Hearing noises from outside as he wandered the manor, doing a final
check before retiring for the night, Frank paused in the hallway.
Listening carefully he heard footsteps and horses. After a moments
thought he knew that it must be Percy and Armand, returned from
France. Waiting for a moment in the hall Frank heard Armand enter
and head up stairs, but he heard no signs of Percy. An older
brotherly instinct told him he should find Percy, and Frank headed
out through the great front door of the manor and searched the
gardens. Heading down to check the riverbank, Frank saw the ghostly
silhouette of the tall blonde figure. Sighing a light sigh of relief
at seeing Percy safely back in England, Frank went to him, placing a
friendly hand on his shoulder. "Percy, what in the world are you
doing out here at this hour? You must be exhausted."
From the time Armand entered the house, the great weight, whose
presence Sir Percy had denied, reared forth its existence in his
mind. Unable to ignore it, a tightness grew inside his chest as if
an invisible being was wrapping strong talons around his organs and
refused to release the grip. The heart, swelling with blood,
threatened to explode and his lungs no longer could easily intake
normal breath.
This is what being home in Richmond did.
For a few silent moments, he stood next to the bank of the river and
watched what sliver of a moon was left, reflecting and bouncing off
the wet surface. Surrounding him was silence, for not an owl hooted
nor did a bullfrog sing and it was this lack of sound that only added
to his feeling of despair and loneliness. No Englishman was weak,
yet he needed to howl like a wolf and release anger or the trueness
of fear that held him so lost on this trail. Once so sure of the
right route, his eyes were now cleansed of idealized fantasy. Truth
tore at him as easily as when one rips up an unwanted advertisement.
A shattering voice slashed into his mind, when Blakeney spun about to
a hand resting soothingly on his shoulder. He wished the touch to be
his wife; as pained as he was, Marguerite was all that was on his
mind. Alas, no dream can come true in full. Frank, the loyal valet
came into full view and focus.
Try as he may, swallowing back the lump in his throat did nothing for
the weight that remained permanently anchored in the chest. Sir
Percy's lost blue eyes looked at Frank, as his lips slowly separated
to speak, but to no avail did he produce sound. Lowering his head,
the Baronet shook it back and forth slowly.
"I am exhausted," he admitted at last.
Giving Percy a gentle shove towards the house Frank nodded
compassionately. "Then why don't you go inside and get some rest.
Your room should be ready."
Pleading, his eyes tried to speak to Frank of the misery his soul
bared. Sir Percy was exhausted, yes, but no amount of sleep would
remove the terror nor could rest fill the void that had become his
life. Could Frank not see he needed to scream? Was he that good of
an actor that no one, save the mirror, knew he was holding life
together only by the seams?
A poor attempt was made again to swallow back the heavy burden which
was planted deep within his torso. No reward or relief came of it
and slowly, Blakeney turned on his heals and headed into the wind,
the direction in which Frank lead him.
As Frank walked with Percy up the riverbank to the garden he met his
eyes and was taken aback by the utter anguish etched in the weary
blues. For a moment he hesitated. Was it his place to ask? Surely
if Percy wanted to talk he would say so. But then again... Frank
knew Percy well enough to know that he was trained to be strong and
not show his pain, his anger...his emotion at all, really. Haltingly
Frank turned to meet Percy's eyes. "Forgive me for prying, Percy
but...is anything the matter?"
Quickly, he was put back into the memory of Armand gently asking of
his well being and whereabouts. A kind action towards himself.
Standing his ground, the inner war of truth verses pride began and
the Baronet's lower jaw loosened slightly, his mouth gapping open to
speak.
A small amount of time passed in reality, however numerous thoughts
cursed Sir Percy's mind during the brief flash. He was the richest
man in England and Aristocrats did not have problems dealing with the
intangible. Sir Algernon would be disappointed in his son's choice
for producing an heir. Who is honestly foolish enough to wed a
traitor? Tomorrow he needed to arrange for the purchase of his newly
tailored boots so his story held true. Armand would need to be
watched like a hawk so the young boy did not slip up with the lie
about his leg. Sir Percy must don his best shocked face when the
parents of Louise showed, which could be as soon as the following
morning, to come claim her. The newest plot, he hated but would
resort to, would come into play when dealing with his wife next. His
wife! How Blakeney wished to grab Frank's shoulders and speak of the
loneliness that occupied his vacant soul! He was just above a corpse
these days! Nothing more than some obscure machine powered by the
riverbed in order to move! He needed to shout, however dared not to
awaken the Manor and explain his dress and whereabouts at this
unhonorable hour.
