The rain danced atop the windowsill as Marguerite watched the Paris road hoping that they would not be gone too long into the night. Chauvelin had shown his despised façade what seemed an eternity ago but was truly just ten minutes, and she could not help but fear that her husband and brother had been caught. Was this visitation a trap to lead them to the bed of Madame Guillotine, and if it was, had they escaped?
Consumed by her terror and thoughts, Marguerite neither heard the door creak open, or her brother's young wife, Louise, sit down at her side. Only when her sister-in-law's hand touch her did she become aware of her presence, and she smiled in return while resting her head on the girl's shoulder.
"Dinner has been waiting for some time now, Marguerite," Louise stated quietly. "Will you not come downstairs?"
Marguerite shook her head in negative response. "They have been gone far too long for my liking, and thus I shall wait here for them even if it is the only thing I do for the rest of the evening."
"Ma sœur, please stop these worries. You know that Percy has a clever mind that has gotten both him and Armand out of many bindings before, but if you insist on staying put, I shall have something brought up to you."
Marguerite smiled with childish innocence. "Could you please?"
Louise in return sighed exasperated. She had known Marguerite for the longest time, and like everyone else, she also knew how good she was at being completely stubborn when she wanted to be.
"As you wish, it shall be done," Louise finally said standing up, but before she left, a mischievous smile formed over her girlish face. "Are you certain that you do not want anything more, Lady Blakeney?" she added with a mocking curtsy and just missing the pillow flung in her direction, courtesy of her sister-in-law.
Still, Marguerite laughed a bit before Louise closed the door and she herself returned to her rueful state of mind. It was nothing new to her really; she had felt this way inside the room many a time. It was her room after all previous to her marriage, and the best place to be in during moments such as the one she had then. Imitating the ways of her childhood, she stood up from her bed slowly and walking to the window seat, she sat to watch the rue de Richelieu, which bustled vigorously even in the rain. She used to play on that street where the drops fell, for the weather never ruined anything for Marguerite St Just, the five year old wide eyed child of Paris 1772.
But that was all in the distant past, and a woman, still quite young in her years, sat in that girl's place at the window watching the memory lane below. No longer was she a little girl playing outdoors amongst the water falling from Heaven, but now, she was grown up and sitting inside, praying for the lives of her darling brother and beloved husband to return to her alive. Those two men were her life, and what she would do without either, she did not know let alone wish to.
More and more minutes had passed away when Marguerite's fear reached its highest peak. Closing her eyes tightly, she hoped that it would all be a nightmare, and when she opened them, she would be home in England with Percy at her side. But alas, it was all reality as she recognized her old room with the rain still pattering on the windowpanes. Sighing, she returned to the bed, rested her body down, and clutched a pillow to her face as a bigger storm came from her eyes rather than the clouds.
Only a knock at the door was enough to awaken her senses. Brushing away her tears, Marguerite pulled herself up slowly, her back to the door. "It is all right, Louise; you may come in!" Although she heard the door hinges creak open in reply, not once did the sudden words that usually came with the sound reach her ears. "Louise, it is you isn't it?"
"Turn around," a hushed whisper commanded gently. Marguerite could know that voice anywhere and obediently doing as she was told, the most glorious sight her sore eyes could behold met her to confirm what she thought to be a cruel jest from her mind to her heart. "Percy!" she exclaimed jumping from her seat while her husband himself moved to accept her embraces instead of waiting for her to cross the room completely.
Percy Blakeney had never felt so much better than he did when he was with his wife. Holding her close to him, stroking the reddish curls that he adored, he drank in her whispering his name as though it were a sacred prayer to her, and after a few moments he placed her out at arms' length to gaze at her.
After pushing back a blond strand of hair that she accidentally pulled out of his tightly ribboned hair, Percy's amused smile changed to a look of mock admonishment. "Marguerite Blakeney, those would not be…the nerve!…tears in your eyes would they? Lud love me should that be true!"
"Of all people you are the one reprimanding me for that?" Marguerite shot back in return. "You leave me in terror while you dilly dally all over the streets of Paris and taking my only family with you? In that case, yes! I was crying and after this I have every right to have done so!"
Percy could only laugh at his wife as she stood at her fullest height trying to match his own, her hands at her hips. With a playful smile forming on them both, he pulled her into a maddening kiss as she relaxed in his arms.
"Are you feeling better now?" he asked breathlessly pulling away. "I would hate to see you still unhappy after my desperate attempts to comfort you."
"Well…" she began, holding the word coquettishly for a few seconds. Looking at the window, she heard the street become filled with haunting music as some musicians began to play. "You can atone for your mean mistake of leaving if you dance with me."
