The Second in Command

By Sandy

Section I, Next Section

Chapter 1

Posted on Friday, 12 March 1999

It was the year of grace 1792.
Paris was busy guillotining anyone who knew how to tie a decent cravat, and even some who couldn't. Size mattered not.

Drums could be heard rolling at regular intervals in the distance, along with cheers and shouts. The street was cobbled, with puddles and muck everywhere. The beggar crouched next to the stairs of the barber shop, his hair hung lankly, pulled back from his drawn and hungry face. At the street corner there was a priest, who sang quietly and constantly in a deep melodious baritone. A disturbance at the far end of the street caused the beggar to shrink further back in his corner, eyes turned hopefully towards the source of the noise. At first it just appeared to be a crowd slowly walking down the street, but then the tumbrel came into view. The tumbrel held approximately ten people, the beggar looked closely at the group, hands tied to the bars, heads averted to avoid the rubbish thrown, these were proud people, not one of them showed emotion. Slowly the tumbrel passed up the street and turned the corner, still surrounded by the crowd. The beggar stood up, and shook himself, then approached the singing priest. The priest stopped singing and waved the beggar away. The beggar then looked around and limped off up the street. The priest left also, but headed into a dark house that was situated on the other corner.

"Hallo Bingley." The priest waved in acknowledgement, stripping off his robes, and changing into the clothes of a labourer. "You got the instructions?" Bingley nodded, his head lost in the confines of his robes. "Then hurry up, you know we only have a short time allowance." Bingley's head reappeared.

"Richard, I may have only been three months in the business, but I am not a fool." Richard Fitzwilliam grinned.

"Really, you could have fooled me." Bingley smiled sourly, and set about greasing his hair and griming his face and hands.

"The one down side of this business is the number of times you don't have a clean shirt."

"Be thankful, you have yet to spend a day without a shirt." Bingley nodded, and the two men left the building by a back door.

It was another muddy, narrow, cobbled street. The grocer's dray was stuck in the mud, and a ragged crowd were trying to get it out, at the same time as depriving it of its stores. The tumbrel rounded the corner with its usual crowd, and was firmly jammed in the street, crowd ahead, crowd behind. The scene between the grocer and the driver quickly became heated as insults and abuse were traded. The excited crowd also added their bit, and it was soon on the verge of an all out brawl, when a greasy labourer drew attention to a man.

The man would not have been of particular interest normally, but it was an abnormal situation, and the man was travelling by roof top. A hush slowly fell over the crowd as more people became aware of the man and turned to watch.

The man became aware of the fact that he was observed, when a large tomato exploded on the roof in front of him. The man carefully climbed to the ridgepole and sat astride it.

"Long live the King!" The crowd stared in amazement. "Long live the King of France!" With a roar the crowd headed for the building, they would get that impudent man. The man vanished down the side of the roof top, and was seen no more. At the same time as the crowd moved for the house, four people separated themselves from the crowd and vanished into the house on the other side of the road.

He sat quietly, chewing on an empty pipe, and looked speculatively at the two elegant women. the two women looked out of place in the musty garret. Two labourers stood at the doorway.

"Peasants I think. Show them the clothes Bingley, then return." One of the labourers nodded, and led the women from the room.

"No hitches Richard?" The other labourer shook his head.

"Good." The man removed the pipe from his mouth and inspected the stem, he then returned it to his mouth. "We probably should get clear of the city without to much trouble then. Bingley can accompany the women out of the city." Bingley returned. "Bingley, become a farmer, the wagon is at its usual place. Tony will meet you at Villeux, and the rendezvous remains unchanged." Bingley nodded and left the room.

"Why did we only grab the de Bennoit's?"

"Those were our orders, we had already grabbed the rest of the family." Richard nodded his comprehension.

"How long till we have to leave again?"

"About three days. That is when Andrew and Hastings return." Once again Richard nodded. He then glanced up as the two women entered again. The man took one look at them, shook his head and stood up. In his hands were a brush and two small pots.

Captain Boneux looked gloomily at the long train of peasants, labourers, and farm carts that lined up at the gates.

"All right! Show me your papers." This was addressed to everybody and anybody who came near the gates. Slowly the line dispersed, a few aristos were detained, pending execution, a few had incorrect permits, and the rest filed slowly out the gates. The last cart passed, and Bonneux relaxed with a tankard of beer. His respite did not last long, as a captain of the guard soon came galloping up.

"Captain Bonneux!" The Captain came to his feet and saluted.

"The last of the de Bennoit's have escaped. Keep your eyes open, and arrest anyone who looks suspicious."

"Yes, sir." Bonneux saluted again, and returned to his beer as soon as the guard left. No one else came by that evening.

Chapter 2

Posted on Saturday, 13 March 1999

The fisherman's rest was a comfortable inn in Dover, renown for its home-brewed. It was all oak and wainscoting, with a cheerful fire on the hearth. Honest Jellyband was the proprietor, and host, and in such capacity, he cheerfully lowered large quantities of his own ale, with privileged visitors.

A man stood quietly in the corner, he had a slightly waxen look of utter fatigue, and though he was standing, he gave the impression of complete relaxation. He had entered ten minutes earlier and refused a seat by the fire.

"No, Jelly. If I go near the fire I will fall asleep, I think I will even fall asleep if I sit down." He yawned widely, and blinked owlishly at the room. "You will have some new arrivals shortly." He yawned again.

"A rough crossing Mr. Darcy." The man nodded, once more yawning. He was a tall slim man, with straight dark hair, neatly secured behind, and pale faced. His expression was one of vacuous amiability.

"Demmed bad crossing, I think I will leave for Bath tomorrow." Once again Darcy yawned. He then glanced at the door, swaying gently on his feet. "I think I'll sit down." Darcy suited his words with actions, and collapsed into a near by chair. Falling asleep almost instantaneously.

Twenty minutes later, a loud scuffle was heard outside, and footsteps were heard approaching. Mr. Darcy stood up and yawned widely. Bowing towards the door as the group of three entered.

"Evening Charles. Ladies. I hope your crossing was better than mine." Darcy collapsed back into his chair as a pile of legs. Charles Bingley laughed at his friend.

"Why do you not get an agent for your French estates?" Darcy shrugged, yawned again, and called for some ale.

"Miss Bennet, miss Elizabeth. May I introduce Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy. He could be a baronet, but he dislikes being called Sir Fitzwilliam, for fairly obvious reasons. You off to Bath again in the morning Darcy?" Darcy nodded, his face buried in the tankard of ale. Elizabeth looked at the man in disgust, she did not approve of affected young men, and this one was a dandy to boot. She did not mind a well dressed man, but when the attire was so ludicrous as his, she felt ill. He had falls of priceless lace at his neck and wrists, his coat was a dove grey and of expensive cut, his boots were polished till they reflected the multitude of lights in the room. Darcy emerged from his tankard to yawn, but then promptly returned to it. Elizabeth returned her attention to Mr. Bingley and her sister Jane. The two of them appeared to be chatting easily, so she turned her attention to the room. It was warm and comfortable, and for the first time in most of a year she felt safe and comfortable.

There was a sudden clatter of horse hooves in the yard, and Miss Sally, daughter of the honest Jellyband came flying into the room.

"It is Sir Percy father, I recognize the carriage." Sally had her face to the window. "And he has milady with him."

Jellyband joined Sally by the door, and the room rose in general consensus for the richest man in England. Sir Percy, was dressed in the height of fashion. A quick glance showed Elizabeth that she preferred Sir Percy in those clothes than Mr. Darcy. Sir Percy was a large man, well above average height and massively built, however the good opinion of him was forced to change when he spoke, or you met his eyes, for sheer lack of intelligence in expression or conversation, he had no equal. His lady was a beauty, also well above average height, Elizabeth remembered her, it was Marguerite St Just of the Comedie Francaise. The room bowed as the couple entered, and on a slight motion from Sir Percy they returned to there seats.

"What are you here for Percy?" Darcy had risen as Percy had entered, but had neglected to take a seat again.

"Going to Bath tomorrow, but I thought I'd get some decent ale before I went. Demmed bad weather this, sit down Darcy, you make my legs ache." Percy collapsed into a chair next to Darcy, at the same time as Darcy collapsed. Sir Percy's chair creaked protestingly, but remained standing.

"Ale, Jellyband. Or I'll die of thirst." Darcy and Sir Percy were soon buried in fresh tankards of ale.

Elizabeth was surprised when she felt a light touch on her shoulder, she turned with a start and recognized Marguerite.

"Elizabeth de Bennoit, is it not?" Marguerite had been two and a half years in England, but her accent was still French.

"Yes. How do you do?"

"Very well thank you. I remember you from when I was with the Comedie. Are you just arrived from France?" Elizabeth nodded and shivered slightly. "You just left, or were you rescued?"

"We were rescued." Elizabeth smiled at the memories of their gallops during the night through the countryside. The continual changes of appearance, and the laughable antics of Mr. Charles Bingley, who gave a very good impression of being a fool.

"Me, I was married out of the country, and have only been back once." Elizabeth was curious about the slightly haunted expression in Marguerite's eyes. "It is not nice to go back after living in England for a few years. France is an unhappy country." Elizabeth nodded, and glanced over at Sir Percy and Darcy, who appeared to be discussing their ale. Marguerite followed her glance, and smiled. "Do not judge on first impressions Miss de Bennoit, it is not wise, and can bring much unhappiness."

"You speak as though experienced?" Marguerite smiled sadly.

"I am, I trusted many people, who later betrayed me. I have also distrusted people whom I have later owed my life to. But come, I must introduce you to Jellyband's cider, it is delicious." Elizabeth laughed, and found that Marguerite was telling the truth.

Chapter 3

Posted on Sunday, 14 March 1999

Chauvelin stood uncomfortably on one foot. Why Robespierre always kept him waiting like this, he did not know, but he did know that it bored and irritated him no end. Finally the door creaked slowly open.

"Chauvelin!" Chauvelin entered, and looked at Robespierre.

"Why do you keep recalling me, I will get nowhere while you keep recalling me." Robespierre smiled slightly.

"Chauvelin, I recall you because we have a slight problem."

"Indeed." Chauvelin sat down and interlaced his fingers.

"Yes. The Scarlet Pimpernel is back in France again." Chauvelin sneered.

"The Scarlet Pimpernel is not in France, and hasn't been since September." Robespierre sat up.

"How do you know that?"

"Because I know who the Scarlet Pimpernel is and have been watching him." Robespierre looked furious.

"Then why haven't you had him arrested?"

"Because I only know him in England, I have yet to identify him while he is in France." Robespierre relaxed.

"Then how do you explain the escape of the de Bennoit sisters. We know for a fact that the Scarlet Pimpernel pulled the rest of their family out. Are you sure he is the Scarlet Pimpernel?"

"Positive, he has admitted it on no fewer than three occasions. Also, the Pimpernel does have two very capable seconds in command. I only know one of his second's, and that one has been in England since he married Suzanne de Tournay." Robespierre scowled at the reminder of this other failure.

"Then you must find this other second. You are cutting things mighty fine Chauvelin, I will not accept failure." Chauvelin nodded, he knew very well how close he was cutting to being guillotined, but he much prefered the idea of someone else's head rolling than his own. "You may go." Robespierre returned his attention to his work. Chauvelin walked out of the room frowning, in the hallway he tripped over a grimey beggar who was employed to sweep the floors. Chauvelin cursed the beggar savagely before continuing on his way. The beggar watched unblinkingly as Chauvelin's figure departed down the hall, he then turned and scurried rapidly in the other direction.

Had Chauvelin been omniscient, he would have been astounded by the conversation held that evening between the beggar and a coal heaver that evening.

"What you get today Darcy?"

"Robespierre is as happy as always. Chauvelin's now looking for your second, second in command. And citizen Chauvelin still has a marked disrespect for the lower classes." The coal heaver laughed.

"So delightful isn't it. Chauvelin is looking for you, five seconds after he's kicked you out of the way. I find it most amusing. But I would prefer it if you remained undetected." Darcy smiled slightly.

"That an order Percy, or am I permitted to fail." Percy smiled under his grime.

"I think I'll make it an order. It'll be a nuisance if I have to get a third second in command." Darcy nodded, and melted into the night, leaving the coal heaver to get to his lodgings and prepare for a night of watching.

Chapter 4

Posted on Wednesday, 17 March 1999

Darcy looked once more at the map on the table, then back at Percy.

"I honestly can see no other possible solution. We've tried to get through there twice before, and short of doing the impossible, I can't see any other options." Percy smiled.

"You're not the only one Darcy. However since we are known to do the impossible, with great regularity, I suggest we try it. But everyone else leaves the city before we go into action." A man on the other side of the room sat up suddenly at that.

"But Percy, I've got a capital job for the business, and I'm still undetected." Percy glanced up.

"Change that to was and I might agree with you." The man slumped back in silence. "Okay Darcy, into your rags, we have an appointment with the council. Nobody leaves this room until either Darcy or I return." The other men nodded silently, and watched as Darcy and Percy left the room.

"The de Mournais or the Scarlet Pimpernel. Why does he take such risks." The man shook his head in wonder, before curling up and falling asleep.

Darcy and Percy huddled in the back of the council chamber. The ci-devant Vicompte and Vicomptesse de Mournai stood in the dock. The civilian jury, a mottly bunch of obedient yokels sat across from them. Citizen Chauvelin stood at the front of the room, slightly raised above the level of the crowd. His face faintly red from his exertions.

"....We demand justice in this age of tyranny," quiet slowly fell over the rabble as Chauvelin continued. "An end to the corrupt age, a new beginning. Before you stand the ci-devant Vicompte de Mournai and his wife. We have the proof, and you have seen it. This man and his......." Chauvelin's voice died away as an idiotic chuckle came from somewhere in the room. The chuckle came again, and slowly the colour left Chauvelin's face. Chauvelin's eyes raked the room, searching, searching for a familiar figure.

"M'sieur Chambertin, that is not how you find me." Chauvelin spun around as he heard the affect voice. The crowd was silent and stunned. Suddenly from the back of the room came a loud cry in French.

"Avant, I see him, I see the Scarlet Pimpernel." The rabble woke to life with an enraged roar and turned as a single unit towards the door. Chauvelin was caught by the tail-enders and was swept into the crowd, and carried along, until a strong arm yanked him clear.

"M'sieur, it is so much more comfortable to travel on one's feet. Allow me to assist you to find them." the arm set Chauvelin on his feet. Chauvelin spun around, but could see no one. The idiotic chuckle sounded from further up the street. Chauvelin turned and walked in the other direction, he knew from long experience, that to chase the Scarlet Pimpernel invariably ended in him being totally and completely lost.

Chauvelin returned to the council rooms. They were empty, except for a few of the guards.

"Where are the de Mournais?" He panted to the nearest guard. The guard glanced at the dock ad shrugged. Chauvelin stormed from the rooms, and directed his footsteps towards Robespierre's office.

"Why does he not leave me alone?" Chauvelin spat savagely at a nearby, half-starved cat.

"Because m'sieur Chambertin, you make it to irresistable, but allow me, your cravat is crooked." A hand appeared from behind Chauvelin and straightened his cravat. Chauvelin kept walking. "you are not much fun tonight Chauvelin, I think I will go away." Chauvelin continued, and completed, his walk undisturbed. He arrived in Robespierre's office, to find Robespierre in a towering fury.

"You will soon wear out my patience Chauvelin. Now you just casually enter and inform me that the de Mournai's have been rescued."