Holding his breath, Percy placed a hand on Frank's arm and looked
down at the older man. How scared he was to speak of the truth, yet
here he found himself facing it with no where else to go and no one
to turn to. The color drained from his face and his fingertips
turned white, whilst the strongest organ in his body distributed hot
blood to these areas.
Giving in, Blakeney parted his lips and managed to start, "I I I
I....Yes." He convinced himself he could be strong and speak out
against Marguerite. He had to, else he would shrivel up and
die. "Yes. There is something the matter Frank. Mar.. Mar..
My...... my wi..." He closed his eyes and wished back the sting.
The beating and lesson once received from Sir Algernon scared him as
if he were 15 once more. His back stung like it could be whipped
again.
"My wisdom has failed me." He blurted out and released the grip on
Frank. Turning towards the Manor, he lied, "A Martyr I will now have
made him...." His hands shook and he quickly put them in the deep
pockets of the costume coat as the long, lanky legs covered the
distance to the door of his home.
"The Comte still remains in France."
The Comte? This was not what Frank had expected to say at all. He
was sure he had heard Marguerite's name beginning to form on Percy's
lips moments earlier. "The Comte, Percy? You mean, you could not
save him?" Frank could not hide the incredulous tone in his voice at
the thought of the baronet, the dashing Scarlet Pimpernel, having
failed.
The bluntness in which Frank wielded his words, intermixed with the
horrific look on the valet's shocked face, did nothing but snap the
last thread of ego he clung onto. In defense, his brows knitted
together and his teeth clenched. The balled up fists at his side,
Blakeney had already beaten himself up sufficiently and his wills
were strained.
"No. He remains in France." The weakness of being unable to speak
the truth was covered up quickly with his anger. "Good night
Frank." The coldness in his voice sliced past his lips. Reaching
out, he felt his back forms beads of sweat under the burlap clothes,
and Sir Percy's fingers wrapped shakily around the door handle.
Seeing Percy's reaction Frank immediately knew he should have censored
his words. He had been insensitive and he knew it. But Percy...fail?
That was simply not like him. It was still a little hard for Frank
to believe, although the thought did make him remember his first
attempt at this business of rescuing people from la guillotine.
Jogging after Percy he caught up to him as he began to mount the
steps. Looking deep into the baronets pained, angry eyes Frank spoke.
"I'm sure you tried your hardest to save the Comte, Percy. And I'm
sure everything will work out somehow."
"Just like St. Cyr?" He raised a brow and his guilt shown through.
Although he did not direct it, the conversation went back to
Marguerite in his mind. This time, he did not attempt to speak upon
her.
Shaking his head Frank placed a hand on the retreating figure in front
of him. "No Percy, not just like St. Cyr. The Comte doesn't have..."
He started to say the Comte didn't have a spy leaking information to
the committee, but he did not want to bring up Marguerite at the
moment. "St. Cyr was a special circumstance Percy, and you know it."
At the touch, the wall he put up partially disappeared and the fake
flames died behind the blue eyes. "I know," he whispered and glanced
upward towards his childhood rooms where the current Lady Blakeney
resided. Where Frank was going with his original phrase, Sir Percy
did not know and made the conscious choice to remain ignorant to what
could have been said.
"I must change into something else." He gestured down to the burlap
clothes and looked at Frank. "If you wish to continue this type of
conversation, you are free to follow."
Frank hesitated for a moment. Should he follow or should he leave
Percy to his thoughts? Catching those blue eyes with his own for a
moment Frank turned towards the house. "Of course Percy." Frank then
followed Percy up the stairs to the great front entrance to the manor,
not saying anything else, instead allowing Percy to choose the
direction of the conversation.
Creeping around inside the manor in his present attire, Blakeney was
careful to not speak and each step was planted down with concern. If
Lady Blakeney decided to wander about and surprise him in the middle
of the night, she would get a surprise herself. With what he
considered luck, he made it to his bath room with no interruptions.
He waited for Frank to enter and locked the door behind him.
Without a second thought, he began to strip down in Frank's presence,
handing him the burlap clothes as he stood as naked as he had on his
honeymoon. Of course, the ring was still on his finger and he never
took it off, not even to bathe. "My first instinct is to say burn
those Frank," Sir Percy gestured towards the bundle in the other
man's arms as he stepped into the cold tub of water. "On second
thought however, clean them and stow them along with the others. I
might need them from here at some point."
Nodding he perused the bundle in his arms and tried not to laugh
imagining the character that undoubtedly went along with the costume.
"You never do know when these things may come in handy."
It seemed a thousand times over Blakeney tried to sink down and
submerge himself entirely in the tub, however his legs would not allow
for such a position. Cramming himself in, so his knees stuck out,
above the water, he grumbled, "Richest man in England and I have yet
to commission the proper sized tub." Reaching for the soap stone, he
leaned forward and began to wet his hair.
