His mind a mist... Blakeney rode Sultan back towards England in the
late evening. Sir Percy thought about his meeting(s) with Chauvelin
and the Comte. There was much to do. Much.
Forcing his mind to think of anything but his wife, Blakeney arrived
past midnight and handed the reins of his horse to an awaiting stable
hand. The Comte was on his mind and he could force himself to think
of only one thing. At least, that is what he tried to convince
himself of. Entering the Manor quietly, not bothering to light a
single candle, Blakeney made his way to Sprout's room and unlocked
the door.
Exhausted from being left home with Marguerite-- and still mad about
it-- Armand didn't hear Percy enter. He was fast asleep, soundless
and practically in a coma. A gunshot wouldn't have wakened the
Sprout. Well, maybe a gunshot.....
Moving near, Sir Percy kneeled and shook the shoulder gently of
Armand. Had the boy called out, a hand was poised to clamp over the
mouth if needed.
He muttered something unintelligible and rolled over, trying to push
the assailant away from him. "Va-t-en.... tu me déranges...."
Blakeney smiled as Armand told him to go away. "Sprout!" he
channeled his voice directly into the younger man's ear. "Wake up
you demmed and ungrateful boy." He laughed.
He blinked sleepily. The figure leaning over him swam before his
eyes, hovering near. Armand sat up a little too quickly, and he hit
the other person's head. He groaned. He looked over at
the other man. "PERCY!" He gasped softly. He had never been more glad
to see his brother-in-law in his life.
Blakeney winced as the young man twarted forehead to
forehead. "Urhhh," Percy pulled back and rubbed the spot that felt
like a knife slash. "Energetic bloody boy!" He leaned back on his
heals and grumbled a string of curses. He had not riden Sultan all
night to suddenly be struck awake like this.
He grimaced, annoyed. "Well what do you expect when you wake me up
in the middle of the night?" Armand demanded softly.
In the darkness, with near no light for the moon barely was a sliver
in the sky, he shruged. Silently admitting Armand had a point.
He felt his forehead tenderly. "Does Margot know you're back?"
Just hearing the name made him tense. Percy had been doing his best
to fool himself into not thinking of her. How could he honestly
forget? She was his life and his nemisis. Moreso now.
Instead of answering, the brain snapped and demanded, "Tell me about
the relationship between your sister and Armand Chauvelin."
*THIS* was what he woke him for in the middle of the night? Suddenly
Armand understood why Percy had refused to speak what he felt at the
ball. Where did Armand's loyalties lie? First and foremost to his
sister.... But to Percy as well, as his leader and comrade.
But he couldn't.... He didn't want to think about Chauvelin.
"It is not for me to say," He said finally, almost hesitating when
he did so. Armand knew what the truth would do to Percy.
It was about as much as he could expect. The tale would be far to
difficult for Armand to speak of to him, and with the refusal for an
answer, Percy was told everything he needed. With that one sentence,
it was confirmed. Maeve had a lover, and it was not Blakeney.
Quickly trying to dismiss the subject, he bounded into, "I found
where the Comte is being held."
"When do we leave?" He asked automatically. Armand had been fidgity
the whole time Percy was gone, bored out of his mind.
"Soon. Very soon. I do not feel the Comte has much time..." His
mind began to race and he thought for a moment in the darkness.
Planning.
"Do you have a plan?" Armand asked. He wondered why they always held
these conversations late at night in his bedroom. "Do I get to go
this time? I don't know how much bed rest I can take."
"No. You do not get to go, and for the same matter, neither do I."
He began to tap his gloved fingers on Armand's bed frame. Who was he
to put in charge and who would go? Tony. Andrew. Frederick would
have to be in charge. Some of the newest members of his league would
have to go and help.
After just being there and confronting Chauvelin, no. He could not
go and Armand would only get in the way of the others. Blakeney
could never tell that to Armand though. Instead he offered the
positive phrase of, "I need you here to help front off your sister."
