The Scarlet Pimpernel - Fiction By Denise J. Hale
The following is based entirely on the televised series of The Scarlet Pimpernel. With the exception of Robespierre and The Prince of Wales to the best of my knowledge all characters are entirely fictional. I make no claims for any historical accuracy. In fact, although the use of "ain’t" may be authentic, you will not find it here (a childhood of having it denounced as "common" has left its mark).
I hope you enjoy reading this as much as I’ve enjoyed writing it. Thanks to Claire for discussion on writing when she reminded me of childhood delight in creating episodes of favourite TV programmes, and to Emma for her encouragement. Last, but not least, to Richard, for providing the inspiration.
Adieu
Denise
7th September, 2001.As most of the story is centered in Paris I have included some French dialogue. For those of you whose French is on par with my own (abandoned at 13 and barely able to count to 21) I have included translations at the back.
Time Heals All Things.
There was little visual difference between the grey, turbulent sea and the equally grey, storm-filled skies. Only the presence of the struggling sailing ship defined their relative positions. On board even hardy seamen were experiencing difficulties in retaining the contents of their stomachs. However in his cabin Sir Percy leant across his table studying the various maps unaffected by such troubles. The only troubles that concerned him belonged to the De La Bere family, at present residing in the Bastille, but by the end of the week destined to depart to more celestial quarters. The map he was intently viewing depicted the underground catacombs that laced the city of Paris. He frowned at it wondering about its authenticity and above all its accuracy. The existence of the catacombs was beyond doubt but most of the knowledge relating to them resided in the heads of men, many illiterate. To rely on such a map would be foolhardy, he needed to carefully follow its trails, double-checking its references and paths - mostly he needed the one thing there seemed to be never enough of - time. He sighed, an object that had been ceaselessly rolling around the lipped table caught his eye. He reached across and caught it mid-roll. He glanced at the item in his hand, a silver rattle, his daughter’s favourite plaything, how in the world had it got here? Of course, he had been holding it when news of the family’s arrest had been delivered to him. She would be very distressed by its absence, he sighed and smoothed his forehead with his left hand. Perhaps it was time to relinquish his responsibilities and concentrate on his own family. To leave his daughter an orphan would be truly irresponsible. He slumped into his chair, his fingers absentmindedly toying with the silver plaything.
"Every man has a destiny," an Indian visitor to the Prince Regent’s court had announced gravely to the ensemble.
"Pray what is a Destiny? And how does one avoid it?" Percy had flippantly enquired.
The Indian had studied him thoughtfully. Percy had been powdered, wigged and appropriately attired for court in a peacock blue, silk brocade coat.
"A destiny is a man’s purpose for being." There were a few snuffles of suppressed laughter as the collective mind of the court envisaged their idea of the single purpose for man’s existent, which, if one wasn’t careful, resulted in the existence of another man!
The Indian continued, "To avoid it is to avoid one’s true self."
"Then I believe I have found my true destiny," Sir Percy had retorted. "And my tailor will deliver it next Monday."
The suppressed laughter was released. Destiny was not a good topic of conversation, Sir Percy reflected to himself, when ones host felt frustrated by his own! Waiting around whilst his sick, and often mad, father continued to occupy the position he knew he was born for.
The non-amused Indian lowered his voice, "I believe you are destined for greater things than a new suit of clothes my lord."
"Goodness gracious!" Percy had mock-seriously exclaimed. "You can not mean . two new suits!" His expression of mock-surprise added to his audience ’s entertainment value.
"I believe that beneath your shell is substance."
Percy had merely shaken his head sadly. "Yours is an opinion that I’m afraid few people would share." He waved his hand at the court. "They all realize that it is only what adorns this shell that provide it with any substance at all."
Percy had sighed blissfully, "I’m a very lucky man!"
He looked at the rattle in his hand and smiled at it. He was lucky, but more than that he was careful. He planned for everything and in order to remain lucky it was necessary to leave nothing to chance!
****
Rain continued to accompany their progress from Calais to Paris. Inside the carriage Sir Percy revealed the barest details of his plan to his companion, Sir William.
"Apart from in The Bastille, where exactly are the family to be located?"
"I hope when we reach Paris that information will be available to us," Sir Percy replied. "The Citadel seemed to have captured and announced their sentence with extraordinary speed."
"Why?"
Sir Percy chewed his gloved forefinger thoughtfully. "Perhaps the family have recently acquired a powerful enemy," he said finally.
"Or perhaps an old enemy has recently acquired a powerful position," suggested Sir William.
Percy silently mulled the possibility over for a while. "At the moment I think we are wasting our energies. Why they are there is not as important as how we get them out."
"We are not entering Paris in disguise?"
"Goodness gracious no. We are merely emissaries from the Prince Regent. Plus I’m hoping to mix business with pleasure. Paris holds certain items that a gentleman can not acquire anywhere else," Sir Percy solemnly informed his companion.
"So I have heard," sniffed Sir William disapprovingly.
Percy allowed himself a wry smile. "I was referring to well-cut clothes and extremely quaffable claret."
"Of course, of course," agreed Sir William gruffly. "What else could Paris offer a gentleman?"
Percy grinned. "What else indeed!"
***
The girl smiled enticingly across the room at Sir Percy and Sir William. Neither man acknowledged her and she turned away, vigorously waving her fan in front of her face. Percy picked up the cards that had been dealt to him and studied them. It was a bad hand, not worth betting on. He moved one or two cards around before smiling across at his opponent and casually suggesting the stake. Half an hour later he left the table a richer man.
"Lucky in cards ." started Sir William.
"Lucky in everything else," concluded Sir Percy. "There is nothing like coming up trumps from a truly appalling position to give one a sense of one’s worth!"
Sir William shook his head. "Really Percy! Sometimes I do not understand you. We have less than three days to rescue the De La Bere family and you are wasting time playing cards!"
"I never waste time. It is too valuable a commodity with such a limited supply," Percy rebuked his friend. "By the morning I will know exactly which cells hold the various members of the family.
"So what do we do in the meantime?"
Percy yawned. "Cards are beginning to bore me. I thought I’d try dice for a change. The night is still young." "However I am not! I bide you good night Percy and hope that in the morn you will be more informed and less in humour," retorted Sir William.
"As you will William," Percy replied off-handily. "Till tomorrow." He bowed slightly towards his friend and wandered towards the dice table. To an onlooker it would have seemed that the events at the table immediately captured Sir Percy attention so that he barely noticed the departure of his companion. However a few moments later Percy left the table and, checking he was unobserved, he made his way though into the next room. It was empty.
Percy carefully slid his hand along the dado rail in order to open a door whose presence was barely detectable to the naked eye. Inside a narrow staircase led up to another room that Percy entered. A small glowing fire provided the only available light and Percy stood still for a moment, blinking, so that his eyes adjusted to their new environment.
