Beginning, Section II
Chapter 18
Chauvelin looked up in annoyance as he heard the tramp of footsteps and the grounding of arms, this sounded like trouble. With a sigh he laid the two papers aside and took up his quill. The captain of the guard who hastily entered was met by the sight of citizen Chauvelin busily writing, he coughed uncomfortably, then waited for Chauvelin to acknowledge his presence.
"Captain." the captain came to attention. "You wished to say something?" the captain nodded.
"We have an aristocrat downstairs. His passport was out of date."
"Who is it, and bring him up."
"A Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, citizen." The captain departed and Chauvelin frowned intently out the window, was this merely an accident or was it carefully laundered to appear as one. Mr. Darcy was the closest acquaintance of Sir Percy, save Sir Percy's wife. Was Mr. Darcy just cover for Sir Percy, or was he a man of similar caliber. Chauvelin could not decide, and his thoughts were interrupted by the return of the captain with the impeccably tailored Darcy.
"The prisoner, citizen." Chauvelin nodded.
"You may wait outside." The captain saluted and left, Chauvelin looked shrewdly at this irate dandy who was standing stiffly just inside the door. "Please, take a seat m'sieur Darcy." The dandy shuddered delicately and carefully polished the offered seat with his handkerchief.
"Allow me to inform you, Mr. Chauvelin, that I am not used to such treatment, and that I will not tolerate it."
"You may tell me anything you like Mr. Darcy, but I fear you are not in much of a position to complain about your treatment." Darcy stiffened.
"And why am I in no position to complain about my treatment, I am the second richest man in England." Chauvelin smiled sourly.
"Being the second richest man in the world can not buy you respect when you are illegally in a country, particularly if that country is France." Darcy blinked at this.
"And why's that?"
"Because, m'sieur. We are in the habit of guillotining anyone whom we dislike, and most people in this country dislike a person who is richer than them." Chauvelin's voice sank slowly to a whisper.
"And demm'd rude of them to. We do not choose to be rich."
"But you do choose to exert the power of your wealth over them." Darcy grunted, then fell asleep. Chauvelin growled quietly for a moment.
"Guard!" The guard hastily entered. "Take the prisoner to cell D40."
"Very good citizen." Chauvelin smiled maliciously, then walked out of the room, tripping over them cursing, the beggar who scrubbed the floors. she was a large ungainly woman, with long greasy hair and a sour expression. She watched silently as Chauvelin departed, then returned to her scrubbing.
Elizabeth looked at the Abbe de Farge and smiled.
"You appear to have beaten me again m'sieur." The Abbe smiled in return.
"But it is getting harder, soon it is you who will be winning." Their conversation was interrupted by the clatter of guards outside and the screech of the bolts being shot. The door swung open and a man was shoved in. The door was closed firmly behind him.
"What a beastly hole this is. The apparition held an elegant lace handkerchief to his nose. Then glanced at his cellmates. "Miss Elizabeth, I do beg your pardon, I did not see you." Elizabeth sniffed in disdain.
"Mr. Darcy. May I introduce the Marquis de Trouit, also Abbe de Farge." Darcy bowed to the Abbe.
"Pleased to meet you. What are you doing in this beastly hole miss Elizabeth?"
"Taking a Sunday breather. Pray do not over stress your intelligence Mr. Darcy." The Abbe watched in amazement as the immaculate dandy collapsed in convulsive but idiotic laughter.
Chapter 19
Elizabeth woke to the sound of soft talking, unfortunately she could not actually hear what was being said. She sat up with a sigh and gently rubbed her head, automatically reaching for her combs. The voices hesitated momentarily as she sat up, then resumed their conversation, however Elizabeth knew that the subject had changed during the brief pause. Elizabeth waved her brush at the Abbe, then set about braiding and pinning her hair out of the way, she did not glance at either man until the job was done. The Abbe was seated at the small table in the corner of the room, Darcy was a crumpled pile of legs beside him.
"You were the Fis..." Elizabeth paused, the positions were similar, but the mere thought of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy parading as a drunken fisherman was preposterous. Darcy stood up and carefully straightened his attire.
"As always Miss de Bennoit, you are one hundred percent correct." Elizabeth stared at the man who stood before her, totally unaware of where she was. He was still the tall slight individual, with a relatively inane face, but the softness was gone from his figure. This was a man of action and purpose, the fingers that once looked so weak and helpless, were now strong, but wiry. His face, though still fairly blank was different, it was almost as if a fire burned in his sleepy eyes. The tramp of footsteps broke Elizabeth from her stunned inspection of Mr. Darcy, she coloured as Darcy tilted his head to listen for a second. "Zooks! Likewise sink me! 'Tis the guards, and most unseemly it is for Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy to be awake at this hour. If you'll pardon me, I'll just take a quick sleep." Darcy collapsed onto the pallias Elizabeth had just deserted and apparently fell immediately asleep.
"It would appear," said the Abbe in a dry voice, "That he will go to sleep even if we do not pardon him." Mr. Darcy lifted his head for a second.
"Quite true." His head fell back again as the guards grounded their arms outside the room. Elizabeth stifled a giggle as the bolts were drawn, and the door creaked open.
"Wake up. Citizen Chauvelin wishes to speak with the prisoner."
"Which prisoner? There are three of us in this room."
"The citizen aristo that was brought in yesterday. Get him up." Darcy grabbed his head and groaned.
"Tell that cheese witted hunk of beef that I never rise before twelve."
"Get him up citizen guards." Darcy was wrenched to his feet, and half out the door.
"Hold it a second, I am going no where until my attire is straightened. And you needn't hold me that tightly." Darcy set about straightening his attire, which had been considerably rumpled thanks to the rough handling of the guards. "Look what you did to my lace. 30 guineas a yard that stuff costs, you've absolutely destroyed the stuff." Darcy carefully repined the fall of lace to his cuff. "Now I am ready. You may escort me to Citizen Chauvelin. And keep your dirty hands of my coat. I do wish I could have use of a razor." Darcy felt his chin gingerly. "Twenty-four hours, I must look a veritable scarecrow."
"Oh shut up and come along." Darcy drew himself up to his full height and looked haughtily down at the small but excitable captain of the guards.
"Appearance is of the essence, and one cannot hurry when one is to go into company. But if you insist, I suppose I will have to forgo the razor." Elizabeth bit her lip as the door was relocked and the guards walked away, Darcy had once again become the inane London fop.
"Do you think he will come back?"
"If he keeps up behaving like he is, there is a very high probability that he will be kept with us for the full five days it takes for his valet to return to England and get him a fresh passport." Elizabeth frowned.
"I do not know what to make of him. Who is he really? Is he the inane London fop, the insufferable dandy, or a gentleman."
"I really don't know, but I would say that his insufferable behaviour is just his way of ensuring his continued residence in this smelly hole." Elizabeth considered the idea, then nodded.
Chauvelin frowned thoughtfully at the two pieces of paper. He had received them the day before, but was still unsure as to how he should act. The first was from citizen Robespierre himself, and it was brief to the point of impoliteness.