"Yes citizen."

"You were meant to....... Return to England and tell me when the Scarlet Pimpernel has left France, on your way alert the port authorities to look out for the de Mournais.'

"Very good, citizen." Chauvelin left Robespierre's office, and wiped his brow, he had the feeling he would not survive another meeting like that.

Percy stood thoughtfully, inspecting the twenty men seated just outside the city gates.

"Well, we'd best be going. Parker, take Jackson and Dawson with you to your usual rendezvous. Darcy, and I'll take the de Mournais. Tony, you take Hastings.... no Hastings, you and Andrew remain here and watch. Tony, take Wilmont and Bingley. Fitzwilliam, you take Wentworth, Axelton and Fitzjames. Delmont, Carter, Barrow and Dellingham, you join Hastings and Ffoulkes in the city. Move it." The groups rapidly disappeared into the darkness. Darcy stood silently, supporting the Vicomptesse de Mournai. "Okay Darcy, let's move." They also vanished into the darkness.

Chapter 5

Posted on Saturday, 20 March 1999

Chauvelin stood in a quiet corner. He had only arrived that morning from France, and already the fog and mist of London was getting on his nerves. Damn Robespierre and his desire to get rid of the Scarlet Pimpernel. The brightly lit ball room was already crowded, but people continued to arrive. Chauvelin had watched the arrival of the de Tournays, the de Mournai's, Sir Andrew and Lady Ffoulkes. He had watched the arrival of the de Bennoits, and the subsequent arrival of several identified followers of the Scarlet Pimpernel. But still the person he was watching for had not arrived. Chauvelin shifted uncomfortably, and took another quick scan of the room. No, the person he was watching for had not yet arrived. Chauvelin shifted his attention, Lady Grenville was once again trying to gain his attention, she had never forgiven him for interrupting their jig at that first ball.

A sudden and loud scuffle at the entrance drew Chauvelin's concentration back to the door. The footman entered and banged his staff loudly on the wood floor.

"His Royal highness the Prince of Wales, Sir Percival and Lady Blakeney, Mr Fitzwilliam Darcy." The group that entered could have been mistaken for an add for international unity. Sir Percy was the tall broad Anglo-Saxon, Chauvelin scowled morosely. Mr Darcy was the tall slim Norman, with the Prince as a large mix of both. Chauvlein walked forward for his introduction.

"Your Royal highness, may I introduce the French ambassador monsieur Chauvelin." The Prince sketched the slightest of bows.

"M'sieur and I are already aquatinted." Chauvelin smiled slightly, he was used to these snubs from the prince. Chauvelin then turned his attention to Sir Percy and Lady Blakeney.

"Sir Percy, milady. How do you do?" Sir Percy grinned and clapped Chauvelin on the back.

"We're in fine form M'sieur. Come, join Darcy and me in a game of piquet, Andrew will make our fourth. I'm sure I saw the fellow somewhere." Sir Andrew Ffoulkes appeared at Sir Percy's elbow, he bowed greeting to Marguerite and nodded to Chauvelin. Percy suddenly stopped and frowned. "No, Darcy, excuse me from our game. I'll play you later. Andrew, go dig up Hastings. Hastings deals a dandy set of cards." Darcy drifted away from the group and joined Richard Fitzwilliam and Charles Bingley on the wall.

"Hallo Chaps. Care for a hand of piquet?" Bingley shook his head.

"I'm going to dance with miss Bennet as soon as the next dance starts." Bingley departed immediately the music ceased, and Darcy looked mournfully at Richard Fitzwilliam.

"You're not going to desert me for some charmer are you Ricky?" Rick grinned at Darcy.

"Sorry, but I must admit that Lady Portier has been eyeing me for three minutes, and I doubt that I will be able to refuse her when she comes. Go talk coats with Tony, he is looking bored." Darcy sighed dramatically and walked over to where Tony was resting against the wall.

"Hallo Tony?" Lord Antony Dewhurst glanced at Darcy and laughed.

"Percy deserted you once again so he can have a decent game of cards?" Darcy nodded.

"Chauvelin was his fourth player." Tony raised his brows.

"I hadn't realised he was here. Percy said anything?" Darcy smiled.

"Yes! He told me not to fall asleep again." Tony laughed at the memory. It had been a ball two months previously, and Darcy had fallen asleep in the library, thoroughly offending his hostess, who had been talking to him.

"That'll teach you. Come have champagne. The ladies are discussing the Scarlet Pimpernel in the other room." Darcy yawned and trailed after Tony.

Marguerite walked over and joined Elizabeth, who was seated on a low couch by the wall.

"Elizabeth, may I introduce my old friend Suzanne to you." Elizabeth rose and curtsied.

"How do you do?" Suzanne curtsied in response.

"You probably will remember me better if I were to say that I was formerly Suzanne de Tournay." Elizabeth clapped her hands.

"But of course, I knew your face was familiar." Suzanne smiled. "How did you escape the terror?"

"I was rescued by the Scarlet Pimpernel, with my family."

"Do you know who he is?" Suzanne smiled.

"No I don't. But if you were to ask m'sieur Chauvelin, I am sure he could answer your question." Marguerite laughed merrily.

"They are both very annoying men. The Scarlet Pimpernel because he will not reveal his identity to us ladies, and Chauvelin, because he will not leave us alone." Marguerite sighed and glanced around the room. "Suzanne, can you remember Percy's doggerel, I am sure it would amuse Elizabeth." Suzanne frowned but shook her head.

"Let us go see whether he can remember it."

"Suzanne! Percy remember something like that for more than five minutes. You must be joking." Elizabeth laughed at this passage. "He doesn't remember anything except the name of his tailor."

"What was that about my tailor?" Sir Percy had come up behind the group.

"I was merely telling Suzanne that you remember nothing, except the name of your tailor." Sir Percy laughed inanely. "But Suzanne and I cannot remember that doggerel you made up. The one about the Scarlet Pimpernel." Percy blinked.

"I can't do that. M'sieur Chauvelin, perhaps you could remember?" Elizabeth looked past Sir Percy's formidable mass, and saw that Chauvelin was indeed standing a short distance behind Percy. Chauvelin walked over.

"What was that Sir Percy?"

"I was asking if you could remember that doggerel of mine about the Scarlet Pimpernel." Chauvelin frowned slightly.

"The one that started 'They seek him here, they seek him there'?" Sir Percy smiled broadly.

"That's the one. I remember it now. 'They seek him here, they seek him there; Those frenchies seek him everywhere, is he in heaven, is he in h__; That demmed elusive Pimpernel;" The ladies applauded Sir Percy's effort, and fell to discussing it. Chauvelin left, and Sir Percy soon left for the cardroom.

Chapter 6

Posted on Saturday, 20 March 1999

Elizabeth sat in the ballroom watching Jane dance with some young man, when she became aware of Bingley talking to Darcy just next to her.

"Look Darcy, you can't remain perched here all evening, you look like an idiot." Darcy glanced vacantly at his friend.

"And pray what am I meant to do?"

"Try dancing with miss Elizabeth Bennet." Darcy glanced briefly at Elizabeth, then returned his gaze to Bingley.

"She is tolerably pretty, but I....I have a date with Sir Percy at the Hazard table." Bingley shrugged.

"Hastings says that Percy has the devil's luck tonight." Darcy walked away.

"Return to your charmer, and don't forget to send me a wedding invitation." Bingley shook his head and sat down his eyes watching Jane dancing.

Darcy met Percy at the entrance of the card room.

"Hallo Percy." Percy nodded, then glanced curiously at Darcy.

"What is it Darcy?" Darcy shook his head and indicated that it was to be left till later. Percy nodded, and led Darcy to the library.

"Take a seat. Grenville won't mind if we occupy the library for a bit. Now what is it?"

"Charles insists that I should dance." Percy frowned.

"Who did he allocate you for a partner?"

"Miss Elizabeth de Bennoit." Percy laughed outright.

"Man, don't do it. At least Andrew was an identified individual before he deserted me." Darcy smiled grimly.

"You're too quick Percy. But you needn't worry, I won't be marrying anytime soon."

"Yes, Marguerite said that miss Elizabeth's opinion of you is slightly less than stellar."

"That, Percy, is a gross understatement. Especially since I just chose to inhabit the cardroom instead of dance with her. I really don't understand why Charles chose to discuss the matter within earshot of her."

"Perhaps he thought that that would encourage you to ask her." Darcy shrugged.

"How long till you allow us to return to Paris?"

"I think another week should do the trick. We'll meet in Richmond and discuss things tomorrow. Things are getting tight again." Percy stood up straight and stretched. "Having now finished our game of piquet, Let us return to the ballroom." Darcy followed Percy back to the ballroom, and the two men stood watching the dancers circling.

Elizabeth stood up after Darcy left and went in search of Marguerite. She found her energetically discussing foreign policy with lord Grenville. Marguerite glanced up on Elizabeth's approach and calmly ended her discussion with Lord Grenville, Marguerite then joined Elizabeth at the window.

"What is it Elizabeth? You look furious." Elizabeth closed her eyes, and slowly her expression came back under control.

"Mr Darcy just chose cards in preference of dancing with me, within my hearing." Marguerite choked.

"Oh I am sorry, but I would not worry. Being snubbed by Darcy will merely make you a very popular dancing partner at the next ball."

"I would prefer not to be popular, then to be snubbed within my hearing."

"Don't we all. Be thankful, you have yet to have your husband prefer cards to dancing with you."

"Has Sir Percy chosen cards above dancing with you?"

"Many times. He once even chose to visit the library instead of dancing with me." Elizabeth started to laugh.

"That must have been nice."

"It was. I was the most popular lady at the next ball, and my husband wasn't even there to observe my triumph." Elizabeth was laughing with Marguerite when Darcy and Percy entered the room.

"What is it with them. They are taken as experts in the field of clothing. The are total idiots. And by snubbing someone, they can make that person exceedingly popular." Marguerite smiled.

"They call it fashion politics. They are accepted as experts in clothing, for the simple reason that they are. They can make a person popular with a snub because society wishes to show that they are not led by two men with no mental capacity." Elizabeth nodded, and glanced at the two men, who were now discussing the coat that the Prince was wearing. They were inspecting it through there quizzing glasses. The examination finished with Percy making a gesture towards Chauvelin, which had the Prince looking red and the rest of the group fighting laughter. Elizabeth looked at Marguerite, and saw that she was laughing.

"What was that all about?"

"The Prince likes to get Percy's opinion on his coats. Percy has just likened this one to Chauvelin's. Chauvelin is, as you should well know, known by his bad taste in coats.....Uh-oh, Darcy has just indicated something else. Apparently this coat is classified as one that not even Chauvelin would wear in public."

"Why does Chauvelin tolerate this?" Marguerite shrugged.

"I expect he tolerates it because he cannot prevent it."

Chapter 7

Posted on Monday, 22 March 1999

Darcy stood quietly at the large window, he silently watched the small group of parasols that were strolling around the large lawn. He glanced up as Percy joined him.

"Sorry about that old chap. I had forgotten about Margot's party. Now to business." The maps were quickly spread, and a pile of paper was produced.

"Who is urgent now?" Percy frowned.

"Chernoix, Lourdannae, Abbe Fouquet, Miss de Marchet. They're from Paris. We have de Trouit in Bolougne, Abbe Marnet in Lyons and a bait in Calais." Percy frowned thoughtfully. "We have Barton, Wheeler, Marston, and Tony in Paris at present. Hastings is watching in Bolougne, and Fitzwilliam is in Lyons." Percy thoughtfully rubbed his heavy silver signet ring, and looked out the window. "Darcy, get Marguerite in here. Tell her it's important." Darcy blinked but left immediately. The lawns at Richmond were spacious and elegant, and it took Darcy quite five minutes to find the ladies.

Darcy strolled up to the ladies and bowed, smothering a yawn.

"Really Darcy. Can you move without yawning?" Darcy looked thoughtful for a second, then shook his head and yawned again.

"Awfully sorry. Sir Percy sends his regards to you and requests your presence in his study. Something about....urgent I think it was....Blast I really cannot remember. I do beg your pardon ladies. I think I will retire to Bath again. This fatigue is really getting annoying." Darcy yawned and bowed to the ladies, before offering his arm to Marguerite.

"Darcy, my friend." Darcy glanced down at Marguerite.

"Yes m'lady." Marguerite smiled sadly.

"How important is Elizabeth to you?" Darcy blinked and yawned.

"Elizabeth....Elizabeth?" Darcy creased his brows. "Who do....oh, her." Marguerite laughed.

"I comprehend entirely. Are you sure your boot top is not sagging?" Darcy glanced down, concern written on every feature. He carefully inspected the item of footwear in question.

"Thank you m'lady. I was remiss, I will rectify the situation as soon as possible."

"Darcy." Darcy removed his attention from his boot top and looked at his companion.

"M'lady?" Marguerite frowned.

"Cease immediately and be serious, if you can remember how? A word of advice. If you are interested in Elizabeth de Bennoit, and I am not saying that you are, it is just if you are, you are going to have to improve your behaviour. Or at least think up a more plausible excuse next time." Darcy glanced at the sky.

"You are impertinent Marguerite, I will deliver you to your husband forthwith." Marguerite smiled.

"I was wondering whether you'd thaw enough to cease calling me m'lady." Darcy flushed and led Marguerite inside. He left her at the study door and retreated to the library.

Baxter entered the library cautiously and looked around, sure enough Mr. Darcy was seated there, sunk in a reverie. Baxter coughed, then repeated the noise. Darcy lifted his head and looked at Baxter, for a moment his eyes did not comprehend then he stood up.

"What is it Baxter?"

"Sir Percy would like to see you in his study. The courier arrived ten minutes ago."

"Thank you Baxter." Darcy swiftly left the room, and Baxter shook his head, that was one young man Baxter did not understand, Baxter didn't understand Percy either, but that was irrelevant and a side issue, one was not meant to understand one's master.

Darcy found Percy with his arm around Marguerite. A feature which caused Darcy to hesitate in the doorway.

"Come in Darcy. What took you so long?"

"Baxter only just told me. What's up?" Percy frowned and unconsciously tightened his grip on Marguerite.

"Fitzwilliam has vanished without trace, and Hastings has just pulled himself out of Boulogne." Darcy looked stunned.

"Anything known about the people in the area?"

"The prisoners are reported to be safe at present. Chauvelin is in Calais, Hastings thinks that Fitzwilliam may have pulled himself out as well. But we need to leave immediately. Marguerite my northern estates produced an emergency, and I've taken Darcy as company." Marguerite nodded, and detached herself from her husband's arm, curtsied to the two men and returned to the garden. Percy freed a few more maps from his desk and soon he and Darcy were plotting routes, detours and probable occurrences.

"And remember Darcy, do not get caught." Darcy nodded and the two men left the study, and five minutes later had vanished down the road.

Marguerite rejoined her friends in the garden.

"What was it Marguerite?"

"Percy's northern estates have got into a difficulty again. Which means that the Prince's ball will be deprived of his clothing critics." The ladies cried out and made suitable sounds of distress and sorrow, and soon departed. By the next morning all London would know that Percy and Darcy had left town on business in the north country. Elizabeth watched Marguerite thoughtfully.

"Would you like to come stay with us in town?" Marguerite smiled slightly.

"No thank you. I will be glad of some time by myself." Elizabeth nodded and the two ladies parted. Elizabeth to return to London, and Marguerite to walk upstairs.

