Section I, Next Section
Chapter 1
It was the year of grace 1792.
Paris was busy guillotining anyone who knew how to tie a decent cravat, and even some who couldn't. Size mattered not.
Drums could be heard rolling at regular intervals in the distance, along with cheers and shouts. The street was cobbled, with puddles and muck everywhere. The beggar crouched next to the stairs of the barber shop, his hair hung lankly, pulled back from his drawn and hungry face. At the street corner there was a priest, who sang quietly and constantly in a deep melodious baritone. A disturbance at the far end of the street caused the beggar to shrink further back in his corner, eyes turned hopefully towards the source of the noise. At first it just appeared to be a crowd slowly walking down the street, but then the tumbrel came into view. The tumbrel held approximately ten people, the beggar looked closely at the group, hands tied to the bars, heads averted to avoid the rubbish thrown, these were proud people, not one of them showed emotion. Slowly the tumbrel passed up the street and turned the corner, still surrounded by the crowd. The beggar stood up, and shook himself, then approached the singing priest. The priest stopped singing and waved the beggar away. The beggar then looked around and limped off up the street. The priest left also, but headed into a dark house that was situated on the other corner.
"Hallo Bingley." The priest waved in acknowledgement, stripping off his robes, and changing into the clothes of a labourer. "You got the instructions?" Bingley nodded, his head lost in the confines of his robes. "Then hurry up, you know we only have a short time allowance." Bingley's head reappeared.
"Richard, I may have only been three months in the business, but I am not a fool." Richard Fitzwilliam grinned.
"Really, you could have fooled me." Bingley smiled sourly, and set about greasing his hair and griming his face and hands.
"The one down side of this business is the number of times you don't have a clean shirt."
"Be thankful, you have yet to spend a day without a shirt." Bingley nodded, and the two men left the building by a back door.
It was another muddy, narrow, cobbled street. The grocer's dray was stuck in the mud, and a ragged crowd were trying to get it out, at the same time as depriving it of its stores. The tumbrel rounded the corner with its usual crowd, and was firmly jammed in the street, crowd ahead, crowd behind. The scene between the grocer and the driver quickly became heated as insults and abuse were traded. The excited crowd also added their bit, and it was soon on the verge of an all out brawl, when a greasy labourer drew attention to a man.
The man would not have been of particular interest normally, but it was an abnormal situation, and the man was travelling by roof top. A hush slowly fell over the crowd as more people became aware of the man and turned to watch.
The man became aware of the fact that he was observed, when a large tomato exploded on the roof in front of him. The man carefully climbed to the ridgepole and sat astride it.
"Long live the King!" The crowd stared in amazement. "Long live the King of France!" With a roar the crowd headed for the building, they would get that impudent man. The man vanished down the side of the roof top, and was seen no more. At the same time as the crowd moved for the house, four people separated themselves from the crowd and vanished into the house on the other side of the road.
He sat quietly, chewing on an empty pipe, and looked speculatively at the two elegant women. the two women looked out of place in the musty garret. Two labourers stood at the doorway.
"Peasants I think. Show them the clothes Bingley, then return." One of the labourers nodded, and led the women from the room.
"No hitches Richard?" The other labourer shook his head.
"Good." The man removed the pipe from his mouth and inspected the stem, he then returned it to his mouth. "We probably should get clear of the city without to much trouble then. Bingley can accompany the women out of the city." Bingley returned. "Bingley, become a farmer, the wagon is at its usual place. Tony will meet you at Villeux, and the rendezvous remains unchanged." Bingley nodded and left the room.
"Why did we only grab the de Bennoit's?"
"Those were our orders, we had already grabbed the rest of the family." Richard nodded his comprehension.
"How long till we have to leave again?"
"About three days. That is when Andrew and Hastings return." Once again Richard nodded. He then glanced up as the two women entered again. The man took one look at them, shook his head and stood up. In his hands were a brush and two small pots.
Captain Boneux looked gloomily at the long train of peasants, labourers, and farm carts that lined up at the gates.
"All right! Show me your papers." This was addressed to everybody and anybody who came near the gates. Slowly the line dispersed, a few aristos were detained, pending execution, a few had incorrect permits, and the rest filed slowly out the gates. The last cart passed, and Bonneux relaxed with a tankard of beer. His respite did not last long, as a captain of the guard soon came galloping up.
"Captain Bonneux!" The Captain came to his feet and saluted.
"The last of the de Bennoit's have escaped. Keep your eyes open, and arrest anyone who looks suspicious."
"Yes, sir." Bonneux saluted again, and returned to his beer as soon as the guard left. No one else came by that evening.
Chapter 2
The fisherman's rest was a comfortable inn in Dover, renown for its home-brewed. It was all oak and wainscoting, with a cheerful fire on the hearth. Honest Jellyband was the proprietor, and host, and in such capacity, he cheerfully lowered large quantities of his own ale, with privileged visitors.
A man stood quietly in the corner, he had a slightly waxen look of utter fatigue, and though he was standing, he gave the impression of complete relaxation. He had entered ten minutes earlier and refused a seat by the fire.
"No, Jelly. If I go near the fire I will fall asleep, I think I will even fall asleep if I sit down." He yawned widely, and blinked owlishly at the room. "You will have some new arrivals shortly." He yawned again.
"A rough crossing Mr. Darcy." The man nodded, once more yawning. He was a tall slim man, with straight dark hair, neatly secured behind, and pale faced. His expression was one of vacuous amiability.
"Demmed bad crossing, I think I will leave for Bath tomorrow." Once again Darcy yawned. He then glanced at the door, swaying gently on his feet. "I think I'll sit down." Darcy suited his words with actions, and collapsed into a near by chair. Falling asleep almost instantaneously.
Twenty minutes later, a loud scuffle was heard outside, and footsteps were heard approaching. Mr. Darcy stood up and yawned widely. Bowing towards the door as the group of three entered.
"Evening Charles. Ladies. I hope your crossing was better than mine." Darcy collapsed back into his chair as a pile of legs. Charles Bingley laughed at his friend.
"Why do you not get an agent for your French estates?" Darcy shrugged, yawned again, and called for some ale.
"Miss Bennet, miss Elizabeth. May I introduce Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. He could be a baronet, but he dislikes being called Sir Fitzwilliam, for fairly obvious reasons. You off to Bath again in the morning Darcy?" Darcy nodded, his face buried in the tankard of ale. Elizabeth looked at the man in disgust, she did not approve of affected young men, and this one was a dandy to boot. She did not mind a well dressed man, but when the attire was so ludicrous as his, she felt ill. He had falls of priceless lace at his neck and wrists, his coat was a dove grey and of expensive cut, his boots were polished till they reflected the multitude of lights in the room. Darcy emerged from his tankard to yawn, but then promptly returned to it. Elizabeth returned her attention to Mr. Bingley and her sister Jane. The two of them appeared to be chatting easily, so she turned her attention to the room. It was warm and comfortable, and for the first time in most of a year she felt safe and comfortable.
There was a sudden clatter of horse hooves in the yard, and Miss Sally, daughter of the honest Jellyband came flying into the room.
"It is Sir Percy father, I recognize the carriage." Sally had her face to the window. "And he has milady with him."
Jellyband joined Sally by the door, and the room rose in general consensus for the richest man in England. Sir Percy, was dressed in the height of fashion. A quick glance showed Elizabeth that she preferred Sir Percy in those clothes than Mr. Darcy. Sir Percy was a large man, well above average height and massively built, however the good opinion of him was forced to change when he spoke, or you met his eyes, for sheer lack of intelligence in expression or conversation, he had no equal. His lady was a beauty, also well above average height, Elizabeth remembered her, it was Marguerite St Just of the Comedie Francaise. The room bowed as the couple entered, and on a slight motion from Sir Percy they returned to there seats.
"What are you here for Percy?" Darcy had risen as Percy had entered, but had neglected to take a seat again.
"Going to Bath tomorrow, but I thought I'd get some decent ale before I went. Demmed bad weather this, sit down Darcy, you make my legs ache." Percy collapsed into a chair next to Darcy, at the same time as Darcy collapsed. Sir Percy's chair creaked protestingly, but remained standing.
"Ale, Jellyband. Or I'll die of thirst." Darcy and Sir Percy were soon buried in fresh tankards of ale.
Elizabeth was surprised when she felt a light touch on her shoulder, she turned with a start and recognized Marguerite.
