Chapter
13:
The Real Trouble
Begins
"Sir Percy, can you please remain still for just a few moments
longer?" the young Marie entreated desperately as she groaned with
impatience. Although, I had to admit that I was giving her a hard
time about sitting down for my portrait.
Marie Grosholtz was among one of the many émigrés
that the league and I had saved on the last engagement in France as
well as one of the few that had become what one could have called an
'associate member'. The woman had known Marguerite in her acting days
at the Comedie Francaise, and over my stay there many months ago, had
been the one to let me inside the dressing rooms. Thus, the talented
young artist and I had become very good friends, and after knowing
that I could trust her, I allowed her and her fiancé, Philippe
Tussaud, to help the league with certain missions.
Unfortunately the young couple had been arrested for speaking
against the government, and after having rescued them, I permitted
them to take residence at Blakeney Manor on one small condition-that
the young lady paint a portrait of me. As I had mentioned, she was
immensely gifted in the art of painting and sculpting, thus she was
the first person that came to mind once I had decided to have the
blasted thing done.
However, I must confess that I am not the most patient man.
Fidgeting was always my middle name when it came to boredom, and that
had created a problem.
"Sir Percy please! Very soon we shall be through!" Marie
admonished, her patience lowering by the second.
"You said that five minutes ago!" I teased childishly. "Do you
really mean it this time?"
Glancing at me from behind the easel, she smiled sarcastically
sweet. "The sooner you sit still, milord, the sooner everything shall
be done! Now please sit down!"
Appearing to be in mock distress, I returned to the contemptible
pedestal with a frown. "Well! Sink me I never…! Of all the women
of the world, you are one of the few I shall take commands from!"
In spite of the fact that she was fast becoming exasperated by my
inability to stay on my seat, Marie let out a small laugh from her
place at the painting. I on the other hand had turned my attentions
to the window that claimed a beautiful view of the garden where I
found Marguerite saying a bemoaning farewell to Armand. Having joined
the league himself, I had ordered him back to France to spy on
Chauvelin and his demoniacal plans, and despite his sister's pleas, I
made certain that he would obey them.
It was indeed such a disheartening sight, seeing the brother and
sister bid each other adieu and not knowing whether or not they would
ever be together again. In spite of the outward impression I gave, it
completely grieved me to have to send Armand back to his homeland,
and even more so to put Marguerite through all of her torment.
However, if I let everything heart-wrenching stand in my way when it
came to our missions, then nothing would have been carried out.
Having noticed the trail of my stare, Marie asked, "Why do you not
tell her the truth?"
Not averting my eyes, I replied simply, "Quite elementary,
mademoiselle. If it is true that Marguerite denounced St Cyr, she is
capable of any betrayal, and I dare not risk all of our necks just
for the sake of telling her what our trips to the tailors' really
are."
"Sir Percy, did you ever consider sitting her down and getting the
entire St Cyr story? A tale that comes from someone who was not
involved may not completely be accountable. That is not to say that I
deny any of Lord Dewhurst's reports, yet what he has found may not be
all the facts."
I had to be honest that she was on to something with that, but at
the same time, I had given Marguerite numerous chances to explicate
herself that she did not choose to take. Maybe it was pride or
stubbornness, nonetheless one could never be certain. That being as
it was, my life as her obedient servant would just have to go on
without an explanation…
Good Lord what is he doing here? I thought as I caught sight of
the last man I had ever wanted to see nearing Marguerite's place in
the garden. I had expected Chauvelin's arrival, for I knew that he
would keep his word. Yet why did it have to be so soon?
Excusing myself from Marie, who had seen this despicable
trespassing as well, I hastened my steps to assure my ears would make
it outside in time for him to lay out his disastrous schemes.
* * * * *
"Marguerite please!" came the dastardly plea as I hid myself in
the bushes. "This man has emerged into the place of number one on
France's criminal slate. The Pimpernel is a complete menace that must
be stopped, and you are the only one who can do that."
"You must think me mad or simply stupid, Chauvelin, if you really
believe that I would help you track down and murder the most
courageous man alive today," Marguerite admonished, and quite
sensibly I might add. "He is one of the remaining few people that has
true compassion in his heart; I would have to be a imbecile to even
contemplate assisting you with this plan!"
I could hear Chauvelin's flaring anger building slowly as his mind
must have pounded with ideas. "So, that is your final decision? You
refuse to help me?"
"I would rather go to your beloved Madame Guillotine first."
"Would you have your brother go in your place?"
To say that not one sound could have been heard for miles around
would be some rather mild words. All conversation and life seemed to
have completely died off as Chauvelin's new plan unfolded.
"Marguerite listen to me and listen well," he began grabbing her
by the shoulders roughly, and as I heard her gasp in panic and pain,
it took all my strength not to run to them and flail the brute within
an inch of his life. "Marguerite St Just, I warn you now, that your
beloved brother Armand is in deadly danger. He is in league with the
Scarlet Pimpernel; I have the proof in my pocket as I speak. You
alone, my dear, can redeem him by bringing me the name of his chief.
Is that clear?"
Oh Marguerite please refuse and leave Armand's safety to me!
"Chauvelin this is blackmail." That's right! Let him leave and I
will handle everything!
"My dear lady you may call this whatever you wish, but I will have
the Pimpernel's head or your brother's. It is your choice."
Marguerite looked to the ground for a moment, possibly in utter
confusion. "Do you swear to give me whatever evidence you have
against Armand? Will he be saved?"
Chauvelin delighting in his victory at long last released her. "My
love the moment I have the Englishman in my hands, you shall have
your brother in yours. I swear."
"Can I trust you?"
"I should ask you the same!"
Yes so should I! I thought in despair. She could never have any
satisfaction could she? I was already determined to handle Armand's
position on my own, but that damn stubborn woman had to agree to
this, extinguishing any last bit of faith I had in her.
"Then you will have what you need," Marguerite replied silently.
"I shall have it for you by the end of the Prince's ball."
"It is settled then; good evening Lady Blakeney!" Chauvelin
concluded with a smile as he exited.
Marguerite on the other hand must have only taken a few steps back
towards the house when she suddenly sank to her knees in a hysterical
fit of grief. My God did she have to do that right in front of me
when I knew I could not comfort her? Why did she have to do anything
that she had agreed to do? Why did I have to love her as much as I
did?
Why Marguerite why?