"Cheri! Etes-vous venus pour voir une vieille dame?" A woman’s voice called to him from the armchair near the fire. The firelight flickered, highlighting the lush satin of the sumptuous gown that clothed the pale, fragile, elderly lady’s body. Percy’s clear, blue eyes met her watery, blue ones that seemed to stare back at him. She sat in regal splendor as the firelight glistened on the ropes of jewels that bedecked her neck. For a moment Percy marveled that the sheer weight did not cause her head to droop but, despite her great age, this lady maintained a proud and erect stance.
"Mais oui Madame. Je suis venu pour voir votre sourire charmant," Percy replied with a smile. The old lady chuckled.
"Flattery Percy, as you English say, will get you everywhere," she told him, her perfect English heavily accented so that her voice sounded younger and almost seductive.
"And are we to converse in English?" Percy queried as he moved carefully around a footstool, to sit in a low chair next to the grand lady.
"It is advisable. Walls have ears, but those ears usually only comprehend French," she laughed.
"What have you uncovered?"
She tutted. "You are so impatient Percy," she chided him as she turned the top of the small table next to her to reveal a map. Her hand felt carefully around the edge of the table then her bejeweled finger stabbed at the map.
"Here is where you will find the mama and daughter. They have divided the family." Percy studied the map carefully.
"Why?"
His companion gave a Gaelic shrug of her shoulders. "The Marquise is very well-connected. They say he has been heavily interrogated. They want more arrests. He has been moved to his own cell on the next floor. Cinquante six. The boys are on the same floor as their mama. Ici." Her finger moved across the map to indicate another cell. Percy frowned. "It makes your task tres difficulte. N’est pas?"
Percy looked across into her sightless eyes. "No probing Madame. For your own and my safety," he said sternly. Then in a weary tone he added, "But you are correct in your assumption."
She smiled indulgently at him. "Do you still miss Marguerite?"
The question caught Percy off-guard, he nodded dumbly as he struggled to compose himself. Then, aware that the gesture was meaningless, he muttered an affirmative.
"The pain never goes away," the old lady said gently. "It just gets a little easier to live with. How is your daughter?"
"Looking more like her mother everyday," responded Percy wistfully.
"That is all very well. Just remember she is not her mother. She is her own person and you must appreciate her for herself." She sighed. "Now I’m getting tired. You must go but you can kiss me if you like, before you depart."
Percy smiled. "Of course Madame. Now you have unwittingly uncovered my real purpose for visiting you," he replied flirtatiously.
The old lady chuckled joyfully as Percy kissed her cheek. Her arthritic hands reaching up and gently touching his handsome face.
"Be gone you young scoundrel. In my heyday I wouldn’t have let you get away with just a kiss and believe me you wouldn’t have wanted too."
"Ah Madame but my wife would not have approved," he retorted earnestly. "Au revoir Madame."
The idea of her heyday being a mere few years ago, instead of over twenty, flattered and amused her. Percy could hear her throaty chuckles as he made his way back downstairs.
***
Robespierre helped himself to another cup of coffee then studied the man in front of him.
"Well Monsieur I am a very disappointed man," he said dryly. "I though that you may have served the cause of the people."
"I fail to understand how my betrayal of my friends could possibly benefit the people of France," the man retorted as he struggled to straighten his deportment despite the heavy manacles weighing down his arms. Robespierre stirred his coffee and then placed the spoon carefully in his saucer.
"What about the benefit to your own children?" Robespierre suggested before lifting the cup to his lips. Involuntarily the prisoner licked his own parched lips.
"Our family motto is Potius mori quam foedari, Death before dishonour."
Robespierre raised his eyebrows. "I ensure you Sir that I am perfectly able to provide my own adequate translation."
"Maybe but my family have lived by these words for centuries and so will my children."
"In that case I shall endeavour to ensure that both parts of your family motto are fulfilled, death and dishonour. Take him away." Robespierre waved his hand dismissively as if he was rejecting an unsavory supper dish. Then turned his attention to the paperwork scattered across on his desk. The aristocrat refused to move.
"Will I be allowed to see my family?"
Robespierre looked up wearily. "I see no reason why that is either desirable or necessary," he replied, before once more waving his hand dismissively, his attention already absorbed by the papers.
The man hesitated but allowed himself to be led away.
***
Sir William was helping himself to a second cup of coffee as Percy entered. "So?" he queried gruffly.
Percy frowned. "We have a complication. The family is being held in three separate cells."
Sir William looked at him anxiously. "Can we do it?"
"Of course we can do it," confirmed Percy irritably. "The question is how can we do it?"
"Well I don’t know. Do we wait till they are on their way to the guillotine? Or do we try to get them out beforehand?"
Percy sat down and surveyed the contents of the table. "All these questions William and I have yet to break fast. Is there any coffee left?" Percy demanded.
William poured his friend a coffee as Percy buttered a roll.
"It is such a lovely day I think I’ll go for a walk," Percy stated as William handed him the coffee.
"And what shall I do whilst you leisurely stroll about?"
Percy smiled at him. "I have one or two errands that I’d like you to run if you are not committed elsewhere."
"Percy, as always, I am at your service," sighed his friend.
"Good. We need to contact some of the league and have them make ready. But be especially vigilant I suspect that we are being observed."
"Are you sure?"
Percy shook his head. "But I believe I was followed home last night."
"But surely no one would be aware of the true purpose of our being here?"
"Maybe not but do not take any chances. This mission is difficult enough without me having to rescue you!"
"Your concern for my safety touches me Percy."
Percy smiled warmly at his friend.
***
During the next twenty-four hours preparations for the escape of the De La Bere family were undertaken throughout Paris. Everything was going to plan but doubt haunted Percy. The plan was simple, the best ones always are, gain entry, release the family from their cells, get them out of the Bastille and into a safe house. Everything was ready. Percy had just completed his final walkabout. He climbed the stairs and pushed open the door to the apartment.
"Thank God you have returned," gasped Sir William as he entered.
"What’s happened?"
"Someone broke into the Bastille and managed to rescue Annette De La Bere, the daughter."
"Well! That means one less for us to rescue," quipped Sir Percy whilst deep frown lines appeared between his eyes.
"It also means that they will double the guard," said Sir William wryly.
"And they will probably move the remaining family to different cells. Do we know who carried out this daring deed?"
"The rumour is that it is the work of the famous Scarlet Pimpernel," William said dryly.
"They seek him here," muttered Percy. "They place him there."
"Precisely," agreed Sir William.
"Any more feasible explanations?"
"That there is a certain young count who was smitten by the young lady and may have been involved in her escape," Sir William’s tone expressed his annoyance.
"Ah! True love conquers all."