"Elizabeth de Bennoit, is it not?" Marguerite had been two and a half years in England, but her accent was still French.
"Yes. How do you do?"
"Very well thank you. I remember you from when I was with the Comedie. Are you just arrived from France?" Elizabeth nodded and shivered slightly. "You just left, or were you rescued?"
"We were rescued." Elizabeth smiled at the memories of their gallops during the night through the countryside. The continual changes of appearance, and the laughable antics of Mr. Charles Bingley, who gave a very good impression of being a fool.
"Me, I was married out of the country, and have only been back once." Elizabeth was curious about the slightly haunted expression in Marguerite's eyes. "It is not nice to go back after living in England for a few years. France is an unhappy country." Elizabeth nodded, and glanced over at Sir Percy and Darcy, who appeared to be discussing their ale. Marguerite followed her glance, and smiled. "Do not judge on first impressions Miss de Bennoit, it is not wise, and can bring much unhappiness."
"You speak as though experienced?" Marguerite smiled sadly.
"I am, I trusted many people, who later betrayed me. I have also distrusted people whom I have later owed my life to. But come, I must introduce you to Jellyband's cider, it is delicious." Elizabeth laughed, and found that Marguerite was telling the truth.
Chapter 3
Chauvelin stood uncomfortably on one foot. Why Robespierre always kept him waiting like this, he did not know, but he did know that it bored and irritated him no end. Finally the door creaked slowly open.
"Chauvelin!" Chauvelin entered, and looked at Robespierre.
"Why do you keep recalling me, I will get nowhere while you keep recalling me." Robespierre smiled slightly.
"Chauvelin, I recall you because we have a slight problem."
"Indeed." Chauvelin sat down and interlaced his fingers.
"Yes. The Scarlet Pimpernel is back in France again." Chauvelin sneered.
"The Scarlet Pimpernel is not in France, and hasn't been since September." Robespierre sat up.
"How do you know that?"
"Because I know who the Scarlet Pimpernel is and have been watching him." Robespierre looked furious.
"Then why haven't you had him arrested?"
"Because I only know him in England, I have yet to identify him while he is in France." Robespierre relaxed.
"Then how do you explain the escape of the de Bennoit sisters. We know for a fact that the Scarlet Pimpernel pulled the rest of their family out. Are you sure he is the Scarlet Pimpernel?"
"Positive, he has admitted it on no fewer than three occasions. Also, the Pimpernel does have two very capable seconds in command. I only know one of his second's, and that one has been in England since he married Suzanne de Tournay." Robespierre scowled at the reminder of this other failure.
"Then you must find this other second. You are cutting things mighty fine Chauvelin, I will not accept failure." Chauvelin nodded, he knew very well how close he was cutting to being guillotined, but he much prefered the idea of someone else's head rolling than his own. "You may go." Robespierre returned his attention to his work. Chauvelin walked out of the room frowning, in the hallway he tripped over a grimey beggar who was employed to sweep the floors. Chauvelin cursed the beggar savagely before continuing on his way. The beggar watched unblinkingly as Chauvelin's figure departed down the hall, he then turned and scurried rapidly in the other direction.
Had Chauvelin been omniscient, he would have been astounded by the conversation held that evening between the beggar and a coal heaver that evening.
"What you get today Darcy?"
"Robespierre is as happy as always. Chauvelin's now looking for your second, second in command. And citizen Chauvelin still has a marked disrespect for the lower classes." The coal heaver laughed.
"So delightful isn't it. Chauvelin is looking for you, five seconds after he's kicked you out of the way. I find it most amusing. But I would prefer it if you remained undetected." Darcy smiled slightly.
"That an order Percy, or am I permitted to fail." Percy smiled under his grime.
"I think I'll make it an order. It'll be a nuisance if I have to get a third second in command." Darcy nodded, and melted into the night, leaving the coal heaver to get to his lodgings and prepare for a night of watching.
Chapter 4
Darcy looked once more at the map on the table, then back at Percy.
"I honestly can see no other possible solution. We've tried to get through there twice before, and short of doing the impossible, I can't see any other options." Percy smiled.
"You're not the only one Darcy. However since we are known to do the impossible, with great regularity, I suggest we try it. But everyone else leaves the city before we go into action." A man on the other side of the room sat up suddenly at that.
"But Percy, I've got a capital job for the business, and I'm still undetected." Percy glanced up.
"Change that to was and I might agree with you." The man slumped back in silence. "Okay Darcy, into your rags, we have an appointment with the council. Nobody leaves this room until either Darcy or I return." The other men nodded silently, and watched as Darcy and Percy left the room.
"The de Mournais or the Scarlet Pimpernel. Why does he take such risks." The man shook his head in wonder, before curling up and falling asleep.
Darcy and Percy huddled in the back of the council chamber. The ci-devant Vicompte and Vicomptesse de Mournai stood in the dock. The civilian jury, a mottly bunch of obedient yokels sat across from them. Citizen Chauvelin stood at the front of the room, slightly raised above the level of the crowd. His face faintly red from his exertions.
"....We demand justice in this age of tyranny," quiet slowly fell over the rabble as Chauvelin continued. "An end to the corrupt age, a new beginning. Before you stand the ci-devant Vicompte de Mournai and his wife. We have the proof, and you have seen it. This man and his......." Chauvelin's voice died away as an idiotic chuckle came from somewhere in the room. The chuckle came again, and slowly the colour left Chauvelin's face. Chauvelin's eyes raked the room, searching, searching for a familiar figure.
"M'sieur Chambertin, that is not how you find me." Chauvelin spun around as he heard the affect voice. The crowd was silent and stunned. Suddenly from the back of the room came a loud cry in French.
"Avant, I see him, I see the Scarlet Pimpernel." The rabble woke to life with an enraged roar and turned as a single unit towards the door. Chauvelin was caught by the tail-enders and was swept into the crowd, and carried along, until a strong arm yanked him clear.
"M'sieur, it is so much more comfortable to travel on one's feet. Allow me to assist you to find them." the arm set Chauvelin on his feet. Chauvelin spun around, but could see no one. The idiotic chuckle sounded from further up the street. Chauvelin turned and walked in the other direction, he knew from long experience, that to chase the Scarlet Pimpernel invariably ended in him being totally and completely lost.
Chauvelin returned to the council rooms. They were empty, except for a few of the guards.
"Where are the de Mournais?" He panted to the nearest guard. The guard glanced at the dock ad shrugged. Chauvelin stormed from the rooms, and directed his footsteps towards Robespierre's office.
"Why does he not leave me alone?" Chauvelin spat savagely at a nearby, half-starved cat.
"Because m'sieur Chambertin, you make it to irresistable, but allow me, your cravat is crooked." A hand appeared from behind Chauvelin and straightened his cravat. Chauvelin kept walking. "you are not much fun tonight Chauvelin, I think I will go away." Chauvelin continued, and completed, his walk undisturbed. He arrived in Robespierre's office, to find Robespierre in a towering fury.
"You will soon wear out my patience Chauvelin. Now you just casually enter and inform me that the de Mournai's have been rescued."
"Yes citizen."
"You were meant to....... Return to England and tell me when the Scarlet Pimpernel has left France, on your way alert the port authorities to look out for the de Mournais.'
"Very good, citizen." Chauvelin left Robespierre's office, and wiped his brow, he had the feeling he would not survive another meeting like that.
Percy stood thoughtfully, inspecting the twenty men seated just outside the city gates.
"Well, we'd best be going. Parker, take Jackson and Dawson with you to your usual rendezvous. Darcy, and I'll take the de Mournais. Tony, you take Hastings.... no Hastings, you and Andrew remain here and watch. Tony, take Wilmont and Bingley. Fitzwilliam, you take Wentworth, Axelton and Fitzjames. Delmont, Carter, Barrow and Dellingham, you join Hastings and Ffoulkes in the city. Move it." The groups rapidly disappeared into the darkness. Darcy stood silently, supporting the Vicomptesse de Mournai. "Okay Darcy, let's move." They also vanished into the darkness.
Chapter 5
Chauvelin stood in a quiet corner. He had only arrived that morning from France, and already the fog and mist of London was getting on his nerves. Damn Robespierre and his desire to get rid of the Scarlet Pimpernel. The brightly lit ball room was already crowded, but people continued to arrive. Chauvelin had watched the arrival of the de Tournays, the de Mournai's, Sir Andrew and Lady Ffoulkes. He had watched the arrival of the de Bennoits, and the subsequent arrival of several identified followers of the Scarlet Pimpernel. But still the person he was watching for had not arrived. Chauvelin shifted uncomfortably, and took another quick scan of the room. No, the person he was watching for had not yet arrived. Chauvelin shifted his attention, Lady Grenville was once again trying to gain his attention, she had never forgiven him for interrupting their jig at that first ball.