Frank laughed lightly, hoping to remove the air of depression in the
air. "Is there anything else you need, Percy?"
Looking at Frank, one eye squinted shut where soap threatened to
sting it, Blakeney gave a small smile in response to Frank's laugh.
He did wish so to feel better and Frank's presence helped rid the
lonely feeling that always was just a pace behind.
"I could use a spot to eat." The soap trickled on down his forehead
and soon he had both eyes shut, feeling the lathered foam pass over
his brows. "Also my flask is empty." He thought that a shot of
brandy would probably do the trick to send him into a more relaxed
state. "Demmed long story. I'll tell you how it became emptied when
you return."
Leaning over, eyelids clamped shut, he began to rinse out his hair.
"Of course Percy. And there better be a good story about that flask.
That was too much brandy for there not to be." Frank smiled and
headed down the stairs to kitchen to fetch some food, depositing the
burlap clothes where they would not be found by Marguerite or any of
the curious staff on the way. Gathering some bread, cheese, and some
bits of a ham and filling the flask with Percy's best brandy he again
mounted the stairs and entered the bathroom. "This should do the
trick."
"Ahhhh." The damp, brown-appearing hair was slicked back on his head
and dangled in wet chunks on his back. He just finished scrubbing
and stood to take leave of the cold water. With a step, he reached
for the towel with one hand, and the flask with the other. Taking a
healthy swallow, Blakeney replaced the brandy on Frank's tray and
dried himself off.
"I know a man in my position could drink more than I partake in,
however the emptiness of the flask has more to do with Armand's leg
than my mouth." Moving the towel about, Sir Percy dried his hair
until it looked blonde again and tossed it a corner.
The bed robe he wrapped loosely around him and gave a stretch. "I
would say serve me a meal in my bed, but it smells too good for me to
wait." Sitting on the counter of the bath room, he took some meat
from the tray and gave Frank a smile. The brandy certainly calmed
him into Sir Percy's jovial state.
Laughing as he settled the tray in front of Percy, Frank shook his
head. "Armand's leg? What in the world happened to the boy that you
went through that entire flask?"
"Didn't you know Frank? The Scarlet Pimpernel is a man of many
talents." Breaking the bread, he smiled and chewed polietly and
slow. His manners never faultered and he did not speak until the
food had been properly swallowed. "The most recent talent... well
shall we say a Surgeon of sorts?"
"A surgeon? Well, add that to the list I suppose." Frank said with a
laugh. "But seriously Percy, why were you performing surgery on
Armand?"
"A bullet seems to have found its way into the upper back part of his
leg." He began to recall the two nights he spent around that city,
taking to rooftops like an animal and then torturing the people in
order to free Suzanne.
"Frank," his conscious slowly caught up with him, "Do you think a man
should take whatever measures he needs to in order to succeed?" He
purposefully left the question ambiguous.
Frank looked at Percy thoughtfully before answering. "Well, if
succeeding is best for him and for innocent people...then yes." He
hoped his answer would help Percy and he waited patiently to find out.
The relaxed smile about him faded a little and Blakeney thought of
how he tortured the people in the cells. It was in his best interest
to abuse the others, for it helped to save Suzanne, however there was
no hope for those who he left behind.
Slowly, he sort of looked at Frank and then stared down at the tray.
Playing with a bit of cheese, he wondered aloud, "I suppose I might
wish to think about downplaying some of what I do." Sir Percy began
to explain to Frank what he had done and said when he went alone to
refind the Comte and Suzanne De Tournay.
Frank stood quietly, not wanting to interrupt Percy. He knew that it
wasn't always easy for him to express doubts or worries, so when he
began to do so Frank allowed him to unheeded.
He did not meet Frank's gaze much as he spoke of the tale. Percy
began by telling Frank how he took to the rooftops to escape and then
had to go back to find the Comte and his daughter. "In order to gain
admittance to the prison, I went on behalf of the republic as a man to
torture and taunt the aristos."
He reached for the flask and took another healthy swallow. Stepping
away from the situation, he was coming to terms of the awful things
he said. Percy explained to Frank how he trusted the dead chicken
into the Aristos faces and used the large clever as a symbol for the
guillotine. How he called around insanely "Here kitty kitty kitty" and
then, at last, he brought himself to tell Frank of the very
descriptive things he told Suzanne he would do to her once he got her
alone.
Percy did not look up again at Frank, for he wondered what Andrew
would do if he knew Blakeney talked to his girl in such a distasteful
and disrespectful manner.
Frank nodded slowly, trying to process the story and comprehend what
would have had to occur to drive Percy to behave like that. Nodding
his head gently Frank placed a hand on Percy's shoulder. "You did
what you had to do Percy."