Yes. That and the demmed 'scrub' she wished to take with him in the
bloody confounded tub. He may never bathe again.
He sat back, pouting. Crossed his arms over his chest.
"I'm getting good at that," Armand muttered, sulking. "Why aren't
you going? Finally getting a conscience?" He was a little cranky
from being woken up from a very nice sleep.
Without thinking much on it, he reached out and thunked Armand upside
the head. 'Getting a conscience.' The little man sure had a mouth
on him at times. "No sense in you at times, I bloody well swear."
He stood now. "I'll see you in the morning." Blakeney was quickly
put into a worse mood now that he was home.
He got up and stood between his brother and the door. His head still
hurt from hitting it the first time, he didn't really notice the
second one. Probably because Blakeney's skull was so thick.
"You had better be going to Marguerite."
"What?" He looked down into the darkness towards the sound of
Armand's voice. "What do you speak on foul Sprout?"
He chose his words carefully. "I'll go to her room," He said, "and
wake her up to tell her you're home if you don't go see her yourself."
Definately a threatening promise.
"You wish for two limps instead of one?"
"Oh shut up, Percy. I've long since stopped limping." His eyes
narrowed. "I mean it, though. And I know you don't want to see her."
"Good night Armand. I think the hour grows late and you should
rest." He did not believe the young Frenchman and dismissed the
threat that held no weight. Taking Armand's shoulders, Blakeney
physically moved him out of the way and opened the door.
"Merci," Armand said. He stepped out the door and strode down the
hall. He turned back to Percy and called, very loudly, "MARGUERITE!"
The Saint Justs were going to be the death of him. Not the
guillotine. Not Citoyen Chauvelin. These two French! There was
nothing he could do now. Armand rang the bell and sounded the
trumpet. He knew he could count to maybe 10 before his 'loving
little wife' was awake and clinging to his side.
Luckily for Armand, the darkness hid the hateful gaze Percy was
directing towards the French mouth of madness.
Marguerite was roused in the night from her sleep by a loud call. She
thought she heard someone yelling. She sat up and rubbed her eyes,
but heard nothing more. Glanincg over to the side of the bed, she
sighed as she realized Percy still wasn't home. It's been two days,
she thought, he said he'd be home. She laid back down nd took one of
the fluffy pillows to hug to herself as she gently fell back to sleep.
No reaction. He was only slightly disappointed. Now he debated
whether to yell again or check the rooms for her. He wasn't sure if
she was sleeping in her own room or in another. Hers were pretty far
away. The closer of the two was Percy's, but if she was in there, she
was being awfully quiet about it.
The breath was held and waited, but no sounds or footfalls ever
came. Angry, he felt for Armand in the darkness and felt a piece of
cloth. His voice sternly whispered, "Just what in the bloody hell do
you think you are doing?"
"Telling my sister what you're afraid to."
"Which is.... whot?"
"That you're home!" He laughed. "You *are* scared of her, aren't
you?" Armand fell silent for a moment. A rare thing.
"It's been a long trip and I've found the Comte. What do you think
Armand? Use that head for something other than pestering me for a
change. Go back to bed."
"You woke me up. It's your fault I'm not tired anymore. And she's
less of a threat than Chauvelin, I assure you." He tried to move
away. "Do you want to let go?" Armand asked quietly.
He tensed hearing that damn name. 'Don't think on it Blakeney, think
of the Comte. Don't let thoughts of Marguerite ruin your plans
again.'
"Are you going to go quietly to bed and not utter another sound?" He
did not yet release his grip, but loosened it.
"Maybe," he said boyishly. "I haven't decided yet."
His body relaxed, but the hold remained. "Well, tell me when you
have decided."
"How long do you plan on standing there?" He didn't mention that
holding his arm in no way restricted his mouth.
"As long as it takes."
He didn't reply automatically to that. Instead, he thought about his
situation and how to get out of it and and maybe win.
Very slowly, Armand offered a bargain:
"I'll go to bed, but on one condition."