A sudden and loud scuffle at the entrance drew Chauvelin's concentration back to the door. The footman entered and banged his staff loudly on the wood floor.
"His Royal highness the Prince of Wales, Sir Percival and Lady Blakeney, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy." The group that entered could have been mistaken for an add for international unity. Sir Percy was the tall broad Anglo-Saxon, Chauvelin scowled morosely. Mr Darcy was the tall slim Norman, with the Prince as a large mix of both. Chauvlein walked forward for his introduction.
"Your Royal highness, may I introduce the French ambassador monsieur Chauvelin." The Prince sketched the slightest of bows.
"M'sieur and I are already aquatinted." Chauvelin smiled slightly, he was used to these snubs from the prince. Chauvelin then turned his attention to Sir Percy and Lady Blakeney.
"Sir Percy, milady. How do you do?" Sir Percy grinned and clapped Chauvelin on the back.
"We're in fine form M'sieur. Come, join Darcy and me in a game of piquet, Andrew will make our fourth. I'm sure I saw the fellow somewhere." Sir Andrew Ffoulkes appeared at Sir Percy's elbow, he bowed greeting to Marguerite and nodded to Chauvelin. Percy suddenly stopped and frowned. "No, Darcy, excuse me from our game. I'll play you later. Andrew, go dig up Hastings. Hastings deals a dandy set of cards." Darcy drifted away from the group and joined Richard Fitzwilliam and Charles Bingley on the wall.
"Hallo Chaps. Care for a hand of piquet?" Bingley shook his head.
"I'm going to dance with miss Bennet as soon as the next dance starts." Bingley departed immediately the music ceased, and Darcy looked mournfully at Richard Fitzwilliam.
"You're not going to desert me for some charmer are you Ricky?" Rick grinned at Darcy.
"Sorry, but I must admit that Lady Portier has been eyeing me for three minutes, and I doubt that I will be able to refuse her when she comes. Go talk coats with Tony, he is looking bored." Darcy sighed dramatically and walked over to where Tony was resting against the wall.
"Hallo Tony?" Lord Antony Dewhurst glanced at Darcy and laughed.
"Percy deserted you once again so he can have a decent game of cards?" Darcy nodded.
"Chauvelin was his fourth player." Tony raised his brows.
"I hadn't realised he was here. Percy said anything?" Darcy smiled.
"Yes! He told me not to fall asleep again." Tony laughed at the memory. It had been a ball two months previously, and Darcy had fallen asleep in the library, thoroughly offending his hostess, who had been talking to him.
"That'll teach you. Come have champagne. The ladies are discussing the Scarlet Pimpernel in the other room." Darcy yawned and trailed after Tony.
Marguerite walked over and joined Elizabeth, who was seated on a low couch by the wall.
"Elizabeth, may I introduce my old friend Suzanne to you." Elizabeth rose and curtsied.
"How do you do?" Suzanne curtsied in response.
"You probably will remember me better if I were to say that I was formerly Suzanne de Tournay." Elizabeth clapped her hands.
"But of course, I knew your face was familiar." Suzanne smiled. "How did you escape the terror?"
"I was rescued by the Scarlet Pimpernel, with my family."
"Do you know who he is?" Suzanne smiled.
"No I don't. But if you were to ask m'sieur Chauvelin, I am sure he could answer your question." Marguerite laughed merrily.
"They are both very annoying men. The Scarlet Pimpernel because he will not reveal his identity to us ladies, and Chauvelin, because he will not leave us alone." Marguerite sighed and glanced around the room. "Suzanne, can you remember Percy's doggerel, I am sure it would amuse Elizabeth." Suzanne frowned but shook her head.
"Let us go see whether he can remember it."
"Suzanne! Percy remember something like that for more than five minutes. You must be joking." Elizabeth laughed at this passage. "He doesn't remember anything except the name of his tailor."
"What was that about my tailor?" Sir Percy had come up behind the group.
"I was merely telling Suzanne that you remember nothing, except the name of your tailor." Sir Percy laughed inanely. "But Suzanne and I cannot remember that doggerel you made up. The one about the Scarlet Pimpernel." Percy blinked.
"I can't do that. M'sieur Chauvelin, perhaps you could remember?" Elizabeth looked past Sir Percy's formidable mass, and saw that Chauvelin was indeed standing a short distance behind Percy. Chauvelin walked over.
"What was that Sir Percy?"
"I was asking if you could remember that doggerel of mine about the Scarlet Pimpernel." Chauvelin frowned slightly.
"The one that started 'They seek him here, they seek him there'?" Sir Percy smiled broadly.
"That's the one. I remember it now. 'They seek him here, they seek him there; Those frenchies seek him everywhere, is he in heaven, is he in h__; That demmed elusive Pimpernel;" The ladies applauded Sir Percy's effort, and fell to discussing it. Chauvelin left, and Sir Percy soon left for the cardroom.
Chapter 6
Elizabeth sat in the ballroom watching Jane dance with some young man, when she became aware of Bingley talking to Darcy just next to her.
"Look Darcy, you can't remain perched here all evening, you look like an idiot." Darcy glanced vacantly at his friend.
"And pray what am I meant to do?"
"Try dancing with miss Elizabeth Bennet." Darcy glanced briefly at Elizabeth, then returned his gaze to Bingley.
"She is tolerably pretty, but I....I have a date with Sir Percy at the Hazard table." Bingley shrugged.
"Hastings says that Percy has the devil's luck tonight." Darcy walked away.
"Return to your charmer, and don't forget to send me a wedding invitation." Bingley shook his head and sat down his eyes watching Jane dancing.
Darcy met Percy at the entrance of the card room.
"Hallo Percy." Percy nodded, then glanced curiously at Darcy.
"What is it Darcy?" Darcy shook his head and indicated that it was to be left till later. Percy nodded, and led Darcy to the library.
"Take a seat. Grenville won't mind if we occupy the library for a bit. Now what is it?"
"Charles insists that I should dance." Percy frowned.
"Who did he allocate you for a partner?"
"Miss Elizabeth de Bennoit." Percy laughed outright.
"Man, don't do it. At least Andrew was an identified individual before he deserted me." Darcy smiled grimly.
"You're too quick Percy. But you needn't worry, I won't be marrying anytime soon."
"Yes, Marguerite said that miss Elizabeth's opinion of you is slightly less than stellar."
"That, Percy, is a gross understatement. Especially since I just chose to inhabit the cardroom instead of dance with her. I really don't understand why Charles chose to discuss the matter within earshot of her."
"Perhaps he thought that that would encourage you to ask her." Darcy shrugged.
"How long till you allow us to return to Paris?"
"I think another week should do the trick. We'll meet in Richmond and discuss things tomorrow. Things are getting tight again." Percy stood up straight and stretched. "Having now finished our game of piquet, Let us return to the ballroom." Darcy followed Percy back to the ballroom, and the two men stood watching the dancers circling.
Elizabeth stood up after Darcy left and went in search of Marguerite. She found her energetically discussing foreign policy with lord Grenville. Marguerite glanced up on Elizabeth's approach and calmly ended her discussion with Lord Grenville, Marguerite then joined Elizabeth at the window.
"What is it Elizabeth? You look furious." Elizabeth closed her eyes, and slowly her expression came back under control.
"Mr Darcy just chose cards in preference of dancing with me, within my hearing." Marguerite choked.
"Oh I am sorry, but I would not worry. Being snubbed by Darcy will merely make you a very popular dancing partner at the next ball."
"I would prefer not to be popular, then to be snubbed within my hearing."
"Don't we all. Be thankful, you have yet to have your husband prefer cards to dancing with you."
"Has Sir Percy chosen cards above dancing with you?"
"Many times. He once even chose to visit the library instead of dancing with me." Elizabeth started to laugh.
"That must have been nice."
"It was. I was the most popular lady at the next ball, and my husband wasn't even there to observe my triumph." Elizabeth was laughing with Marguerite when Darcy and Percy entered the room.
"What is it with them. They are taken as experts in the field of clothing. The are total idiots. And by snubbing someone, they can make that person exceedingly popular." Marguerite smiled.