Chapter 8

Posted on Friday, 26 March 1999

Marguerite sat quietly reading in her dressing room. Supper would not be served for another twenty minutes yet, but she felt that something bad was about to happen.

"M'lady." Louise, Marguerite's maid burst unceremoniously into the dressing room. "M'lady, there is an express just arrived for you. The man is expecting an answer." Marguerite rose quickly, laying down her book.

"Thank you Louise." Marguerite swiftly descended to the entrance hall, the expressman stood silently beside Baxter.

"M'lady, this express just arrived from London." Marguerite took the dispatch and glanced at the directions. The hand was feminine and unfamiliar. Marguerite quickly opened it, her eyes scanning the contents.

Lady Blakeney,
My apologies if this seems to you to be impertinent, but I am concerned for my sister Elizabeth. She has already been two hours late in her return from Richmond and she has made no contact, with either me or our parents. My father is worried, and we are to recently arrived from France. I pray she arrives before you receive this note, and my apologies for disturbing you.
Jane de Bennoit.'

Marguerite sat down in a nearby chair and stared blankly at the note, her mind turning over the possible things that could have delayed Elizabeth and prevented her from contacting her family. The only plausible thoughts led directly to Chauvelin, and the only plausible reasons led directly to her recent escape from France, the Scarlet Pimpernel, and his shadowy second-in-command. Marguerite turned the available options over in her mind, finally she stood up again and walked to her writing desk. She wrote a brief response and gave it to the expressman, along with the necessary fees.

Darcy stood with Percy at midship, the wind bit icily into their thick clothing, but both men seemed unaware of it.

"I know it's daft, but I can't shake it." Darcy glanced sharply at Percy. "And what's more I think that you have a similar problem." Percy smiled slightly.

"I will confess that that is one of the reasons why I am coming over to France. I think Chauvelin plots something, and we must wait until he shows his hand." Percy grimaced comically, and Darcy laughed.

"He certainly hasn't showed his hand at cravat tying yet. I really think that last night's cravat was an abomination to the word." Percy frowned reflectively.

"He tied even worse cravats when I first met him. Heigh-ho, let's retreat to my cabin Darcy, I have a coat to show you." Darcy chuckled and followed Darcy below decks, but he still had a nagging feeling that something was about to happen, but he was damned if he knew what it was.

Jane de Bennoit sat thoughtfully at the window, it would be another twenty minutes at least until there could be a response to her dispatch to Lady Blakeney, Jane could not shake off her uneasiness, nor could she explain it.

"Jane! Jane, where are you?" Jane sighed softly, before standing up and walking to her door.

"I'm upstairs mama."

"But you should be dressing, it is only two hours until the Prince's Ball!" Jane sighed and leant her head gently against the doorframe.

"Mama, it does not take two hours to prepare for a ball. I am worried about Elizabeth."

"Don't be foolish, this is England, not France, and it is perfectly safe to travel in."

"Mama, could you please just leave me alone. I will be ready in time for the ball." Mrs de Bennoit sniffed as she walked away.

"If you insist." She rustled fashionably towards the stairs, calling for her husband. "Leon! Leon, where are you? Jane is being stubborn and not obeying her mother."

Leon de Bennoit looked wearily up from his newspaper in the library at the sound of his wife's voice. He stood up and limped over to the door.

"I am in the library Amabel." Leon returned to his newspaper and his wife soon rustled into the room.

"I wish you'd talk to dear Jane. She refuses to start preparing for the ball, and she will destroy her looks if she rushes."

"Relax Amabel, it does not take two hours to prepare for a ball. You know very well that John is concerned about Ben. Leave her in peace till with have news."

"There names are Jane and Elizabeth. I sometimes wonder at you Mr. de Bennoit, you cannot even remember the correct names of your own children. John and Ben! You really are impossible." Mrs de Bennoit rustled out of the room shaking her head, and calling for Lydia. Leon frowned at the door.

"Be thankful I do not forget the names of Marie, Kathryn and Lydia." Leon sometimes wished he could forget about the latter three, as well as his wife.

Chapter 9

Posted on Friday, 26 March 1999

As the sound of the messenger's horse died in the distance, Marguerite turned to Baxter.

"Baxter, I require my travelling coach immediately. And send Louise up to me." Marguerite returned to her dressing room, shortly to be joined by Louise. "My traveling clothes and the small attaché case in the box room." Louise hastily obeyed and Marguerite soon found herself traveling swiftly down the London road.

Jane quickly ran down to the front entranceway on the arrival of the expressman.

"Miss Jane. this was just delivered for you." Hill handed Jane the small sheet of paper. Jane tore it open and quickly scanned the contents, before running to her father in the library.

Leon looked at the note.

'Miss Jane de Bennoit,
Fear not, I did not consider your letter an impertinence, I to have lived in France under the terror.
As for Elizabeth, do not worry about her.
Marguerite Blakeney'

Leon looked gravely at Jane.

"What do you think John?" Jane sighed and shivered.

"She hasn't actually answered the question. I don't know why, but I am afraid for Ben, not for her life." Leon hugged his daughter.

"Well perhaps we will see Lady Blakeney this evening and then we can ask for particulars." Jane nodded, then glanced at the clock on her father's wall.

"I must be dressing. Thank you mon pere." Jane hurried out of the room, and Leon soon followed her.

Brinker walked up the stairs of the Ffoulkes' town house and knocked firmly. A brief discussion ensued between himself and the butler and then he returned to the sedan chair.

"M'lady. The butler says that Sir Andrew is at home to visitors." Marguerite nodded and descended from the sedan chair, before allowing Brinker to escort her up the steps. The butler admitted Marguerite and showed her into a small downstairs parlour.

"Could you please tell Sir Andrew that Lady Blakeney is here to speak to him on an urgent matter." The butler nodded and left the room. Marguerite sat down and inspected the decorations of the room. Sir Andrew joined her soon afterwards.

"Lady Blakeney, this is an unexpected pleasure. Is something the matter?"

"Yes. I need to get in contact with my husband."

"But...." Once again he was lost for words.

"The circumstances are similar to when I last visited you in this matter. I life could hang on this. Percy's, Darcy's, or Elizabeth de Bennoit's. Possibly all three." Sir Andrew looked concerned.

"Could Suzanne possibly join us?" Marguerite nodded and Sir Andrew left the room.

Elizabeth shivered when she saw the man. She had known something was wrong ever since her coach had turned off the main London road, now her fears were confirmed.

"Mademoiselle Elizabeth de Bennoit, will you not join me for coffee." The salt wind stung Elizabeth's face as she stood looking silently at the man. Then she curtsied elegantly.

"I would be honoured citizen Chauvelin. Though I prefer cider." Elizabeth followed Chauvelin into the deserted inn. There was nothing else Elizabeth could do. They were miles from anywhere and Elizabeth knew no one.

Chapter 10

Posted on Friday, 26 March 1999

Elizabeth sat motionlessly, they had been traveling for almost a week. Elizabeth had given up trying to escape after the first night. She had tried to escape on the first night, but the result had been that she had been drugged on laudanum until they were clear of England. Not an experience which she wished to repeat. The coach finally stopped and Elizabeth was dragged out of the coach, and escorted into a grimy building.

"Miss de Bennoit, permit me to introduce you to your new home."

Darcy came back from the Place de la Greve early, and was astonished by a couple of people who were standing around outside Percy's abode in a suspicious manner. They were dressed in rags, and were obviously looking for a certain place. Finally the man in the couple walked up to the concierge of Percy's place, they talked rapidly for a few minutes, then the man beckoned and the woman quickly joined him, seconds later they vanished into the house. Darcy huddled in a nearby corner for several minutes, waiting to watch for results. Nothing happened, so Darcy finally left his corner and scurried into Percy's house.

Percy was surprised when he heard a quick soft knock on his door. His men never knocked, and Chauvelin's men certainly never did, Percy often pondered whether they had ever learnt. Percy pulled his long frame out of his chair and slouched over to the door. A man and a woman were standing on the doorstep.

"M'sieur Bois?" Percy nodded cautiously. "We would like to speak to you, and possibly your fellow lodger as well."

"My fellow lodger is at present absent." Percy directed his visitors into his main room, and slouched down in a chair. The man carefully checked the door then looked back at Percy

"This is one of the warmest welcomes you've ever given me." Percy didn't stir an eyelash.

"What's happened?" Andrew indicated his companion.

"Marguerite will tell you." Percy nodded.

"By the way Andrew, your histrionic abilities have deteriorated." Andrew nodded calmly.

"I never was particularly good at disguise, but we have survived."

"What's up? Why have you come here?" Marguerite rubbed her cheek gently.

"Chauvelin has a new prisoner." Percy sat up and frowned sharply.

"Who?"

"Miss Elizabeth de Bennoit." Percy swore as another voice joined the talk.

"What about miss de Bennoit?" Marguerite glanced at the shabby beggar who was standing in the doorway, then looked at Percy. Percy nodded in comprehension.

"Darcy, we're about to have our difficulties increased." Darcy nodded. "Chauvelin has abducted miss de Bennoit. I do not think she is any danger, but I believe that the idea is that I let myself be caught." Darcy relaxed onto the doorframe and stared at his feet, thoughtfully nibbling his finger. Marguerite looked thoughtfully at him.

"Where is she held?" Percy glanced at Marguerite and raised his eyebrows.

"Not actually sure, but I think she has been taken to Boulogne." Percy chuckled softly.

"M'sieur Chauvelin has such a good sense of humour. Andrew, do you feel like some work?" Sir Andrew nodded eagerly, causing Percy to chuckle softly. "We have some trouble at Lyons. Fitzwilliam, you know him, has vanished. I thought you might like to take a stroll to Lyons and find where he has got to. Take Marguerite with you." Andrew and Marguerite nodded, as Percy glanced at them critically. "You can leave in the morning, but we'll have to modify your attire before you leave."

Chapter 11

Posted on Friday, 26 March 1999

Elizabeth spent three nights in the communal room, and then was shifted into a smaller room, the other occupant was a withered old priest.

"And who are you?"

"I am Elizabeth." The priest's eyes brightened perceptibly.

"One of the de Bennoits?" Elizabeth hesitated slightly, then nodded. The priest's face split into a delighted grin. "I am de Trouit."

"Abbe de Farge." He nodded and Elizabeth started to cry. "We heard you were executed three months ago." The priest shook his head sadly.

"No, they changed their minds on the day it was meant to occur." Elizabeth nodded.

"Why are you in here with me?" The priest looked sad.

"If you escape, I will be executed." Elizabeth collapsed on her knees and cried bitterly. The priest walked over to her and put his arm around her comfortingly.

"Why did they take me? I have nothing for them, and they abducted me from England." The priest sighed.

"I have an idea why they may have taken you. The Scarlet Pimpernel has never deserted anyone."

"You mean I'm being held as a bargaining piece?" The shock ceased Elizabeth's tears, as she stared at the priest. He nodded his head slowly. "Well then I won't let them see that they have hurt me." Elizabeth resolutely dried her eyes and straightened her crumpled attire, then blew her nose firmly.

"That's the way. Now I'll give you a game of Cribbage." Elizabeth gratefully accepted the offer of a distraction.

Elizabeth looked up in surprise as the bolts were shot and the door creaked open. The guards threw some object onto the floor of the room.

"Sleep it off in there. Sorry your Royal Highnesses, but there is no where else we could put him." The object hiccoughed mournfully as the door slammed shut and the bolts were shot home.

"Whisky?" It hicoughed again and staggered unsteadily to it's feet, revealing that it was a fisherman in an extremely inebriated condition. As the man staggered towards her, Elizabeth quickly moved to sit between the Abbe and the wall. The man hicoughed again and collapsed in a drunken stupor on Elizabeth's pallias. Elizabeth looked worriedly at the Abbe.

"Don't worry, he won't hurt you." The Abbe gently patted Elizabeth gently on the shoulder and she slowly relaxed.

"It is just I have never seen anyone so inebriated before."

"Not..in...ine...ineb....not as drunk as .... you think." The man hicoughed and passed out again.

"Don't worry, they always insist that they are not inebriated, and nothing is wrong with them. Your grandfather frequently slept off his potations at my place, before going home." A gleam of laughter crept into the Abbe's eyes, Elizabeth looked curious. "Sorry, I was remembering the occasion when Jules, your grandfather, tried to ride a horse. His condition was quite comparable to that fellow's over there, but he had better motor control." Elizabeth nodded her comprehension, and the twinkle in the Abbe's eyes increased. "You are unprincipled Miss Bethh, a lady never displays knowledge of such things."

"My father likes someone to share his jokes with, though I believe he censors them before he tells them."

"Leon always did want a son." The Abbe looked slightly sad, but only shortly as they were once again interrupted by the fisherman.

"B...b...brandy, m..m.magni..fischent shtuff." The fisherman hicoughed and turned a bleary eye on his fellow inmates. "What...What you..doing..here...dis ish....my room....itsh pwivat."The man turned his head slightly. "Guardsh...guardsh, rem...mo..move dees... in..intr... rudersh. Udderwyish I ..... I will ......Brandy?" The man subsided again, and Elizabeth could here the guards laughing outside, the Abbe was laughing also.

Chauvelin stared morosely out the window, it had been a whole week since he had arrived with the captive, and still there was no sign of the Scarlet Pimpernel. All this waiting worried him, and what was worse was that he had an unaccountable feeling that a pair of lazy blue eyes were watching him. He was willing to stake his life that those same lazy blue eyes were also laughing. Chauvelin shivered as a seamew called thrice, and retreated from the window, windows were not always safe places to inhabit. A soft, but inane chuckle had Chauvelin bolt upright again, his gaze searching for the source. His eyes found the source dressed at the height of London fashion, with two dueling swords in hand seated on his window ledge.

"Quite like old times m'sieur Chambertin, what? ...... Oh I do beg your pardon, Chauvelin, silly mistake Chambertin."

"Have you any reason for remaining perched on my window ledge Sir Percy?" The apparition blinked in amazement, and the handsome face creased up in concentration.

"I fair do swear, I believe i have no reason at all. Odd's fish man, it is most unkind of you to draw it to my attention, now I feel a proper fool." Sir Percy chuckled softly again, then vanished out the window. Chauvelin relaxed back in his chair slowly, at last the Scarlet Pimpernel had come into the open. The intent behind the move was unknown to Chauvelin, but it didn't worry him much either.

Percy relaxed in a nearby tavern, all was not yet clear. He would have to wait till Darcy emerged again.

Chapter 12

Posted on Saturday, 27 March 1999

Elizabeth was awoken at approximately five by the fisherman, who appeared to have recovered sufficiently from his potations of the previous night. He was sitting up and groaning, his head firmly clamped between his knees. Elizabeth sat up quietly and looked at him, trying not to disturb the Abbe.

"Who are you?"

"Louis-Gabrielle, and my head is about to explode."

"Oh. What do you do?"

"I fish when I am not drunk." Elizabeth blinked and bit her lip to control her laughter. The man's head finally lifted, and he rolled his blood-shot eyes gently, he then looked at Elizabeth. "Will you marry me?" Elizabeth gasped.

"No sir. I have no wish to marry you."

"But why not?" He hicoughed gently, and Elizabeth realised that though his condition was much improved he was still along way from being sober.

"Because I do not wish to marry anyone, least of all you."

"But why? I would even forgive you your family."

"Forgive me my family. What has my family to do with you?"

"They are aristocrats, otherwise you would not be here."

"I suppose that your family is aristocratic too." Elizabeth snapped, this man was getting to her.