"You’d have thought he’d have done the job properly," moaned Sir William,
"and rescued the whole family."
"Lack of time, or perhaps inclination," mused Percy, "Any details of the rescue?"
"No. Just that Annette was rescued."
"How very strange!" muttered Percy.
"Why?"
"Because, dear friend, Annette was, according to my information, sharing a cell with her mother."
William frowned. "Is there a possibility your information was incorrect."
Percy looked across at William. "It is more likely that Annette was indeed rescued by the Scarlet Pimpernel."
***
Percy pondered over the options available to him. To go ahead with the rescue as planned would be foolhardy, yet the rest of the family were still scheduled to visit Madame Guillotine in two days. The rescue had to go ahead; the plan would just have to be changed. Percy stood up and strode across the room. He picked up the crystal decanter and poured the liquid into a wineglass. As he lifted the glass to his lips the red, liquid caught the light and he stared at it. He lifted the glass to the light and turned it gently, the wine was the colour of blood, deep red yet its density was so different. Things that at a glance could appear so similar could in reality be so different. He smiled to himself before downing the wine in one swift gulp.
The guard stared at the parchment in front of him and rubbed his chin with his hand.
"I’m not sure," he said at last shaking his head.
The uniformed man in front shrugged. "As you will." He leant over the table to retrieve the parchment. "I’ll just go back and report to my captain. Not too sure what Monsieur Robespierre’s going to say though."
"Robespierre?"
"Well I’ve heard that he wants this matter resolved quickly and quietly."
The guard put a restraining hand on the soldiers. The soldier glanced around. "By all accounts he’s not too happy with the escape. He wants the rest of the family out of the way today."
"You will take them to the guillotine and they will be executed."
"They will be off your hands forever," promised the soldier. The guard nodded.
"Dupont! Bring me the De La Bere family," he yelled. "Or what’s left of them," he muttered to the soldier.
The soldier removed his hand from the parchment and the guard rolled it up and placed it on the shelf behind him. The subdued family, their fashionable silk clothes torn and dirtied, filed into the room.
"Follow me," ordered the soldier. "You have a date with destiny."
The cart moved slowly down the cobbled streets jostling its inhabitants. The soldier rode along side not looking at the downcast family but staring resolvedly ahead. A passer-by threw a rotten cabbage at the cart. But it was a token protest with most people too busy to even glance in their direction. The cart turned into a side street, then another, then it suddenly entered an open gate. The family blinked in surprise as the gate was quickly closed behind them. The cart driver and the soldier immediately dismounted.
"Quickly!" chided the solider. "We have not got a lot of time."
With the soldier helping to lift the young boys out the family scrambled from the cart. Two men came forward, one mounting the horse, the other climbing into the driving seat of the cart.
"This way," beckoned the soldier as he opened a wooden trapdoor. As the empty cart reappeared on the streets of Paris, the De La Bere family disappeared into the world below the city.
"Who are you?" queried the Marquis.
The soldier held up his left hand and flicked the gem on a ring, like a book the ring opened.
"Do you recognise this?"
The Marquis examined the symbol inside the ring, a small flower.
"The Scarlet Pimpernel!"
"At your service," smiled the soldier.
"How is Annette?"
The soldier frowned. "Alas her escape is not my handiwork. In fact it almost thwarted our plans for your family’s rescue."
The Marquis cursed.
"Come!" urged the Scarlet Pimpernel. "We need to move inwards. I do not believe we will be followed but one can not be too careful."
Percy led the family through the catacombs to a room he had prepared. Inside Percy lit a lantern to reveal clean, if plain, clothes, food, blankets and water to wash in.
"You will be safe here."
"Thank you sir," muttered the still-stunned Marquisette looking around the tiny room.
"We owe you our lives," added the Marquise.
"Are you really the Scarlet Pimpernel?" queried the younger son his eyes shining up at their rescuer.
"That I am," confirmed Percy. "But you must never reveal my identity to anyone."
"Oh no sir," declared the boy solemnly. "Upon my honour."
"Thank you," replied Percy.
Percy turned to the rest of the family. "You can rest here tonight. Someone will come and move you to another hiding place tomorrow. Then we will arrange for transport to a port where you will embark for England."
The Marquise nodded. "Thank you again sir."
"I bide you good night." Percy left the room. Then he felt the touch of the Marquise’s hand on his shoulder.
"I am very gratefully for all you’ve done. But my daughter . I just want to be sure that she is safe." His eyes looked beseechingly into the younger man’s.
Percy nodded his understanding. "I can not promise anything but I will endeavour to obtain some knowledge of her whereabouts."
"She’s always been headstrong," muttered her father. "But her mama worries."
The Marquise shook his hand sadly as he move back towards the room.
"One thing," Percy’s words caused the man to turn towards him. "I believe that your wife and daughter shared the same cell."
The Marquise nodded. "You are correct sir. My wife awoke in the morning and Annette was gone. At first she feared the worse then a rumour that you had saved her reached our ears." The man shrugged.
"I wish I had," Percy said quietly as he glanced in at the rest of the family who were busy washing their hands in readiness for eating. Then he turned and strode down a corridor concentrating his mind on locating his exit. Back at his apartment Percy removed the false nose, eyebrows and wig then scrubbed his face. Once more he recognised his own reflection in the mirror. Then he changed out of the dusty uniform into an outfit more befitting an English Lord. His servant had just finished powdering his wig as Sir William entered.
"I thought that went very well," he said brightly.
"We are not home and dry yet William," Percy reminded him.
"Near as damn it," muttered William.
"The Marquise desires to know where his daughter is." Percy responded as he tied his cravat.
"No news I’m afraid. The girl’s simply vanished," William said glumly.
"Probably being seduced in England by that unspeakable rogue the Scarlet Pimpernel," he added with a smile.
"Or more likely her count," Percy replied raising his eyebrow. "There perfect," he muttered as he inspected his cravat in the looking glass.
"Where are we off to tonight Percy?"
"A ball. Given by French diplomats in order to foster good relationships with its neighbours."
"Is that a good idea? I mean there is bound to be a certain amount of unease with the loss of prisoners to the Scarlet Pimpernel."
"Let’s hope so," grinned Percy, "Shall we go?"
"Sir Percy Blakeney and Sir William," announced the barker as Percy and William began their descend of the grand staircase. Used to the gaiety of the Prince’s balls Percy was immediately aware of the sense of unease that enveloped the room. At the bottom of the stairs Percy relieved a waiter of two of the filled glasses from his silver platter and handed one to William.
"Sir Percy Blakeney," a solemn tone announced in order to attract its bearer’s attention.
Percy lifted his monocle and looked inquisitively in the direction of the speaker "Ah Robespierre."