'Forget about the Scarlet Pimpernel, find out about the Second in Command. R'The second note, which was almost a page in length, did nothing except infuriate Chauvelin and make him undecided as to what course he should take.
'M'sieur Chambertin,
Oh I do appologise, Chauvelin. Foolish mistake, but I have wasted so much paper trying to write this note already, I really cannot face the idea of having to try again. I must tell you that I have found some magnificent snuff in Pall Mall, amazingly strong flavour, it's called 'Bite of Pepper'.'
Chauvelin choked at this and nearly cast the letter into the fire.
'But this is straying from the topic which I wish to write about. Oh but before I forget, I really must inform you that Tweedle has some magnificent cravats for sale. Now I will return to my original topic. I believe that I may have the enjoyment of being in Bolougne on Friday the __Pluviose. And I was wondering whether I might not be able to persuade you to leave your gloomy barracks for the space of about an hour, to join me for some ale. Either that or some brandy.
I remain yours sincerely &etc.
Sir Percival Blakeney Bart.'
The signature was signed, as the letter was written in a large flourishing hand. A loud knock on the door roused Chauvelin from his abstraction.
"Come in." The door opened, and a man slouched in. His build was weak and flabby, as was his mouth. His hair was greasy and a indeterminate grey-brown. He had a large beak of a nose and a recessive chin, recessive to the point where it seemed a bit of a question whether it was there at all.
Chapter 20
The man was the prison commandant, Pierre de Cheminoux. Chauvelin looked at the man in disgust, few things could make Chauvelin feel ill, but Pierre de Cheminoux was one of them.
"Citizen Chauvelin." Pierre rubbed his weak hands and bowed ingratiatingly.
"Yes, what is it." Pierre licked his lips nervously.
"The guards are complaining again, they claim that you are withholding some of the prisoners."
"Let me inform you citizen de Cheminoux, that if I catch any of you or your ill conditioned brood near cell D40 I will take great pleasure in first flogging you to death and then depriving you of that which you consider important." Pierre quailed under Chauvelin's furious gaze.
"Citizen, that is not what I meant at all."
"Then try to control your men with other methods then. And I will thank you to give them up yourself until after this job is over."
"Citizen, you cannot be serious."
"You go near that cell, or make your practises too public and see how serious I am." Chauvelin voice had dropped to a soft whisper, and de Cheminoux was cowering up against the wall. Chauvelin returned to his normal, coolly sarcastic self as he heard the marching guards approach. "You are excused citizen commandant." Pierre de Cheminoux backed hastily out of the room, he did not know the importance of the prisoners in cell D40, but he knew that one was female. Pierre was still backing when he collided with the first of the guards. He hastily got out of the way, these were not his men, they were Chauvelin's men from Paris. Pierre relieved his feelings by cursing at the scrubbing woman, before hurrying down the passage to his room. It was not right how citizen Chauvelin treated him, he was the prison commandant.
Chauvelin glanced up as the guards entered with the tall thin dandy. Darcy was dressed to perfection, there was absolutely no sign that he had spent a night in a cell, except that he had not shaved.
"Take a seat Darcy. Citizen guards, you are dismissed." The guards formed up and hastily marched out of the room.
"Your guards are most heavy handed m'sieur. Look what they did to my lace." Darcy displayed his damaged ruffle to Chauvelin astonished gaze.
"You manage admirably Mr. Darcy, even your friend Sir Percy could not keep such a faultless appearance while in jail."
"Has he been in jail?! I really must ask him about it. I wonder what his doing this moment?"
"Watching you hold an engrossing conversation with Chauvelin about your lace." Chauvelin spun as if someone had dropped a hot penny down his back.
"YOU!!!"
"As you see m'sieur." Sir Percy climbed down off the window sill and bowed gracefully.
"What brings you here Blakeney. I thought you were in the north country?"
"Intolerable bore up there. Then Bingley said you had come to check those French estates again, so I thought I'd pay a surprise visit. And then Chauvelin here was late. Why did you not come and share my brandy?" Sir Percy looked reproachfully at Chauvelin.
"In your usual style Sir Percy, you neglected to say where I could find you. It is hard to drink brandy with someone if you do not know where they are." Percy frowned.
"Demmit man, I do believe you're right. Say what are you doing here Darcy?"
"I don't actually know. Something about a passport, it makes no sense to me." Darcy yawned, relaxed back in his chair and fell asleep.
"Lud, how that is familiar." Percy thoughtfully inspected his sleeping friend. "You do keep such noisome prisoners, here."
"I did not ask your opinion of our prisons Sir Percy, but if you like you may take a sample of both our prisons, and the local guillotine." Percy frowned, considering the matter.
"No, I think I'll pass on that special offer. How are things in Paris, m'sieur?"
"They seem to be satisfactory, Sir Percy." Chauvelin could see no reason for why Sir Percy should be here, or asking the questions he was.
"Why, I do it solely to annoy you m'sieur. Allow me to bid you adieu." Chauvelin glanced up hurriedly, but Sir Percy was no longer in the room. Chauvelin glared, then became aware that the sleeping Darcy was no longer sleeping.
"I do beg your pardon, m'sieur. Such a noisome house you keep." Darcy struggled for a second, then sat up.
"Having had this brief interlude, will you please answer my questions." Darcy nodded, and blinked.
"Certainly m'sieur. You have but to ask."
"Why are you in France?" Darcy blinked.
"My estates, man. Why else would I be in such a blood thirsty hole?" Chauvelin gave no response, just wrote down the information.
"Who did you bring with you?"
"My man, James Witney."
"What did you bring with you?" Darcy shrugged.
"I don't know."
"What do you mean you don't know?"
"Exactly what I said. My man deals with all the things like that."
"Except the passports." Chauvelin's voice was dryly sarcastic.
"That is so." Darcy's face darkened. "Stokes will pay for this error."
"So you have no idea about what baggage you brought?"
"Except my valise with my razors and combs." Chauvelin nodded and listed the items down.
"Have you brought any weaponry with you?"
"Weaponry?"
"Guns, pistols, swords." Chauvelin's voice was calmly bored.
"What would I want with those? I believe James had a gun, but I cannot be certain on that."
"You are unaware of what your servants carry."
"Zooks man. Their job is to get me and my baggage safely from one place to another. I have no interest as to how they do it." Chauvelin nodded.
"Very well Mr. Darcy. That will do for the time being." Darcy stood up and bowed. "Guards." The guards entered. "Return the prisoner to cell D40." The guards marched out, and Chauvelin contentedly rubbed his bony hands together. He might possibly be able to save his neck yet.
Chapter 21
Elizabeth looked up as she heard the footsteps of approaching guards.
"It sounds like they are returning." The Abbe glanced at his large watch.
"One hour fifteen minutes. He was not being interrogated, it must have been a plain questioning." Elizabeth looked surprised, but returned her attention to the cards in front of her. There was the crash of grounded arms, a slight scuffle, then the bolts were drawn and the door opened. Mr. Darcy was shoved in and the door closed.
"I return, how pleasant. M'sieur le Abbe, U think I will continue my sleep." Darcy collapsed onto the pallias, and was soon asleep. Elizabeth bit back her smile and focussed her attention firmly on the card game.