"You would be surprised if you knew the truth about me. And I am not as drunk as you think I am."

"Then you must be purposely offending me."

"No I am not, Next you will probably accuse me of not knowing my own condition." He hicoughed again, then choked. "M'sieur le Abbe, will you persuade this stubborn young lady to marry me?" The Abbe glanced up at the man who was standing, though not steadily.

"No m'sieur, I will not."

"Mademoiselle, will you not take pity on a poor countryman. Please marry me. It is not a good match for me, but my feelings are such that I cannot hide them."

"M'sieur!" Elizabeth stood up and looked furiously at him. "How dare you say such things." The man hicoughed again, and sat down, frowning.

"Guards!"

"What?"

"I need pen and paper, I have just offended a lady and I must write my apologies." There was a short break, then a pen, a small container of ink and two sheets of paper came through the observation portal. The man gravely set himself near a flat bit of rock, and started to scribble quickly. Elizabeth watched him in astonishment, as did the Abbe.

The man was removed about two hours later. As he was led from the cell he gave both sheets of paper to Elizabeth.

"I hope you will read them mademoiselle." The guards led him away and Elizabeth sat down with the two sheets of paper in her hand.

"That was certainly an interesting character. I wonder whether we will meet more during this festive season." Elizabeth frowned.

"Amusing he was, but I hope we don't meet him again, he was most impertinent." The Abbe chuckled.

"I will admit that he became a trifle rude as his potations wore off." Elizabeth sat down again and drew out the cribbage board.

Jane sat quietly with her father, the express lay on the table between them.

"There is nothing else we can do mon pere. I think we had best appear natural. Lady Blakeney has given us a perfectly plausible story, for all London has seen the friendship between her and Ben. And people will wonder and talk if we do not attend the regular functions." Leon sighed.

"It is not that John. It is just that I cannot like not being able to help. But at least we won't have to worry about your mother." Jane nodded, and flinched slightly as Amabel de Bennoit's voice rang through the house.

"Leon! Leon, what was that express about?" Amabel came through the door.

"It was merely Ben saying that she is accompanying Lady Blakeney to north Scotland, and she would like some clothes delivered to Richmond immediately."

"Very well, though she will not find a husband in North Scotland. Jane, you must prepare for the ball, I am sure that you will soon be engaged."

"Mama!" Jane flushed, and quickly left the room. It was times like these when she understood the impatience that Ben and her father had with her mother.

The Abbe sat back carefully.

"Not bad, not bad. Why not see what the fisherman wrote to you." Elizabeth frowned for a second, then hauled the grubby sheets out from under the pallias.

Chapter 13

Posted on Saturday, 27 March 1999

Elizabeth stared thoughtfully for several minutes at the illegible scrawl on the front of the letter, it did not bode well for the contents.

"Come on Elizabeth." With a sigh she opened it and glanced at the first page.

"This could take a while, but here we go.

'Mademoiselle Elizabeth de Bennoit,'

How does he know my name?

'Be not al..allarmd on receving this leter. It is not a continuashon of the proposal that was so obnockshus to you. But I must xplane miself.

I am a fisherman at beloin, my bote the marie-louise is considerd 1 of the fastest on this secshun of the cost. I am not mareed, nor am I held in anyway. As for my inebriashon, well that is a famly trate. We prid oursevls on the kwantity of spirits we can consum, without showing effects.

I attended the skule at Beloin until I was ten.

By now if the guards have been inspecting this I expect they have given up in disgust, I pray miss Bennet that you have not.

The Scarlet Pimpernel is aware of your presence in Boulogne, and is at present working on ways to get your release, along with that of de Trouit, known as Abbe de Farge. Whom I now know to be Chauvelin's pivot and hostage mark.

My apologies if I seriously offended you this morning, but I had no other option. The Scarlet Pimpernel and I are about to return to London. Be not alarmed this is to allay suspicion, and to gather some re-enforcement's. This letter had to be written. take confidence in the knowledge that we are aware of your plight and show as little emotion to Chauvelin as possible, unless it is amusement. He will do nothing to you until he has the Scarlet Pimpernel, you are too important.

Other than this I can only add God Bless you and keep you safe. We are watching and planning. Resist nothing, if possible we will contact you on our return, but do not look for us, or you will endanger us.

And becose of that skuling I konsider miself an eledgibl candidate for uor hand.

Plees beleve me.

sinsirly
Marie-Gabrielle'"

Elizabeth looked at the Abbe in astonishment as she finished the letter. "What do you make of that?"

"I make that we obey his instructions implicitly. I also suggest we do something with that second page, even if it is only skuffle it in the mud near the door to make it illegible." Elizabeth swiftly made the page unreadable with mud and damage, she also considerably damaged the first page.

"It would never do to have the second page damaged and the first page unharmed. Let us now have a second game of Cribbage." The Abbe nodded and joined her at the board, though both were to excited to play very good games.

Chapter 14

Posted on Thursday, 8 April 1999

Jane sat quietly in the small window embrasure. Outside the rain splatted miserably against the window panes, inside bright music swirled and twisted through the air of the brightly lit rooms. It was a jig and Jane had neither the energy nor the spirits to dance it, she had refused three requests. It was a loud clatter that drew her attention to the window again, from what she could see in the flickery light it appeared that a small coach and four had just drawn up. Jane returned her attention to the room as a sudden rustle warned her that someone had penetrated her hideout.

"John?" Jane sighed as she realised that it was her father.

"Here mon pere."

"You should not spend the whole evening here or people will begin to talk." Leon sat down next to Jane and watched the activity in the courtyard. "I wonder who has arrived so late?"

"I do not know, but they will shortly be announced." Jane stood up and was escorted by her father back into the brightly lit room. With a dramatic chord the jig ended and the dancers broke up in search of refreshment and conversation, until the footman entered and banged his staff on the floor.

"Sir Percival Blakeney and Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy." Jane watched silently as the two dandies entered, they were soon mobbed by the young bucks and Jane could only hear parts of the conversation.

"Buckminster ..... new snuff ........ Hallerton's mare ....... Jameson's curricle.....Chauvelin" The words seemed unconnected, but Jane recognized it as the news of town. "Tweedle's new collar ...... a boot that did not need a boot jack ...... new polish ....... Scrutton's hunter ... that screw isn't worth a cent." Jane glanced at her father.

"Surprising isn't it John. Yesterday, that talk was all we lived for and today it seems trivial."

"If Ben were here it would not be so. You would be joining the discussion." Leon nodded, then started in surprise, Sir Percy was standing next to him.

"M'sieur de Bennoit?" Leon nodded then indicated Jane.

"My eldest daughter Jane." Sir Percy nodded and bowed ceremoniously to kiss Jane's fingers, as he straightened and started to leave Leon heard a brief comment.

"Come to the card room in ten minutes. I must talk to you this evening, after the ball." Leon watched in amazement as he mingled with the bucks again, his conversation centered on the latest fashion and newest snuff.

Leon looked thoughtfully at Jane.

"And what do you make of that John?" Jane frowned.

"It makes no sense, unless he has a message to deliver from Lady Blakeney. But it seems strange for her to send it by her husband." Leon nodded.

"I wonder whether anyone will by Scrutton's mare?"

"Mon Pere." Leon chuckled softly.

"Come drink some champagne with me, then I'm off to the card rooms." Jane laughed softly and followed her father across to the drinks buffer. She didn't actually arrive, because a young buck, Wharton by name (though his name is of no consequence what-so-ever), secure her hand for the cotillion that was just forming. Leon immediately departed for the cardrooms when he saw Jane dancing.

Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy watched with amusement Sir Percy's delivery of the message, had the situation been that he was unaware of Percy's intent he would have been willing to swear that Percy was merely being civil to the aristocratic foreigners. Darcy had some hopes that Percy would produce his new Pimpernel doggerel that evening. Darcy rubbed his signet ring gently, the next round promised to be exceedingly interesting.

"Darcy, do you not agree that Lady Portarles has the advantage of looks over Miss Jane de Bennoit." Darcy looked thoughtfully down at Tollerton then glanced at the two ladies in question.

"I fear it is a matter of personal taste, though Miss de Bennoit's looks are superior for the prevailing fashion. Lady Portarles taste is lacking, she should only wear light coloured clothing." Tollerton appeared satisfied with this response, and Darcy moved off with Percy to visit the card rooms. They met Leon de Bennoit in the doorway. Percy immediately changed course and the trio vanished into the library.

"M'sieur Leon de Bennoit?" Leon nodded and glanced carefully at the two men. Darcy immediately departed. "Is it permissible for me to pay you a visit, after the ball this evening. I wish to talk to you in private." Leon stared intently at the dandy in front of him, then frowned.

"It is possible, but I would prefer it if Jane were there also, she has a much stronger grasp of English than I do." Percy nodded.

"Very well." Leon then stood up again.

"Till after the ball." Percy bowed and then departed for the card room. Leon rejoined Jane, who had just finished her dance.

"We have a meeting with sir Percival Blakeney, in private after the ball." Jane nodded.

"I hope it is news of Ben."

Chapter 15

Posted on Saturday, 10 April 1999

They seek him high, they seek him low;
The ladies seek his phantom glow;
If you should see him, please do give a yell;
That demm'd elusive pimpernel;

Darcy smiled faintly at the sound of the doggerel. Much in the style of the original, the doggerel had taken the ball by storm, though most of the ladies pretended to be offended. The interest in the pimpernel was re-ignited, and his rumored second. Darcy retreated into a nearby, curtained alcove and stretched his long limbs out on the window sill.

Lady Portarles was one of the most animated and faithful followers of the Scarlet Pimpernel. She was holding forth on that precise subject to a bevy of ladies and a few gentlemen.

"I tell you. It is reported that he is actually in France."

"No I am sure he is in England. I've heard that he rides an elephant."

"Do not be foolish Esmerelda. How could he remain anonymous if he rides an elephant. I am sure that that rumour is about his second."

"But for either to remain anonymous and ride an elephant means that they must be in a circus. I am sure that both men are of the ton."

"But who are they then? I am sure that the second in command is short and fair, with heavenly blue eyes." The speaker had a dreamy expression in her face.

"Are either married?"

"They cannot be! What man would leave his wife for such prolonged periods."

"Sir Percy."

"He hasn't the brains to be the pimpernel, and it is understandable his reluctance to be with his wife. She fills her position well, but she always sharpens her tongue on him."

"I wouldn't mind that."

"Be quiet, sir. That talk is not appropriate." The buck sank back under the accusing stares of the ladies.

"I am sure that the second is dark with a regal countenance, and of medium build. After all, not even the French government are sure as to his existence, I have the news from Lord Grenville himself."

"Don't be so practical Marie. He cannot be married, I heard.......What was that?" The noise that distracted the ladies was a faint buzz.

"It is probably just the gentlemen being foolish again. Let's ignore it."

"But it does not sound right."

"Next you'll be saying that one of the gentlemen is asleep over there. Who sleeps when the Pimpernel is being disguised?"

"Sir Percy and Mr. Darcy."

"You always are like that Marie. Those two never think above their clothes." Two of the ladies detached themselves from the group, but it was the whole group who looked cautiously into the curtained alcove.

"MR DARCY!" The sleeping dandy sat up and blinked in bewilderment at the ladies.

"I do beg your pardon." Darcy swung his legs down of the sill and stretched himself. "so fatigued, I fear I will have to return to Bath, to be cured of the fatigue." The ladies laughed merrily as Darcy cautiously rubbed his forehead, he then joined in the laughter, before departing, in search of Percy. The ladies also broke up.

Jane glanced up as her sister Marie sat down next to her.

"What's up Marie? You look excited."

"The reverend Tallington is here. And Mr. Darcy was caught sleeping in the smaller saloon on the window sill."

"And was the reverend Tallington interesting?"

"Oh yes. He explained that passage I've been having problems with to me."

"That's very good indeed." Jane sighed silently, now the library might become quiet again. "What was so inappropriate of Mr. Darcy's sleeping. Or was he talking to someone at the time?"

"Not at all. But we were discussing the Pimpernel and no one can sleep through that sort of conversation."

"That is indeed a crime. But you must remember that the poor man lives for clothes alone. Have you seen Kathryn or Lydia recently?" Marie sniffed at this lack of interest.

"Yes, Lydia was with Edgmonton and mama and Kathryn are dancing in the ballroom. Father is in the cardroom." Jane nodded, then looked up as their father approached.

"Mon pere, what is it?"

"I think we had best be leaving. Do you know where your mother and sisters are?"

"Marie says that Lydia is with Edgmonton, and mama and Kathryn are dancing in the ballroom." Leon nodded.

"I'll see if I can detach Lydia from Edgmonton. Could you get your mother and Kathryn?" Jane nodded.

Darcy eventually discovered Percy. He was reclining in a semi-comatose condition, behind a potted palm.

"Greetings Percy. Your cravat is an abomination to the word." Percy came to with a jolt, his fingers nervously straightening his cravat.

"The de Bennoits?" The question was hardly audible.

"Just departed." Percy gave a slight nod of comprehension. "And your cravat is now passable. I am in disgrace with the ladies, so I think I will bid our host and hostess farewell, or I will fall asleep again." Percy laughed gently.

"I'll join you. This champagne is intolerable."

Chapter 16

Posted on Monday, 12 April 1999

Leon sat silently in the darkened library, he was reading by the single candle, Jane was playing a quiet melody on the small piano.

"Mon pere, I do not understand." Leon looked up from his book.

"Understand what John?" The tune ceased and there was a brief sound.

"Why does Sir Percy wish to talk in private? If it is a message from Lady Blakeney, surely he could have told you at the ball. If it has nothing to do with Lady Blakeney or Ben, why does he wish to speak to us at all. We are new in the country, and we are only just in the ton."

"The man probably has a reason for his request. I will admit that I don't understand either, but he should be arriving soon, then our questions will probably be answered." Leon returned his attention to his book and Jane resumed playing the piano. It was a soft knock that disturbed Leon the second time. "Yes." Leon's valet, Pierre, poked his head around the door.

"There is a Sir Percival Blakeney Bart. to see you sir."

"Show him in Pierre." Leon laid down his book, before standing up to greet their large guest.

"Sir Percival Blakeney."

"M'sieur de Bennoit." The two men bowed formally, then Percy greeted Jane as etiquette demanded. Pierre retreated from the room in response to a sign from his master. He was disappointed, it was not usual for guests to arrive at five in the morning. Pierre shot a quiet stare at the man who had arrived with Sir Percy, but had remained outside the room and unannounced. He was tall, silent and dressed in black.

"Yes M'sieur, I am here for a reason." The man spoke flawlessly the idiom of Pierre's home valley. Pierre stared, then vanished hurriedly into the back of the house. The other man's face had been concealed by the shadows, but he unnerved Pierre with his silence.

"You wished to speak in private Sir Percy?"

"That is correct." Jane watched silently, since his arrival Sir Percy had been fiddling with his signet ring which he now pulled off, weighing it in his hand. "I am aware that Lady Blakeney has not told you much."

"That is an understatement, she has told us nothing, except that Ben is safe at present and that we are to say she is 'in the north country with Lady Blakeney.'"

"An order which you obeyed much to the relief of many people, and the discomfort of her captors." Jane continued to watch silently. She almost did not recognize this man as flippant Sir Percy known to the world.

"Where is Ben?" Sir Percy tapped his fingers together thoughtfully, weighing up the people in the room.

"She is in France. She is in the hands of the Committee of Public Safety in Bolougne. To be quite blunt, she is in the hands of Chauvelin." Jane went directly to her stunned father.