"Are we to judge the quality of England’s commitment to our alliance by the calibre of emissary she chooses to dispatch to us?" Robespierre enquired dryly.
Percy arched his eyebrows. "Certainly. And you are lucky that I was available for the task. As a close friend of the Prince of Wales I assure you that he will hear all about my little excursion on his behalf." Percy bowed to Robespierre then moved closer to the statesman. "Mind you it has been so useful to renew the acquaintance of my favourite tailor and wine merchant. Life has been so dire without them."
"If you say so my lord," Robespierre replied icily. He bowed and walked away muttering, "The man’s a peacock and a fool. If he really is the best England has to offer God help the English."
Percy smiled. "Do not fret my friend," he muttered. "England is in very good hands. Which is more than can be said of France."
Percy and William moved around the room engaging in social tete au tetes which, whilst pleasant, added little to their information.
"I’ve heard that the Scarlet Pimpernel’s been at work again," a lady with a Hanoverian accent conspiratorially revealed to Percy. "He’s an Englishman."
"Of course," said Percy, "He’s brave, fearless and reckless."
The lady flushed and waved her fan vigorously. "They say he is very good-looking. Have you ever met him?"
"Would I know if I had?" queried Percy, raising his eyebrows.
"Of course. He reveals his identity to no one," sighed the woman still waving her fan vigorously.
A sudden movement to his left caught Percy’s attention. He looked to William who immediately nodded. Percy excused himself and went to get a drink from a waiter who happened to be standing near Robespierre.
"We have captured her," the messenger reported.
"Good. I will question her later." Robespierre waved the man away.
"The rest of her family weren’t with her," persisted the man. "And she laughed when we asked her if she could identity the Scarlet Pimpernel".
"That will be all," retorted Robespierre irritably.
The man bowed and walked away. "Well" demanded William as he helped himself to a drink and joined his friend. Percy drew him aside. "It seems they have caught Annette De La Bere. And interestingly I do not feel that Robespierre believes the Scarlet Pimpernel is responsible for her escape anymore than we do."
"You promised," screamed Annette at the composed Robespierre.
"My dear young lady," Robespierre said calmly, "I do not believe I gave any such assurance."
For an aristocrat Annette was oddly attired in simple peasant clothes. Her dark hair was loose and a coarse headscarf was tied over it. Her skin was grimy and her bright eyes flashed with indignation.
"I thought we had an agreement," she challenged.
"Yes but it is odd that your parents escape after you had left our hospitality."
"I had nothing to do with my family’s escape."
Robespierre raised a single eyebrow to indicate his disbelief in the girl’s statement.
"I want nothing more to do with any of them," she declared.
"But they may want something to do with you. Perhaps even implore the Scarlet Pimpernel to embark on a rescue attempt."
Annette looked at him questionably. "Am I now supposed to deliver the Scarlet Pimpernel to you?"
"If you do my dear you would have accomplished something that no one else in France has managed. And France would be beholden to you. Perhaps enough to provide some financial compensation. A groom’s wages would hardly provide for a lady like yourself."
"My husband’s wages are sufficient for our needs," she announced proudly.
"Sufficient but is sufficient enough." Robespierre studied the girl in front of him. "Besides," he said slowly, "think of the glory. You will not have to hide in shame but could met your fellow citizens eye to eye."
The girl looked at him carefully as she appraised his suggestion. Then nodded. "Tell me what I have to do."
"Your daughter has been recaptured by Robespierre," Percy quietly informed the Marquis. A handkerchief was tied around his face in order to preserve his anonymity. The man did not respond to Percy’s words. Instead he stared at the fire. Percy wondered whether to repeat himself. The Marquis looked around at his family.
"Do not tell them. I understand your concern but my daughter is lost to me for all time. You must not feel the need to rescue her. You have done so much for my family."
"But she is your daughter," muttered Percy in disbelief.
"Yes." The elder man replied. "She will always be my daughter."
De La Bere picked up a poker and stirred the fire causing sparks to rise. "We move again tomorrow?"
"Yes," confirmed Percy. "Tomorrow we take a route which will led to the Seine. A passage has been secured on a barge to Calais where a ship will take you to England and safety."
"How can I thank you."
"I am pleased to have saved your lives. I only wish I could do more for your countrymen. I have saved but a handful from the kiss of Madame Guillotine."
"That is a handful more than would have otherwise have survived. Do not belittle your efforts. You have achieved a great deal more than you think. You have provided hope when there was no hope left."
"Would you deprive your daughter of hope?"
The Marquis looked at him. "Unfortunately I have never deprived my daughter of anything. That is my flaw."
"So are we to attempt a rescue of the girl?" demanded William as they ate supper.
Percy lifted a dish of carrots towards his plate. "We arrived to rescue the family. If we leave with her still imprisoned I will feel that I have partly failed."
William snorted. "We should be pleased that we managed to rescue the others. The girl’s original escape endangered that remember." As he spoke he waved his fork at Percy in order to add emphasis to his point.
Percy frowned. "Yes. Has her count been captured?"
William’s loaded fork was halfway to her mouth. He paused. "No one’s mentioned him."
"I doubt he exists," Percy concluded.
For a while they ate in silence.
"To rescue the damsel or not?" queried William as he lay his cutlery on his plate.
Percy picked up his glass and studied the claret. "We can only rescue a damsel if she is in distress."
"How will we know?"
"We’ll know," Percy assured him.
News that Annette De La Bere appointment with the guillotine was to be kept reached Percy that same evening. Percy sat in an armchair idly twirling the silver rattle and thinking of his own daughter. The idea of leaving her to fate was unimaginable, especially if fate would shortly curtail her life span. Perhaps the addition of sons had made the life of his daughter less precious to the Marquis. Percy shook the rattle in his hand sending the tiny silver beads enclosed within swirling around. The girl had to be saved.
"William!"
"What’s the matter Percy?" grumbled William, looking up from the book on horse breeding he was studying.
"We are going to rescue Annette."
"You’re cutting this one fine. The girl is due to be executed tomorrow."
"So time is of the essence. We have to contact the league tonight and make preparations." A loud banging at the door interrupted Percy’s thoughts.
"Who the devils that?" muttered William.
"No doubt someone who is anxious to speak to one of us."
The banging ceded and a servant escorted a young man into the room. His plain, course clothing, rough hands and awkward demeanour marked him as a peasant, and not the mysterious court that Percy had half-expected. He spoke quickly in his native tongue. Percy frowned.
"Monsieur vous etes confondus. Mon ami et moi ne sont pas mis au courant du mouron d’ecarlate. He turned to William. "The boy thinks as we’re English we must know the whereabouts of the Scarlet Pimpernel."
Percy laughed.
The young man looked uneasily about him then cursed them before exiting.
"I have seen that boy before," mused Percy.
"Where?" demanded William.