"You are not very polite Mr. Darcy. Here is miss Elizabeth, yet you only ask my permission to sleep." Elizabeth bit her lip more firmly as Darcy sat up again.
"Oh I do beg your pardon miss Elizabeth. Most remiss of me. Do I have your permission to sleep?" Elizabeth glanced briefly at the Abbe, who promptly produced a second pack of cards.
"No Mr. Darcy, you are going to help us and play three hand cribbage." Darcy groaned and stood up.
"Why are the ladies so demanding?"
"Because the Abbe has a second pack of cards and my sister is not here to make the third."
"Order, one sister to make a third in cribbage. Miss Elizabeth, you are impossible." Elizabeth let her laughter out as he sat down next to the table.
"But of course Mr. Darcy. M'sieur le Abbe, will you deal?" And the game proceeded, rather noisily at times. When confined in a small space with limited games, one tends to modify the game as you play, and eventually the modifications are such that you lose track of them, and the game has to be restarted from the basic rules again.
Marguerite stretched and walked quietly into the small local inn. The customers were rowdy, and the beer flowing freely. There was the usual scattering of 'loose women', Marguerite sat quietly in her corner and ordered tea and a bun, commodities that came free in that small place. She then relaxed back with a sigh, and pushed her greasy hair out of her face. It had been a while since she had done such manual labour, and her shoulders were aching a bit.
"Madam sounds sad. Perhaps I can help?" He was dressed in the uniform of a castle guard, it was loose and ill fitting, his frame was bony, and his face leered hungrily.
"I fear not m'sieur, I sigh for my home."
"And where is your home?" The guard sat down across the table from her.
"It is in the Monmatre Valley."
"Ahh, yes. Such a beautiful location. I have a brother-in-law who comes from the south end."
"Indeed." Marguerite stood up when she finished her tea and bun and walked out, the guard followed.
"Madam, allow me to escort you to your lodgings. The road is not safe in this day."
"Thank you." Marguerite walked swiftly, the long limbed guard keeping easy step.
Chapter 22
Marguerite hurried up the stairs to her rooms, and vanished into the second room.
"Do change your shirt, Percy. I'm sorry to say, but you looked better as Benjamin Rosenbaum then you do as a nasty castle guard." Marguerite smiled as the laughter rang through the rooms. She quickly changed into a simple dress, and hurried out again. Percy was buttoning his waistcoat, having finished he grabbed Marguerite and spun her through the air, before depositing her on the sofa, and sitting down next to her.
"Of a surety, it is too long to be separated for a week." Marguerite chuckled as she relaxed into the crook of his arm.
"Says the man who deserts his wife at regular intervals to deal with his VERY troublesome northern estates. Where are you now, by the way?"
"With Darcy at Pemberley. We are unavailable for visitors." Marguerite chuckled again.
"So what was so important that you used our meeting place?" Percy frowned, a deep crease forming between his brows, and he stared at his fingers.
"To be honest, an unexpected event has occurred." Percy paused, unsure as to how to continue. "In fact, citizen Chauvelin has, for the first time in his life, received orders to forget about the Scarlet Pimpernel, and find the Second in Command."
"Oh." Marguerite's voice was blank.
"Exactly what I thought, and it appears that Chauvelin intends to follow his instructions. The result is, that my carefully laid plans are blown sky-high, and gone to hell. If you'll excuse my language my dear."
"I take it that Chauvelin does not yet know? And I will excuse your language, I feel like saying that myself. Especially as Chauvelin and that swine de Cheminoux relieve their anger or frustration, by kicking me." Percy jerked up.
"Kicking you? Hmm." There was a brief pause. "Well, we have several options, and all but one depend on Darcy. Unfortunately we cannot contact Darcy till after his release. Which is another two days away. I must say, I never realised that Darcy could be such an insufferable snob. He even puts 'Golden Ball' to shame when it comes to sheer arrogance." Marguerite chuckled again.
"I've seen him. He was bewailing torn lace when he was taken in to be questioned by Chauvelin. As well as abusing the guards for rough handling him. By the way, they're all in cell D40."
"You don't say?" Percy's brows creased deeper. "La little woman, but this could be very interesting. So depressing to know that I am no longer in the limelight. Shocking, I've been replaced by my second in command." Percy's laughter rang through the room again. "I think that we will make use of the gentlemen who kick you. Take note of them, but only intentional kicks. Who've we got in town?"
"Fitzwilliam, Hastings, Tony, Darcy and Whelan."
"Can't really count Darcy. Okay, I need some sleep." The downside of these cheap lodgings, were that they had no beds. The next morning Percy stretched stiffly, and groaned as he stood up, easing the kinks from his long frame. "I fear little woman, that your couches are not very comfortable."
"It's better than the floor. Marguerite stretched, and after a hurried bit of food changed and scurried away to the prison. Percy grabbed a bit more food, changed, and followed suit.
Darcy sat frowning darkly at the far wall of the prison, his thin hands played nervously together.
"What is it Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth walked over and laid a hand on his shoulder.
"Just trying to think of a way to get information out of here." Darcy shook his head, trying to clear it, and deepened his frown. Elizabeth stood for a bit longer, then returned to her game of Cribbage with the Abbe. Darcy stirred restlessly, then came and joined them. "I'll get brain fever if I continue trying to think. Could this possibly become three hand cribbage?" The Abbe promptly produced the extra pegs and the extra pack of cards, the game of mods cribbage, which had never yet finished, was underway once again.
Chapter 22B
Elizabeth rolled over, and squinted as a light flashed into her eyes.
"No." Footsteps moved away, and Elizabeth sat up. "Damn. You fool Jacques. Pierre was wrong again, there is no woman here." The door opened and closed, and footsteps hurried down the corridor.
"Elizabeth?" Darcy's voice called softly.
"Yes."
"Hold a second, and don't move." Elizabeth held motionless, and was shortly rewarded by the sound of someone squatting down next to her. She felt fingers fiddling awkwardly near her ears, and then her face was pealed off. Elizabeth took a deep breath of the fresher air, and carefully wiped her face. "Sorry about it, but I only got warning of their pending arrival, just before they arrived."
"Why were they looking for a woman?"
"You don't want to know." Elizabeth heard Darcy move away, and lie down again. She lay down again as well, but she did not go to sleep.
It had been fifteen minutes ago when Darcy had suddenly shaken her awake. She had sat up, frightened.
"Quiet." His voice had held urgency, and she had immediately fallen silent. "Put this on." He had thrust a large piece of some flexible material into her hands.
"What is it?" He had muttered something his breath, then took it back.
"Here, I'll do it." It had felt queer as the material had slid over her face and hair, it had also been frightening, but then the air came back. Not fresh, but air, she could see vague outlines and then Darcy had thrust something into her hands, it was a large shirt.
"Put it on, and quick." He had been moving back to the other side of the room when he had said that remark, and it was with a brief struggle that Elizabeth got the shirt on. She then lay down again. She didn't understand what was happening, but Darcy's urgency had infected her, she had no intention of disobeying.