"They call it fashion politics. They are accepted as experts in clothing, for the simple reason that they are. They can make a person popular with a snub because society wishes to show that they are not led by two men with no mental capacity." Elizabeth nodded, and glanced at the two men, who were now discussing the coat that the Prince was wearing. They were inspecting it through there quizzing glasses. The examination finished with Percy making a gesture towards Chauvelin, which had the Prince looking red and the rest of the group fighting laughter. Elizabeth looked at Marguerite, and saw that she was laughing.
"What was that all about?"
"The Prince likes to get Percy's opinion on his coats. Percy has just likened this one to Chauvelin's. Chauvelin is, as you should well know, known by his bad taste in coats.....Uh-oh, Darcy has just indicated something else. Apparently this coat is classified as one that not even Chauvelin would wear in public."
"Why does Chauvelin tolerate this?" Marguerite shrugged.
"I expect he tolerates it because he cannot prevent it."
Chapter 7
Darcy stood quietly at the large window, he silently watched the small group of parasols that were strolling around the large lawn. He glanced up as Percy joined him.
"Sorry about that old chap. I had forgotten about Margot's party. Now to business." The maps were quickly spread, and a pile of paper was produced.
"Who is urgent now?" Percy frowned.
"Chernoix, Lourdannae, Abbe Fouquet, Miss de Marchet. They're from Paris. We have de Trouit in Bolougne, Abbe Marnet in Lyons and a bait in Calais." Percy frowned thoughtfully. "We have Barton, Wheeler, Marston, and Tony in Paris at present. Hastings is watching in Bolougne, and Fitzwilliam is in Lyons." Percy thoughtfully rubbed his heavy silver signet ring, and looked out the window. "Darcy, get Marguerite in here. Tell her it's important." Darcy blinked but left immediately. The lawns at Richmond were spacious and elegant, and it took Darcy quite five minutes to find the ladies.
Darcy strolled up to the ladies and bowed, smothering a yawn.
"Really Darcy. Can you move without yawning?" Darcy looked thoughtful for a second, then shook his head and yawned again.
"Awfully sorry. Sir Percy sends his regards to you and requests your presence in his study. Something about....urgent I think it was....Blast I really cannot remember. I do beg your pardon ladies. I think I will retire to Bath again. This fatigue is really getting annoying." Darcy yawned and bowed to the ladies, before offering his arm to Marguerite.
"Darcy, my friend." Darcy glanced down at Marguerite.
"Yes m'lady." Marguerite smiled sadly.
"How important is Elizabeth to you?" Darcy blinked and yawned.
"Elizabeth....Elizabeth?" Darcy creased his brows. "Who do....oh, her." Marguerite laughed.
"I comprehend entirely. Are you sure your boot top is not sagging?" Darcy glanced down, concern written on every feature. He carefully inspected the item of footwear in question.
"Thank you m'lady. I was remiss, I will rectify the situation as soon as possible."
"Darcy." Darcy removed his attention from his boot top and looked at his companion.
"M'lady?" Marguerite frowned.
"Cease immediately and be serious, if you can remember how? A word of advice. If you are interested in Elizabeth de Bennoit, and I am not saying that you are, it is just if you are, you are going to have to improve your behaviour. Or at least think up a more plausible excuse next time." Darcy glanced at the sky.
"You are impertinent Marguerite, I will deliver you to your husband forthwith." Marguerite smiled.
"I was wondering whether you'd thaw enough to cease calling me m'lady." Darcy flushed and led Marguerite inside. He left her at the study door and retreated to the library.
Baxter entered the library cautiously and looked around, sure enough Mr. Darcy was seated there, sunk in a reverie. Baxter coughed, then repeated the noise. Darcy lifted his head and looked at Baxter, for a moment his eyes did not comprehend then he stood up.
"What is it Baxter?"
"Sir Percy would like to see you in his study. The courier arrived ten minutes ago."
"Thank you Baxter." Darcy swiftly left the room, and Baxter shook his head, that was one young man Baxter did not understand, Baxter didn't understand Percy either, but that was irrelevant and a side issue, one was not meant to understand one's master.
Darcy found Percy with his arm around Marguerite. A feature which caused Darcy to hesitate in the doorway.
"Come in Darcy. What took you so long?"
"Baxter only just told me. What's up?" Percy frowned and unconsciously tightened his grip on Marguerite.
"Fitzwilliam has vanished without trace, and Hastings has just pulled himself out of Boulogne." Darcy looked stunned.
"Anything known about the people in the area?"
"The prisoners are reported to be safe at present. Chauvelin is in Calais, Hastings thinks that Fitzwilliam may have pulled himself out as well. But we need to leave immediately. Marguerite my northern estates produced an emergency, and I've taken Darcy as company." Marguerite nodded, and detached herself from her husband's arm, curtsied to the two men and returned to the garden. Percy freed a few more maps from his desk and soon he and Darcy were plotting routes, detours and probable occurrences.
"And remember Darcy, do not get caught." Darcy nodded and the two men left the study, and five minutes later had vanished down the road.
Marguerite rejoined her friends in the garden.
"What was it Marguerite?"
"Percy's northern estates have got into a difficulty again. Which means that the Prince's ball will be deprived of his clothing critics." The ladies cried out and made suitable sounds of distress and sorrow, and soon departed. By the next morning all London would know that Percy and Darcy had left town on business in the north country. Elizabeth watched Marguerite thoughtfully.
"Would you like to come stay with us in town?" Marguerite smiled slightly.
"No thank you. I will be glad of some time by myself." Elizabeth nodded and the two ladies parted. Elizabeth to return to London, and Marguerite to walk upstairs.
Chapter 8
Marguerite sat quietly reading in her dressing room. Supper would not be served for another twenty minutes yet, but she felt that something bad was about to happen.
"M'lady." Louise, Marguerite's maid burst unceremoniously into the dressing room. "M'lady, there is an express just arrived for you. The man is expecting an answer." Marguerite rose quickly, laying down her book.
"Thank you Louise." Marguerite swiftly descended to the entrance hall, the expressman stood silently beside Baxter.
"M'lady, this express just arrived from London." Marguerite took the dispatch and glanced at the directions. The hand was feminine and unfamiliar. Marguerite quickly opened it, her eyes scanning the contents.
Lady Blakeney,
My apologies if this seems to you to be impertinent, but I am concerned for my sister Elizabeth. She has already been two hours late in her return from Richmond and she has made no contact, with either me or our parents. My father is worried, and we are to recently arrived from France. I pray she arrives before you receive this note, and my apologies for disturbing you.
Jane de Bennoit.'
Marguerite sat down in a nearby chair and stared blankly at the note, her mind turning over the possible things that could have delayed Elizabeth and prevented her from contacting her family. The only plausible thoughts led directly to Chauvelin, and the only plausible reasons led directly to her recent escape from France, the Scarlet Pimpernel, and his shadowy second-in-command. Marguerite turned the available options over in her mind, finally she stood up again and walked to her writing desk. She wrote a brief response and gave it to the expressman, along with the necessary fees.
Darcy stood with Percy at midship, the wind bit icily into their thick clothing, but both men seemed unaware of it.
"I know it's daft, but I can't shake it." Darcy glanced sharply at Percy. "And what's more I think that you have a similar problem." Percy smiled slightly.
"I will confess that that is one of the reasons why I am coming over to France. I think Chauvelin plots something, and we must wait until he shows his hand." Percy grimaced comically, and Darcy laughed.
"He certainly hasn't showed his hand at cravat tying yet. I really think that last night's cravat was an abomination to the word." Percy frowned reflectively.
"He tied even worse cravats when I first met him. Heigh-ho, let's retreat to my cabin Darcy, I have a coat to show you." Darcy chuckled and followed Darcy below decks, but he still had a nagging feeling that something was about to happen, but he was damned if he knew what it was.
Jane de Bennoit sat thoughtfully at the window, it would be another twenty minutes at least until there could be a response to her dispatch to Lady Blakeney, Jane could not shake off her uneasiness, nor could she explain it.
"Jane! Jane, where are you?" Jane sighed softly, before standing up and walking to her door.
"I'm upstairs mama."
"But you should be dressing, it is only two hours until the Prince's Ball!" Jane sighed and leant her head gently against the doorframe.
"Mama, it does not take two hours to prepare for a ball. I am worried about Elizabeth."
"Don't be foolish, this is England, not France, and it is perfectly safe to travel in."
