For the next few weeks, my side and leg injuries had tried to recover, but they only continued to prevent me from returning home to England. My leg had especially been a problem to the extent where the only way I could walk was with a cane, and I had decided to remain in Paris until it was not needed anymore. The league had not agreed with that idea, but concluded that it had to be done. England could live without me for a while, and I knew my way around France. There was no need for fears.
The important thing to think about was where was I going to stay? Yes the employees at the small hospital were very kind indeed, but I refused to be cooped up inside there for my whole stay. I had to find another place to reside in until my wounds had healed, and I was far too determined and stubborn to let anyone change my mind.
Every day, I would ask nonstop if anyone had or knew somewhere for me to lodge in, and after much searching, the nurse, my elderly caretaker, had informed me that a friend of hers was willing to have me to stay with him.
"His name is Armand St Just, and he and his sister live on the Rue de Richelieu, not too far from here," she told me as she applied a new bandage to my leg.
However grateful I was for her help, I had been a bit too distracted by the name of St Just. The only one I had previously known of was Louis St Just of the Republican Government of France, and he was a complete clone of Robespierre, the leader of the country and most evil man of his time. "Nurse, is the man you speak of, Armand, any relation of Louis St Just?" I asked wanting answers before I agreed to stay with him in his home. After all, the last thing I needed was a trap.
The nurse in return had laughed a bit before answering with quiet caution. "Yes, the three of them, Louis, Armand, and his sister Marguerite are all cousins, but they hardly speak to each other if ever. Armand despises Louis ever since he tried to ask for Marguerite's hand, and therefore he is nothing like his cousin. If you ask me, the brother and sister are the kindest people alive on earth."
Realizing what she was ready to say, I laughed. "Do not worry, citizeness; I am not fond of Louis myself. However, if what you say is true, than yes I will stay with the man, Armand, as long as he still offers his hospitality."
"In that case, Sir Percy, we are going to miss you. Your presence here has been an absolute pleasure for myself at least, but I will send word to Armand as soon as possible so you can be on your way."
"I could not have said it better myself, citizeness; I shall miss you all as well, I swear."
Plans were made that very day, and after a few fond farewells, I hobbled down the path, leaning on my cane, out to a waiting carriage headed to the Rue de Richelieu. Once I arrived there, the young maid, Marie Helene, greeted me and carried the few possessions I had into the house. Armand himself had not been home, and thus the young girl had shown me to my room.
I muttered a thank you and then walked around to the best of my ability to marvel at the house. Although it was quaint, it had been rather beautiful and picturesque at the same time. The room being loaned to me was very comfortable, but nevertheless anything would have been accepted with the condition I was in.
However, it was the parlor that had interested me the most making it my favorite. The chairs and other pieces of furniture were a pleasure to see having been so close to those back home in Blakeney Manor. Thus for old times' sake, I sat down gently in one of the armchairs…and then I caught sight of something that changed my life forever.
Just as I had leaned back to close my eyes and rest, they fixed themselves on a portrait hanging on a far wall. One could almost distinguish the velvet material of the fawn colored couch, but that was not the part that had caught my attention. Resting herself on that couch was the most incredibly stunning woman I had ever seen in my life, and for a moment I was overwhelmed by my sudden shock. Was it more of the fact that I was so mystified and enchanted by her appearance or was I only surprised at my reaction to her in general? After all, I had never expected to feel this way about any woman before.
Standing up and walking to the wall slowly, I moved to see the painting from a closer, finer angle. By God, the lady was beyond ravishing that the idea that she actually existed seemed false. She was once again rested on the couch, leaning on it so that her whole body was folded nicely in its place. Her fiercely red hair was fixed in ringlet curls, partly pulled away to show off her beauteous facial features; her eyes, two emeralds set side by side, shined luminously from the candlelight. A rose was held in one elegant hand close to her lips, which must have shamed the flower by overpowering its loveliness. I swear that she had to have been an angel, a goddess, anything but an existent person, for she seemed too gorgeous to be real.
"I see that you are already bewitched by my sister, monsieur," a voice said laughingly behind me. "Although I really believe that you should meet her first before confirming that thought."
I whirled around so quickly that I felt as though I would fall over, and in the doorway, I found a man, no more than a youth I guessed. His features clearly showed a resemblance to that of my mysterious lady, but his hair was darker and obviously he had less years behind him than she did.
Smiling, I inquired, "You are Armand St Just I presume?"
"He himself, monsieur," his thickly accented voice answered politely with a handshake to follow. "In that case you must be Sir Percival Blakeney, yes?"
"He stands before you now, citizen, and permit me to say, for such a strong accent that the French language adds to my native English, you have pronounced my name perfectly."
He laughed heartily, showing that there were no hard feelings in response to my words, then turned to my Lady of the Painting. "And I believe that you have 'met' my sister Marguerite?"
My jaw must have dropped to confirm my fortunate luck. "This is your sister, as in blood related and living with you?" He nodded proudly, giving me the idea that he was never hesitant in showing her off to the public. "Well, she is lovely indeed, and even that is a mild word for her. I trust that you will introduce me soon?"
"When she returns from her short travels, then most definitely I will. Everything will come in time, Sir Percival."
If I had answered a moment sooner, you could have said that I interrupted him. "Please let us not worry about formalities. Nobleman or not, I am a guest in your home, and therefore Percy shall suffice."
"All right then, Percy," he said with a satisfied smile. "But then I insist that you call me Armand."
"I have not one complaint to that, young man. As I said, this is your home, and anything you wish me to do or say, I shall."
"Wonderful! Now you look as if you have not had a good meal in such a long time. Did they not feed you at the hospital?" he said, sarcasm mixing with mocked anger. "I really must force you to eat a good dinner, and Marie Helene is the very best cook in all of Paris!"
"Sink me that sounds absolutely delightful; I would be quite honored indeed! Lead on, my good man!" I said with the flippant laugh that all of England was accustomed to hearing, before following Armand down the hallway.
With that, a friendship began that would last us both a lifetime, but there was only one thing that confused me. My thoughts continuously drifted back to the portrait, and I marked the date in my head when I first laid eyes upon Marguerite St Just. I repeatedly prayed that we would meet as soon as possible while outwardly I appeared to be enjoying dinner, which was honestly very good! For a short time anyway, I could resort to filling my famished body while my mind filled itself with the vision of my lady, my Marguerite.