Elizabeth suddenly sat up.
"Mr. Darcy?"
"Yes." the answer was quiet.
"Do you not want your shirt back?" Elizabeth heard his soft laughter.
"Indeed I'd be grateful if you returned it." Elizabeth had pulled it off, then hesitated.
"Do I just throw it at your voice, or do you come get it?"
"I'll come get it." Laughter bubbled gently in his voice, and seconds later Elizabeth felt the shirt removed from her hands. "Don't be afraid if it happens again. I will not let them hurt you." He vanished into the darkness again, and Elizabeth lay down again. She did not know why, but she felt comforted by Darcy's promise that no one should hurt her.
Elizabeth sat up the next morning as the guards clashed down the corridor. The bolts were drawn and a tray was passed in. Breakfast had arrived, but so had Chauvelin. Elizabeth watched with distrust as the stooped man entered behind the guard.
"Please, eat your meal, I am only here for a minute." Darcy laughter started to roll infectiously.
"Lud, but the man is enchanting." Elizabeth soon found hat she could not help but laugh, and soon the three prisoners were laughing merrily.
"When you are quiet finished Mr. Darcy. I have a question to ask of you collectively."
"Ask away man."
"I heard by report that there had been several disturbances in the wing of the prison, last night. And was hoping you'd be able to inform me whether you had any visitors." Elizabeth studied her fingers idly. It was not her place to venture information.
"Yes we did. Some guards came," Darcy hesitated momentarily, "in search of some 'amusement'." Elizabeth was fascinated by the look of fury that passed across Chauvelin's face.
"Thank you Mr. Darcy. I bid you good day."
"But what about my departure from the slimy-mudhole?"
"Your man should return tomorrow, and then you may depart with my blessing." Chauvelin stormed out of the room before anymore questions could be asked of him. Citizen de Cheminoux would pay for this blunder.
Chapter 23
Chauvelin stormed out of the cell, sending his guards flying, when Chauvelin was mad the wisest did their noble impressions of invisible ghosts, and the stupidest asked a question, but never more than one. Commandant Pierre de Cheminoux, could hear Chauvelin's approach long before Chauvelin entered the guards wing, but was mystified as to why Chauvelin was so furious, but he was not long left in suspense.
"Citizen Commandant. What in hell were your men doing in D-wing last night." Pierre immediately cowered away from Chauvelin, who never ceased his approach until he had Pierre by the neck.
"Routine security check, citizen."
"Since when, may I ask, has a routine security check included doping the guards on duty and entering a secured and isolated cell?" Chauvelin's sarcasm bit savagely into Pierre.
"Entering, citizen!"
"Yes. Entering, but do not forget the doping."
"Could it not have been the Scarlet Pimpernel, citizen!" Chauvelin sneered.
"Very likely citizen. Since when has the Scarlet Pimpernel stooped to doping, and then neglected to take anything with him on his retreat?" Pierre paled, it appeared that he was in for the high jump. How had Chauvelin found out about all this, the guards had been doped long before his men had entered after the woman. Pierre considered it rather a waste of planning as there had been no woman. But that still didn't answer why Chauvelin knew about it. "I asked you a question citizen. Aren't you going to answer?" Pierre choked, suddenly realising that Chauvelin's grip had been increasing steadily in tightness.
"I could not say, citizen. I have not ever studied the Pimpernel's methods of attack."
"Lud man, you make it sound as though Citizen Chauvelin does." Pierre found himself suddenly released, and he fell forward gasping for breath. It was most of a minute before he looked up to see who the intruder was. It was a tall man, more to the point he was a massive man. He was dressed at the very height of fashion and was watching them idly through his quizzing glass, from his perch on the windowsill. Pierre then noticed that Chauvelin was seated on the desk, his expression that of bored disinterest.
"And now that the commandant has recovered. What may I do for you?"
"Lud man, your formality is positively icy. Who is this commandant?"
"This is Pierre de Cheminoux. I really must request this discussion be temporarily postponed. Citizen de Cheminoux and I were engaged in a serious discussion."
"It looked more like you were trying to strangle him." Pierre eyed this tall stranger warily. The man sounded witless, he was actually a trifle puzzled by the deference Chauvelin gave the man. Chauvelin was rarely polite to anybody, least of all inane dandies. Pierre scratched his head then stood up.
"What, citizen, are you doing on my window sill?" Pierre found himself regarded by two sets of eyes, the first puzzled, but kindly, the second grimly sarcastic.
"You will find, citizen de Cheminoux, that that person does not answer to 'citizen' unless he is busy being a nuisance to the 'Committee of Public Safety'" Pierre blinked, as the man on the window sill laughed merrily.
"Citizen Chauvelin, your humour improves, unlike your cravats." Chauvelin looked witheringly at the man.
"That, citizen de Cheminoux, as you seem unaware of his identity is the man we call the Scarlet Pimpernel."
"What he forgot to add is that I call myself that to. So nice to meet you Citizen Pierre de Cheminoux, I hope we meet again. Someday." Pierre blinked as the man vanished into thin air, then glanced at Chauvelin who was abstractly fiddling with his cravat. Chauvelin came very suddenly out of his abstraction.
"And remember my former warning. You escape this time because I did not see it occur." Chauvelin quit the room, and seconds later was down in cell D40.
Percy sat quietly in the window of the local inn, drinking the local ale as he watched the population eddy and flow passed the window, as of yet he still had no definite idea of what he was going to do. But Darcy was getting out today, unless Chauvelin was up to something. Percy frowned as he considered the idea. Chauvelin's recent performance seemed to indicate that though he had his suspicions he had nothing solid or definite to work upon. Chauvelin was running on hunches again. Percy shook his head and took another drink of his ale, before returning to his useless. He knew it to be useless, but it annoyed him to have nothing solid to work on himself. Unless! Percy paused turning the idea over in his head, perhaps it would do. It certainly appealed to his sense of the ridiculous.
Chapter 24
Percy had jolted when he felt the tap on his, and turning he saw Darcy collapse into the chair next to him with a mug of ale.
"Out at last. I celebrate with a mug of Ale, then I shall sleep." The mug of ale soon vanished and Darcy was on his feet again. "Come." Darcy walked out and Percy hurried after him.
"Your becoming insubordinate Darcy." Darcy nodded.
"But of course, I need to sleep. Or a better translation is that I never got enough information during you short visits and I now need a full update." Darcy turned into his conciergerie and hurried up the flight of stairs. James Witney was cooking in the kitchen, Darcy wrinkled his nose at the smell.
"Really James. Can you not do better than that. Percy let's use my bedroom. Now what's happened?"
"Well you got caught, I've had a few interesting conversations with citizen Chauvelin. Citizen Chauvelin has lost his temper more than once with citizen de Cheminoux."
"Not very surprising, the man is a slug."
"Well I interrupted Chauvelin while he was trying to strangle the man."
"That was a mistake."
"What was. Strangling him or interrupting the strangulation?"
"Interrupting. But continue."
"Chauvelin received a nice letter from me, announcing my arrival. And he also received an unexpected communiqué from Paris."