With a laugh from them both, the pain and sadness of being apart had vanished, and all they knew of was each other. Percy held Marguerite even closer to him as he whirled and twirled her around the room, and the couple could have never felt more blissful.
After their joyful dance had ended, blue met green as their eyes locked and seductive passion only shared between lovers gradually conquered their one heart created by two. Maybe they would be separated again tomorrow, but not tonight. Tonight they were together, just the two of them, and nothing would stand in their way after the room's door shut for the rest of the evening…
___________
Backs were broken there and slowly more and more men were lost. The revolution was long since over but the private war between Paul Chauvelin and Percy Blakeney was rumored amongst the prisoners as one fight never to be ended. If only they knew how correct they had been!
Having lost any right he had in the new government after Armand St Just inherited his late cousin's position, Chauvelin had become the overseer of the work yard hoping that Blakeney would come for any person he saw as being innocent. Walking back and forth to each of the treacherous dogs, his eyes had stalled one day on a bounder of the Pimpernel's league, one Lord Kulmstead, and a very fortunate coincidence for his strategies. Money had power over any man on earth, and Chauvelin, the conniving human he was, had learned some time ago how to use the glittering gold and silver pieces to his advantage. All this man would have to do was make a decision on one little matter to be placed before him, and it was only a matter of moments before Chauvelin would see him, his victory at last assured.
Suddenly, the door to the office opened and a guard came inside. "Citizen Chauvelin, we have the prisoner you asked for."
Chauvelin sat contently at his desk ready to make his first move. "Bring him in," he ordered simply but firmly.
With a nod, the soldier and his partner dragged Kulmstead inside the darkened room that matched Chauvelin's heart perfectly. The man had to be somewhere in his late thirties or early forties determined by his facial features, but the bruises and cuts that covered them made him look all the more older as he was thrown to his knees.
Standing up with a malicious smirk written across his face, Chauvelin bent down to look at the man as he ordered the guards to leave. "That is all! You have done what you were told and now I shall take over."
As the door slammed shut, Chauvelin forced the man to look up at him, his grin growing even broader. "You are my Lord Kulmstead, n'est pas?" No answer came from the prisoner while he continued.
"Milord, you are a very fortunate man today!" Chauvelin said standing up to retrieve the papers at his desk and offering the man a seat before him. The moment he sat down, the plan was laid out before him. "According to these papers, you joined us here some time ago. While attempting to protect your chief's wife, you were put under arrest for treason, but that is not the reason I wish to discuss. At the time of this incident, the woman was found to be hiding her newborn child, of whom did not last the night of its birth. This means that you, milord, know where Marguerite Blakeney is kept when her husband, your leader, brings her to Paris with him. All you need to tell me is do you know where she could be found now? Is she still at this hideout?"
It was only then that Kulmstead found his tongue and spoke. "I neither saw nor heard of the woman since that day, and even if I did, you must be stupid to believe that I would tell."
The smile formed over Chauvelin's features once again as he threw a bag of money out onto the desk in front of his prisoner. "That, milord, is a purse containing 500 English pounds and I give to you now. Find the woman for me within forty-eight hours, and it is yours to keep…and doubled!"
The man looked thoughtfully over the small purse of money. By now he was certain that Blakeney had left to him to dangle from a rope or lose his head. If Kulmstead could not have his prized possession of freedom, why should his former chief have his wife? Taking the purse and pocketing it, he gave his answer.
"A man can be easily persuaded, Chauvelin; you shall have the woman."
__________________
Never in his life had Armand St Just ever heard his sister's voice ever raised to such decibels as it did on that night. Fully awake and alert at the sound, his brotherly love overruled his bodily fatigue as he grabbed a dressing gown and ran to Marguerite's bedside. The poor woman was still fast asleep but thrashing as if every official in France was attempting to attack her.
"Petite mère!" he repeated his childhood name for Marguerite, trying to assure her of security, and holding her in his arms as once she did to him. "Petite mère, il est bien! Je suis ici avec tu! Il est bien! (Little mother, it is all right! I am here with you! It is all right!)"
Having no other choice but to wake up, Marguerite returned Armand's embrace, and as she began to calm her frightened her nerves, the siblings noticed that Louise had join them as well.
"Everything is well, yes?" the lady, barely more than a girl, asked sitting on the other side of the bed and holding her sister-in-law's hand gently.
"No everything is not well!" Marguerite replied, her entire body trembling with fear. "Chauvelin is nearby, I know it, and Percy, instead of being here, has been all over Paris for the past couple of days! What am I going to do? Chauvelin can not find me; not now! Not with…!"
