them was the most
blissful point of their marriage since coming to
Richmond.
He felt her watching him, but just sat there relaxing. She had gotten him
going and he near lost his temper with her. For now, silence was bliss and
he partook in enjoying it while it lasted.
Marguerite suddenly felt her stomach give a slight protest. Upset as she
was before, she did not eat a bite of the food Percy had arranged for.
"Well, being that we have calmed down now, I think I will enjoy of the meal
you arranged for us Percy. Where would you suggest I start?"
He leaned over and started to put some of the fruits, meats, cheeses on her
plate. When he leaned back, he pointed to a strawberry and looked at her. "I
hear these are well this time of year."
Marguerite giggled and gave a softly coy look as she picked up the berry.
"Is that so?" she said, playfully examining the bright red strawberry.
"Would you care to test it for me?" she said as she showed him the berry.
Seeing the strawberry offered by her hands hit him in the worst way. Sir
Percy gave a small grin, but it was his own hand that plucked the berry from
her fingers. He bit into it slightly, nodded that is was good and placed it
back into her hand.
After swallowing he nodded. "It is safe to eat."
Marguerite laughed as he put the half eaten berry back into her hand. She
took the berry and bit off half of it, letting the sweet taste of the ripe
berry linger on her tongue. She held the remaining bit in between her
fingers and it closer to Percy's mouth to see if he would once again take
it from her.
If only she would just stop.
He shook his head and apologized. "Sorry Marguerite." He made sure to use
her name to somewhat please her. "I am not in the mood to eat at the
moment." He leaned forward and began to make himself some more British tea.
Marguerite dropped the berry back on her plate and wiped her hand on her
napkin as she gave Percy a look of concern. "Are you feeling alright Percy?
It's beginning to get hotter, would you feel better if we moved into some
shade?"
He nodded and stood, yawning and stretching. "Would you object if we moved
inside?" His lazy blues looked tired. He was at one of those breaking points
and wished to rest.
"Oh, of course not Percy. After last night and the morning today, I'm sure
you're tired. Perhaps a nap before we go out tonight would be a good
idea." Marguerite remarked as she too stood, taking his arm to head
inside.
He nodded. "A nap would be just fine. In one of the card room perhaps, so it
does not become too deep."
"Wouldn't sleeping in there be uncomfortable? If it is you wouldn't be any
better than if you did not get any sleep at all. You should sleep in a bed,
we can ask one of the girls to make sure you wake up in time." Marguerite
paused for a minute as she and Percy walked back to the manor, "Actually I
think a nap would suit me as well."
It was as if he could predict the future. He saw where this was going. "I
have to admit, for afternoon naps, I have always preferred the card rooms.
Just nice. Out of the way, yet close to where I can hear the murmurings of
the staff to lull me." Sir Percy smiled and offering his arm, lead her
towards the house.
She still thought in her head that that must be rather uncomfortable, but
if it was his habit, at this point he must have grown used to it. "Alright
then Percy, what time would you like to be awakened so I can make sure you
don't oversleep and have plenty of time to get ready."
"An hour before departure? The theatre begins at 8. Say wake me at 5? And
make sure Armand knows that we are going. He should remember, but you know
youth." Sir Percy gave a small chuff and lied himself down on one of the
card couches. He wasn't lying. He could sleep anywhere. At least here, he
would not have to face the possibility of sleeping as a duo.
"5 o'clock it is then." she said as she saw Percy into the room he choose
for his nap. She laid down, before she left, Marguerite took the time to
lean over and place a soft kiss on his forehead before leaving the room. On
her way to her own room, she asked Candice to see that both she and Percy
were awakened at 5, and then went to her own bedroom to lay down for her
own nap.
Sir Percy gave a small smile as she planted the kiss on his forehead. Better
than on his cheek and definitely better than on his own very lips. His lazy
blues followed her as she left and went upstairs. From his vantage point, he
watched each step she took up, until she turned and made her way down the
hallway.
He sighed yearningly.