"He's not getting guillotined is he?"
"No. He has orders to ignore the Scarlet Pimpernel."
"And who's he to focus on instead?"
"The Pimpernel's second."
"In other words, me! What a charming thing to know. Did you know, I find it rather amusing. He wastes time looking for a man he already has. What are we going to do about it?"
"I'm not actually sure. But I have a few ideas. And none of them are particularly nice."
"Your plans never are. I much prefer standing on house tops yelling 'Long live the king of France'"
"That is certainly an amusing pastime. How do you like citizen Chauvelin's prisons?"
"Not at all. But they are better than his gutters." Percy chuckled softly.
"You are experienced in those aren't you. Now this is my idea." Darcy listened intently as Percy outlined the complex plan, then nodded.
"That should work, and if it doesn't. Well it makes no difference to me either way." Percy frowned.
"This plan is being updated immediately then. Give me a minute." Darcy reclined back on his chair and gazed abstractly at the ceiling.
Citizen Chauvelin sat scowling darkly, as of yet he had no traces of who this second in command might be, other than the possibility that it was mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, the late inhabitor of cell D40. And this time he had no one to blackmail to find out for him. In fact, he was totally on his own, and his suspicions were based solely on the similarities between the Pimpernel himself and the other inane London fop. Though Chauvelin had his suspicions, the Pimpernel might assume the character, but mr Darcy was the character. Chauvelin thumped the table with his fist and cursed silently, why did citizen de Cheminoux have to be such a lascivious dolt. His train of thought was interrupted by a short knock on the door, then a guard marched in.
"Sir, we have the prisoners from the Rue de la Roche awaiting your inspection."
"Are they sober yet?"
"For the most part. Though we have our doubts about one of them, he declares that if we untied his hands he would defeat us all." Chauvelin sat up at this.
"Bring the man in." The guard saluted, then departed. Chauvelin grabbed a pen and paper, and started to draw geometrical lines. This seemed almost to good to be hoped for. Someone who made a remark like that must be part of the League. Chauvelin could identify it as a remark the Pimpernel himself had made on numerous occasion, with a soft sigh he fought to contain his excitement and hope. Then the guard returned. The prisoner was tall and thin, but he had an aura of strength, he was an opposite of the Pimpernel in appearance. Chauvelin looked thoughtfully at the man. "Very unwise of you mr Darcy." Darcy, for that is who it was, shrugged his disinterest.
"Noblesse oblige. I had things to attend to here first."
"Hence you are attired as a labourer."
"Correct m'sieur."
"Citizen guard, you are dismissed, but remain outside the doorway."
"Are you not afraid that I might fly away, or perhaps just vanish?"
"If you can do either of those things, then it would make no difference where the guard is."
"That is a consideration." Darcy fell silent again. Chauvelin watched the silent figure uncomfortably, he did not know why, but he was never comfortable with either of these men. They were an element of their own, and Chauvelin
could do nothing but follow.
"Mr Darcy, what was your business?"
"Formerly fishing, but now I am coal-heaving at the docks."
"And where is Sir Percy?"
"I wouldn't have the foggiest. Haven't seen him since I was last in this room in your ever so charming company." Chauvelin frowned.
"Then where is the Scarlet Pimpernel?" Darcy shrugged.
"Couldn't say. He left the Rue de la Roche about five minutes before the soldiers arrived. I must say, you soldiers are mighty heavy handed. Look what they did to my coat."
"The coat, mr Darcy is so bad already that I cannot see what you are referring to. Take a seat, we have to arrange for your lodgings."
"Please make them comfortable. My last one was so noisy."
"Fear not mr Darcy, your lodgings will be quiet, except for the guard." Darcy collapsed into a chair, and Chauvelin departed, leaving a guard on guard. He was pretty certain that Darcy had allowed himself to be caught, but Chauvelin was determined to cover all rescue or escape contingencies.
Chapter 25
Percy straightened his legs cautiously, then stood up. Marguerite was changing in the other room, and Percy quickly pulled on his coat and boots, he eyed his scuffed boots sadly, the straightened to bow when Marguerite entered.
"Lieutenant Garce, you do make a formidable man, but I fear your boots lack polish."
"And mademoiselle Beggar, looks much better in a ball gown." Percy grabbed the lump of bread. "Elizabeth has been returned to the main part of the prison. Unfortunately we'll have to pull Darcy out before we go after her again."
"A double strike. That could be tricky." Percy shrugged.
"Chauvelin was after the second, he got the second, but both second and former hostage must depart, along with de Trouit."
"That sounds like we'll be busy. Do you know where Darcy is being held?"
"No. See if you can find out today." Marguerite nodded. "Oh and give this to Elizabeth." Marguerite eyed the grimy piece of paper, then put it down the front of her bodice.
"It shall be attended to, my lord. But I must depart." Marguerite departed immediately.
"Wake up Ffoulkes, we got to depart." There was a muffled growl from the other room, and soon Sir Andrew Ffoulkes appeared in the entrance, pulling on his coat. The two men then departed.
Elizabeth kept herself hunched in a corner for most of the day. the woman around her were mostly holding prisoners, prisoners who had misbehaved at the local tavern. The cleaning woman spent most of the day leering at her from across the room, but as evening approached she came across.
"Such a pretty one. We see not too many of you these days. Ladies, just look at her lace." Elizabeth had backed into a corner, but the cleaning woman was taller than her. The cleaning woman tore the lace from the top of her dress. Then stepped back to view how it would look on her own rags. "No." The cleaning woman shoved the lace back into Elizabeth's gown front. "It is not nice enough for my gown." The cleaning woman swept her ragged skirts and strutted away, Elizabeth fought savagely to keep her calm, and managed to succeed. She slowly lowered herself down to the floor, and started to neaten the torn neck of her dress. It was a nervous and unconscious movement. Slowly the attention withdrew from Elizabeth, and Elizabeth fished the ruined lace out from her gown and dropped it onto the floor next to her, then finished neatening the front of her gown.
Chauvelin sneered at the guard as he entered the cell. He was seated in a far and dark corner and he showed no interest in Chauvelin's appearance. Chauvelin stared at the man, he could not understand the fatalistic Saxons. They just sat and waited, waited for something to happen.
"Mr Darcy." He glanced up indifferently and nodded.
"As you see, Citizen."
"To make sure that you do not intend to try to escape. Mme. Elizabeth de Bennoit, is still being held. Also de Trouit is being held in another cell. If you leave both these people will be beheaded, the Pimpernel's second in command, valued himself above the prisoner's he risked his life to save."
"As you say m'sieur. A most humorous idea." Chauvelin frowned, he did not like being laughed at.
"You seem to forget where you are, Mr. Darcy."
"That is fairly difficult. You do not waste on nice wall hangings, and general comfort." Chauvelin glanced momentarily at the blank stone walls, and the bare floor. Well there was a camp bed in one corner, but other than that and a chair and table the room was empty and devoid. Chauvelin shivered slightly, then realised that he would have to do something quickly.
"If you'll excuse me. Your lunch will arrive in twenty minutes."