"Mama, could you please just leave me alone. I will be ready in time for the ball." Mrs de Bennoit sniffed as she walked away.
"If you insist." She rustled fashionably towards the stairs, calling for her husband. "Leon! Leon, where are you? Jane is being stubborn and not obeying her mother."
Leon de Bennoit looked wearily up from his newspaper in the library at the sound of his wife's voice. He stood up and limped over to the door.
"I am in the library Amabel." Leon returned to his newspaper and his wife soon rustled into the room.
"I wish you'd talk to dear Jane. She refuses to start preparing for the ball, and she will destroy her looks if she rushes."
"Relax Amabel, it does not take two hours to prepare for a ball. You know very well that John is concerned about Ben. Leave her in peace till with have news."
"There names are Jane and Elizabeth. I sometimes wonder at you Mr. de Bennoit, you cannot even remember the correct names of your own children. John and Ben! You really are impossible." Mrs de Bennoit rustled out of the room shaking her head, and calling for Lydia. Leon frowned at the door.
"Be thankful I do not forget the names of Marie, Kathryn and Lydia." Leon sometimes wished he could forget about the latter three, as well as his wife.
Chapter 9
As the sound of the messenger's horse died in the distance, Marguerite turned to Baxter.
"Baxter, I require my travelling coach immediately. And send Louise up to me." Marguerite returned to her dressing room, shortly to be joined by Louise. "My traveling clothes and the small attaché case in the box room." Louise hastily obeyed and Marguerite soon found herself traveling swiftly down the London road.
Jane quickly ran down to the front entranceway on the arrival of the expressman.
"Miss Jane. this was just delivered for you." Hill handed Jane the small sheet of paper. Jane tore it open and quickly scanned the contents, before running to her father in the library.
Leon looked at the note.
'Miss Jane de Bennoit,
Fear not, I did not consider your letter an impertinence, I to have lived in France under the terror.
As for Elizabeth, do not worry about her.
Marguerite Blakeney'
Leon looked gravely at Jane.
"What do you think John?" Jane sighed and shivered.
"She hasn't actually answered the question. I don't know why, but I am afraid for Ben, not for her life." Leon hugged his daughter.
"Well perhaps we will see Lady Blakeney this evening and then we can ask for particulars." Jane nodded, then glanced at the clock on her father's wall.
"I must be dressing. Thank you mon pere." Jane hurried out of the room, and Leon soon followed her.
Brinker walked up the stairs of the Ffoulkes' town house and knocked firmly. A brief discussion ensued between himself and the butler and then he returned to the sedan chair.
"M'lady. The butler says that Sir Andrew is at home to visitors." Marguerite nodded and descended from the sedan chair, before allowing Brinker to escort her up the steps. The butler admitted Marguerite and showed her into a small downstairs parlour.
"Could you please tell Sir Andrew that Lady Blakeney is here to speak to him on an urgent matter." The butler nodded and left the room. Marguerite sat down and inspected the decorations of the room. Sir Andrew joined her soon afterwards.
"Lady Blakeney, this is an unexpected pleasure. Is something the matter?"
"Yes. I need to get in contact with my husband."
"But...." Once again he was lost for words.
"The circumstances are similar to when I last visited you in this matter. I life could hang on this. Percy's, Darcy's, or Elizabeth de Bennoit's. Possibly all three." Sir Andrew looked concerned.
"Could Suzanne possibly join us?" Marguerite nodded and Sir Andrew left the room.
Elizabeth shivered when she saw the man. She had known something was wrong ever since her coach had turned off the main London road, now her fears were confirmed.
"Mademoiselle Elizabeth de Bennoit, will you not join me for coffee." The salt wind stung Elizabeth's face as she stood looking silently at the man. Then she curtsied elegantly.
"I would be honoured citizen Chauvelin. Though I prefer cider." Elizabeth followed Chauvelin into the deserted inn. There was nothing else Elizabeth could do. They were miles from anywhere and Elizabeth knew no one.
Chapter 10
Elizabeth sat motionlessly, they had been traveling for almost a week. Elizabeth had given up trying to escape after the first night. She had tried to escape on the first night, but the result had been that she had been drugged on laudanum until they were clear of England. Not an experience which she wished to repeat. The coach finally stopped and Elizabeth was dragged out of the coach, and escorted into a grimy building.
"Miss de Bennoit, permit me to introduce you to your new home."
Darcy came back from the Place de la Greve early, and was astonished by a couple of people who were standing around outside Percy's abode in a suspicious manner. They were dressed in rags, and were obviously looking for a certain place. Finally the man in the couple walked up to the concierge of Percy's place, they talked rapidly for a few minutes, then the man beckoned and the woman quickly joined him, seconds later they vanished into the house. Darcy huddled in a nearby corner for several minutes, waiting to watch for results. Nothing happened, so Darcy finally left his corner and scurried into Percy's house.
Percy was surprised when he heard a quick soft knock on his door. His men never knocked, and Chauvelin's men certainly never did, Percy often pondered whether they had ever learnt. Percy pulled his long frame out of his chair and slouched over to the door. A man and a woman were standing on the doorstep.
"M'sieur Bois?" Percy nodded cautiously. "We would like to speak to you, and possibly your fellow lodger as well."
"My fellow lodger is at present absent." Percy directed his visitors into his main room, and slouched down in a chair. The man carefully checked the door then looked back at Percy
"This is one of the warmest welcomes you've ever given me." Percy didn't stir an eyelash.
"What's happened?" Andrew indicated his companion.
"Marguerite will tell you." Percy nodded.
"By the way Andrew, your histrionic abilities have deteriorated." Andrew nodded calmly.
"I never was particularly good at disguise, but we have survived."
"What's up? Why have you come here?" Marguerite rubbed her cheek gently.
"Chauvelin has a new prisoner." Percy sat up and frowned sharply.
"Who?"
"Miss Elizabeth de Bennoit." Percy swore as another voice joined the talk.
"What about miss de Bennoit?" Marguerite glanced at the shabby beggar who was standing in the doorway, then looked at Percy. Percy nodded in comprehension.
"Darcy, we're about to have our difficulties increased." Darcy nodded. "Chauvelin has abducted miss de Bennoit. I do not think she is any danger, but I believe that the idea is that I let myself be caught." Darcy relaxed onto the doorframe and stared at his feet, thoughtfully nibbling his finger. Marguerite looked thoughtfully at him.
"Where is she held?" Percy glanced at Marguerite and raised his eyebrows.
"Not actually sure, but I think she has been taken to Boulogne." Percy chuckled softly.
"M'sieur Chauvelin has such a good sense of humour. Andrew, do you feel like some work?" Sir Andrew nodded eagerly, causing Percy to chuckle softly. "We have some trouble at Lyons. Fitzwilliam, you know him, has vanished. I thought you might like to take a stroll to Lyons and find where he has got to. Take Marguerite with you." Andrew and Marguerite nodded, as Percy glanced at them critically. "You can leave in the morning, but we'll have to modify your attire before you leave."
Chapter 11
Elizabeth spent three nights in the communal room, and then was shifted into a smaller room, the other occupant was a withered old priest.
"And who are you?"
"I am Elizabeth." The priest's eyes brightened perceptibly.
"One of the de Bennoits?" Elizabeth hesitated slightly, then nodded. The priest's face split into a delighted grin. "I am de Trouit."
"Abbe de Farge." He nodded and Elizabeth started to cry. "We heard you were executed three months ago." The priest shook his head sadly.
"No, they changed their minds on the day it was meant to occur." Elizabeth nodded.
"Why are you in here with me?" The priest looked sad.
"If you escape, I will be executed." Elizabeth collapsed on her knees and cried bitterly. The priest walked over to her and put his arm around her comfortingly.
"Why did they take me? I have nothing for them, and they abducted me from England." The priest sighed.
"I have an idea why they may have taken you. The Scarlet Pimpernel has never deserted anyone."
"You mean I'm being held as a bargaining piece?" The shock ceased Elizabeth's tears, as she stared at the priest. He nodded his head slowly. "Well then I won't let them see that they have hurt me." Elizabeth resolutely dried her eyes and straightened her crumpled attire, then blew her nose firmly.
"That's the way. Now I'll give you a game of Cribbage." Elizabeth gratefully accepted the offer of a distraction.
Elizabeth looked up in surprise as the bolts were shot and the door creaked open. The guards threw some object onto the floor of the room.