"Marguerite there is no need for such alarm!" Armand interrupted hastily to which the lady herself groaned in exasperation. Marguerite had begged Percy to let her join him in this mission, but he insisted that if she was to come to France with the league, she stay behind at her previous home at all times. For your own safety and to guard the secret! he had insisted, but never, Marguerite thought, did he think of her sanity's safety! True each night, he returned to the house to see if all was well, but he had been gone for far too long this time! He had not visited for at least three days! Something was not right. Chauvelin had a plan, she sensed, and no one wanted to see her warnings as more than nightmares.
Speak of the devil, the rapping at the door stopped her from responding, and although they did not know just yet, the terror was about to come full force. With an expression for Armand to join her, Marguerite waited until he nodded in acceptance, then turned to Louise.
"Louise, I need you to promise me this; whatever happens, let no one into la chambre d'enfant," she commanded firmly. "No one must go inside, comprends?"
After receiving the answer in a small cautious nod and slam of a door, Marguerite along with Armand crept slowly downstairs, and taking a quick breath, she slowly opened the door.
"Lord Kulmstead?" came the lady's shocked exclamation at the sight of her visitor, and before speaking again, she looked to her brother only to discover that he had not the slightest clue about his sudden appearance either. "I thought you had been captured, milord! What brings you here?"
"Your husband, milady," her guest answered with a bow once he was allowed inside. "He had been planning my rescue for a while and when we did manage to escape, he sent me here to fetch you." When the man received no reply, he firmly, almost angrily, added grabbing Marguerite's arm, "We must go now! Blakeney can not wait to see you, and we do not want to…!"
Kulmstead did not have a chance to finish his sentence, for the next moment, Armand had stepped forward and pushed him away from his sister protectively. When the man tried to reach for her again, the brother knew something was wrong. Pushing him roughly to the wall, he spoke so ferociously that even Marguerite winced at his tone.
"Menteur! (Liar!)" he growled. "You do not come from Percy! He has not sent a note to us, and you do not have one in your possession! Now why have you really come?" As his prey remained silent, Armand slammed him hard against the wall. "Answer me! Why have you come to my house?!"
Kulmstead found himself unable to voice his words; his head had hurt so much. For such a short, young man, Armand was surprisingly strong. Instead of talking, however, he only pushed him away, reached into his pocket and pulled out a whistle, which he blew loud and clear, and in response, Chauvelin entered to carry out his part of the plan.
As Kulmstead dragged the brother outside, the black cloaked monster of a man made his way toward the sister, who shrank into a chair at the sight of his sinister face. Never would she fear this man, but just the vision of him was far too much for her to bear.
"Marguerite, my dearest," his cold whisper began before he raised her hand to his lips in mock gallantry. "It is an honor to see you again, chérie; time has been far too unfortunate placing such a separation between us, has it not?"
Marguerite scowled in contempt at her visitor. "Pardon my disagreeing, citizen, but I have found this separation of yours to be rather pleasant; it has kept us apart until now and I could not be more happier about my not having to see your villainous façade."
Chauvelin could not help but give a sneering laugh. "You are such a foolish woman, Marguerite, but then you always were. Your marriage certainly proved that, even after I knew that Blakeney was the Scarlet Pimpernel."
"You laugh, Chauvelin, but at least I am not alone as you are."
"Is that so?" her advisory said, laughing even harder. Looking around the room, he added, "For a wife who is not alone, it seems rather humorous that her husband is no where to be found." Moving behind the woman, who had adverted her eyes to the floor, which proved a more interesting sight, he continued teasingly, "Was he such a terrible lover that you left him because of that?"
"Of course not; you know that I would not allow him to carry out a mission without me, but he made me swear that I would stay behind if I came. As a result, here I am! Besides," Marguerite paused to give him a jeering once-over before she concluded. "I would not know if he was a terrible lover since I have no one to compare him with. After all, making love to you, citizen? Really now, the village idiot could be more passionate in bed!"
Undoubtedly, even with Chauvelin's lack of emotions and feelings, the words did indeed sting his heart. Keeping his fury in check, he ignored her, saying, "That does not matter; what is past is past. I have come to fetch you and so I shall…unless you prefer punishment?"
"Chauvelin, what could be more of a punishment than just seeing you before my face?" Marguerite asked with a bold laugh.
With a growl, the wounded man gripped her arm savagely and, had her feet not caught up with her, almost dragged her to the window, where he pressed her face to the glass.
