He told Andrew to go on ahead without him and make whatever
arrangements were needed for the England's newest escapees. Armand
was left with strict instructions to wait for him just outside the
inn, where upon Blakeney would bring him change of clothes and their
horses.
He was still annoyed that Percy had made him ride. Oh sure, he knew
that he wouldn't have been able to make it the whole way. But Percy
didn't even give him a chance to TRY. He had cleaned up the best he
could when they had crossed the channel, using the facilities in
Andrew's room. But he had slept out on the deck when night fell, and
they had docked while he slept. When he had awoken, it was from
Andrew shaking him gently. Percy had disappeared, leaving
instructions for Armand to wait outside the inn.
And so he was, and there was still no sign of le pimpernel.
Nothing he could do would get the blood out of his clothing, so he
moved to the side of the building, to avoid contact with anyone who
might ask questions. He leaned against the wall, trying to ignore the
stabbing pains in his leg. He had to crook his knee so he didn't sit
on the would, since he couldn't lie down. 'C'mon, Percy... where are
you? I'm going crazy here!'
Dressed in common English attire, Blakeney looked forward to nearing
home where he could don his finest clothes once more. Never minding
the change of persona and rags, his sense of fashion, after a few
days time, would yearn for the normalty that was his life. Being
back on English soil only made him yearn for the fine food and cloth
that made him happy.
Turning around the corner, he saw Sprout in the distance. Had the
boy not been injured, he would have snuck up and hollared or tossed
the clothes at the boy for fun. Seeing as how it could cause the boy
to fall or try and fight back, he decided upon a more direct
approach. "Oye! Matie!" his normal English accent cut into the
silence of the night air.
"Thank god..." He muttered, softly. He didn't move; obviously Percy
had seen him. He couldn't help shifting so that he was facing the
baronet though. One never knew when Percy's odd sense of humor would
strike. As the Baronet neared, he called softly, "Did everything go
well, Percy? You seemed to be gone quite a while..." His voice
trailed off as he couldnt find anything else to say. They were both
tired. At least, one of them was.
"Everything is fine. Here, you will want to change into something
less..." his gaze looked down to Armand's mangled leg. "... red."
With a gesture, Blakeney offered the young Frenchman help to move off
into a dark alleyway to change.
He hooked his arm around Percy's shoulders and, with his brother's
help, limped to the darkened alley. He shucked off the blood stained
clothing he had on and replaced them with plain clothing like the
ones Percy wore. Browns and tans, they were simple. Common. But
Armand didn't care. He was no aristo deep down. Anything to get
out of those bloody (no pun intended) rags he had been in. He turned
to Percy for approval. "Well?" He held his arms out to the sides,
almost standing on one foot from the pain.
Stooping over, less Armand suddenly grow ape-like arms, Blakeney was
surprised the Sprout wished for help but was glad to offer whatever
the younger man needed. Inspecting the lad, Blakeney shook his
head. "No matter how we dress you, you will always be a stubborn
little Frenchman." For the first time since he left the barn on the
first day, the Baronet smiled.
"And damn proud of it..." He gave a weak grin. "Come on... I'm dying
here, Percy... Can we go?" He'd had enough of being the tough little
sprout. Now he was just a kid who had been shot and wanted more than
anything, for the sharp, gnawing pain to leave him alone. He wanted
to sleep decently, too. His entire body ached.
The two men headed out on their way to an Inn. Blakeney thought
about how much night was left and weighed it against the possibility
of running into Margot with Armand not properly healed. It did not
take a genuis to decide that his timing would wait near a whole extra
day, just to avoid Lady Blakeney being awake.
Arriving in the middle of the night. That was best for the nerves of
the Baronet and he wished for one night's sleep without her voice
troubling his mind with things he did not do or how he was not
around. When Marguerite heard about his boots, he expected she would
throw a thousand fits.
That night Armand and Percy stayed in the Inn, each to their own
seperate room. Blakeney enjoyed the matress and stretched himself
out, near forgetting how on earth he could ever find sleep on
anything hard and flat like the deck or barn floor. Such was the
life of Sir Percy Blakeney.
The next morning, using false names that were not questioned, Armand
was taken to a local doctor in Dover, where upon proper medicine and
sewing was applied. Armand's acutal horse along with Sultan were
kept in a discrete location in stables and soon the two were saddled
up and heading home.
"Remember Armand. She will notice your limp, so tell your sister
that you refused to dismount that horse of yours, Julien and that is
what causes your stiffness." Knowing they were close, he added, "She
doesn't really even come and help you dress, does she? To say, tis a
sight your leg and I don't wish her to view it."
He felt a lot better now. The boy laughed and shook his head. "No,
she never comes in my room. Actually, there was that once, when you
both returned from your..." He stopped. Bit his lip. 'Honeymoon' was
the last word that was not added. "You think I want her to see it,
Percy? Even less than you do, trust me..." He yawned. Despite the
good sleep he'd had before, the boy was still greatly fatigued and
the prospect of his own bed was a welcome dream.
The dark blonde eyebrows rose in a questioning challenge about to
burst through had Armand finished his first sentence. Blakeney did
not wish to be reminded of his wife, or that he had a wife, or a
blissful honeymoon with all the actions that went with
it. 'Poppycock!' he thought to himself. 'What a mockery of life!"
Hearing Armand, he knew Armand would do everything in his stubborn
little power to not reveal his whereabouts or his condition. Let the
cleverest woman in Europe not know it all like she thinks she did.
Bah! Here his mind was again clouded with her.
Timing things well, it was quite past the hour of midnight when
Armand and Percy dismounted the horses and headed for Blakeney
Manor. "Go on ahead Armand. I'll see you in the morning." He did
not enter the house, yet whispered to his brother and patted his
shoulder.
Turning and heading for a silent stroll by the riverbed, Blakeney's
mind was too tense and full of questions to sleep just yet. Being
home meant having to deal with Marguerite again. Being back in
England meant once more becoming the idiot.
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