"I'd prefer to have breakfast first." Chauvelin nodded briefly, then left the room. Chauvelin hurried back to his room, he had received no further instructions from Paris. Was he to guillotine the second-in-command, or did Paris want him for a specific reason. Chauvelin shook his head.
"Citizen Chauvelin. So delightful to see you again." Chauvelin turned quickly, Sir Percy was seated lazily on his window sill, his riding clothes uncreased.
"What are you doing there?"
"Sitting. What do you plan to do with Darcy?" Chauvelin sat down.
"Wouldn't you like to know."
"In other words, you don't know. Most remiss of Paris. Do you want me to act as your emissary?"
"I would prefer you to sample our cells and guillotine."
"Once again I fear I must disappoint you. I fear that Lady Blakeney would not appreciate it if I took up your kindly offer."
"Sir Percy, will you kindly depart. I have work to attend
to."
"Straighten your cravat, and then I'll consider it." Chauvelin heard the faint chuckle that always signaled Sir Percy's departure, and sure enough, when he glanced up, the infuriating dandy was no longer in the room. Chauvelin sighed softly and relaxed back into his chair, once again he questioned Paris' motives in ignoring the Scarlet Pimpernel.
Citizen Pierre de Cheminoux sneered at the guard.
"You don't say." Pierre rubbed his chin slowly, his eyelids closed lazily, then winked open again. "So he has opened up the D-wing again." Pierre fell silent again. "Most interesting......next week I think. Oh and you'd better take that dispatch through to citizen Chauvelin." The guard saluted and vanished out the door, as Pierre gazed unwinkingly and catlike at the empty fireplace. "This will teach citizen Chauvelin to underestimate the brains of Pierre de Cheminoux. Imagine his face when he realises that I have caught the Scarlet Pimpernel."
"But is that not wishful thinking citizen de Cheminoux?" Pierre spun, and once again the impeccably dressed man was reclining on his window sill.
"What are you doing there?"
"Relaxing, enjoying the view. What do you think I'm here for?" Sir Percy swung his legs off the window sill and stood up. "You're almost as engaging to talk to as citizen Chauvelin, though your neck must be stiff." Pierre subconsciously rubbed his bruised neck, his outrage against citizen Chauvelin rising once more to the surface.
"Chauvelin no longer matters."
"Oh!" Percy looked faintly interested.
"I just read a communique from Paris concerning him. Apparently unless he has the second in command already I have orders to give him a one way ticket to the guillotine."
"I'm sure he would enjoy that. He is always giving me free offers of sampling the massage expertise of Madame guillotine. Tell me, have you ever sampled them?" Pierre stared distrustfully at the Pimpernel, he could not say why, but this man made him suddenly feel incredibly uneasy and unsure of his position.
"No I have not." Pierre shifted uncomfortably.
"Well you really should find out, I'm looking for someone who has. I never try anything, unless someone has done so before me and informed me of its positive effects. It was the Prince of Wales who introduced me to the restorative effects of Bath. They have such a magnificent cure for fatigue." Percy yawned, then sat back down on the window sill. "In fact, it looks suspiciously like I will have to return there shortly. This fatigue is truly wearying." Pierre watched in astonishment as the affected dandy practically fell asleep under his nose. He rose cautiously and went to look and see if there was a guard in sight, but he could see none. Returning his attention to the room, he found that his sleepy visitor had vanished, and with him a large pile of papers. Pierre knew instant terror. Those papers dealt with his secret dealings with certain members of the public who did not see eye-to-eye with the republican government.
Chapter 26
Chauvelin looked up in annoyance.
"Why have you returned again sir Percy. Can you not see that I am busy?"
"But of course citizen. I have just come from a delightful tete-a-tete with Citizen de Cheminoux, he is exceedingly loquacious on the subject of Parisian communiqués. In fact he was telling me about one only a moment ago. Something to do with my Second in Command.." Percy blinked as Chauvelin vanished out of the room. "So hasty." He shook his head silently and rummaged through Chauvelin's desk, but found nothing, not that he was surprised by that. He had expected to find nothing. He calmly departed once again by the window.
Pierre looked up in surprise as Chauvelin came hurtling into his office, but he was not given long to be surprised.
"What in hell are you doing reading personal dispatches from Paris?"
"Citizen?"
"You heard me. Now answer."
"But....." Pierre grabbed desperately at the minor courage he had, and attempted to put on a bold front. "I am commandant of this prison, I have the right to read all incoming information."
"Just as I have the right to now search your desk." Pierre backed suddenly, as Chauvelin started to check his desk. He was now thankful that the Pimpernel had walked off with his contact papers. Though he was still worried about what use the Pimpernel would put them too. Chauvelin was disgusted when his search showed up nothing, but he wasn't about to show it. Pierre watched fearfully, wondering what this man would do next, but he was never to find out. At this point a man from Chauvelin's guard came into the room.
"Your pardon citizen." The man saluted stiffly. "I was told I would find you here."
"What is it?" Chauvelin rounded angrily on the man.
"'Tis the prisoner, citizen."
"What with him."
"He's gone mad, citizen."
"What do you mean by that?"
"Exactly what I said. 'E's completely off 'is rocker. We daren't enter. He's already cracked Jacques skull." Chauvelin swore long and fluently, much to the admiration of the guard.
"It would appear citizen de Cheminoux that our conversation must be temporarily suspended. We will resume it at a later date." Chauvelin hurried out of the room, and down to the cell in D-wing. Even as he entered the wing he could here the yells. As the guard had reported, the man seemed totally off his head. Chauvelin wondered temporarily whether this might not be a stunt similar to Sir Percy's stunt with the drink. But one look at Jaques persuaded him that he need have no such fears. Though it gave him plenty of fears as to what one did with a raving lunatic. Chauvelin watched for a very brief period through the peep hole, but he could see little, other than the thin figure cowering back into a corner and holding desperately to a chair leg. "When did it start?"
"'Bout an hour ago. He'd been awful quiet for a stretch, so Jaques went in to check on him, and 'e belted 'im with the chair leg." Chauvelin's frown deepened.
"No one is to enter. But send for me if you observe any changes, no matter what the hour." Chauvelin hurried back to his room, a deep frown creasing his brow. Now what would he do? Paris' instructions were specific, and they were now impossible to carry out. Chauvelin sat down, but stood up immediately, rubbing his nether quarters. He turned his head to see what was on his chair. The sight that met his eyes was a that of a pile of thistles and a scarlet pimpernel, next to it lay a piece of paper.
'such a comfortable seat is it not m'sieur?'
Chauvelin swore loudly and walked over to the window, outside the sun was slowly setting, cutting swathes of light across the sky in multiple colours.