"That being?" Blakeney was not used to having conditions put on him
from people that were not Sir Algernon.
"Find Marguerite and tell her you'll talk to her in the morning."
Armand doubted Percy would agree. He knew Percy would stand there all
night, making sure Armand didn't do anything.
The older man was damn smart. "Do you think that is wise? She
barely sleeps as it is, thin as a thread and all. If I wake her up,
she is likely to become upset at the idea of me waking her and then
telling her for tomorrow."
"Percy, she didn't hear me *yell*. And she'd probably be happy that you woke her up to tell her you're home."
The Saint Justs were like small annoying dogs that took hold of your
leg and never let go. "Yes. That will do then. I will go and wake
her." He turned, angered at having no solution over the Saint Justs
and headed towards her room. Stopping a few feet off, he turned and
looked at Armand. "You will see me enter, so go to bed now." His
voice whispered.
He nodded and backed up a few feet, stopping. Watching with a "well, what are you waiting for?" look on his face.
Shaking his head in the darkness, Blakeney turned his back on Sprout
and quietly opened the door to his childhood bedroom suites. A
pained memory struck him, as he remembered the last time he entered
these rooms.
Lust.
He could never be that weak again and concentrated on how quickly he
would go about this. Shutting the door quietly behind him, for he
wished not for Armand's prying eyes nor ears, Percy took a deep
breath and made his way over to the side of Marguerite's bed.
With luck, she would not seduce him back into it.
He yawned and made his way back to his room, where he collapsed into his bed, rubbing his forehead. He fell asleep almost immediately.
Shaking his head in the darkness, Blakeney turned his back on Sprout
and quietly opened the door to his childhood bedroom
suites...Shutting the door quietly behind him, for he wished not for
Armand's prying eyes nor ears, Percy took a deep breath and made his
way over to the side of Marguerite's bed.
In the darkness, the Baronet stood there. Stressing. If he woke
her, he chanced forgetting himself and climbing in her bed with her.
If left to his own male devices, God himself would only know where
the night and bed sheets would end tangled up. Gently he lifted his
hand and rubbed his temple where Sprout had smacked it. He did not
know what to do.
Another few moments passed. If he turned around and left, then both
of the Saint Justs would be on him in the morning like little
poodles. Snapping at his heals or filling his ears with bothersome
words. Blakeney knew he had no other choice.
Gently, he leaned over her bed, dreading the job of a husband in love
but forced beyond his wildest measures to be celibate. Every muscle
in his body wished to leap back and retreat, but Percy kept his hand
moving forward. Reaching for her shoulder.
It was not there.
Blakeney blinked and leaned forward more. Still nothing. Moving his
hand around the bed, he found the sheets had not been turned back and
there certainly was no body in it. Where could she...
His room.
It was so simple, he almost laughed. His room! Of course! The
vixen had done it before, she most certainly would do it
again. "This is quite the situation. Damn Blakeney you are so
bloody demmed clever!" Had the moon been full, it would have gone
through the window and bounced off his white beaming teeth.
He began a small off-keyed hum and swayed his head back and forth.
He had beaten the Saint Justs tonight. Oh, but it was a clever
Pimpernel they both dealt with. They were persistent, and had that
over him, but he was damn smart and his brain was a match for no man
or woman.
Not bothering to take off his boots, fully dressed, Percy allowed
himself to sink back into the bed. Without another thought, he
closed his eyes and waited for sleep to peacefully and proudly
overtake him.
Marguerite's sleep was a fitful one. She tossed and turned and eventually woke up, very thirsty. She forgot to place a glass of water by her bedside and so she slide her feet out from under the covers to go
downstairs to get something to drink. She pulled on her robe and then
search for her slippers. Unable to find them, she remembered she didn't
wear them to Percy's room that night.