"But what does he want with Ben?" Jane could hardly conceal the fear in her voice. As she watched, she saw Sir Percy renew his interest in his signet ring. It was heavy silver with two sapphires on the top, it stood approximately half a centimetre high, and had no engravings on it. As she watched she saw his fingers tighten, then the whole central section revolved, the sapphires vanished to form the inner part of the ring, and a seal came up. Sir Percy then handed the ring to Leon.

"Do you recognise that seal?" Leon looked, then handed the ring to Jane.

"It looks like a flower. I think I have seen something like it before."

"Correct in both cases." Sir Percy glanced at Jane, and she handed the ring back to him, Sir Percy returned the seal to concealment and put it back on his finger. "It is a Scarlet Pimpernel." Leon and Jane stared at the man.

"So that's...." Jane suddenly realized that she was speaking out loud. Sir Percy continued gazing at Leon.

"That doesn't answer why Chauvelin wants Ben."

"Consider the reputation of the Scarlet Pimpernel, as everyone knows it. Then remember that it is a mere six weeks since miss de Bennoit and miss Elizabeth arrived from France." Leon frowned.

"You mean...."

"Yes. She is being used as a bargaining piece." Jane sat down suddenly. "She is safe for the time being, nothing will happen to her. But right now, I need your assurance that you will neither discuss what you've heard tonight, and that you will continue the story you have been using. Otherwise, you will considerably hamper our efforts for her safe release." Leon stared up at Sir Percy, Jane returned to her piano seat. Then Leon simply nodded.

"We have little choice M'sieur. Our word is our bond. But do not risk your life for Ben."

"Lud man." Jane was amazed by the laughter that rang through the room. "The risk is the main reason that we do it. Sink me, it's better than fox hunting." Sir Percy then bid them a formal farewell and departed. Leon shook his head.

"That is a man who can be trusted, but I never will understand these British." Jane laughed softly and was escorted to her bedchamber by her father. "Sleep well my dear. I feel that Ben will be returned to us." Jane nodded, and father and daughter parted.

Chapter 17

Posted on Tuesday, 13 April 1999

Percy looked thoughtfully over his wineglass at his companion.

"You know Darcy, those blacks make you look demm'd striking, but they are not suitable for public wear." Darcy smiled slightly, he was attired from head to toe in black, and with his dark hair his face stood out with striking paleness. "In fact you look like old Belmanoir did in his youth, minus the eyes." Darcy shoulders shook violently, but he made no noise.

"I always wondered why I couldn't see, thank you for telling me. By the way. What next?"

"We leave tom.....today at seven." Darcy nodded and relapsed into his large mug of ale. "any interruptions?"

"Only the valet, who appears to possess a lamentably short memory."

"Good. Now do be a good chap and remove that coat, you look all to gloomy for my taste." Darcy complied, but it did little to change his appearance as his shirt was also black. "My dear chap, are you sure you aren't a highwayman I've accidentally picked up?" Darcy chuckled out loud.

"Are your northern estates going to have a relapse, or do we go to Pemberley?"

"Pemberley. We can't have those estates relapsing to frequently or people will begin to doubt my business capabilities."

"I'll inform Georgiana and Mrs. Reynolds."

"I really don't know what we'd do without your sister and housekeeper." Percy stood up and started to stretch his large frame, then paused mid stretch. "Darcy, I have a rather interesting idea." Darcy glanced up.

"The Stanton leaves in two hours, I could just catch it." Percy grinned and started to laugh. The two men left the room.

The guard at the customs barrier looked in disgust at the pampered first-class passengers who minced ashore. Sacre aristos the lot of them, but they could be counted on for a healthy tip. One passenger earned the guards particular scorn, he was tall and slight, slight in a helpless, feeble way. He was dressed at the very height of fashion, with rich lace falls at his throat and wrists, he was attired in faultless riding clothes. In his left hand he held a quizzing glass, which was hung around his neck on a thin black ribbon. In his right he held and elegant diamond topped cane, he was followed by a small black clad individual who looked decidedly ill. The man handed his valet his cane before attending to the guard.

"You were saying m'sieur?" The man's French was execrable and the guard blenched at the sound of it.

"Your papers, sir?"

"James." The gentleman recovered his cane and turned his contemptuous back on the guard. The valet, carefully unloaded his multitude of boxes and bags onto the ground, before turning to the guard. "James." The valet looked at his master.

"You have put my valise on the ground. rectify the situation immediately." James shrugged apologetically to the guard, placed the valise on top of a nearby box and hurriedly handed the guard the sheathe of papers. The guard shuffled carefully through the papers, then hesitated.

"Mr. Darcy?" The man looked at him in contempt.

"Yes." These insufferable aristo's, the guard spat to express himself, then continued.

"Your passport is out of date m'sieur. You are not permitted to enter France."

"James!" The man rounded on his valet, fury written on every line of his face. The valet backed hurriedly.

"Not me sir. It is Stokes who attends to those things."

"If you didn't have such away with cravats I'd have fired you years ago." The guard hastily interrupted what appeared to be the lead up to a first rate row, a move which earned him a thankful glance from the valet.

"Sir, I'm afraid that you will have to be remanded in custody until a fresh passport arrives. Either that or take the cargo ship there back to England." The guard indicated the most decrepit boat in the harbour, he rather relished the idea of this insufferable and arrogant aristo spending time in prison. The man paled visibly, then rounded on James again.

"Remind me, Stoker will pay for this mistake." He then followed the guards, leaving James to collect the numerous boxes and bags, appologise to the guard and hastily follow.

Chapter 18

Posted on Wednesday, 14 April 1999

Chauvelin looked up in annoyance as he heard the tramp of footsteps and the grounding of arms, this sounded like trouble. With a sigh he laid the two papers aside and took up his quill. The captain of the guard who hastily entered was met by the sight of citizen Chauvelin busily writing, he coughed uncomfortably, then waited for Chauvelin to acknowledge his presence.

"Captain." the captain came to attention. "You wished to say something?" the captain nodded.

"We have an aristocrat downstairs. His passport was out of date."

"Who is it, and bring him up."

"A Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy, citizen." The captain departed and Chauvelin frowned intently out the window, was this merely an accident or was it carefully laundered to appear as one. Mr. Darcy was the closest acquaintance of Sir Percy, save Sir Percy's wife. Was Mr. Darcy just cover for Sir Percy, or was he a man of similar caliber. Chauvelin could not decide, and his thoughts were interrupted by the return of the captain with the impeccably tailored Darcy.

"The prisoner, citizen." Chauvelin nodded.

"You may wait outside." The captain saluted and left, Chauvelin looked shrewdly at this irate dandy who was standing stiffly just inside the door. "Please, take a seat m'sieur Darcy." The dandy shuddered delicately and carefully polished the offered seat with his handkerchief.

"Allow me to inform you, Mr. Chauvelin, that I am not used to such treatment, and that I will not tolerate it."

"You may tell me anything you like Mr. Darcy, but I fear you are not in much of a position to complain about your treatment." Darcy stiffened.

"And why am I in no position to complain about my treatment, I am the second richest man in England." Chauvelin smiled sourly.

"Being the second richest man in the world can not buy you respect when you are illegally in a country, particularly if that country is France." Darcy blinked at this.

"And why's that?"

"Because, m'sieur. We are in the habit of guillotining anyone whom we dislike, and most people in this country dislike a person who is richer than them." Chauvelin's voice sank slowly to a whisper.

"And demm'd rude of them to. We do not choose to be rich."

"But you do choose to exert the power of your wealth over them." Darcy grunted, then fell asleep. Chauvelin growled quietly for a moment.

"Guard!" The guard hastily entered. "Take the prisoner to cell D40."

"Very good citizen." Chauvelin smiled maliciously, then walked out of the room, tripping over them cursing, the beggar who scrubbed the floors. she was a large ungainly woman, with long greasy hair and a sour expression. She watched silently as Chauvelin departed, then returned to her scrubbing.

Elizabeth looked at the Abbe de Farge and smiled.

"You appear to have beaten me again m'sieur." The Abbe smiled in return.

"But it is getting harder, soon it is you who will be winning." Their conversation was interrupted by the clatter of guards outside and the screech of the bolts being shot. The door swung open and a man was shoved in. The door was closed firmly behind him.

"What a beastly hole this is. The apparition held an elegant lace handkerchief to his nose. Then glanced at his cellmates. "Miss Elizabeth, I do beg your pardon, I did not see you." Elizabeth sniffed in disdain.

"Mr. Darcy. May I introduce the Marquis de Trouit, also Abbe de Farge." Darcy bowed to the Abbe.

"Pleased to meet you. What are you doing in this beastly hole miss Elizabeth?"

"Taking a Sunday breather. Pray do not over stress your intelligence Mr. Darcy." The Abbe watched in amazement as the immaculate dandy collapsed in convulsive but idiotic laughter.

Chapter 19

Posted on Wednesday, 21 April 1999

Elizabeth woke to the sound of soft talking, unfortunately she could not actually hear what was being said. She sat up with a sigh and gently rubbed her head, automatically reaching for her combs. The voices hesitated momentarily as she sat up, then resumed their conversation, however Elizabeth knew that the subject had changed during the brief pause. Elizabeth waved her brush at the Abbe, then set about braiding and pinning her hair out of the way, she did not glance at either man until the job was done. The Abbe was seated at the small table in the corner of the room, Darcy was a crumpled pile of legs beside him.

"You were the Fis..." Elizabeth paused, the positions were similar, but the mere thought of Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy parading as a drunken fisherman was preposterous. Darcy stood up and carefully straightened his attire.

"As always Miss de Bennoit, you are one hundred percent correct." Elizabeth stared at the man who stood before her, totally unaware of where she was. He was still the tall slight individual, with a relatively inane face, but the softness was gone from his figure. This was a man of action and purpose, the fingers that once looked so weak and helpless, were now strong, but wiry. His face, though still fairly blank was different, it was almost as if a fire burned in his sleepy eyes. The tramp of footsteps broke Elizabeth from her stunned inspection of Mr. Darcy, she coloured as Darcy tilted his head to listen for a second. "Zooks! Likewise sink me! 'Tis the guards, and most unseemly it is for Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy to be awake at this hour. If you'll pardon me, I'll just take a quick sleep." Darcy collapsed onto the pallias Elizabeth had just deserted and apparently fell immediately asleep.

"It would appear," said the Abbe in a dry voice, "That he will go to sleep even if we do not pardon him." Mr. Darcy lifted his head for a second.

"Quite true." His head fell back again as the guards grounded their arms outside the room. Elizabeth stifled a giggle as the bolts were drawn, and the door creaked open.

"Wake up. Citizen Chauvelin wishes to speak with the prisoner."

"Which prisoner? There are three of us in this room."

"The citizen aristo that was brought in yesterday. Get him up." Darcy grabbed his head and groaned.

"Tell that cheese witted hunk of beef that I never rise before twelve."

"Get him up citizen guards." Darcy was wrenched to his feet, and half out the door.

"Hold it a second, I am going no where until my attire is straightened. And you needn't hold me that tightly." Darcy set about straightening his attire, which had been considerably rumpled thanks to the rough handling of the guards. "Look what you did to my lace. 30 guineas a yard that stuff costs, you've absolutely destroyed the stuff." Darcy carefully repined the fall of lace to his cuff. "Now I am ready. You may escort me to Citizen Chauvelin. And keep your dirty hands of my coat. I do wish I could have use of a razor." Darcy felt his chin gingerly. "Twenty-four hours, I must look a veritable scarecrow."

"Oh shut up and come along." Darcy drew himself up to his full height and looked haughtily down at the small but excitable captain of the guards.

"Appearance is of the essence, and one cannot hurry when one is to go into company. But if you insist, I suppose I will have to forgo the razor." Elizabeth bit her lip as the door was relocked and the guards walked away, Darcy had once again become the inane London fop.

"Do you think he will come back?"

"If he keeps up behaving like he is, there is a very high probability that he will be kept with us for the full five days it takes for his valet to return to England and get him a fresh passport." Elizabeth frowned.

"I do not know what to make of him. Who is he really? Is he the inane London fop, the insufferable dandy, or a gentleman."

"I really don't know, but I would say that his insufferable behaviour is just his way of ensuring his continued residence in this smelly hole." Elizabeth considered the idea, then nodded.

Chauvelin frowned thoughtfully at the two pieces of paper. He had received them the day before, but was still unsure as to how he should act. The first was from citizen Robespierre himself, and it was brief to the point of impoliteness.

'Forget about the Scarlet Pimpernel, find out about the Second in Command. R'

The second note, which was almost a page in length, did nothing except infuriate Chauvelin and make him undecided as to what course he should take.

'M'sieur Chambertin,
Oh I do appologise, Chauvelin. Foolish mistake, but I have wasted so much paper trying to write this note already, I really cannot face the idea of having to try again. I must tell you that I have found some magnificent snuff in Pall Mall, amazingly strong flavour, it's called 'Bite of Pepper'.'
Chauvelin choked at this and nearly cast the letter into the fire.
'But this is straying from the topic which I wish to write about. Oh but before I forget, I really must inform you that Tweedle has some magnificent cravats for sale. Now I will return to my original topic. I believe that I may have the enjoyment of being in Bolougne on Friday the __Pluviose. And I was wondering whether I might not be able to persuade you to leave your gloomy barracks for the space of about an hour, to join me for some ale. Either that or some brandy.
I remain yours sincerely &etc.
Sir Percival Blakeney Bart.'

The signature was signed, as the letter was written in a large flourishing hand. A loud knock on the door roused Chauvelin from his abstraction.

"Come in." The door opened, and a man slouched in. His build was weak and flabby, as was his mouth. His hair was greasy and a indeterminate grey-brown. He had a large beak of a nose and a recessive chin, recessive to the point where it seemed a bit of a question whether it was there at all.

Chapter 20

Posted on Thursday, 22 April 1999

The man was the prison commandant, Pierre de Cheminoux. Chauvelin looked at the man in disgust, few things could make Chauvelin feel ill, but Pierre de Cheminoux was one of them.

"Citizen Chauvelin." Pierre rubbed his weak hands and bowed ingratiatingly.

"Yes, what is it." Pierre licked his lips nervously.

"The guards are complaining again, they claim that you are withholding some of the prisoners."

"Let me inform you citizen de Cheminoux, that if I catch any of you or your ill conditioned brood near cell D40 I will take great pleasure in first flogging you to death and then depriving you of that which you consider important." Pierre quailed under Chauvelin's furious gaze.

"Citizen, that is not what I meant at all."

"Then try to control your men with other methods then. And I will thank you to give them up yourself until after this job is over."

"Citizen, you cannot be serious."

"You go near that cell, or make your practises too public and see how serious I am." Chauvelin voice had dropped to a soft whisper, and de Cheminoux was cowering up against the wall. Chauvelin returned to his normal, coolly sarcastic self as he heard the marching guards approach. "You are excused citizen commandant." Pierre de Cheminoux backed hastily out of the room, he did not know the importance of the prisoners in cell D40, but he knew that one was female. Pierre was still backing when he collided with the first of the guards. He hastily got out of the way, these were not his men, they were Chauvelin's men from Paris. Pierre relieved his feelings by cursing at the scrubbing woman, before hurrying down the passage to his room. It was not right how citizen Chauvelin treated him, he was the prison commandant.

Chauvelin glanced up as the guards entered with the tall thin dandy. Darcy was dressed to perfection, there was absolutely no sign that he had spent a night in a cell, except that he had not shaved.