"Sleep it off in there. Sorry your Royal Highnesses, but there is no where else we could put him." The object hiccoughed mournfully as the door slammed shut and the bolts were shot home.
"Whisky?" It hicoughed again and staggered unsteadily to it's feet, revealing that it was a fisherman in an extremely inebriated condition. As the man staggered towards her, Elizabeth quickly moved to sit between the Abbe and the wall. The man hicoughed again and collapsed in a drunken stupor on Elizabeth's pallias. Elizabeth looked worriedly at the Abbe.
"Don't worry, he won't hurt you." The Abbe gently patted Elizabeth gently on the shoulder and she slowly relaxed.
"It is just I have never seen anyone so inebriated before."
"Not..in...ine...ineb....not as drunk as .... you think." The man hicoughed and passed out again.
"Don't worry, they always insist that they are not inebriated, and nothing is wrong with them. Your grandfather frequently slept off his potations at my place, before going home." A gleam of laughter crept into the Abbe's eyes, Elizabeth looked curious. "Sorry, I was remembering the occasion when Jules, your grandfather, tried to ride a horse. His condition was quite comparable to that fellow's over there, but he had better motor control." Elizabeth nodded her comprehension, and the twinkle in the Abbe's eyes increased. "You are unprincipled Miss Bethh, a lady never displays knowledge of such things."
"My father likes someone to share his jokes with, though I believe he censors them before he tells them."
"Leon always did want a son." The Abbe looked slightly sad, but only shortly as they were once again interrupted by the fisherman.
"B...b...brandy, m..m.magni..fischent shtuff." The fisherman hicoughed and turned a bleary eye on his fellow inmates. "What...What you..doing..here...dis ish....my room....itsh pwivat."The man turned his head slightly. "Guardsh...guardsh, rem...mo..move dees... in..intr... rudersh. Udderwyish I ..... I will ......Brandy?" The man subsided again, and Elizabeth could here the guards laughing outside, the Abbe was laughing also.
Chauvelin stared morosely out the window, it had been a whole week since he had arrived with the captive, and still there was no sign of the Scarlet Pimpernel. All this waiting worried him, and what was worse was that he had an unaccountable feeling that a pair of lazy blue eyes were watching him. He was willing to stake his life that those same lazy blue eyes were also laughing. Chauvelin shivered as a seamew called thrice, and retreated from the window, windows were not always safe places to inhabit. A soft, but inane chuckle had Chauvelin bolt upright again, his gaze searching for the source. His eyes found the source dressed at the height of London fashion, with two dueling swords in hand seated on his window ledge.
"Quite like old times m'sieur Chambertin, what? ...... Oh I do beg your pardon, Chauvelin, silly mistake Chambertin."
"Have you any reason for remaining perched on my window ledge Sir Percy?" The apparition blinked in amazement, and the handsome face creased up in concentration.
"I fair do swear, I believe i have no reason at all. Odd's fish man, it is most unkind of you to draw it to my attention, now I feel a proper fool." Sir Percy chuckled softly again, then vanished out the window. Chauvelin relaxed back in his chair slowly, at last the Scarlet Pimpernel had come into the open. The intent behind the move was unknown to Chauvelin, but it didn't worry him much either.
Percy relaxed in a nearby tavern, all was not yet clear. He would have to wait till Darcy emerged again.
Chapter 12
Elizabeth was awoken at approximately five by the fisherman, who appeared to have recovered sufficiently from his potations of the previous night. He was sitting up and groaning, his head firmly clamped between his knees. Elizabeth sat up quietly and looked at him, trying not to disturb the Abbe.
"Who are you?"
"Louis-Gabrielle, and my head is about to explode."
"Oh. What do you do?"
"I fish when I am not drunk." Elizabeth blinked and bit her lip to control her laughter. The man's head finally lifted, and he rolled his blood-shot eyes gently, he then looked at Elizabeth. "Will you marry me?" Elizabeth gasped.
"No sir. I have no wish to marry you."
"But why not?" He hicoughed gently, and Elizabeth realised that though his condition was much improved he was still along way from being sober.
"Because I do not wish to marry anyone, least of all you."
"But why? I would even forgive you your family."
"Forgive me my family. What has my family to do with you?"
"They are aristocrats, otherwise you would not be here."
"I suppose that your family is aristocratic too." Elizabeth snapped, this man was getting to her.
"You would be surprised if you knew the truth about me. And I am not as drunk as you think I am."
"Then you must be purposely offending me."
"No I am not, Next you will probably accuse me of not knowing my own condition." He hicoughed again, then choked. "M'sieur le Abbe, will you persuade this stubborn young lady to marry me?" The Abbe glanced up at the man who was standing, though not steadily.
"No m'sieur, I will not."
"Mademoiselle, will you not take pity on a poor countryman. Please marry me. It is not a good match for me, but my feelings are such that I cannot hide them."
"M'sieur!" Elizabeth stood up and looked furiously at him. "How dare you say such things." The man hicoughed again, and sat down, frowning.
"Guards!"
"What?"
"I need pen and paper, I have just offended a lady and I must write my apologies." There was a short break, then a pen, a small container of ink and two sheets of paper came through the observation portal. The man gravely set himself near a flat bit of rock, and started to scribble quickly. Elizabeth watched him in astonishment, as did the Abbe.
The man was removed about two hours later. As he was led from the cell he gave both sheets of paper to Elizabeth.
"I hope you will read them mademoiselle." The guards led him away and Elizabeth sat down with the two sheets of paper in her hand.
"That was certainly an interesting character. I wonder whether we will meet more during this festive season." Elizabeth frowned.
"Amusing he was, but I hope we don't meet him again, he was most impertinent." The Abbe chuckled.
"I will admit that he became a trifle rude as his potations wore off." Elizabeth sat down again and drew out the cribbage board.
Jane sat quietly with her father, the express lay on the table between them.
"There is nothing else we can do mon pere. I think we had best appear natural. Lady Blakeney has given us a perfectly plausible story, for all London has seen the friendship between her and Ben. And people will wonder and talk if we do not attend the regular functions." Leon sighed.
"It is not that John. It is just that I cannot like not being able to help. But at least we won't have to worry about your mother." Jane nodded, and flinched slightly as Amabel de Bennoit's voice rang through the house.
"Leon! Leon, what was that express about?" Amabel came through the door.
"It was merely Ben saying that she is accompanying Lady Blakeney to north Scotland, and she would like some clothes delivered to Richmond immediately."
"Very well, though she will not find a husband in North Scotland. Jane, you must prepare for the ball, I am sure that you will soon be engaged."
"Mama!" Jane flushed, and quickly left the room. It was times like these when she understood the impatience that Ben and her father had with her mother.
The Abbe sat back carefully.
"Not bad, not bad. Why not see what the fisherman wrote to you." Elizabeth frowned for a second, then hauled the grubby sheets out from under the pallias.
Chapter 13
Elizabeth stared thoughtfully for several minutes at the illegible scrawl on the front of the letter, it did not bode well for the contents.
"Come on Elizabeth." With a sigh she opened it and glanced at the first page.
"This could take a while, but here we go.
'Mademoiselle Elizabeth de Bennoit,'
How does he know my name?
'Be not al..allarmd on receving this leter. It is not a continuashon of the proposal that was so obnockshus to you. But I must xplane miself.I am a fisherman at beloin, my bote the marie-louise is considerd 1 of the fastest on this secshun of the cost. I am not mareed, nor am I held in anyway. As for my inebriashon, well that is a famly trate. We prid oursevls on the kwantity of spirits we can consum, without showing effects.
I attended the skule at Beloin until I was ten.
By now if the guards have been inspecting this I expect they have given up in disgust, I pray miss Bennet that you have not.
The Scarlet Pimpernel is aware of your presence in Boulogne, and is at present working on ways to get your release, along with that of de Trouit, known as Abbe de Farge. Whom I now know to be Chauvelin's pivot and hostage mark.
My apologies if I seriously offended you this morning, but I had no other option. The Scarlet Pimpernel and I are about to return to London. Be not alarmed this is to allay suspicion, and to gather some re-enforcement's. This letter had to be written. take confidence in the knowledge that we are aware of your plight and show as little emotion to Chauvelin as possible, unless it is amusement. He will do nothing to you until he has the Scarlet Pimpernel, you are too important.
Other than this I can only add God Bless you and keep you safe. We are watching and planning. Resist nothing, if possible we will contact you on our return, but do not look for us, or you will endanger us.