"I try... try not to question myself too much." His mind turned to
thoughts of Marguerite. If there was one subject over any, it was
his constant questioning of his wife. "I suppose every man thinks
like this on his life, Mmm Frank?"
"Of course Percy. It's all a part of life I suppose." Frank smiled
gently at Percy and tried to put a hopeful spin on the conversation.
"Just don't let it consume you."
"Consume me! Begads man!" How much of his mind could Frank really
read? Putting on Sir Percy's most largest of smiles, he looked at
his valet only to have the smile melt away. Frank had known the act
better than anyone and for him to try and pretend behind that smile
was insulting.
Standing and pacing a little, Blakeney looked at Frank. "How did
things go.... with my wife?" He loathed knowing the truth as much
as he feared not knowing it.
Clearing his throat gently Frank looked into those large blues and
began to piece together the story of what had happened at the manor in
Percy's absence. "Things went as well as to be expected, I suppose
Percy." Sighing lightly Frank looked down quickly before he
continued. "Percy, she is so unhappy. I'm worried about her."
"She deserves to be unhappy." He had not meant to say it so quickly
and with such vengeance, but it slipped out just the same. Percy
quickly took in a large breath and looked away from Frank. "She
deserves everything short of death itself."
"No, she doesn't Percy, and you know it. She made a mistake...a
horrible, horrible mistake. But you can't honestly believe that she
would ever do something like that out of malicious intent." Frank
stopped and took a deep breath. "You are both miserable. Percy, I
have known you for years and I have never, never seen you this
unhappy. There has got to be some way for you two to at least try and
work this out."
"Not with malicious intent?!" Percy crossed the distance quickly
until his face was near in Frank's and his hot breath passed before
the other man's nose. His voice was rising in anger and the same
empty feeling began to wrap its claws around his chest.
"How can you do what she has done with good intentions! This wasn't
something as trivial as a feather floating in the air! It was a
planned event!" The rage swelled and Blakeney felt himself come
close to losing his temper all together. To release his temper would
be to no longer be in control. Turning on his heals, he paced around
the bath room.
"Work things out? The only way this is going to be worked out,
Frank," and he spat out the other man's name for he felt betrayed for
the moment, "is for St Cyr and his entire family to be suddenly
resurrected from the dead. Do you know how to do this Frank? I have
traveled and met many a culture, but to date not one has mastered
this art!"
Frank knew better than to push the issue after this response, but that
didn't change the way he felt. "If that's the way you feel Percy,
fine. It is your life. But I think it is tragic for two people who
still love each other to live in the same house and yet not even
acknowledge the other's existence."
"I hold no feeling save contempt for that woman, and as for me, she
has sucked dry everything she wanted out of this relationship." He
did not face Frank, yet leaned over on the counter and braced himself
upward with his arms. The swelling feeling in his chest increased as
the anxiety grew.
"I cannot tell you how you feel Percy, and if you really have no..."
Here Frank paused. He knew if he said love Percy would ignore it,
deny it. In all the time he had known Percy he had never spoken of
love seriously, even in the early days of his relationship with
Marguerite, when Percy had been the happiest Frank had ever seen him.
Finally Frank continued. "If you really have no compassion or
tenderness left for her, then so be it.”
At first, he kept leaning over the counter, refusing to make eye
contact with Frank. When Frank implied Percy had no compassion for
the vixen, his head shot up and his uncombed wavy hair fell about his
eyes in a feral manner.
“But I can tell you this. She
still cares for you, she wants you to be her husband again, not just
some phantom whose presence is occasionally made known to her. What
you choose to do with that knowledge is your decision."
Was it his earlier harsh words to Suzanne that now he was paying by
God's hand for such a sin? The loyalty Frank now displayed to his
wife was maddening! She wanted her husband again? *His* choice what
to do with this nonsense of knowledge?
Enraged with the valet, Percy swiftly moved over to Frank as he
finished his speech. Gritting his teeth, it was all the Baronet
could do to not pull back his arm and take a swing. Instead, he
shakily brought up his fist and staring the other man dead in the
eye, vented his frustrations with a low snarl of "UUUUUUURRRGH!"
Moving his fist suddenly at Frank's lower jaw, he stopped within a
few millimeters of flesh and gave a final frustrated grunt and
shake. Turning, Blakeney left the bath room through the back door
and headed disgustedly for the sanctity of his bed.
Frank stood perfectly still as Percy snarled and shook at him. He knew he had crossed the line, but dammit someone had to say it! He had hoped Percy might listen to him, but he should have known he wouldn't. He understood that Marguerite had betrayed Percy, but he simply didn't see how they could live like that for much longer. In fact, it was quite clear from looking at both of them that they were hardly living with it as it was.