Had the floor been warm, she would have crept barefoot downstairs, but it was cool so she made the slight detour into her own bedroom. Once in her room, she heard the light sound of someone breathing, sleeping
peacefully. She crept near her bed, and in the faint light of the moon
streaming into her window, Marguerite smiled as she found Percy dozing in her own bed. In her happiness she forgot her need of drink. She almost woke him but noticed he was still dressed. He must have been dreadfully tired she though as he laid there. She moved to carefully begin undoing his boots to slide them off before loosening his clothing to make him more comfortable as he slept.
How long he had been actually asleep was hard to say, however the
Baronet stirred in a dreamy like state. The man God deemed London's
fool had been intoxicated. Her perfume lingered on each pillow, all
bed sheets and the comforter in which he lay upon. In his dreams,
Blakeney could not ward her off. Had he rationalized better of it
and not of himself as so superior in thought, Percy would have
realized this was a dreadful mistake.
In his dreams, she was with him and the smell became stronger. Her
soft touch against his chest.
As he slept throughout her movements of him, Blakeney whispered, "I
looouu....." and began to snore. It was the closest he had ever come
to speaking those words to a soul.
Marguerite smiled as she heard him speak out in his sleep as she undid the buttons of his coat and then his vest. She leaned forward and kissed his temple before whispering gently in his ear, "I love you too."
"I remember..." he muttered and slipped back into rest.
She continued to pull and tug on his clothing gently, hoping to peel
him out of as many layers as possible. She moved to loosen his
cravat and then the knee and tight waist of his britches as she
pulled his long dress shirt out to cool him.
Feeling more relaxed, Percy slept deeper. It had been a long trip
and a longer road. He allowed himself to sleep knowing he was in the
comfort of his own home.
Marguerite slowed down and was careful as she thought she might rouse him even more, but it seemed he simply feel back into a deeper
sleep. Remember the awful night she had stayed with him when he had
fallen ill during their courtship, Marguerite carefully work both hands
under his back to pull him to sit up in a way. She moved so his body
could lean against hers as she pulled his coat and vest off of one arms
and pulled them about the other side as she had with Armand many times
when he had fallen asleep out of bed when they were younger. Carefully
she leaned him back into her soft bed before taking the loose fabric and
pulling the items off his other arm. In the dark, she moved to toss to
coat over the arm of a chair, successfully. She did the same with the
vest, which only managed to get halfway to the target, and ended up on the floor. Finally, she took to loosening his suspenders and sliding of his britches, leaving him only in his long shirt, common night wear for most men at the time.
Marguerite, pleased that she had been able to dress him properly for bed
without rousing him too much, moved away as she took off her robe and
retrieved a light blanket, which she used to cover herself and Percy as she laid down beside him, resting her head on his chest to sleep.
As he was half naked in bed, Blakeney rolled over and wrapped his arm
around his wife. Her smell entered his senses and he gently, still
asleep, nibbled on her exposed neck. For now, all was right with the
world.
Marguerite was slightly roused by some movement in the bed. She stretched a bit and smiled in her half sleep state as she felt warm breath brushing her neck. A strong arm holding her close to another's body and then lips and teeth brushing her neck. Marguerite sighed as she let her body respond to Percy's touch.
The rest of the night he slept with pleasant and wonderful dreams.
When the wee hours of the morn threatened to wake him, his senses
still had the tantalizing smells about him, and he refused to stir.
When more hours passed, he slowly nuzzled into the soft comfort of
the pillow underneath his head. Slowly, the lazy blue eyes opened.
In her light, dream-like state, Marguerite continued to sleep the night
away peacefully. Even as the sun rose, she kept her eyes shut to the
world, and turned to bury her head into the shoulder that had been her
pillow all night.
Slowly he stirred, and rubbed at his eyes. Feeling a pressure on his
shoulder, Blakeney was curious what scuffle he had gotten himself
into to cause the stiffness. Turning his head, the lazy blues
widened seeing Marguerite. It was slowly coming back to him. Her
rooms. Glancing around he saw her room, but also intermixed with his
clothes thrown about wildly. Aware now that he wore nothing but his
nightshirt (which tangled about his chest so he might as well have
been wearing nothing at all), Percy panicked wondering exactly what he
had done the night before.