"Take a seat Darcy. Citizen guards, you are dismissed." The guards formed up and hastily marched out of the room.

"Your guards are most heavy handed m'sieur. Look what they did to my lace." Darcy displayed his damaged ruffle to Chauvelin astonished gaze.

"You manage admirably Mr. Darcy, even your friend Sir Percy could not keep such a faultless appearance while in jail."

"Has he been in jail?! I really must ask him about it. I wonder what his doing this moment?"

"Watching you hold an engrossing conversation with Chauvelin about your lace." Chauvelin spun as if someone had dropped a hot penny down his back.

"YOU!!!"

"As you see m'sieur." Sir Percy climbed down off the window sill and bowed gracefully.

"What brings you here Blakeney. I thought you were in the north country?"

"Intolerable bore up there. Then Bingley said you had come to check those French estates again, so I thought I'd pay a surprise visit. And then Chauvelin here was late. Why did you not come and share my brandy?" Sir Percy looked reproachfully at Chauvelin.

"In your usual style Sir Percy, you neglected to say where I could find you. It is hard to drink brandy with someone if you do not know where they are." Percy frowned.

"Demmit man, I do believe you're right. Say what are you doing here Darcy?"

"I don't actually know. Something about a passport, it makes no sense to me." Darcy yawned, relaxed back in his chair and fell asleep.

"Lud, how that is familiar." Percy thoughtfully inspected his sleeping friend. "You do keep such noisome prisoners, here."

"I did not ask your opinion of our prisons Sir Percy, but if you like you may take a sample of both our prisons, and the local guillotine." Percy frowned, considering the matter.

"No, I think I'll pass on that special offer. How are things in Paris, m'sieur?"

"They seem to be satisfactory, Sir Percy." Chauvelin could see no reason for why Sir Percy should be here, or asking the questions he was.

"Why, I do it solely to annoy you m'sieur. Allow me to bid you adieu." Chauvelin glanced up hurriedly, but Sir Percy was no longer in the room. Chauvelin glared, then became aware that the sleeping Darcy was no longer sleeping.

"I do beg your pardon, m'sieur. Such a noisome house you keep." Darcy struggled for a second, then sat up.

"Having had this brief interlude, will you please answer my questions." Darcy nodded, and blinked.

"Certainly m'sieur. You have but to ask."

"Why are you in France?" Darcy blinked.

"My estates, man. Why else would I be in such a blood thirsty hole?" Chauvelin gave no response, just wrote down the information.

"Who did you bring with you?"

"My man, James Witney."

"What did you bring with you?" Darcy shrugged.

"I don't know."

"What do you mean you don't know?"

"Exactly what I said. My man deals with all the things like that."

"Except the passports." Chauvelin's voice was dryly sarcastic.

"That is so." Darcy's face darkened. "Stokes will pay for this error."

"So you have no idea about what baggage you brought?"

"Except my valise with my razors and combs." Chauvelin nodded and listed the items down.

"Have you brought any weaponry with you?"

"Weaponry?"

"Guns, pistols, swords." Chauvelin's voice was calmly bored.

"What would I want with those? I believe James had a gun, but I cannot be certain on that."

"You are unaware of what your servants carry."

"Zooks man. Their job is to get me and my baggage safely from one place to another. I have no interest as to how they do it." Chauvelin nodded.

"Very well Mr. Darcy. That will do for the time being." Darcy stood up and bowed. "Guards." The guards entered. "Return the prisoner to cell D40." The guards marched out, and Chauvelin contentedly rubbed his bony hands together. He might possibly be able to save his neck yet.

Chapter 21

Posted on Friday, 23 April 1999

Elizabeth looked up as she heard the footsteps of approaching guards.

"It sounds like they are returning." The Abbe glanced at his large watch.

"One hour fifteen minutes. He was not being interrogated, it must have been a plain questioning." Elizabeth looked surprised, but returned her attention to the cards in front of her. There was the crash of grounded arms, a slight scuffle, then the bolts were drawn and the door opened. Mr. Darcy was shoved in and the door closed.

"I return, how pleasant. M'sieur le Abbe, U think I will continue my sleep." Darcy collapsed onto the pallias, and was soon asleep. Elizabeth bit back her smile and focussed her attention firmly on the card game.

"You are not very polite Mr. Darcy. Here is miss Elizabeth, yet you only ask my permission to sleep." Elizabeth bit her lip more firmly as Darcy sat up again.

"Oh I do beg your pardon miss Elizabeth. Most remiss of me. Do I have your permission to sleep?" Elizabeth glanced briefly at the Abbe, who promptly produced a second pack of cards.

"No Mr. Darcy, you are going to help us and play three hand cribbage." Darcy groaned and stood up.

"Why are the ladies so demanding?"

"Because the Abbe has a second pack of cards and my sister is not here to make the third."

"Order, one sister to make a third in cribbage. Miss Elizabeth, you are impossible." Elizabeth let her laughter out as he sat down next to the table.

"But of course Mr. Darcy. M'sieur le Abbe, will you deal?" And the game proceeded, rather noisily at times. When confined in a small space with limited games, one tends to modify the game as you play, and eventually the modifications are such that you lose track of them, and the game has to be restarted from the basic rules again.

Marguerite stretched and walked quietly into the small local inn. The customers were rowdy, and the beer flowing freely. There was the usual scattering of 'loose women', Marguerite sat quietly in her corner and ordered tea and a bun, commodities that came free in that small place. She then relaxed back with a sigh, and pushed her greasy hair out of her face. It had been a while since she had done such manual labour, and her shoulders were aching a bit.

"Madam sounds sad. Perhaps I can help?" He was dressed in the uniform of a castle guard, it was loose and ill fitting, his frame was bony, and his face leered hungrily.

"I fear not m'sieur, I sigh for my home."

"And where is your home?" The guard sat down across the table from her.

"It is in the Monmatre Valley."

"Ahh, yes. Such a beautiful location. I have a brother-in-law who comes from the south end."

"Indeed." Marguerite stood up when she finished her tea and bun and walked out, the guard followed.

"Madam, allow me to escort you to your lodgings. The road is not safe in this day."

"Thank you." Marguerite walked swiftly, the long limbed guard keeping easy step.

Chapter 22

Posted on Saturday, 24 April 1999

Marguerite hurried up the stairs to her rooms, and vanished into the second room.

"Do change your shirt, Percy. I'm sorry to say, but you looked better as Benjamin Rosenbaum then you do as a nasty castle guard." Marguerite smiled as the laughter rang through the rooms. She quickly changed into a simple dress, and hurried out again. Percy was buttoning his waistcoat, having finished he grabbed Marguerite and spun her through the air, before depositing her on the sofa, and sitting down next to her.

"Of a surety, it is too long to be separated for a week." Marguerite chuckled as she relaxed into the crook of his arm.

"Says the man who deserts his wife at regular intervals to deal with his VERY troublesome northern estates. Where are you now, by the way?"

"With Darcy at Pemberley. We are unavailable for visitors." Marguerite chuckled again.

"So what was so important that you used our meeting place?" Percy frowned, a deep crease forming between his brows, and he stared at his fingers.

"To be honest, an unexpected event has occurred." Percy paused, unsure as to how to continue. "In fact, citizen Chauvelin has, for the first time in his life, received orders to forget about the Scarlet Pimpernel, and find the Second in Command."

"Oh." Marguerite's voice was blank.

"Exactly what I thought, and it appears that Chauvelin intends to follow his instructions. The result is, that my carefully laid plans are blown sky-high, and gone to hell. If you'll excuse my language my dear."

"I take it that Chauvelin does not yet know? And I will excuse your language, I feel like saying that myself. Especially as Chauvelin and that swine de Cheminoux relieve their anger or frustration, by kicking me." Percy jerked up.

"Kicking you? Hmm." There was a brief pause. "Well, we have several options, and all but one depend on Darcy. Unfortunately we cannot contact Darcy till after his release. Which is another two days away. I must say, I never realised that Darcy could be such an insufferable snob. He even puts 'Golden Ball' to shame when it comes to sheer arrogance." Marguerite chuckled again.

"I've seen him. He was bewailing torn lace when he was taken in to be questioned by Chauvelin. As well as abusing the guards for rough handling him. By the way, they're all in cell D40."

"You don't say?" Percy's brows creased deeper. "La little woman, but this could be very interesting. So depressing to know that I am no longer in the limelight. Shocking, I've been replaced by my second in command." Percy's laughter rang through the room again. "I think that we will make use of the gentlemen who kick you. Take note of them, but only intentional kicks. Who've we got in town?"

"Fitzwilliam, Hastings, Tony, Darcy and Whelan."

"Can't really count Darcy. Okay, I need some sleep." The downside of these cheap lodgings, were that they had no beds. The next morning Percy stretched stiffly, and groaned as he stood up, easing the kinks from his long frame. "I fear little woman, that your couches are not very comfortable."

"It's better than the floor. Marguerite stretched, and after a hurried bit of food changed and scurried away to the prison. Percy grabbed a bit more food, changed, and followed suit.

Darcy sat frowning darkly at the far wall of the prison, his thin hands played nervously together.

"What is it Mr. Darcy?" Elizabeth walked over and laid a hand on his shoulder.

"Just trying to think of a way to get information out of here." Darcy shook his head, trying to clear it, and deepened his frown. Elizabeth stood for a bit longer, then returned to her game of Cribbage with the Abbe. Darcy stirred restlessly, then came and joined them. "I'll get brain fever if I continue trying to think. Could this possibly become three hand cribbage?" The Abbe promptly produced the extra pegs and the extra pack of cards, the game of mods cribbage, which had never yet finished, was underway once again.

Chapter 22B

Posted on Monday, 26 April 1999

Elizabeth rolled over, and squinted as a light flashed into her eyes.

"No." Footsteps moved away, and Elizabeth sat up. "Damn. You fool Jacques. Pierre was wrong again, there is no woman here." The door opened and closed, and footsteps hurried down the corridor.

"Elizabeth?" Darcy's voice called softly.

"Yes."

"Hold a second, and don't move." Elizabeth held motionless, and was shortly rewarded by the sound of someone squatting down next to her. She felt fingers fiddling awkwardly near her ears, and then her face was pealed off. Elizabeth took a deep breath of the fresher air, and carefully wiped her face. "Sorry about it, but I only got warning of their pending arrival, just before they arrived."

"Why were they looking for a woman?"

"You don't want to know." Elizabeth heard Darcy move away, and lie down again. She lay down again as well, but she did not go to sleep.

It had been fifteen minutes ago when Darcy had suddenly shaken her awake. She had sat up, frightened.

"Quiet." His voice had held urgency, and she had immediately fallen silent. "Put this on." He had thrust a large piece of some flexible material into her hands.

"What is it?" He had muttered something his breath, then took it back.

"Here, I'll do it." It had felt queer as the material had slid over her face and hair, it had also been frightening, but then the air came back. Not fresh, but air, she could see vague outlines and then Darcy had thrust something into her hands, it was a large shirt.

"Put it on, and quick." He had been moving back to the other side of the room when he had said that remark, and it was with a brief struggle that Elizabeth got the shirt on. She then lay down again. She didn't understand what was happening, but Darcy's urgency had infected her, she had no intention of disobeying.

Elizabeth suddenly sat up.

"Mr. Darcy?"

"Yes." the answer was quiet.

"Do you not want your shirt back?" Elizabeth heard his soft laughter.

"Indeed I'd be grateful if you returned it." Elizabeth had pulled it off, then hesitated.

"Do I just throw it at your voice, or do you come get it?"

"I'll come get it." Laughter bubbled gently in his voice, and seconds later Elizabeth felt the shirt removed from her hands. "Don't be afraid if it happens again. I will not let them hurt you." He vanished into the darkness again, and Elizabeth lay down again. She did not know why, but she felt comforted by Darcy's promise that no one should hurt her.

Elizabeth sat up the next morning as the guards clashed down the corridor. The bolts were drawn and a tray was passed in. Breakfast had arrived, but so had Chauvelin. Elizabeth watched with distrust as the stooped man entered behind the guard.

"Please, eat your meal, I am only here for a minute." Darcy laughter started to roll infectiously.

"Lud, but the man is enchanting." Elizabeth soon found hat she could not help but laugh, and soon the three prisoners were laughing merrily.

"When you are quiet finished Mr. Darcy. I have a question to ask of you collectively."

"Ask away man."

"I heard by report that there had been several disturbances in the wing of the prison, last night. And was hoping you'd be able to inform me whether you had any visitors." Elizabeth studied her fingers idly. It was not her place to venture information.

"Yes we did. Some guards came," Darcy hesitated momentarily, "in search of some 'amusement'." Elizabeth was fascinated by the look of fury that passed across Chauvelin's face.

"Thank you Mr. Darcy. I bid you good day."

"But what about my departure from the slimy-mudhole?"

"Your man should return tomorrow, and then you may depart with my blessing." Chauvelin stormed out of the room before anymore questions could be asked of him. Citizen de Cheminoux would pay for this blunder.

Chapter 23

Posted on Friday, 30 April 1999

Chauvelin stormed out of the cell, sending his guards flying, when Chauvelin was mad the wisest did their noble impressions of invisible ghosts, and the stupidest asked a question, but never more than one. Commandant Pierre de Cheminoux, could hear Chauvelin's approach long before Chauvelin entered the guards wing, but was mystified as to why Chauvelin was so furious, but he was not long left in suspense.

"Citizen Commandant. What in hell were your men doing in D-wing last night." Pierre immediately cowered away from Chauvelin, who never ceased his approach until he had Pierre by the neck.

"Routine security check, citizen."

"Since when, may I ask, has a routine security check included doping the guards on duty and entering a secured and isolated cell?" Chauvelin's sarcasm bit savagely into Pierre.

"Entering, citizen!"

"Yes. Entering, but do not forget the doping."

"Could it not have been the Scarlet Pimpernel, citizen!" Chauvelin sneered.

"Very likely citizen. Since when has the Scarlet Pimpernel stooped to doping, and then neglected to take anything with him on his retreat?" Pierre paled, it appeared that he was in for the high jump. How had Chauvelin found out about all this, the guards had been doped long before his men had entered after the woman. Pierre considered it rather a waste of planning as there had been no woman. But that still didn't answer why Chauvelin knew about it. "I asked you a question citizen. Aren't you going to answer?" Pierre choked, suddenly realising that Chauvelin's grip had been increasing steadily in tightness.

"I could not say, citizen. I have not ever studied the Pimpernel's methods of attack."

"Lud man, you make it sound as though Citizen Chauvelin does." Pierre found himself suddenly released, and he fell forward gasping for breath. It was most of a minute before he looked up to see who the intruder was. It was a tall man, more to the point he was a massive man. He was dressed at the very height of fashion and was watching them idly through his quizzing glass, from his perch on the windowsill. Pierre then noticed that Chauvelin was seated on the desk, his expression that of bored disinterest.

"And now that the commandant has recovered. What may I do for you?"

"Lud man, your formality is positively icy. Who is this commandant?"

"This is Pierre de Cheminoux. I really must request this discussion be temporarily postponed. Citizen de Cheminoux and I were engaged in a serious discussion."

"It looked more like you were trying to strangle him." Pierre eyed this tall stranger warily. The man sounded witless, he was actually a trifle puzzled by the deference Chauvelin gave the man. Chauvelin was rarely polite to anybody, least of all inane dandies. Pierre scratched his head then stood up.