Elizabeth also watched the sun set, she watched what she could see through the high barred window of the communal cell. She rolled over as it set and huddled into a tight ball. Then she uncurled as her eyes saw a piece of paper. She picked it up gingerly and looked at it. It was rolled into a tight ball, and was grubby. Elizabeth unrolled it carefully, and it suddenly became two separate pieces of paper. The first and dirtier had only a few words. 'Do not resist' And that was it. The second was even shorter. 'Fear not'. Elizabeth frowned as she read them. they were two separate notes, written by two separate hands, and Elizabeth recognized neither. Perhaps they were not meant for her. Elizabeth paused to consider the idea, and for some reason she could not place her thoughts flew to the leering cleaning woman. A tall woman, taller than Elizabeth, with lank reddish brown hair. Suddenly Elizabeth gasped, she had never seen the woman's hands, they had been always hidden by a pair of gloves, heavy leather affairs that concealed. Elizabeth struggled to suppress her hope, but it would not die.
Chauvelin looked up in annoyance.
"What is it this time Sir Percy?"
"Just came to enjoy some of your charming company. So depressing, I have no company."
"Isn't that too bad." Chauvelin's voice was ironically sarcastic.
"But it is. I have no one to drink ale with since you locked Darcy up. That was most unkind of you citizen."
"Not at all. It was a pleasure." Percy sighed.
"You are most unkind m'sieur. But did you like the cushion I lent you?"
"It was most comfortable, Sir Percy. I cannot help but sit on it now." Chauvelin shifted slightly under sir Percy's mocking gaze.
"To be honest, I had expected you to look before you sat down. My apologies to you."
"That must be a first, from you."
"All things must occur for a first time. But I must say, your cravat tying has improved no end. It is almost well tied."
"That is certainly a compliment from you."
"Certainly more than Darcy would give you."
"What's he got against me?"
"Your guards absolutely destroyed his coat." Chauvelin raised a cynical eyebrow.
"I will apologize to him if he returns to sanity."
"Is the poor chap insane?"
"Seems to be, he broke Jacques' skull with a chair leg."
"That sounds most unfriendly and unlike Darcy. Could I see him?"
"Only if you were willing to remain with him."
"This another offer of free board, and sample of Madame Guillotine?"
"Correct."
"I fear I must once again refuse your kindly offer. Lady Blakeney would not approve."
"Such a pity. I've been led to believe that she has a most permanent solution for fatigue."
"Really! You interest me highly. I thought nothing could beat Bath."
"Well I have heard that this cure is considered permanent." Percy nodded, then looked up as a couple of guards entered with a prisoner.
"Lady Blakeney, what a delightful surprise." Percy blinked at his wife, and crooked his head critically.
"Lady Blakeney, you ball gowns suit you better." Marguerite curtsied coquettishly.
"La, thank you for your opinion Sir Percy. Thank you for your kind greeting citizen Chauvelin."
"You are welcome Lady Blakeney. Where did you find her?"
"She was behaving suspiciously in the region of cell D30."
"Thank you citizen guard. Take a seat lady Blakeney. Guards, await outside." The Guards departed, and Marguerite sat down.
Chapter 27
Elizabeth looked up fearfully up from her corner. She had watched this on other nights, but was still mystified as to the reason for its occurrence. It started with the local guards, they would swagger into the room, inspecting each woman in turn. Eventually they would grab one, and guard and woman would depart. Once all the guards had departed, then citizen de Cheminoux would enter. Elisabeth had been unaware of his identity, until the woman on the pallias next to her explained who he was. De Cheminoux's inspection was much more intense, and until tonight Elizabeth had managed to go unnoticed, but no such luck. De Cheminoux grabbed her firmly and yanked her to her feet. He held her with one hand, while with the other he checked her out. He then turned to his aid. A medium high man, with pale blond and sparse hair.
"I'll have this one. Prepare her, I'll come for her in a couple of minutes." Elizabeth was pulled out of the room, and hustled away with a group of guards.
"And why sir Percy should I not imprison you?"
"For the simple reason, that I have no intention of remaining much longer."
"And how precisely do you plan to depart?" Sir Percy looked surprised.
"By the window of course. There are a few to many guards outside the door." Chauvelin nodded slowly, then looked out the window.
"Oh god!"
"I didn't think you believed in that deity."
"We don't."
"Then I'll thank you not to sully his name by taking it in vain. What's the matter?"
"Citizen de Cheminoux will have gone on his nightly rampage already."
"You certainly have good taste in your prison commandants."
"You seem undisturbed, Sir Percy."
"Sorry, I'll start to panic and rave in a moment. I was actually expecting you to go and do something about it."
"And what would you do if I did?"
"Depart of course. But I will return tomorrow if you like."
"No thank you, Sir Percy. Lady Blakeney, if you'll excuse me." Chauvelin rose, bowed and departed. Almost immediately Percy went to the window and whistled softly.
"That you Blakeney?" The call was soft.
"No, it's citizen Chauvelin. Get that ladder up you fool." Seconds later Percy was handing his wife over to the capable hands of Sir Andrew on the ladder. "You got the coat for me?" Ffoulkes nodded, and having taken Marguerite down returned with the coat and scuffed boots. Seconds later he was once again retreating down the ladder. A riding coat and a set of boots in his arms.
The guards looked up in surprise at the officer who came striding down the corridor towards them.
"Citizen Chauvelin sent me to collect the prisoner." The guard saluted then opened the door. The officer passed into the room, a guard tried to see what was happening, but the room was too dark. They could here the sound of a brief scuffle, then the officers voice called through.
"Let me out." The guard cautiously opened the door, and the officer strode out, the prisoner hanging unconscious over his shoulder. The officer then marched off down the corridor.
"But what about us, officer?" The officer hesitated.
"The citizen Chauvelin gave no orders concerning you." The officer marched off and left the guard to stare helplessly at each other.
Chauvelin swore viciously when he found that citizen de Cheminoux had already walked off with Elizabeth. He turned to the guards in charge of the cell.
"When did citizen de Cheminoux come through?"
"About fifteen minutes ago." Chauvelin frowned. He had been talking with both Sir Percy and Lady Blakeney at the time. that ruled out any of the Pimpernel's miracle disguises. On a though he turned and hurried down the passages. As he feared, the guards were standing idly around the open door of the cell.
"Citizen. The Officer came and collected the prisoner not five minutes back."
"Thank you." Chauvelin took a firm grip on his temper and nodded as politely as he could. Before hurrying off down the corridors, well that meant that Citizen de Cheminoux was probably the genuine article. Chauvelin then took off at the run, if the Pimpernel's methods were anything to go by, de Trouit probably departed in the early afternoon. Chauvelin found that this assumption was correct. Therefore one wondered about the prisoner Elizabeth de Bennoit, was this tricky work on the part of the Pimpernel or had Pierre de Cheminoux beaten him to the collection. Chauvelin returned to his room, pondering the problem, then summoned the guard. "When citizen de Cheminoux returns to his room, please send him in to see me." The guard saluted and left. Chauvelin grabbed his pile of paperwork and buried himself in his work.
Chauvelin looked up in irritation at the heated looking guard.
"What is it? It had better be good this time." The guard saluted stiffly.
"Your pardon sir. Citizen de Cheminoux has just been found."
"Found?"
"Yes citizen. He was tied up in one of the holding cells."
"Bring him in." The guard saluted and retreated hastily. Citizen Chauvelin seemed unhappy about something. Citizen de Cheminoux appeared in a very disheveled condition. In fact he was attired only in his underclothes. "And what happened to you citizen?" De Cheminoux flinched at Chauvelin's sardonic gaze.