Marguerite continued to fight off the need to wake up, having so
peacefully slept the last few hours of the night. She moved one hand to
gently rub her eyes as she gave a slight yawn before finally opening her
eyes to see Percy already there and awake. Silently she smiled and
craned her head to gently place a small kiss on his check.
"Good morning." He spoke, but his voice was unsure and Sir Percy
tried to greet with a smile. "Time to get up, say?" Sitting up, he
swung his legs to the side of the bed, pulling his shirt down over
his exposed self.
Marguerite moved to wrap her arms around his waist and rested her head on
his lap as he sat up. "There's no rush Percy. What time did you get in
last night? You must be tired, are you sure you don't want to lay down
for a while?"
As clinging as ever. As he sat there, staring at his strewn
clothing, he wondered if Marguerite clung onto Armand Chauvelin as
much. The man's words tortured him and took the place of his wife's
guilty actions towards St. Cyr. Always dwelling on something,
Blakeney did not move.
When he did stir, he kissed her hands by means of removing them from
his midsection and stood. He was careful how he treated her as he
moved. She never mentioned loving another before him. The way Maeve
spoke to him, it was as if she had never known such actions.
Lies. All lies.
The Scarlet Pimpernel began to wonder if Maeve still spoke with
Armand Chauvelin. It was only a few months back in France that she
stole away from the dinner table, conveniently bringing Sprout along
to keep Percy 'occupied' whilst she herself had a secret meeting with
that man in black.
More deception.
Standing and dressing quickly, he spoke to her with his back
facing, "Can't recall the hour, though not as late as one might
think. Damn tired at the time and now damn hungry. Care to join me
for a bite?"
'Might as well ask her along,' he secretly though, 'less she attach
her lying self like a leech at any rate.' The Pimpernel would play
her game.
Only on his terms.
Marguerite sat up on the bed as he moved about and gathered some of his
clothes. "Oh yes, breakfast sounds lovely, but if you're tired, sit
down." She stood up and moved in front of him, attempting to direct him
back to her bed, or at least the lounge. "Sit, sit, and I'll have Candice
bring something up. What would you like? Oatmeal, fruit, tea?"
Taking his clothes from her hands, Sir Percy smiled
charmingly. "More hungry than tired, and after such a long ride, the
last thing I wish to do this morning is sit about in a bed all day."
He hoped the words would sting, the least he could give her while
contending with his own heart. "The walk will do us good, whot?
Shall we?" Putting on the last of his attire, he turned and headed
for the doors.
"Oh Percy, won't you at least wait for me. I can't very well go out and
about the manor in just my nightdress." Marguerite said moving towards
her wardrobe to pick a suitable dress. "Won't you wait a few moments
while I change?"
"Go about and change. I'll meet you in the main hall after I tend to
a few things." Sir Percy smiled in his gentleman like way, as he did
to passersby on the street. With a wave of his hand, he walked out
of her rooms, closing the door behind him.
Blakeney headed to his quarters.
Marguerite sighed and began to go after him, but he shut the door leaving
her alone. She stamped her foot and quickly changed into a light muslin
dress and stepped out of her room. He said meet in the main hall, but
that was that? The main dinning area? the hallway upstairs? The hallway
downstairs? Marguerite was confused, but guessed if he was tending to
things he would be in his study, and so she began pacing about the hallway
upstairs.
Emerging from his bedrooms, he was changed into a new attire.
Something more on the casual side for him, but still full blown Sir
Percy for the rest of London. Moving towards the stairs, he smiled
and offered his arm. As gentlemen did in those days.
Marguerite smiled as Percy rejoined her in the hallway. She took his arm
and moved up to gently kiss his cheek. "Well, I hope you have finished
what you needed to attend to Percy."
"For the moment. Task at hand: seek and forage food." Sir Percy
grinned and waved his free arm about. "The mighty hunter thinks the
kitchen shall have excellent game this time of year."