"You see those soldiers outside, Marguerite?" he snarled in her ear as she winced in pain. "They will do as I tell them, and unless you do not come with me now, they will make you and your brother the sorriest siblings on the face of the earth. You have your choice to come willingly with me or else you shall have the threat I promised. The choice is yours, now make it!"
Spitefully kicking him in the shin, Marguerite tore herself away from his grasp, and as he moved in again, she spat in his face. "I know why you want to bring me away, Chauvelin. It has nothing to do with your thinking Armand and I traitors; you want to revive the love that was never true. I refuse to live with a lie, citizen, and to add to that, I am still a married woman until my husband is pronounced dead and even that will not end our matrimonial vows to each other."
"Putain traîre! (Treacherous whore!)" Chauvelin shouted unable to contain his anger any longer. "Your inane, foreign, unworthy fop is never going to return to you! I will make sure of that myself!" Opening the window, he called to Kulmstead and the soldiers under his command to come inside.
As the instructions were followed, Marguerite only saw Armand be thrown to the floor, bruised, possibly from a fight. Running to his side, she held him close to her, remembering the days when he was only a boy running to his "little mother" with a knee scrap or cut finger. It was a wonder that her hearing senses picked up Chauvelin's next orders.
"Show these two traitors that no one betrays France without having the scars to prove it."
Marguerite neither knew nor cared how long the buckle of the gendarme lacerated her body, and after a while, she did not even feel it. Yes the man struck her, struck her real hard, but not one bit of pain followed each hit. All she could think of was her beloved Percy; oh how she prayed that miraculously he would break down that door the next second and all would be fine!
However, the Lord does work in mysterious ways, she discovered, for the moment she made her prayer, the blows had ceased. Her body felt numb and feeble, but undoubtedly Marguerite could feel Chauvelin's slender, bony hand raising her head by her chin.
"Do you see now, Marguerite, who has the power around here?" she heard him whisper. "Are you still going to believe these silly thoughts and dreams that your husband really loves you? How can he if he insists on leaving you whenever he has the chance? Come with me, my darling and all this suffering will end."
Armand, being the strongest of the pair at that point, could hear his sister's tears begin to break through the eyes on her beaten face. He knew that Chauvelin's words were Marguerite's exact thoughts every time Percy went away; how that man dared to use them against her when she was miserable enough with the ideas made him enraged!
"You heartless son of a whore; I ought to…!" Armand shouted with every ounce of strength he had left from the thrashing, but there was not enough to finish since he was struck soundly again.
As he collapsed to the floor, conscious but badly hurt, Marguerite, strength renewed through motherly instinct, let out a scream. "Stop it! You will kill him!" Turning to Chauvelin, she drove her piercing stare into his cruel eyes. "You ask me why I wait for Percy day after day on this mission? You really want your answers? Have both Armand and I released, and you shall have them."
By the honest look in her eyes, Chauvelin knew that she was telling the truth; therefore, he himself assisted her in standing up from her kneeling position on the floor.
Marguerite ignored him, simply saying, "Please follow me, Chauvelin."
* * * * *
Louise slowly exited the room she had been guarding as she was ordered to go downstairs. As she left, Marguerite gave her a smile of reassurance, wishing she could see one herself in order to calm her nerves.
"Wait here, citizen," she remarked after taking a deep breath and walked inside the room.
Even with his diabolical mind, Chauvelin still had intelligence in his brain, but even that could not help him to piece together what this room had to do with Marguerite waiting for her husband instead of leaving with him. Pacing outside the door impatiently, he waited for a few moments until he heard the most unusual, least expected sound…a baby's cry.
"Chauvelin, you may enter now," he heard Marguerite call to him, and once he pushed open the door, his stunned mind caused his feet to brake his movements.
Marguerite could not believe what she was doing, but this was the only way to tell him. Walking the man to the bassinet near the window of small nursery of a room, she made him look inside to see a small infant, no more than at least a week old, looking back at him. As the start of a cry began to fill the air, Marguerite gathered the baby into her arms, soothing it with the familiar sound of her voice, and sat down in a chair to sing it back to sleep.
Once that was finished, she did not take her attentions away from the baby, but voiced her words to her enemy. "Her name is Elisabeth, Chauvelin; she is Percy's firstborn child…and mine," she said, gentle tenderness and pride in her tone. "The rumor you heard about my miscarrying was just that, a rumor, and for the last few days, she has been my only company aside from Armand and Louise." When the only reply she received came in his silent expression, Marguerite at last looked up into his eyes. "You can stop being surprised, Chauvelin, for you knew it would happen eventually."