"I can not recall," Percy replied frowning.
Never use the same rescue strategy twice. It was a rule that at this late stage Percy was almost willing to break. It was unlikely that the French would expect him to perform the same tactics twice. Yet it was possible that the guards would be extra vigilant. Percy felt a deep uneasy about the new plan that he couldn’t share with his friends. As time ticked by, he went over and over the details with the gathered league trying to minimize the risk factor. Despite, or maybe because of, his cheerful persona the men seemed to reflect back his own uncertainties. They queried details, checked exit points, tried to access possible problem areas and were generally subdued.
"They know we’re coming," announced Jean, his ruddy face solemn.
"I believe they may expect us," replied Percy. "After all we’ve rescued the rest of the family." Percy looked around the room.
"Come on they have expected us before," he said encouragingly.
"They say the girl didn’t escape. That she walked free," muttered a young man to Percy’s left.
Percy turned towards him, his piercing eyes immediately interrogating the man. "Who does?" he demanded.
The man responded with a native shrug. "It is a rumour I heard."
Percy thought quickly, if the rumour were true it would certainly put a different perspective on the need to rescue Annette. "Has anyone else heard this rumour?" he demanded. Like fearful schoolboys a silence descended. Percy moved towards the fire and stared into its flames. To not rescue Annette would be to risk her life, and if the rumour was wrong. A log cracked in the grate causing sparks to fly out. Percy moved his foot to cover one of the embers that was burning a small hole in the wool hearthrug. On the other hand to take his colleagues into a possible trap. The clock on the mantle chimed. Annette execution was due at nine o’clock tomorrow. Less than nine and a half hours away. He had to make a decision. Everything logical and rational told him that the girl’s rescue was suspicious, but as he turned to address the room his eyes alighted on the silver rattle lying on a side table.
"Tomorrow we rescue Annette de la Bere so that she can join her family’s flight to freedom," he announced to the ensemble.
The cart trundled into the crowded square. News of the recent escapes had circulated around Paris and excited the populace’s interest in this execution. Amongst the die-hard loyalists who never missed a beheading were others who’s curiosity had been aroused at the possibility of viewing the famous Scarlet Pimpernel in action, or even witness his capture! The mood of the crowd was jovial and extremely vocal. Annette stared at her fellow countrymen in disgust, she was, supposedly, about to die and they behaved like servants on a hay day or holiday. The sunlight glinted on the sharp blade of guillotine and fear swept over Annette creating a wave of nausea. What if the Scarlet Pimpernel failed to appear? At what point would Robespierre halt this charade? Her eyes scanned the surrounding balconies seeking the dower statesman. She failed to locate him. With a judder the cart halted and a soldier was roughly encouraging its passengers to disembark. A child was crying, his mother hushed him fearfully, her eyes hypnotically fixed on the blade. Annette stumbled from the cart, slipping on the steps, no one aided her but the guard cursed her clumsiness. As the tired, crushed former servants of aristocrats started to climb the scaffold Annette felt the rough hand of the guard grab her. For a moment she was hopeful, but he halted the progress of the other prisoners and pushed Annette to the front.
"The crowd like a pretty face, " he leeringly told her.
Shaking, Annette forced her feet up the wooden steps as a drum beat to the rhythm of her heart. For the first time in her life she felt alone. Robespirre had to halt this charade it was obvious that everyone had abandoned her to her fate. The man at the top of the scaffold offered her a blindfold she shook her head. Another man forced her onto a wooden table were she lay looking skyward, instantly she regretted not accepting the blindfold. She was about to die due to no fault of her own, simply that she had been born into a family of aristocrats. She closed her eyes tightly. The noise from the crowd filled her brain; the jeers, the calls, the shouts even fire crackers and screams. She waited an eternity, waiting for the blade to descend and for her life to end. Suddenly the table was being pulled back. Annette dared to open her eyes. Robespierre had kept his word.
"Come." The single word was spoken by a tall, masked man. She stared into his bright blue eyes and immediately trusted him to deliver her from harm. He helped her from the table. She was surprised to discover that she was barely able to stand as she trembled from head to foot. Her rescuer lifted her up with ease and walked across to the edge of the platform. Quickly he seated her on the awaiting horse than mounted behind her. Around them was chaos. Terrified people were rushing in all directions. Men were fighting. Explosions were frightening men and horses. Her fellow prisoners had scattered and Annette glimpsed the mother carrying her child before the throng closed around them. The masked man guided the horse towards the exit, when suddenly French soldiers appeared, shoulder to shoulder, running down towards the square, muskets in hand. The rider cursed and turned the horse towards the second exit that was already blocked by soldiers. The horse seemed to dance in a circle as French soldiers occupied each exit point. Annette courage started to return. Robespierre had not abandoned her. She glanced into the now anxious eyes of her would-be rescuer and felt a pang of remorse.
"I’m sorry," she whispered.
The man’s eyes stared at her in disbelief. Annette felt them burn into her branding her forever as a traitor. She flushed. Then, pulling her with him, he dismounted and started to make his way towards the scaffold. People trampled around her, enveloping them, his strong arms gripped her and continued to pull her along. A fear entered her would he treat her as her countrymen treated traitors to their cause. She tried to release herself from his hold, but it was a feeble struggle, he was too strong for her. At the scaffold he did not climb the steps instead he dragged her beneath them. In surprise she stopped struggling. Another man was present.
"It’s a trap?"
The masked man nodded. The man pulled back a cover.
"Hold her," demanded the masked man. "She is going to be reunited with her family."
Annette glared at her rescuer, how dare he? "No!" she screamed at them. No one paid her any attention as the masked man climbed into the ground. Then she was pushed towards the hole, struggling against her guard he suddenly lifted her up and threw her down it. The masked man caught her. For a second she felt unable to breath, he carried her away from the hole, moving quickly. Then the hole was closed and they were in darkness and he moved further away from their entry point. She felt herself lowered to the ground, and then he moved away from her. She listened, desperate to hear his breath, or a movement which would assure her she was not alone. A bright flare appeared and she could detect the frame of the masked man holding a torch. His back was to her and he was walking away from her. Even she was aware that if she ran off she could be lost forever, she shivered, had she escaped a quick death to embrace a slow one lost in these tunnels. Wordlessly she stood and followed him. After walking for ages along similar corridors she began to fear that he no more knew the way out than she did. The thought gave her the courage to question him.
"Are you the Scarlet Pimpernel?"
He turned his eyes towards her. His fury with her was still burning in them. "Are you the daughter of the Marquis de la Bere?" he asked coldly.