And becose of that skuling I konsider miself an eledgibl candidate for uor hand.
Plees beleve me.
sinsirly
Marie-Gabrielle'"
Elizabeth looked at the Abbe in astonishment as she finished the letter. "What do you make of that?"
"I make that we obey his instructions implicitly. I also suggest we do something with that second page, even if it is only skuffle it in the mud near the door to make it illegible." Elizabeth swiftly made the page unreadable with mud and damage, she also considerably damaged the first page.
"It would never do to have the second page damaged and the first page unharmed. Let us now have a second game of Cribbage." The Abbe nodded and joined her at the board, though both were to excited to play very good games.
Chapter 14
Jane sat quietly in the small window embrasure. Outside the rain splatted miserably against the window panes, inside bright music swirled and twisted through the air of the brightly lit rooms. It was a jig and Jane had neither the energy nor the spirits to dance it, she had refused three requests. It was a loud clatter that drew her attention to the window again, from what she could see in the flickery light it appeared that a small coach and four had just drawn up. Jane returned her attention to the room as a sudden rustle warned her that someone had penetrated her hideout.
"John?" Jane sighed as she realised that it was her father.
"Here mon pere."
"You should not spend the whole evening here or people will begin to talk." Leon sat down next to Jane and watched the activity in the courtyard. "I wonder who has arrived so late?"
"I do not know, but they will shortly be announced." Jane stood up and was escorted by her father back into the brightly lit room. With a dramatic chord the jig ended and the dancers broke up in search of refreshment and conversation, until the footman entered and banged his staff on the floor.
"Sir Percival Blakeney and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy." Jane watched silently as the two dandies entered, they were soon mobbed by the young bucks and Jane could only hear parts of the conversation.
"Buckminster ..... new snuff ........ Hallerton's mare ....... Jameson's curricle.....Chauvelin" The words seemed unconnected, but Jane recognized it as the news of town. "Tweedle's new collar ...... a boot that did not need a boot jack ...... new polish ....... Scrutton's hunter ... that screw isn't worth a cent." Jane glanced at her father.
"Surprising isn't it John. Yesterday, that talk was all we lived for and today it seems trivial."
"If Ben were here it would not be so. You would be joining the discussion." Leon nodded, then started in surprise, Sir Percy was standing next to him.
"M'sieur de Bennoit?" Leon nodded then indicated Jane.
"My eldest daughter Jane." Sir Percy nodded and bowed ceremoniously to kiss Jane's fingers, as he straightened and started to leave Leon heard a brief comment.
"Come to the card room in ten minutes. I must talk to you this evening, after the ball." Leon watched in amazement as he mingled with the bucks again, his conversation centered on the latest fashion and newest snuff.
Leon looked thoughtfully at Jane.
"And what do you make of that John?" Jane frowned.
"It makes no sense, unless he has a message to deliver from Lady Blakeney. But it seems strange for her to send it by her husband." Leon nodded.
"I wonder whether anyone will by Scrutton's mare?"
"Mon Pere." Leon chuckled softly.
"Come drink some champagne with me, then I'm off to the card rooms." Jane laughed softly and followed her father across to the drinks buffer. She didn't actually arrive, because a young buck, Wharton by name (though his name is of no consequence what-so-ever), secure her hand for the cotillion that was just forming. Leon immediately departed for the cardrooms when he saw Jane dancing.
Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy watched with amusement Sir Percy's delivery of the message, had the situation been that he was unaware of Percy's intent he would have been willing to swear that Percy was merely being civil to the aristocratic foreigners. Darcy had some hopes that Percy would produce his new Pimpernel doggerel that evening. Darcy rubbed his signet ring gently, the next round promised to be exceedingly interesting.
"Darcy, do you not agree that Lady Portarles has the advantage of looks over Miss Jane de Bennoit." Darcy looked thoughtfully down at Tollerton then glanced at the two ladies in question.
"I fear it is a matter of personal taste, though Miss de Bennoit's looks are superior for the prevailing fashion. Lady Portarles taste is lacking, she should only wear light coloured clothing." Tollerton appeared satisfied with this response, and Darcy moved off with Percy to visit the card rooms. They met Leon de Bennoit in the doorway. Percy immediately changed course and the trio vanished into the library.
"M'sieur Leon de Bennoit?" Leon nodded and glanced carefully at the two men. Darcy immediately departed. "Is it permissible for me to pay you a visit, after the ball this evening. I wish to talk to you in private." Leon stared intently at the dandy in front of him, then frowned.
"It is possible, but I would prefer it if Jane were there also, she has a much stronger grasp of English than I do." Percy nodded.
"Very well." Leon then stood up again.
"Till after the ball." Percy bowed and then departed for the card room. Leon rejoined Jane, who had just finished her dance.
"We have a meeting with sir Percival Blakeney, in private after the ball." Jane nodded.
"I hope it is news of Ben."
Chapter 15
They seek him high, they seek him low;
The ladies seek his phantom glow;
If you should see him, please do give a yell;
That demm'd elusive pimpernel;
Darcy smiled faintly at the sound of the doggerel. Much in the style of the original, the doggerel had taken the ball by storm, though most of the ladies pretended to be offended. The interest in the pimpernel was re-ignited, and his rumored second. Darcy retreated into a nearby, curtained alcove and stretched his long limbs out on the window sill.
Lady Portarles was one of the most animated and faithful followers of the Scarlet Pimpernel. She was holding forth on that precise subject to a bevy of ladies and a few gentlemen.
"I tell you. It is reported that he is actually in France."
"No I am sure he is in England. I've heard that he rides an elephant."
"Do not be foolish Esmerelda. How could he remain anonymous if he rides an elephant. I am sure that that rumour is about his second."
"But for either to remain anonymous and ride an elephant means that they must be in a circus. I am sure that both men are of the ton."
"But who are they then? I am sure that the second in command is short and fair, with heavenly blue eyes." The speaker had a dreamy expression in her face.
"Are either married?"
"They cannot be! What man would leave his wife for such prolonged periods."
"Sir Percy."
"He hasn't the brains to be the pimpernel, and it is understandable his reluctance to be with his wife. She fills her position well, but she always sharpens her tongue on him."
"I wouldn't mind that."
"Be quiet, sir. That talk is not appropriate." The buck sank back under the accusing stares of the ladies.
"I am sure that the second is dark with a regal countenance, and of medium build. After all, not even the French government are sure as to his existence, I have the news from Lord Grenville himself."
"Don't be so practical Marie. He cannot be married, I heard.......What was that?" The noise that distracted the ladies was a faint buzz.
"It is probably just the gentlemen being foolish again. Let's ignore it."
"But it does not sound right."
"Next you'll be saying that one of the gentlemen is asleep over there. Who sleeps when the Pimpernel is being disguised?"
"Sir Percy and Mr. Darcy."
"You always are like that Marie. Those two never think above their clothes." Two of the ladies detached themselves from the group, but it was the whole group who looked cautiously into the curtained alcove.
"MR DARCY!" The sleeping dandy sat up and blinked in bewilderment at the ladies.
"I do beg your pardon." Darcy swung his legs down of the sill and stretched himself. "so fatigued, I fear I will have to return to Bath, to be cured of the fatigue." The ladies laughed merrily as Darcy cautiously rubbed his forehead, he then joined in the laughter, before departing, in search of Percy. The ladies also broke up.
Jane glanced up as her sister Marie sat down next to her.
"What's up Marie? You look excited."
"The reverend Tallington is here. And Mr. Darcy was caught sleeping in the smaller saloon on the window sill."
"And was the reverend Tallington interesting?"
"Oh yes. He explained that passage I've been having problems with to me."
"That's very good indeed." Jane sighed silently, now the library might become quiet again. "What was so inappropriate of Mr. Darcy's sleeping. Or was he talking to someone at the time?"
"Not at all. But we were discussing the Pimpernel and no one can sleep through that sort of conversation."
"That is indeed a crime. But you must remember that the poor man lives for clothes alone. Have you seen Kathryn or Lydia recently?" Marie sniffed at this lack of interest.
"Yes, Lydia was with Edgmonton and mama and Kathryn are dancing in the ballroom. Father is in the cardroom." Jane nodded, then looked up as their father approached.
"Mon pere, what is it?"
"I think we had best be leaving. Do you know where your mother and sisters are?"
"Marie says that Lydia is with Edgmonton, and mama and Kathryn are dancing in the ballroom." Leon nodded.