"What, citizen, are you doing on my window sill?" Pierre found himself regarded by two sets of eyes, the first puzzled, but kindly, the second grimly sarcastic.

"You will find, citizen de Cheminoux, that that person does not answer to 'citizen' unless he is busy being a nuisance to the 'Committee of Public Safety'" Pierre blinked, as the man on the window sill laughed merrily.

"Citizen Chauvelin, your humour improves, unlike your cravats." Chauvelin looked witheringly at the man.

"That, citizen de Cheminoux, as you seem unaware of his identity is the man we call the Scarlet Pimpernel."

"What he forgot to add is that I call myself that to. So nice to meet you Citizen Pierre de Cheminoux, I hope we meet again. Someday." Pierre blinked as the man vanished into thin air, then glanced at Chauvelin who was abstractly fiddling with his cravat. Chauvelin came very suddenly out of his abstraction.

"And remember my former warning. You escape this time because I did not see it occur." Chauvelin quit the room, and seconds later was down in cell D40.

Percy sat quietly in the window of the local inn, drinking the local ale as he watched the population eddy and flow passed the window, as of yet he still had no definite idea of what he was going to do. But Darcy was getting out today, unless Chauvelin was up to something. Percy frowned as he considered the idea. Chauvelin's recent performance seemed to indicate that though he had his suspicions he had nothing solid or definite to work upon. Chauvelin was running on hunches again. Percy shook his head and took another drink of his ale, before returning to his useless. He knew it to be useless, but it annoyed him to have nothing solid to work on himself. Unless! Percy paused turning the idea over in his head, perhaps it would do. It certainly appealed to his sense of the ridiculous.

Chapter 24

Posted on Tuesday, 4 May 1999

Percy had jolted when he felt the tap on his, and turning he saw Darcy collapse into the chair next to him with a mug of ale.

"Out at last. I celebrate with a mug of Ale, then I shall sleep." The mug of ale soon vanished and Darcy was on his feet again. "Come." Darcy walked out and Percy hurried after him.

"Your becoming insubordinate Darcy." Darcy nodded.

"But of course, I need to sleep. Or a better translation is that I never got enough information during you short visits and I now need a full update." Darcy turned into his conciergerie and hurried up the flight of stairs. James Witney was cooking in the kitchen, Darcy wrinkled his nose at the smell.

"Really James. Can you not do better than that. Percy let's use my bedroom. Now what's happened?"

"Well you got caught, I've had a few interesting conversations with citizen Chauvelin. Citizen Chauvelin has lost his temper more than once with citizen de Cheminoux."

"Not very surprising, the man is a slug."

"Well I interrupted Chauvelin while he was trying to strangle the man."

"That was a mistake."

"What was. Strangling him or interrupting the strangulation?"

"Interrupting. But continue."

"Chauvelin received a nice letter from me, announcing my arrival. And he also received an unexpected communiqué from Paris."

"He's not getting guillotined is he?"

"No. He has orders to ignore the Scarlet Pimpernel."

"And who's he to focus on instead?"

"The Pimpernel's second."

"In other words, me! What a charming thing to know. Did you know, I find it rather amusing. He wastes time looking for a man he already has. What are we going to do about it?"

"I'm not actually sure. But I have a few ideas. And none of them are particularly nice."

"Your plans never are. I much prefer standing on house tops yelling 'Long live the king of France'"

"That is certainly an amusing pastime. How do you like citizen Chauvelin's prisons?"

"Not at all. But they are better than his gutters." Percy chuckled softly.

"You are experienced in those aren't you. Now this is my idea." Darcy listened intently as Percy outlined the complex plan, then nodded.

"That should work, and if it doesn't. Well it makes no difference to me either way." Percy frowned.

"This plan is being updated immediately then. Give me a minute." Darcy reclined back on his chair and gazed abstractly at the ceiling.

Citizen Chauvelin sat scowling darkly, as of yet he had no traces of who this second in command might be, other than the possibility that it was mr Fitzwilliam Darcy, the late inhabitor of cell D40. And this time he had no one to blackmail to find out for him. In fact, he was totally on his own, and his suspicions were based solely on the similarities between the Pimpernel himself and the other inane London fop. Though Chauvelin had his suspicions, the Pimpernel might assume the character, but mr Darcy was the character. Chauvelin thumped the table with his fist and cursed silently, why did citizen de Cheminoux have to be such a lascivious dolt. His train of thought was interrupted by a short knock on the door, then a guard marched in.

"Sir, we have the prisoners from the Rue de la Roche awaiting your inspection."

"Are they sober yet?"

"For the most part. Though we have our doubts about one of them, he declares that if we untied his hands he would defeat us all." Chauvelin sat up at this.

"Bring the man in." The guard saluted, then departed. Chauvelin grabbed a pen and paper, and started to draw geometrical lines. This seemed almost to good to be hoped for. Someone who made a remark like that must be part of the League. Chauvelin could identify it as a remark the Pimpernel himself had made on numerous occasion, with a soft sigh he fought to contain his excitement and hope. Then the guard returned. The prisoner was tall and thin, but he had an aura of strength, he was an opposite of the Pimpernel in appearance. Chauvelin looked thoughtfully at the man. "Very unwise of you mr Darcy." Darcy, for that is who it was, shrugged his disinterest.

"Noblesse oblige. I had things to attend to here first."

"Hence you are attired as a labourer."

"Correct m'sieur."

"Citizen guard, you are dismissed, but remain outside the doorway."

"Are you not afraid that I might fly away, or perhaps just vanish?"

"If you can do either of those things, then it would make no difference where the guard is."

"That is a consideration." Darcy fell silent again. Chauvelin watched the silent figure uncomfortably, he did not know why, but he was never comfortable with either of these men. They were an element of their own, and Chauvelin
could do nothing but follow.

"Mr Darcy, what was your business?"

"Formerly fishing, but now I am coal-heaving at the docks."

"And where is Sir Percy?"

"I wouldn't have the foggiest. Haven't seen him since I was last in this room in your ever so charming company." Chauvelin frowned.

"Then where is the Scarlet Pimpernel?" Darcy shrugged.

"Couldn't say. He left the Rue de la Roche about five minutes before the soldiers arrived. I must say, you soldiers are mighty heavy handed. Look what they did to my coat."

"The coat, mr Darcy is so bad already that I cannot see what you are referring to. Take a seat, we have to arrange for your lodgings."

"Please make them comfortable. My last one was so noisy."

"Fear not mr Darcy, your lodgings will be quiet, except for the guard." Darcy collapsed into a chair, and Chauvelin departed, leaving a guard on guard. He was pretty certain that Darcy had allowed himself to be caught, but Chauvelin was determined to cover all rescue or escape contingencies.

Chapter 25

Posted on Sunday, 9 May 1999

Percy straightened his legs cautiously, then stood up. Marguerite was changing in the other room, and Percy quickly pulled on his coat and boots, he eyed his scuffed boots sadly, the straightened to bow when Marguerite entered.

"Lieutenant Garce, you do make a formidable man, but I fear your boots lack polish."

"And mademoiselle Beggar, looks much better in a ball gown." Percy grabbed the lump of bread. "Elizabeth has been returned to the main part of the prison. Unfortunately we'll have to pull Darcy out before we go after her again."

"A double strike. That could be tricky." Percy shrugged.

"Chauvelin was after the second, he got the second, but both second and former hostage must depart, along with de Trouit."

"That sounds like we'll be busy. Do you know where Darcy is being held?"

"No. See if you can find out today." Marguerite nodded. "Oh and give this to Elizabeth." Marguerite eyed the grimy piece of paper, then put it down the front of her bodice.

"It shall be attended to, my lord. But I must depart." Marguerite departed immediately.

"Wake up Ffoulkes, we got to depart." There was a muffled growl from the other room, and soon Sir Andrew Ffoulkes appeared in the entrance, pulling on his coat. The two men then departed.

Elizabeth kept herself hunched in a corner for most of the day. the woman around her were mostly holding prisoners, prisoners who had misbehaved at the local tavern. The cleaning woman spent most of the day leering at her from across the room, but as evening approached she came across.

"Such a pretty one. We see not too many of you these days. Ladies, just look at her lace." Elizabeth had backed into a corner, but the cleaning woman was taller than her. The cleaning woman tore the lace from the top of her dress. Then stepped back to view how it would look on her own rags. "No." The cleaning woman shoved the lace back into Elizabeth's gown front. "It is not nice enough for my gown." The cleaning woman swept her ragged skirts and strutted away, Elizabeth fought savagely to keep her calm, and managed to succeed. She slowly lowered herself down to the floor, and started to neaten the torn neck of her dress. It was a nervous and unconscious movement. Slowly the attention withdrew from Elizabeth, and Elizabeth fished the ruined lace out from her gown and dropped it onto the floor next to her, then finished neatening the front of her gown.

Chauvelin sneered at the guard as he entered the cell. He was seated in a far and dark corner and he showed no interest in Chauvelin's appearance. Chauvelin stared at the man, he could not understand the fatalistic Saxons. They just sat and waited, waited for something to happen.

"Mr Darcy." He glanced up indifferently and nodded.

"As you see, Citizen."

"To make sure that you do not intend to try to escape. Mme. Elizabeth de Bennoit, is still being held. Also de Trouit is being held in another cell. If you leave both these people will be beheaded, the Pimpernel's second in command, valued himself above the prisoner's he risked his life to save."

"As you say m'sieur. A most humorous idea." Chauvelin frowned, he did not like being laughed at.

"You seem to forget where you are, Mr. Darcy."

"That is fairly difficult. You do not waste on nice wall hangings, and general comfort." Chauvelin glanced momentarily at the blank stone walls, and the bare floor. Well there was a camp bed in one corner, but other than that and a chair and table the room was empty and devoid. Chauvelin shivered slightly, then realised that he would have to do something quickly.

"If you'll excuse me. Your lunch will arrive in twenty minutes."

"I'd prefer to have breakfast first." Chauvelin nodded briefly, then left the room. Chauvelin hurried back to his room, he had received no further instructions from Paris. Was he to guillotine the second-in-command, or did Paris want him for a specific reason. Chauvelin shook his head.

"Citizen Chauvelin. So delightful to see you again." Chauvelin turned quickly, Sir Percy was seated lazily on his window sill, his riding clothes uncreased.

"What are you doing there?"

"Sitting. What do you plan to do with Darcy?" Chauvelin sat down.

"Wouldn't you like to know."

"In other words, you don't know. Most remiss of Paris. Do you want me to act as your emissary?"

"I would prefer you to sample our cells and guillotine."

"Once again I fear I must disappoint you. I fear that Lady Blakeney would not appreciate it if I took up your kindly offer."

"Sir Percy, will you kindly depart. I have work to attend
to."

"Straighten your cravat, and then I'll consider it." Chauvelin heard the faint chuckle that always signaled Sir Percy's departure, and sure enough, when he glanced up, the infuriating dandy was no longer in the room. Chauvelin sighed softly and relaxed back into his chair, once again he questioned Paris' motives in ignoring the Scarlet Pimpernel.

Citizen Pierre de Cheminoux sneered at the guard.

"You don't say." Pierre rubbed his chin slowly, his eyelids closed lazily, then winked open again. "So he has opened up the D-wing again." Pierre fell silent again. "Most interesting......next week I think. Oh and you'd better take that dispatch through to citizen Chauvelin." The guard saluted and vanished out the door, as Pierre gazed unwinkingly and catlike at the empty fireplace. "This will teach citizen Chauvelin to underestimate the brains of Pierre de Cheminoux. Imagine his face when he realises that I have caught the Scarlet Pimpernel."

"But is that not wishful thinking citizen de Cheminoux?" Pierre spun, and once again the impeccably dressed man was reclining on his window sill.

"What are you doing there?"

"Relaxing, enjoying the view. What do you think I'm here for?" Sir Percy swung his legs off the window sill and stood up. "You're almost as engaging to talk to as citizen Chauvelin, though your neck must be stiff." Pierre subconsciously rubbed his bruised neck, his outrage against citizen Chauvelin rising once more to the surface.

"Chauvelin no longer matters."

"Oh!" Percy looked faintly interested.

"I just read a communique from Paris concerning him. Apparently unless he has the second in command already I have orders to give him a one way ticket to the guillotine."

"I'm sure he would enjoy that. He is always giving me free offers of sampling the massage expertise of Madame guillotine. Tell me, have you ever sampled them?" Pierre stared distrustfully at the Pimpernel, he could not say why, but this man made him suddenly feel incredibly uneasy and unsure of his position.

"No I have not." Pierre shifted uncomfortably.

"Well you really should find out, I'm looking for someone who has. I never try anything, unless someone has done so before me and informed me of its positive effects. It was the Prince of Wales who introduced me to the restorative effects of Bath. They have such a magnificent cure for fatigue." Percy yawned, then sat back down on the window sill. "In fact, it looks suspiciously like I will have to return there shortly. This fatigue is truly wearying." Pierre watched in astonishment as the affected dandy practically fell asleep under his nose. He rose cautiously and went to look and see if there was a guard in sight, but he could see none. Returning his attention to the room, he found that his sleepy visitor had vanished, and with him a large pile of papers. Pierre knew instant terror. Those papers dealt with his secret dealings with certain members of the public who did not see eye-to-eye with the republican government.

Chapter 26

Posted on Monday, 10 May 1999

Chauvelin looked up in annoyance.

"Why have you returned again sir Percy. Can you not see that I am busy?"

"But of course citizen. I have just come from a delightful tete-a-tete with Citizen de Cheminoux, he is exceedingly loquacious on the subject of Parisian communiqués. In fact he was telling me about one only a moment ago. Something to do with my Second in Command.." Percy blinked as Chauvelin vanished out of the room. "So hasty." He shook his head silently and rummaged through Chauvelin's desk, but found nothing, not that he was surprised by that. He had expected to find nothing. He calmly departed once again by the window.

Pierre looked up in surprise as Chauvelin came hurtling into his office, but he was not given long to be surprised.

"What in hell are you doing reading personal dispatches from Paris?"

"Citizen?"

"You heard me. Now answer."

"But....." Pierre grabbed desperately at the minor courage he had, and attempted to put on a bold front. "I am commandant of this prison, I have the right to read all incoming information."

"Just as I have the right to now search your desk." Pierre backed suddenly, as Chauvelin started to check his desk. He was now thankful that the Pimpernel had walked off with his contact papers. Though he was still worried about what use the Pimpernel would put them too. Chauvelin was disgusted when his search showed up nothing, but he wasn't about to show it. Pierre watched fearfully, wondering what this man would do next, but he was never to find out. At this point a man from Chauvelin's guard came into the room.

"Your pardon citizen." The man saluted stiffly. "I was told I would find you here."

"What is it?" Chauvelin rounded angrily on the man.

"'Tis the prisoner, citizen."

"What with him."

"He's gone mad, citizen."

"What do you mean by that?"

"Exactly what I said. 'E's completely off 'is rocker. We daren't enter. He's already cracked Jacques skull." Chauvelin swore long and fluently, much to the admiration of the guard.

"It would appear citizen de Cheminoux that our conversation must be temporarily suspended. We will resume it at a later date." Chauvelin hurried out of the room, and down to the cell in D-wing. Even as he entered the wing he could here the yells. As the guard had reported, the man seemed totally off his head. Chauvelin wondered temporarily whether this might not be a stunt similar to Sir Percy's stunt with the drink. But one look at Jaques persuaded him that he need have no such fears. Though it gave him plenty of fears as to what one did with a raving lunatic. Chauvelin watched for a very brief period through the peep hole, but he could see little, other than the thin figure cowering back into a corner and holding desperately to a chair leg. "When did it start?"