She didn’t know how to answer his question. She no longer considered herself her father’s daughter but her husband’s wife. She wondered where Jean-Paul was, whether he would know she had been rescued, how would he find her if she was taken aboard. Silently they continued trekking the underground tunnels. At each point where the tunnel met another, the masked man stood still for a few seconds before selecting their route. Annette looked about her, there were no signs on the walls, no sounds to be heard, nothing to indicate the validity of his choice. Her feet arched, she was tired and thirsty.
"Can we rest?" she pleaded as they reached another place where the tunnel split into two. The man turned and stared at her coldly. "We have no time for resting." He turned away from her. She leant against the cold wall and breathed deeply.
"Come," he commanded, already walking away from her down the left hand tunnel. She pushed herself upright and reluctantly followed him, her eyes cast downwards willing her feet to follow him.
"Here," he barked the single word at her.
She looked up and was surprised to see him indicate a small room. She wandered inside. In the centre of the room she was glad to see a table bearing blankets, food and water. Her rescuer had his back to her as he lit a lantern. She stared at him and wondered why he risked his life rescuing others, strangers like herself and her family, especially as he wasn’t even French.
"Thank you sir," she muttered as she slumped into a chair by the table and reached across to the carafe of water.
"You expected Robespierre to appear," his cold tone demanded.
She nodded as she reached for the basket of bread.
"You betrayed your family to him?"
She didn’t like the use of the word ‘betrayed’ it indicated a disloyalty.
"I did what I had to do," she replied sharply.
"Why?" he queried in disbelief.
She swallowed the lump of bread in her mouth, forcing it down.
"They tried to separate us. We had to be together. France is changing. They wouldn’t accept it. They couldn’t see that the future of France depends on people like us."
"Like you and your count?" queried the man in puzzlement.
Annette laughed. "My husband is not a count. He is a solid, dependable Frenchman. Not a cosseted exploiter of the people of France." Her tone emphasised her feelings of pride in her husband and disgust for her own class.
"Your husband?"
"Yes. I married Jean Paul before the arrests. My father was furious but he said that as I required my parents’ approval the marriage was invalid. However Robespierre himself has now signed his approval so that I am legally married."
"How old are you?"
"Sixteen."
A silent descended and Annette continued to help herself to the food on the table. She was aware that his piercing blue eyes where watching her, the feeling disturbed her and made her uneasy. The rest of his face was still masked and his hat was worn low on his forehead. She wondered what he was thinking. Not that she really cared, she was too tired, all she wanted to do was eat and then sleep. Tomorrow she would find a way to get back to Jean-Paul. She finished her meal and stretched.
"I wish to sleep now," she informed her captor.
He nodded and indicated the pile of blankets. She looked at him uneasily, perhaps he intended to stand guard over her all night. She picked up a blanket and wrapped it around her shoulders. Then she took another and spread it over a pile of hay. Overcome with fatigue she quickly fell asleep. Percy locked the door behind him as he left Annette. The girl would be safe. He walked down the corridor consulting the compass concealed in the palm of his left hand until he located his exit point. Once on the streets of Paris he removed his mask and proceeded quickly to his apartment.
"You took your time," Sir William said accusingly as Percy removed the dusty overcoat of his soldiers disguise.
Percy flashed a look of annoyance at his friend, then poured a glass of claret. He drank the glass quickly.
"Annette betrayed her family and would betray us. She married some French boy," he declared angrily.
"The court?"
Percy shook his head. "I believe that this boy originates from more humble parentage."
"William looked at Percy thoughtfully. "The young man who demanded the whereabouts of the Scarlet Pimpernel do you think?"
Percy paused, his anger slowly abating. Whilst Annette had become the focus for Percy’s annoyance as he allowed his feelings to ebb the knowledge of his own blame became apparent to him. He had ignored his own instincts and put others in danger. William, still awaiting an answer to his query, looked at his friend with concern. He had seen Percy in many moods but he had never observed one of such intense fury as this.
"You weren’t to know," he reassured his friend.
Percy’s eyes flashed at him. "I should have known."
"How? You did the best with the information available. No one suspected the girl was a traitor."
Percy shook his head sadly as he slumped into a fireside chair.
"Unfortunately that is where you are wrong my friend. Some one suspected it but refused to admit it, perhaps even to themselves." The last words were muttered so softly that William stained to hear them. He stood thoughtfully for a moment then raising his eyebrows he turned to Percy, but the ordeal of the day had overcome him and he was already asleep. William sighed and picking up a blanket, covered him.
***
Annette indignantly paced her cell. She appeared to have escaped one prison to be placed in another. But this time it was possible that only one person knew of her whereabouts, and after her revelations last night she was uncertain that he would return today. Even if he did return did he still intended to reunite her with her family, or would he be prepared to release her to start her new life with Jean-Paul? The lantern burnt dimly, in a few hours it would cease to burn at all and she would be plunged into darkness. She hated the dark, would he leave her to her fate in the darkness. She tried to recall all the stories of the heroic rescues he had executed for the grateful aristocrats of France. Of course he had become something of a legend, so that some stories seemed unbelievable miracles whilst others were just impossible. Yet at that moment even the impossible seemed somehow believable, after all he had vanished her from beneath the nose of Robespierre himself. She felt a childish thrill go though her as she relived the circumstances of their escape, clutched from the point of death. Charles and Luc will be enthralled when I recount it to them she mused, before remembering that the rejection of her family meant that she would never see her young brothers again. She sat on the floor and stared at the diminished candle and wondered if she would ever see anyone again.
***
A servant bustling into the room disturbed Percy from his slumbers. Percy blinked and tried to comprehend the words that the agitated servant was bombarding him with. For a second Percy was tempted to throw off the blanket that encased his body, but the presence of another figure stopped him. The servant continued to apologize for the intrusion, especially as his master had had such a late night. The visitor pushed his way forward, cursing in French. Percy instantly recognised him as the young man who had previously invaded his quarters demanding the whereabouts of his alter ego. One had to admire the young man’s persistence if nothing else, mused Percy. Under the blanket Percy was aware that he was still clothed in the outfit that he had been wearing to rescue Annette, hardly a la mode for an English lord and probably recognisable to Jean-Paul.
"The Scarlet Pimpernel has my wife. You must help me find him," demanded Jean-Paul. "I must get her back."
"And your wife is?" Percy queried in a tone of disinterest.
"Annette De La Bere."
"A French woman. Why should I be interested in the whereabouts of some French girl?"
"The De La Beres were one of the most respected families in France. They have recently been rescued by your Scarlet Pimpernel. Now he has rescued Annette."
"In that case she is safe. At least from the guillotine. As far as I’m aware they normally turn up in England eventually. One can hardly move in London these days without hearing a French accent." Percy’s tone conveyed an air of boredom, which he emphasized by placing a carefully covered hand to his mouth as he stifled a yawn.
Jean-Paul looked at him indignantly. "Then you must help me get to England.