"I'll see if I can detach Lydia from Edgmonton. Could you get your mother and Kathryn?" Jane nodded.
Darcy eventually discovered Percy. He was reclining in a semi-comatose condition, behind a potted palm.
"Greetings Percy. Your cravat is an abomination to the word." Percy came to with a jolt, his fingers nervously straightening his cravat.
"The de Bennoits?" The question was hardly audible.
"Just departed." Percy gave a slight nod of comprehension. "And your cravat is now passable. I am in disgrace with the ladies, so I think I will bid our host and hostess farewell, or I will fall asleep again." Percy laughed gently.
"I'll join you. This champagne is intolerable."
Chapter 16
Leon sat silently in the darkened library, he was reading by the single candle, Jane was playing a quiet melody on the small piano.
"Mon pere, I do not understand." Leon looked up from his book.
"Understand what John?" The tune ceased and there was a brief sound.
"Why does Sir Percy wish to talk in private? If it is a message from Lady Blakeney, surely he could have told you at the ball. If it has nothing to do with Lady Blakeney or Ben, why does he wish to speak to us at all. We are new in the country, and we are only just in the ton."
"The man probably has a reason for his request. I will admit that I don't understand either, but he should be arriving soon, then our questions will probably be answered." Leon returned his attention to his book and Jane resumed playing the piano. It was a soft knock that disturbed Leon the second time. "Yes." Leon's valet, Pierre, poked his head around the door.
"There is a Sir Percival Blakeney Bart. to see you sir."
"Show him in Pierre." Leon laid down his book, before standing up to greet their large guest.
"Sir Percival Blakeney."
"M'sieur de Bennoit." The two men bowed formally, then Percy greeted Jane as etiquette demanded. Pierre retreated from the room in response to a sign from his master. He was disappointed, it was not usual for guests to arrive at five in the morning. Pierre shot a quiet stare at the man who had arrived with Sir Percy, but had remained outside the room and unannounced. He was tall, silent and dressed in black.
"Yes M'sieur, I am here for a reason." The man spoke flawlessly the idiom of Pierre's home valley. Pierre stared, then vanished hurriedly into the back of the house. The other man's face had been concealed by the shadows, but he unnerved Pierre with his silence.
"You wished to speak in private Sir Percy?"
"That is correct." Jane watched silently, since his arrival Sir Percy had been fiddling with his signet ring which he now pulled off, weighing it in his hand. "I am aware that Lady Blakeney has not told you much."
"That is an understatement, she has told us nothing, except that Ben is safe at present and that we are to say she is 'in the north country with Lady Blakeney.'"
"An order which you obeyed much to the relief of many people, and the discomfort of her captors." Jane continued to watch silently. She almost did not recognize this man as flippant Sir Percy known to the world.
"Where is Ben?" Sir Percy tapped his fingers together thoughtfully, weighing up the people in the room.
"She is in France. She is in the hands of the Committee of Public Safety in Bolougne. To be quite blunt, she is in the hands of Chauvelin." Jane went directly to her stunned father.
"But what does he want with Ben?" Jane could hardly conceal the fear in her voice. As she watched, she saw Sir Percy renew his interest in his signet ring. It was heavy silver with two sapphires on the top, it stood approximately half a centimetre high, and had no engravings on it. As she watched she saw his fingers tighten, then the whole central section revolved, the sapphires vanished to form the inner part of the ring, and a seal came up. Sir Percy then handed the ring to Leon.
"Do you recognise that seal?" Leon looked, then handed the ring to Jane.
"It looks like a flower. I think I have seen something like it before."
"Correct in both cases." Sir Percy glanced at Jane, and she handed the ring back to him, Sir Percy returned the seal to concealment and put it back on his finger. "It is a Scarlet Pimpernel." Leon and Jane stared at the man.
"So that's...." Jane suddenly realized that she was speaking out loud. Sir Percy continued gazing at Leon.
"That doesn't answer why Chauvelin wants Ben."
"Consider the reputation of the Scarlet Pimpernel, as everyone knows it. Then remember that it is a mere six weeks since miss de Bennoit and miss Elizabeth arrived from France." Leon frowned.
"You mean...."
"Yes. She is being used as a bargaining piece." Jane sat down suddenly. "She is safe for the time being, nothing will happen to her. But right now, I need your assurance that you will neither discuss what you've heard tonight, and that you will continue the story you have been using. Otherwise, you will considerably hamper our efforts for her safe release." Leon stared up at Sir Percy, Jane returned to her piano seat. Then Leon simply nodded.
"We have little choice M'sieur. Our word is our bond. But do not risk your life for Ben."
"Lud man." Jane was amazed by the laughter that rang through the room. "The risk is the main reason that we do it. Sink me, it's better than fox hunting." Sir Percy then bid them a formal farewell and departed. Leon shook his head.
"That is a man who can be trusted, but I never will understand these British." Jane laughed softly and was escorted to her bedchamber by her father. "Sleep well my dear. I feel that Ben will be returned to us." Jane nodded, and father and daughter parted.
Chapter 17
Percy looked thoughtfully over his wineglass at his companion.
"You know Darcy, those blacks make you look demm'd striking, but they are not suitable for public wear." Darcy smiled slightly, he was attired from head to toe in black, and with his dark hair his face stood out with striking paleness. "In fact you look like old Belmanoir did in his youth, minus the eyes." Darcy shoulders shook violently, but he made no noise.
"I always wondered why I couldn't see, thank you for telling me. By the way. What next?"
"We leave tom.....today at seven." Darcy nodded and relapsed into his large mug of ale. "any interruptions?"
"Only the valet, who appears to possess a lamentably short memory."
"Good. Now do be a good chap and remove that coat, you look all to gloomy for my taste." Darcy complied, but it did little to change his appearance as his shirt was also black. "My dear chap, are you sure you aren't a highwayman I've accidentally picked up?" Darcy chuckled out loud.
"Are your northern estates going to have a relapse, or do we go to Pemberley?"
"Pemberley. We can't have those estates relapsing to frequently or people will begin to doubt my business capabilities."
"I'll inform Georgiana and Mrs. Reynolds."
"I really don't know what we'd do without your sister and housekeeper." Percy stood up and started to stretch his large frame, then paused mid stretch. "Darcy, I have a rather interesting idea." Darcy glanced up.
"The Stanton leaves in two hours, I could just catch it." Percy grinned and started to laugh. The two men left the room.
The guard at the customs barrier looked in disgust at the pampered first-class passengers who minced ashore. Sacre aristos the lot of them, but they could be counted on for a healthy tip. One passenger earned the guards particular scorn, he was tall and slight, slight in a helpless, feeble way. He was dressed at the very height of fashion, with rich lace falls at his throat and wrists, he was attired in faultless riding clothes. In his left hand he held a quizzing glass, which was hung around his neck on a thin black ribbon. In his right he held and elegant diamond topped cane, he was followed by a small black clad individual who looked decidedly ill. The man handed his valet his cane before attending to the guard.
"You were saying m'sieur?" The man's French was execrable and the guard blenched at the sound of it.
"Your papers, sir?"
"James." The gentleman recovered his cane and turned his contemptuous back on the guard. The valet, carefully unloaded his multitude of boxes and bags onto the ground, before turning to the guard. "James." The valet looked at his master.
"You have put my valise on the ground. rectify the situation immediately." James shrugged apologetically to the guard, placed the valise on top of a nearby box and hurriedly handed the guard the sheathe of papers. The guard shuffled carefully through the papers, then hesitated.
"Mr. Darcy?" The man looked at him in contempt.
"Yes." These insufferable aristo's, the guard spat to express himself, then continued.
"Your passport is out of date m'sieur. You are not permitted to enter France."
"James!" The man rounded on his valet, fury written on every line of his face. The valet backed hurriedly.
"Not me sir. It is Stokes who attends to those things."
"If you didn't have such away with cravats I'd have fired you years ago." The guard hastily interrupted what appeared to be the lead up to a first rate row, a move which earned him a thankful glance from the valet.
"Sir, I'm afraid that you will have to be remanded in custody until a fresh passport arrives. Either that or take the cargo ship there back to England." The guard indicated the most decrepit boat in the harbour, he rather relished the idea of this insufferable and arrogant aristo spending time in prison. The man paled visibly, then rounded on James again.
"Remind me, Stoker will pay for this mistake." He then followed the guards, leaving James to collect the numerous boxes and bags, appologise to the guard and hastily follow.