Marguerite giggled as Percy joked while they walked down the
hallway. "Well then, we shall see that your appetite is satisfied, and
while we're at it, you can tell me all about your trip."
He tried to remember what had happened in the middle of the night.
Oh yes. Percy. Once again waking him up at an un-Godly hour. No
matter.
So Armand dressed and headed down for breakfast, still annoyed at
how resentful Percy was about having to go to Marguerite's chambers
to tell her he was home.
It was the voices in the hall which stayed his hand on the door
handle. Armand decided to wait and make sure Percy was being polite
and loving to the wife who had missed him so much while he was gone.
Waiting about with her, he shook his head. "Tis a sad tale. I do
not telling it, just that such a story is better heard on a full
stomach. Why, I was having a conversation with myself the other day
and near got into an argument if such topics should be even bothered
told so soon after breakfast."
He glanced about for Frank, Candice, Thomas, Armand or Helene but could see no one. Pushing the image of this woman with *that* man, Percy glanced dimly at Marguerite and Sir Percy smiled, chortling, "Luckily, I won."
Marguerite smiled as she moved to take a seat at the table, watching a
young man emerge from the kitchen with two covered trays for their
breakfast. "Well then, later on perhaps, but Idol insist you tell me even
a bit of your trip. Goodness, I don't even have the slightest clue where
you have been."
"Paris." He said simple and very naturally, as if he said it every
day.
"Paris?" Marguerite said with a bit of a tremble in her voice. She shook
slightly and grabbed hold of the back of the nearest chair for
support. "You, you, you went home and didn't tell me? You went home and
didn't ask me if I wanted to come?"
He did not offer the smile that was forming inside. Of course he had
her and expected this reaction. Blakeney had set her up this way,
hadn't he? With a tilt of his head, Sir Percy answered, "Well, due
to the nature of the 'trip' it was not a pleasure cruise nor much of
a visit."
Glancing around for someone, he added, "It was strictly business."
Marguerite felt a lump form in her throat and tears well up in her
eyes. "But, but, that's my home Percy. I understand you had business but
I wouldn't have needed a chaperon. All my friends, the people I call
family, almost everything I've ever known is in Paris."
Helping her sit down in the chair, he shook his head. Sir Percy
spoke, "Marguerite, you become too emotional. It was no proper place
for an English Lady. I fancied you would understand that I would
never tolerate my wife around a dead body."
Pretending he hadn't meant to say it, Sir Percy brought a gloved hand
to his lips. Then sighed loudly and shook out his arms at his
side. "Well there now! I've gone and done it. Losing out in an
argument to myself for proving my own point." He said this as if it
made perfect sense, which, on a bizarre parallel, it did.
Marguerite near froze in shock as she sat down. "A dead body? My god
Percy what in the world were you doing in Paris? No more games, I want to
know what you were there for."
Taking a few steps back, as if she intimidated him, he sputtered
out, "Frederick asked me to retrieve Hastings." Blinking those hurt
lazy blue eyes, Sir Percy looked as if she had slapped him in the
face. As if he were twelve, the way Marguerite spoke to him.
"Retrieve Hastings?" Marguerite repeated, "I don't understand Percy,
what do you mean 'retrieve Hastings'?"
Sir Percy stood there and his mouth dropped every so
slightly. "Retrieve... uh... to take?" It was with difficulty as
the man continued, "To take back? Hastings was dead and Lord Clayton
asked upon me to take ...back.... him... uh, er... retrieve...."
Marguerite gasped and brought one hand up to her mouth, "Oh Percy, oh dear
god Percy," she began to exclaim as she stood up and moved to him,
putting her arms gently around him. "I'm so sorry for Percy, so sorry for
being angry, for getting upset before you left, for all of it. I just
wish you told me sooner. I'm so sorry about your friend."
He made out like a bandit. She played right into his hand. The
Scarlet Pimpernel, finally, 1. The score may have been Marguerite 7,
but he finally had 1.