For a moment still, Chauvelin said nothing since he seriously did not know what to say, but he was never one to be at a loss for words for long. His cold blue eyes narrowing on Marguerite's precious bundle, he growled ferociously, "His child? His child? You really are the Pimpernel's whore!"
Marguerite stood up, angrily, but before she spoke, she made certain to place Elisabeth back into the bassinet. Turning back to Chauvelin, she stood inches away from his face, staring him down threateningly. "I would gladly become an Englishman's whore before I became any of my fellow countrymen's wife, especially yours! And to bear his child brings me more joy than any applause I received in my days as an actress."
"That is not your child, Marguerite," Chauvelin answered, his anger matching her own. "That small leach in that cage is a Brit's half-breed bastard."
Never in her life had Marguerite struck anyone as hard as she had at that moment. Her enraged emotions flew swiftly from her mind to her open palm as she slapped Chauvelin soundly across his head, leaving him feeling as if his own Madame Guillotine herself had whisked it from his shoulders. However, he did not stop at his feeling numb, and his famous commands came into action once again.
Throwing Marguerite to the hard, wood floor, he picked the baby up out of the bassinet himself. "Someone had better get up here!" he shouted, and seconds later, a soldier joined him in the room. Handing the tiny girl to him, he said, "Sergeant, take this thing out to the back and do away with her by any means possible!"
"NO! Do not touch her! Please don't!! Please!" Marguerite shrieked on her knees and sobbing the moment he ended his sentence, but simple words were not enough to prevent the event from taking place. With Chauvelin restraining her from helping her baby, the soldier did as he was told, and a few minutes later after the crying child and he had left the room, a shot rang through the Parisian air, and all became deathly silent.
* * * * *
Poor Marguerite had not even realized that she fainted until some time later when she opened her eyes. She was no longer in the St Just house, but recognized her surroundings as the DayDream, Percy's yacht. Mon Dieu, we are going home! she thought sadly. How can I tell him that she is dead?
"Good morning, my heart!" Percy's voice exclaimed from the cabin's bolted couch, and Marguerite turned a disheartened look on him. He on the other hand gave her a frown. "What is wrong, Marguerite? You look as if you have looked death right in the face!"
Did he have to say death? "Percy!" she wailed out loud as the man in question ran to her side and held her. "Percy, our baby is dead! Chauvelin had one of his lacqueys…!"
A baby's cry of need, the sound that Marguerite thought she would never hear again, was the only sound that interrupted her sentence. Turning her hopeful eyes on Percy, who shot her that amazing smile of his, she entreated through them an explanation.
Laughing slightly at her surprise, he helped her stand up before answering her plea. "Well, you heard our daughter, sweetheart! She is asking for her angel of a mother!"
Marguerite slowly turned around in the direction of the wailing, afraid that once she did, it would all be a terrible dream, but it was not. Her feet pulling her near the cabin bassinet, she gazed down tearfully at her little darling, alive and well. Picking her up gently but excitedly, she held the babe to her heart.
"Ma fille, oh ma fille!" the young mother cried happily, her emotions slurring her tongue into her native language. "Ma fille, tu as en vie! (My daughter, you are alive!)"
Carrying Elisabeth back to the bed, Marguerite's smile beamed as she caressed the tiny face she beheld, whispering her girl's name repeatedly for a few moments before the time came to feed her. As Percy joined her, she blushed a bit, but he only leaned in to kiss her rose tinted cheek.
"Don't you dare blush, Marguerite!" he scolded humorously. "You forget that I have seen every inch of you before today; your exquisite body is not a new sight to me."
"Percy!" she laughed. "Not in front of children!"
They had one more good laugh before Percy grew serious. "I am so sorry Marguerite for not informing you of the plan ahead of time, but I had barely thought of it before it had to be carried out.
"When I saw that Chauvelin, Kulmstead, and the soldiers had arrived here, my mind just flew into wild action. Once the one in charge had been alone, I instantly took him down and found a place to change into his uniform, but rest assured, I was the lacquey in the room when Chauvelin had the nerve to sentence our daughter to death. To make him believe that Elisabeth was dead, I shot my gun into the air, knowing that he would not look outside, and once that was done, he had left, leaving Armand, Louise, and myself to bring you and Lisa to the DayDream. Alas here we are, safe and sound!"
Marguerite had looked at him, awestruck through the entire layout of the plan, and once he was finished, she could only kiss him!
"Percy, I could not be more happy that you had made it," she said. "The both of you are my life now, and if I lose either one of you, I do not know what I would do. Just do me one favor next time!"
"Anything my sweet! Name it!"
After a quick gentle slap to his arm, Marguerite smiled. "Don't you ever scare me like that again!"