Percy laughed. "And pray why should I inconvenience myself with the bother of extracting you from your native soil."
Jean Paul’s brow creased as he struggled to think of a valid reason.
"Because if you do not sir I will denounce you as the Scarlet Pimpernel."
Jean-Paul grinned in triumph at his own cleverness.
Percy laughed. "Me! The Scarlet Pimpernel! Who the devil would believe that?"
Jean-Paul’s smile faded and his indignant scowl returned. "I’d make them believe it."
Percy shook his head in disbelief but internally he was troubled. Whilst he felt certain that no one would believe the allegation it was possible that they may feel compelled to investigate it, and that could endanger things.
"You are a very persistent young man," Percy told Jean-Paul as if he was chiding a naughty child. He sighed. "I have a horse I want to see race at Newmarket next week. It would be terribly tiresome to be delayed here and miss Tempus Fugit’s debut." Percy sighed again. "Go to the kitchen and make yourself useful. I’ll arrange matters."
Jean-Paul stood with his mouth gaping open.
"Go on! Go on!" urged Percy irately. "Anton will look after you until we leave."
"When do we go?"
"Tomorrow. The carriage will take us to Calais."
Jean-Paul hesitated, then bowed and left the room. Bumping into Sir William at the doorway.
"That’s ."
"Yes, yes," muttered Percy throwing the blanket aside and stretching. "It seems we are destined to reunite the runaways. But first we have to persuade Annette to go with us to England. And we have to keep them apart till we get there."
"Well the rest of the family are on their way to safety at least," Sir William said happily.
"I must change if that young man sees me dressed like this." Percy looked down at the drab, dusty uniform of a soldier. "He will become suspicious. What time is it?" He glanced at the clock on the mantle. "I will shortly have to visit our distressed damsel. I hope she had a more comfortable night than I did."
***
Annette was both fearful and angry when her rescuer returned. The candle had ceased to burn a while before and the dark mingled with the sound of rats scuttling through the tunnel had not reassured her. Percy looked at her white face and realized the child was frightened.
"I have brought extra candles," he reassured her, laying a handful on the table.
"How long do you propose to keep me locked up here?" Annette angrily demanded.
"Till it is safe to move you," Percy replied, taking a candle from the pile and lighting it. "Robespierre probably considers you a traitor by now, so your next visit to the guillotine may have a less fortunate outcome."
Annette, crouching on the floor, watched him intently as he replaced the spent candle in the lantern.
"Do you still intend to reunite me with my family?"
Percy smiled to himself. "Of course. I do not think that France is a safe haven for you anymore."
"England is a long way away. It will be difficult to get an unwilling passenger there undetected," she stated stubbornly. He turned and studied her. "I thrive on the difficult Madame."
***
The carriage was ready for departure. Percy, clothed in a heavy traveling coat, looked around the room and spied the silver rattle. He smiled and picking it up slipped it in his pocket. It felt good to be going home.
"Everything organised?" Sir William queried as he entered the room.
"Of course. The baggage is packed and tied securely down. Even the weather is fine. We should make good time and, hopefully, tomorrow evening we will sight England fair shore."
"Optimist!" Sir William muttered.
Percy smiled. "Come William. Let’s go home!"
As he climbed the step into the carriage Percy glanced up at the solemn face of Jean-Paul seated next to the driver. William clambered in after Percy and made himself comfortable opposite his friend. The driver called out and the horses snorted as the reins tightened, then they moved forward, their hooves clattering on the cobbled Parisian streets. The medieval houses seemed to bend towards them as they twisted down the narrow streets, into tiny squares. Until at last they approached the gates of the city where they joined a queue of vehicles.
"What’s the hold up?" demanded Percy leaning out of the window and glaring at the back of the driver’s head.
"Ah Sir Percy Blakeney." Robespierre’s voice addressed him from the nearby steps.
"Robespierre." Percy beamed a warm smile at the statesman. "How kind of you to come to bide me farewell."
Robespierre’s face remained expressionless. "I assure you that our meeting is purely coincidental. Although I hope your visit has proved profitable."
"Certainly for your tradesman," Percy replied still smiling. "And I will convey your regards to the Prince of Wales."
Robespierre bowed towards Percy who bent his head slightly in acknowledgment."Let Sir Blakeney’s carriage pass. I can personally assure the guards that they will find little of interest within it."
Percy beamed another smile at Robespierre. "Au revoir monsieur. It has been a pleasure visiting your fair city."
As the carriage progressed though the city gates Percy’s head disappeared back inside.
Sir William smiled at him. "Little of interest hey!"
Percy grinned at his companion. "Appearances can be so deceptive."
***
Percy personally checked that the goods he had sent ahead had been stowed safely aboard. There were two large trucks, several casks of wine and a dozen crates of finer wines. He tugged at the ropes securing the cargo to prevent breakage’s or spillage.
"You will have a safe, secure crossing," he muttered to the cargo.
"Talking to yourself sire," called Jean Paul as he watched intently from the hatch.
Percy scowled at the young man. "Get below! I’m sure the cook requires an extra galley hand." Percy turned back to the rope and double-checked them. Then he climbed the ladder and secured the hold. Half an hour later he returned. With a lever he prised off the lid from one of the casks.
"Come on," he urged pulling a bound and gagged Annette from the cask. He undid her ties and removed the gag from her mouth.
"I trust you had a pleasant journey from Paris," he said congenially. "I have some food here and some wine. We are now at sea so I hope you will not consider escaping."
"You are insufferable!" declared Annette glaring at the now unmasked face of her gaoler.
Percy raised an eyebrow. "Normally I get an effervescent flow of gratitude. In a way your scorn is a refreshing, if disconcerting, change." He poured two goblets of wine. "To your new life in England."
"I was happy with my old life in France," muttered Annette ignoring the goblet offered to her.
"Really?" Percy looked at her. "And for how long would that happiness have lasted? A happiness built on the foundations of betrayal and deceit. Annette you have a chance available to few. A chance to be reconciled with your family."
"What about Jean-Paul?" demanded Annette.
Percy frowned at her. "Perhaps he too deserves a new start."
"You know nothing of love!"
If Annette had hoped her words would provoke a reaction in Percy she was disappointed. Percy simply placed his half-full goblet on the cask. "I will leave you till morn," he said quietly. "When you will be reunited with all your family."
***
Annette watched the shore from the bow of the ship. Even at this distance she thought that she could recognize the figures of her mother, father and brothers on the quayside. They would be awaiting her arrival she thought as a feeling of dread arose within her. She didn’t deserve a welcome. The closer the ship moved into harbour the more distinct the figures became and the more turbulent became the emotions within Annette. The sight of her brothers energetically waving caused a pain of regret to spread over her, automatically her arm raised and waved back as tears slid down her face. She didn’t hear Sir Percy approach her.