Nodding, he hugged her back absentmindedly and muttered, "Tis
nothing, really. Not much I could tell or wished to until the
dreadful deed was done."
He leaned against the wall, his stomach clenching. 'Retrieve Hastings'.
Well at least Percy was being civil to Marguerite. It seemed as though he must have kept his promise.
Marguerite sniffled a bit and leaned her head into his shoulder. "I'm
sorry for the way we left the other night. I wouldn't have behaved so if
I had known what you were doing. Do you forgive me?"
"Tis nothing to forgive, but see what you have done? You have forced
my mouth to speak on things that I knew would upset you." Giving her
a slight reassuring hug he led her towards the kitchen. "Terrible
thing to have happen before breakfast, much less better at any time."
"Yes, yes, you have every right to scold me Percy." Marguerite said
with a sniffle, as she latched onto his hand while he led the way to
the seats where their breakfast had been laid out. "I promise to see
that you have a much better day today, now that you're home."
Well, tis awful kind of you. I would fancy that I think." Glancing
about, he called out, "Now confound it, where is the rest of my
house, eh?"
Marguerite laughed, "Now does that matter so much, aren't I enough
company for you Percy? Or do you need frank to cut your food into
little pieces?"
Giving a sideways glance, the Baronet smiled. "Not a bad idea....
not bad at all," he joked. "Hadn't had the thought cross my brain
yet, but perhaps I should. Frank! You lazy and bloody welp! Where
are you when there is food to cut?" He hollered throughout the
hallway. Winking at his lady, Sir Percy was having his spot of fun
and trouble for the day.
Marguerite laughed as she moved to one of the chairs pulled out for
them. "Goodness Percy, at times I feel sorry for the man, the thing you
make him do. Perhaps I should tell him to take the day off and relax for once."
Knowing Marguerite and her 'surprises' the Scarlet Pimpernel found
her statement more to be a test to see how he would react. Based on
his reply, Blakeney wouldn't put it past her to carry the action
out. Without missing a beat, the Baronet mused, "Well, there is
luggage too unpack and paperwork to become caught up on. Seeing as
how I fare not well without Frank on such matters, that," and here he
poked her gently on the tip of her cute little nose, "is out of the
realm of rational thought."
Marguerite laughed playfully as she quickly tilted her head up to kiss the tip of his finger. "Oh Percy, fine then, let him handle those little things, though I thought I told you no work today, not after your
trip. Perhaps you should take a day to relax as well."
"Perhaps, but my clothes shall bear ill will if they are not hung by
Frank soon."
"Fine, fine, fine, let Frank hang you clothes and give him the afternoon
off." Marguerite said, as she playfully reached out to touch his nose.
There she went again, trying to order around his servants. He was in
great need of Frank later. There would be no such thing heard.
"How is this," Blakeney suggested, "I will let Frank know of my needs
and then you will have my undivided attention the rest of the day as
he carries on his normal day to day duties." With a bit of a snuff,
he added, "You may not see the need for him here the entire hours as
I do Lady Blakeney. I am not in the habit of dismissing my staff
so... oh, how do they say now in London? So... frivolously."
"Do you promise then Percy? Promise I will have your undivided attention the rest of the day?' Marguerite asked.
"Yes."
Marguerite squealed for joy and nearly leapt out of her chair as she tightly hugged her arms around Percy's neck. "Oh how wonderful Percy. I missed you so much while you were away and was so afraid you'd push me off and hide away tending to some business matter of sorts that you wouldn't tell me about."
"No, not at all. Dead Hastings was enough for one trip."
Marguerite's spirits dropped when Percy mentioned his late friend,
especially so flippantly. She moved away from him somberly and sat back
down in her chair, avoided eye contact with him. She stared at the
covered tray before her as she silently berated herself for forgetting his loss.