"'Bout an hour ago. He'd been awful quiet for a stretch, so Jaques went in to check on him, and 'e belted 'im with the chair leg." Chauvelin's frown deepened.

"No one is to enter. But send for me if you observe any changes, no matter what the hour." Chauvelin hurried back to his room, a deep frown creasing his brow. Now what would he do? Paris' instructions were specific, and they were now impossible to carry out. Chauvelin sat down, but stood up immediately, rubbing his nether quarters. He turned his head to see what was on his chair. The sight that met his eyes was a that of a pile of thistles and a scarlet pimpernel, next to it lay a piece of paper.

'such a comfortable seat is it not m'sieur?'

Chauvelin swore loudly and walked over to the window, outside the sun was slowly setting, cutting swathes of light across the sky in multiple colours.

Elizabeth also watched the sun set, she watched what she could see through the high barred window of the communal cell. She rolled over as it set and huddled into a tight ball. Then she uncurled as her eyes saw a piece of paper. She picked it up gingerly and looked at it. It was rolled into a tight ball, and was grubby. Elizabeth unrolled it carefully, and it suddenly became two separate pieces of paper. The first and dirtier had only a few words. 'Do not resist' And that was it. The second was even shorter. 'Fear not'. Elizabeth frowned as she read them. they were two separate notes, written by two separate hands, and Elizabeth recognized neither. Perhaps they were not meant for her. Elizabeth paused to consider the idea, and for some reason she could not place her thoughts flew to the leering cleaning woman. A tall woman, taller than Elizabeth, with lank reddish brown hair. Suddenly Elizabeth gasped, she had never seen the woman's hands, they had been always hidden by a pair of gloves, heavy leather affairs that concealed. Elizabeth struggled to suppress her hope, but it would not die.

Chauvelin looked up in annoyance.

"What is it this time Sir Percy?"

"Just came to enjoy some of your charming company. So depressing, I have no company."

"Isn't that too bad." Chauvelin's voice was ironically sarcastic.

"But it is. I have no one to drink ale with since you locked Darcy up. That was most unkind of you citizen."

"Not at all. It was a pleasure." Percy sighed.

"You are most unkind m'sieur. But did you like the cushion I lent you?"

"It was most comfortable, Sir Percy. I cannot help but sit on it now." Chauvelin shifted slightly under sir Percy's mocking gaze.

"To be honest, I had expected you to look before you sat down. My apologies to you."

"That must be a first, from you."

"All things must occur for a first time. But I must say, your cravat tying has improved no end. It is almost well tied."

"That is certainly a compliment from you."

"Certainly more than Darcy would give you."

"What's he got against me?"

"Your guards absolutely destroyed his coat." Chauvelin raised a cynical eyebrow.

"I will apologize to him if he returns to sanity."

"Is the poor chap insane?"

"Seems to be, he broke Jacques' skull with a chair leg."

"That sounds most unfriendly and unlike Darcy. Could I see him?"

"Only if you were willing to remain with him."

"This another offer of free board, and sample of Madame Guillotine?"

"Correct."

"I fear I must once again refuse your kindly offer. Lady Blakeney would not approve."

"Such a pity. I've been led to believe that she has a most permanent solution for fatigue."

"Really! You interest me highly. I thought nothing could beat Bath."

"Well I have heard that this cure is considered permanent." Percy nodded, then looked up as a couple of guards entered with a prisoner.

"Lady Blakeney, what a delightful surprise." Percy blinked at his wife, and crooked his head critically.

"Lady Blakeney, you ball gowns suit you better." Marguerite curtsied coquettishly.

"La, thank you for your opinion Sir Percy. Thank you for your kind greeting citizen Chauvelin."

"You are welcome Lady Blakeney. Where did you find her?"

"She was behaving suspiciously in the region of cell D30."

"Thank you citizen guard. Take a seat lady Blakeney. Guards, await outside." The Guards departed, and Marguerite sat down.

Chapter 27

Posted on Tuesday, 11 May 1999

Elizabeth looked up fearfully up from her corner. She had watched this on other nights, but was still mystified as to the reason for its occurrence. It started with the local guards, they would swagger into the room, inspecting each woman in turn. Eventually they would grab one, and guard and woman would depart. Once all the guards had departed, then citizen de Cheminoux would enter. Elisabeth had been unaware of his identity, until the woman on the pallias next to her explained who he was. De Cheminoux's inspection was much more intense, and until tonight Elizabeth had managed to go unnoticed, but no such luck. De Cheminoux grabbed her firmly and yanked her to her feet. He held her with one hand, while with the other he checked her out. He then turned to his aid. A medium high man, with pale blond and sparse hair.

"I'll have this one. Prepare her, I'll come for her in a couple of minutes." Elizabeth was pulled out of the room, and hustled away with a group of guards.

"And why sir Percy should I not imprison you?"

"For the simple reason, that I have no intention of remaining much longer."

"And how precisely do you plan to depart?" Sir Percy looked surprised.

"By the window of course. There are a few to many guards outside the door." Chauvelin nodded slowly, then looked out the window.

"Oh god!"

"I didn't think you believed in that deity."

"We don't."

"Then I'll thank you not to sully his name by taking it in vain. What's the matter?"

"Citizen de Cheminoux will have gone on his nightly rampage already."

"You certainly have good taste in your prison commandants."

"You seem undisturbed, Sir Percy."

"Sorry, I'll start to panic and rave in a moment. I was actually expecting you to go and do something about it."

"And what would you do if I did?"

"Depart of course. But I will return tomorrow if you like."

"No thank you, Sir Percy. Lady Blakeney, if you'll excuse me." Chauvelin rose, bowed and departed. Almost immediately Percy went to the window and whistled softly.

"That you Blakeney?" The call was soft.

"No, it's citizen Chauvelin. Get that ladder up you fool." Seconds later Percy was handing his wife over to the capable hands of Sir Andrew on the ladder. "You got the coat for me?" Ffoulkes nodded, and having taken Marguerite down returned with the coat and scuffed boots. Seconds later he was once again retreating down the ladder. A riding coat and a set of boots in his arms.

The guards looked up in surprise at the officer who came striding down the corridor towards them.

"Citizen Chauvelin sent me to collect the prisoner." The guard saluted then opened the door. The officer passed into the room, a guard tried to see what was happening, but the room was too dark. They could here the sound of a brief scuffle, then the officers voice called through.

"Let me out." The guard cautiously opened the door, and the officer strode out, the prisoner hanging unconscious over his shoulder. The officer then marched off down the corridor.

"But what about us, officer?" The officer hesitated.

"The citizen Chauvelin gave no orders concerning you." The officer marched off and left the guard to stare helplessly at each other.

Chauvelin swore viciously when he found that citizen de Cheminoux had already walked off with Elizabeth. He turned to the guards in charge of the cell.

"When did citizen de Cheminoux come through?"

"About fifteen minutes ago." Chauvelin frowned. He had been talking with both Sir Percy and Lady Blakeney at the time. that ruled out any of the Pimpernel's miracle disguises. On a though he turned and hurried down the passages. As he feared, the guards were standing idly around the open door of the cell.

"Citizen. The Officer came and collected the prisoner not five minutes back."

"Thank you." Chauvelin took a firm grip on his temper and nodded as politely as he could. Before hurrying off down the corridors, well that meant that Citizen de Cheminoux was probably the genuine article. Chauvelin then took off at the run, if the Pimpernel's methods were anything to go by, de Trouit probably departed in the early afternoon. Chauvelin found that this assumption was correct. Therefore one wondered about the prisoner Elizabeth de Bennoit, was this tricky work on the part of the Pimpernel or had Pierre de Cheminoux beaten him to the collection. Chauvelin returned to his room, pondering the problem, then summoned the guard. "When citizen de Cheminoux returns to his room, please send him in to see me." The guard saluted and left. Chauvelin grabbed his pile of paperwork and buried himself in his work.

Chauvelin looked up in irritation at the heated looking guard.

"What is it? It had better be good this time." The guard saluted stiffly.

"Your pardon sir. Citizen de Cheminoux has just been found."

"Found?"

"Yes citizen. He was tied up in one of the holding cells."

"Bring him in." The guard saluted and retreated hastily. Citizen Chauvelin seemed unhappy about something. Citizen de Cheminoux appeared in a very disheveled condition. In fact he was attired only in his underclothes. "And what happened to you citizen?" De Cheminoux flinched at Chauvelin's sardonic gaze.

"I do not know. One minute I was speaking to one of the guards, and the next thing I knew was that I was tied up in one of the holding cells." Chauvelin's scowl suddenly deepened.

"Then who in..." He stopped, totally lost in thought. "The Pimpernel was talking to me. His Second was imprisoned. The Pimpernel's wife was with him. There was no one available to do the job unless.." Chauvelin fell silent once more, his mind carefully processing the various options open to him, none of them were palatable. Pierre was astonished by the disjointed and illogical remarks that Chauvelin muttered, and was most relieved when an interruption occurred. The interruption occurred in the sound of a seamew, it cried thrice, and Pierre watched in amazement as Chauvelin's head snapped up. "Go get some other clothes on citizen de Cheminoux." Pierre hurried out of the room, glad to obey. On his way to his rooms he passed a guard who was running in the opposite direction. the man looked heated.

Chauvelin looked up as the guard ran into the room.

"Citizen!" The guard saluted stiffly and held out the dispatch he carried. Chauvelin snatched it out of his hands and opened it, his face paled immediately and he dropped the letter, and resumed his staring out of the window. He had not moved a muscle when Pierre returned, now fully clothed. Pierre picked up the dispatch curiously, but he could not read it.

"What is the matter citizen Chauvelin?" Chauvelin withdrew his gaze from the window, and Pierre was astounded by the despair in his eyes.

"A lot more than I like to think of. Citizen guards." They saluted stiffly. "You are dismissed." The guards filed slowly out of the room, and Chauvelin returned to his perusal of the dispatch. Pierre frowned, watching Chauvelin's varying expressions.

"What is the dispatch about. It looked to be written not in French."

"Correct citizen. It is written in English, and it is from the Scarlet Pimpernel. It would appear that I am shortly to be reassigned back to London." Pierre looked puzzled, but no doubt citizen Chauvelin would elucidate further when he saw fit. Citizen Chauvelin did not see fit, so Pierre had to go without finding out what the dispatch was about.

Chapter 28

Posted on Wednesday, 12 May 1999

Elizabeth fought with her fear as the guards shuffled into a nearby room.

"Change quickly." Elizabeth eyed the clothes doubtfully, it was a peasant outfit and common for the era, but eventually she changed. The aid reappeared and after casting an eye over her, he took her arm and dragged her out of the room. Elizabeth struggled a bit, but it was of no use. The aid seemed fairly undisturbed by her struggles, and he was soon joined by a guard, and between them Elizabeth was hastily shuffled into a room, the aid departed immediately, and the guard waited quietly outside the door. Elizabeth huddled back in a corner, eyeing the room and its furnishings dubiously. The only piece of furniture was a large bed, and Elizabeth liked it not at all. Elizabeth was kept waiting for nearly ten minutes until citizen de Cheminoux entered the room, he seemed hurried. He did not even look at her, but hurried to the window and leant out, a seamew cried thrice, then he grabbed Elizabeth. The guard looked into the room, puzzled by the call of the seamew, but all he saw was the prison commandant behaving much in his usual manner on such evenings. The guard removed his head and walked a brief distance down the corridor. His job was to guard, and he most certainly did not like having to listen. As soon as the guards head retracted, Elizabeth felt herself released and hustled over to the window.

"You there Ffoulkes?"

"Right below you. I'll be up to fetch her in a second."

"Forget it. We're coming down. Stand by." Elizabeth felt herself hoisted onto the man's shoulder. The world seemed to spin out of control as he went out the window. "All safe?"

"We got Marguerite five minutes ago. De Trouit was pulled out earlier this afternoon."

"Percy?"

"Said he has stuff to deal with. He'll meet us on the shore." Elizabeth was put on the ground.

"Can you walk?" Elizabeth nodded. "Good."

"No hitches inside?"

"Not that I'm aware of. Come, we must leave."

"Right." Elizabeth heard a soft order given and a short time later she was being hurried through the town and down to the shore. Soon the little group was enlarged, by two.

"That you Percy?"

"Yes. I got de Trouit from the hut. Briggs should arrive any second now."

"There he is." The seamew rang out thrice, and soon Elizabeth found herself standing on the deck of a familiar schooner. The schooner started with a plunge and stagger. An arm grabbed Elizabeth as she fell, and pulled her in.

"No hitches, Percy?"

"None. I need to depart Darcy. Look after this little lady."

"Okay." One of the men left and Elizabeth shivered slightly. "You okay?" Elizabeth shook her head softly.

"Am I safe?"

"About as safe as you can be. I appologise for your recent treatment, but it was a bit touch and go." Elizabeth nodded, coughed, and started to cry. "Softly does it." The arm that held her tightened, comforting her immensely. Elizabeth heard some footsteps approaching, but as she could not control her tears, she did not look up.

"Oh, sorry Darcy. I hadn't realised."

"Quite alright."

"Lady Blakeney sent me to say bring her down as soon as possible."

"I think she is already reacting. Tell Lady Blakeney that I'll bring her down when she has recovered." Elizabeth heard the footsteps retreat. "It was only Percy." Elizabeth nodded, her emotions coming slowly back under control. As her sobs subsided, the arm started to release her.

"Please don't let go." Darcy stiffened.

"Are you sure?" Elizabeth simply nodded, and the arm retightened. "Miss Elizabeth, I know that this is probably inopportune. But would you reconsider?" Elizabeth gave a choked giggle, it had taken her a minute to realise that he was referring to his previous proposal and her refusal of his suit.

"I think that yes I would." The arm that held her tightened once more, then the second arm joined it.

"She had beaten me to it. But Darcy seemed to be coping with the situation."

"That is probably a good thing." Marguerite laughed softly as Percy wrapped his arms around her.

"I fear little woman, that I am about to be deprived of my able second-in-command."

"Well you have Andrew back, who knows. Elizabeth might have as much trouble with him as I have with you."

"That is most unkind of you m'dear."

"Not at all. I was being nice." Percy silenced her temporarily with the time honoured salutation. "How did you do it this time?"

"Not as easily as usual. Fortunately the Captain of Chauvelin's guards accepted our excuse that we had been sent on late. So we started with two of us in his guard."

"Who were they?"

"Tony."

"And you I assume. But continue, how did you arrange for Darcy to rescue Elizabeth, and at the same time be safely imprisoned?"

"Well Jacques got his skull cracked, and Chauvelin gave his orders that no on was to enter the cell, so at an opportune moment, Darcy was substituted with a dummy, which I later removed. All rather simple in afterthought." Marguerite smiled as her husband's laughter rang through the room.

"And as Tony is not displaying a bandage, I assume it is you, who supposedly acquired a cracked head." Percy hesitated momentarily then nodded. Marguerite frowned, but said nothing.

And may it be noted in conclusion that the wedding between society bachelor Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and Mme. Elizabeth de Bennoit was the talk of town. Lady Blakeney's gown started a new fashion, and Sir Percy's coat kept the young bucks talking for even longer than the wedding. HRH the Prince of Wales graced the event, and citizen Chauvelin was markedly absent from the rooms.

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