"A father will forgive his daughter for most of her misdemeanors. But that doesn’t mean his forgiveness should be taken for granted."
Annette felt bitter words rush to her mouth; she swallowed them. She turned to the man at her side; tall, elegantly dressed, even handsome, the sort of man her father would have selected for her to marry. But she was still married to Jean-Paul. She felt a pang of remorse that her new life would not include him. The gangplank was being lowered and her brothers were scrambling to get aboard.
"Annette! Annette!"
She dropped to her knees to embrace them. With her arms around her brothers she watched as her mother and father slowly made their way onto the ship. As her parents drew nearer she arose to her feet then dropped into a deep curtsey. "Sir," she greeted her father.
"Madame," he replied stiffly.
Percy looked hesitantly from father to daughter. Behind her husband the Marquisette’s face displayed her anxiety.
"Father I beg your forgiveness. I have committed an act that is beyond pardon. I believed that I acted out of love but everything I did was wrong. I was angry with you. I thought you cared nothing for my happiness. My thoughts were purely self-centered and I have brought dishonour on our family. Please, Father, forgive me."
The Marquise studied his daughter. "Your own words condemn you with a harshness that
Annette swallowed. "Father I have married Jean-Paul. He is legally my husband yet I know not if I shall ever be fortunate enough to see him again.""Do you still love him?"
"With all my heart. I will endeavour to communicate with him and summon him to England.
The Marquise turned his back on his daughter who remained in her deep curtsey. His eyes seemed to be trying to focus on their homeland. Finally he turned back and stared at her. "My love for you has never ceased. Yet my heart issues a forgiveness that my brain tells me is foolish. With the help of friends I have procured a house, and some land, in the countryside of Gloucestershire. You are welcome to join us as a family member."
"And what of her husband?" enquired Percy.
The Marquise signed. "A new start in England for all of us. My daughter’s husband will be welcomed too."
Unobserved Percy nodded to a nearby sailor. Annette gratefully embraced her father as Jean Paul emerged from below deck, cursing.
"So now you will help me find my wife!" He demanded confronting Percy. In astonishment Annette swung round from her father’s embrace. "Jean-Paul!"
The young man’s jaw dropped and instantaneously his face changed as a smile spread across it, lightening up his eyes and removing the deep furrows from his forehead. The young couple rushed into each other’s arms.
"All the family is reunited," muttered Sir William to Percy.
"Yes," replied Percy. "I think we have accomplished a great more than a normal rescue here." As he moved Percy heard a distant tinkling sound. He felt into his pocket and removed the silver rattle.
"Now I feel that I’m destined to be reunited with my own family." He shook the rattle. "I only hope that Margaret hasn’t missed her favourite plaything too much."
***
The early morning mist still surrounded the grounds around Blakeney Hall as Percy’s carriage made its way down the long drive. Never had the grey stone of his home seemed so welcoming. Before the carriage had halted Percy threw open the door and leaped down onto his own terra firma. A servant rushed forward but Percy was already bounding up the steps. As he entered the hallway he called out, "Margaret! Margaret!" Then listened intently for the shriek of delight that would inform him of his daughter’s whereabouts. The morning room door flew open and a child clothed in a long white dress toddled out. "Papa! Papa!"
Percy looked at her in astonishment, and then dropped to his knees to pick her up and hold his daughter.
"Margaret," he muttered breathing in her warm, sweet odour.
"Papa," bubbled the child excitedly. "Look!" She held out her toy to him.
"And look what Papa’s got," Percy replied holding up the silver rattle.
"Marget’s" exclaimed the child eagerly taking the rattle and shaking it.
"So many words," exclaimed Percy to his daughter’s nanny.
"Yes sir. She’s a very bright child."
"When?"
"A couple of days ago sir. Her first word was Papa."
"And I missed it."
"It’s the first time you hear them that’s important sir," the nanny reassured him. Percy looked at his daughter, his eyes shining with happiness.
***
Percy was crawling around the green drawing room on all fours with his daughter giggling on his back when the servant entered.
"Mr and Mrs Dupont," announced the servant. Behind him, attired in outfits suited to their aristocratic connection, Jean-Paul and Annette entered the room. The couple looked at first astonished and then amused at the scene before them.
"So this is how the Great Scarlet Pimpernel is treated at home," Annette said.
"May I introduce my daughter, Margaret," Percy replied still on all fours.
"Come on Margaret I’m afraid it bedtime."
"No!" giggled Margaret.
"Oh yes," responded Percy as the nanny stepped forward to help the young rider down from her mount. As Margaret was carried out of the room Percy encouraged his guests to be seated.
"I hope that you understand that my identity as The Scarlet Pimpernel must remain a secret," he said solemnly.
Annette flushed. "I’m sorry I didn’t think…"Percy raised his hand. "I’m sure you felt it was safe here Madame. But in future perhaps you can refer to me as Percy." He smiled at her.
"Of course Sir Percy. It is flattering to think that you would wish to see us a future date. Jean-Paul and I have discussed our past discourses with you and feel we both own you an apology."
Percy waved his hand dismissively. "Perhaps, perhaps not. Although I would be interested to know why Jean-Paul took to following me around Paris so soon after my arrival." Jean-Paul flushed. "I knew The Scarlet Pimpernel to be English. I followed many English men in order to try and procure the escape of my wife and her family. You were a difficult man to keep up with but I never thought you were the one I was seeking."
"Why did you think I would know where to find him?"
Jean-Paul shrugged. "You seemed to know so many people. I was desperate." Then Jean-Paul looked embarrassed. "In truth yours was not the only home I gate-crashed demanding to be taken to the Scarlet Pimpernel."
Percy smiled. "Yet you returned to mine."
Again Jean-Paul looked embarrassed. "I thought that it was possible Annette would be taken to England. I decided that the foolish Sir Percy Blakeney would be the easiest to persuade to take me."
Percy laughed. "I admire your honesty Jean-Paul." A servant stepped forward with a tray of drinks. "Perhaps this time you will join me in a toast," Percy said as he took a glass.
"Perhaps you will allow me to propose it," suggested Annette lifting her glass.
Percy nodded his agreement.
Annette smiled. "To a wayside flower from a wayward girl with effervescent gratitude."
The End.
Copyright Denise J Hale 2001.
Translation of French.
Page 4.
Cheri! Etes-vous venus pour voir une vieille dame? - Darling! Have you come to visit an old lady?Mais Oui Madame. Je suis venu pour voir votre sourire charmant. - But of course Madam. I have come to see your charming smile.
Page 13.
Monsieur vous etes confondus. Mon ami et moi ne sont pas mis au courant du mouron d’ecarlate. - Sir, you are confused. My friend and I do not know The Scarlet Pimpernel.