"Shall we go and eat now, hmmm?" The mood was an oddity and Blakeney did not like it. He wished not to remind himself he married a woman capable of breaking God's laws, fooling him, and killing a family. Percy had to remind himself however, he was no better. Allowing a
man like Hastings to die at his own ego.
Like a defeated child, Marguerite nodded her head sadly and watched as two servants came forwards and uncovered the trays revealing the simple meals that Percy and Marguerite normally ate for breakfast.
There was nothing more to say, so in his habitual quiet manner, he sat and ate. Enjoying his fruits and oatmeal.
Marguerite sat quietly, not in the brightest of moods, and once more took
to her habit of cutting up her food and merely pushing bits of it around
her plate as Percy ate.
He noticed her lack of eating yet again and it irritated him so.
What else would she add to her odd behavior to try and take further
control of his already powerless life? Percy was quick to point it
out, "Going back on your word my dear? Hardly becoming of an English
Lady." He added the English Lady part to equally annoy her and hoped
his futile revenge held some weight.
"Going back on my word?" Marguerite said, rather puzzled, "How is
that Percy?"
"Ah ah ahhhh... a promise tis a promise, now isn't it?" He enjoyed
abusing the English language so. Not so much to bother Marguerite,
but to help the facade of fool. Most of London society cringed.
Such fun.
"You promised to eat if I were here and I grant the inclusion of
exclusion when I come to the conclusion that both eatery and
husbandary doth quoteth someone famous that 'We are here'!"
Sir Percy beamed proudly at his wife. To him, it made perfect sense.
Marguerite smiled and giggled a bit at his exclamation. "Not quiet
Percy. I said I would not eat when you are not with me, but I didn't
say I would eat when you were with me. However since you seem so
insistent upon my eating, I will gladly consume as much of this as I
can." Marguerite took bit of her fruit and smiled back at
Percy, "Does this pleases you now?"
"Yes." The answer was simply stated and it was honest in truth.
Percy had enough lives on his hands. He did not need to worry about
self abuse.
"Well then, I am glad you are so please." Marguerite remarked. "And
I hope you are also so pleased with what I have planned for today."
'As long as tis not a bathe.' he thought to himself. Feigning a bit
of interest, Sir Percy turned to his wife and dabbed the corners of
his mouth in a dainty manner. "Oh, and whot might these plans be?
Do say right O."
Marguerite giggled as she chewed on another bite of food. "Not yet,
it's a surprise."
"Another? Zounds, one man such as I does not deserve it." He looked
at her and only could wonder. When would the blade fall?
"Well, it's not exactly like your last surprise. It's not a
gift." Marguerite began to explain. Her spirits rising, she
continued to eat as she happily talked, "It's something to show you,
something I'm very proud of. But I will need some time to make the
final preparations, so I shall have to leave you for a short time
this afternoon. Perhaps you might use the time to enjoy your
present."
"Aye, that I can do." Marguerite perked his curiosity, that much
was certain. She did assure his mind of two things: That he was not
expected to perform certain husbandry duties that he was not up to
do, and that he could enjoy his bathtub alone. Something she was
proud of? It could lead to the first and foremost terror on his
mind, but somehow the phrase: 'This Afternoon' calmed him.
Whatever it was, the Pimpernel would not find it by asking
questions. He would have to bathe and nap. Time would give him the
answers.
"As you wish My Lady. Shall I escort you where you need to go before
I depart to leave you the time in which you ask for?" He stood and
offered his arm. Sir Percival Blakeney. Forever the gentleman.
"Oh no Percy, there's no where I have to go, why don't you sit with me a
while longer." Marguerite noted the food still on her plate and remarked,
"Unless you're now afraid I might consume to much and grow to plump for
your liking."
"At this point, eat until you look like a stuck pig." He smiled. "We can
sit where you like." Still standing, he glanced around. "Where tis it
you would like?"
Marguerite smiled and leaned over, gently pushing out the chair beside
her. "Let's just stay here for now, just stay with me."
Alright" He sat back down and looked at her plate. "Well, get on with it
then. Still some left there, say?"