"I do not know. One minute I was speaking to one of the guards, and the next thing I knew was that I was tied up in one of the holding cells." Chauvelin's scowl suddenly deepened.
"Then who in..." He stopped, totally lost in thought. "The Pimpernel was talking to me. His Second was imprisoned. The Pimpernel's wife was with him. There was no one available to do the job unless.." Chauvelin fell silent once more, his mind carefully processing the various options open to him, none of them were palatable. Pierre was astonished by the disjointed and illogical remarks that Chauvelin muttered, and was most relieved when an interruption occurred. The interruption occurred in the sound of a seamew, it cried thrice, and Pierre watched in amazement as Chauvelin's head snapped up. "Go get some other clothes on citizen de Cheminoux." Pierre hurried out of the room, glad to obey. On his way to his rooms he passed a guard who was running in the opposite direction. the man looked heated.
Chauvelin looked up as the guard ran into the room.
"Citizen!" The guard saluted stiffly and held out the dispatch he carried. Chauvelin snatched it out of his hands and opened it, his face paled immediately and he dropped the letter, and resumed his staring out of the window. He had not moved a muscle when Pierre returned, now fully clothed. Pierre picked up the dispatch curiously, but he could not read it.
"What is the matter citizen Chauvelin?" Chauvelin withdrew his gaze from the window, and Pierre was astounded by the despair in his eyes.
"A lot more than I like to think of. Citizen guards." They saluted stiffly. "You are dismissed." The guards filed slowly out of the room, and Chauvelin returned to his perusal of the dispatch. Pierre frowned, watching Chauvelin's varying expressions.
"What is the dispatch about. It looked to be written not in French."
"Correct citizen. It is written in English, and it is from the Scarlet Pimpernel. It would appear that I am shortly to be reassigned back to London." Pierre looked puzzled, but no doubt citizen Chauvelin would elucidate further when he saw fit. Citizen Chauvelin did not see fit, so Pierre had to go without finding out what the dispatch was about.
Chapter 28
Elizabeth fought with her fear as the guards shuffled into a nearby room.
"Change quickly." Elizabeth eyed the clothes doubtfully, it was a peasant outfit and common for the era, but eventually she changed. The aid reappeared and after casting an eye over her, he took her arm and dragged her out of the room. Elizabeth struggled a bit, but it was of no use. The aid seemed fairly undisturbed by her struggles, and he was soon joined by a guard, and between them Elizabeth was hastily shuffled into a room, the aid departed immediately, and the guard waited quietly outside the door. Elizabeth huddled back in a corner, eyeing the room and its furnishings dubiously. The only piece of furniture was a large bed, and Elizabeth liked it not at all. Elizabeth was kept waiting for nearly ten minutes until citizen de Cheminoux entered the room, he seemed hurried. He did not even look at her, but hurried to the window and leant out, a seamew cried thrice, then he grabbed Elizabeth. The guard looked into the room, puzzled by the call of the seamew, but all he saw was the prison commandant behaving much in his usual manner on such evenings. The guard removed his head and walked a brief distance down the corridor. His job was to guard, and he most certainly did not like having to listen. As soon as the guards head retracted, Elizabeth felt herself released and hustled over to the window.
"You there Ffoulkes?"
"Right below you. I'll be up to fetch her in a second."
"Forget it. We're coming down. Stand by." Elizabeth felt herself hoisted onto the man's shoulder. The world seemed to spin out of control as he went out the window. "All safe?"
"We got Marguerite five minutes ago. De Trouit was pulled out earlier this afternoon."
"Percy?"
"Said he has stuff to deal with. He'll meet us on the shore." Elizabeth was put on the ground.
"Can you walk?" Elizabeth nodded. "Good."
"No hitches inside?"
"Not that I'm aware of. Come, we must leave."
"Right." Elizabeth heard a soft order given and a short time later she was being hurried through the town and down to the shore. Soon the little group was enlarged, by two.
"That you Percy?"
"Yes. I got de Trouit from the hut. Briggs should arrive any second now."
"There he is." The seamew rang out thrice, and soon Elizabeth found herself standing on the deck of a familiar schooner. The schooner started with a plunge and stagger. An arm grabbed Elizabeth as she fell, and pulled her in.
"No hitches, Percy?"
"None. I need to depart Darcy. Look after this little lady."
"Okay." One of the men left and Elizabeth shivered slightly. "You okay?" Elizabeth shook her head softly.
"Am I safe?"
"About as safe as you can be. I appologise for your recent treatment, but it was a bit touch and go." Elizabeth nodded, coughed, and started to cry. "Softly does it." The arm that held her tightened, comforting her immensely. Elizabeth heard some footsteps approaching, but as she could not control her tears, she did not look up.
"Oh, sorry Darcy. I hadn't realised."
"Quite alright."
"Lady Blakeney sent me to say bring her down as soon as possible."
"I think she is already reacting. Tell Lady Blakeney that I'll bring her down when she has recovered." Elizabeth heard the footsteps retreat. "It was only Percy." Elizabeth nodded, her emotions coming slowly back under control. As her sobs subsided, the arm started to release her.
"Please don't let go." Darcy stiffened.
"Are you sure?" Elizabeth simply nodded, and the arm retightened. "Miss Elizabeth, I know that this is probably inopportune. But would you reconsider?" Elizabeth gave a choked giggle, it had taken her a minute to realise that he was referring to his previous proposal and her refusal of his suit.
"I think that yes I would." The arm that held her tightened once more, then the second arm joined it.
"She had beaten me to it. But Darcy seemed to be coping with the situation."
"That is probably a good thing." Marguerite laughed softly as Percy wrapped his arms around her.
"I fear little woman, that I am about to be deprived of my able second-in-command."
"Well you have Andrew back, who knows. Elizabeth might have as much trouble with him as I have with you."
"That is most unkind of you m'dear."
"Not at all. I was being nice." Percy silenced her temporarily with the time honoured salutation. "How did you do it this time?"
"Not as easily as usual. Fortunately the Captain of Chauvelin's guards accepted our excuse that we had been sent on late. So we started with two of us in his guard."
"Who were they?"
"Tony."
"And you I assume. But continue, how did you arrange for Darcy to rescue Elizabeth, and at the same time be safely imprisoned?"
"Well Jacques got his skull cracked, and Chauvelin gave his orders that no on was to enter the cell, so at an opportune moment, Darcy was substituted with a dummy, which I later removed. All rather simple in afterthought." Marguerite smiled as her husband's laughter rang through the room.
"And as Tony is not displaying a bandage, I assume it is you, who supposedly acquired a cracked head." Percy hesitated momentarily then nodded. Marguerite frowned, but said nothing.
And may it be noted in conclusion that the wedding between society bachelor Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and Mme. Elizabeth de Bennoit was the talk of town. Lady Blakeney's gown started a new fashion, and Sir Percy's coat kept the young bucks talking for even longer than the wedding. HRH the Prince of Wales graced the event, and citizen Chauvelin was markedly absent from the rooms.