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| It was half-past noon, and still Marguerite had yet to sense sight or sound of her husband or brother. Though it was not a cause for alarm, merely a notice, as lounging as she was on one of the more comfortable pieces of furniture within the large den of Blakeney Manor, Lady Blakeney could lay her head at rest upon the couch's arm and gaze out the large windows through which poured a shower of morning sunlight, pure as gold. The scenery beyond was fit for any warm summer day in England: the gently-rolling hills of the estate covered in a luxurious carpet of green, dotted and speckled with the odd wildflower where there were not cultivated gardens. The sky above was endlessly blue, a fit pasture for the fluffy white sheep that traveled through it. Curtains drawn back, Marguerite could lay here and admire it all with the faint traces of a smile painted upon her lips, seeing the evidence of a breeze drawn in from the coast as it swayed through the dogwood trees and long grasses as though a caressing, invisible hand. But it was indoors and in her morning gown that Marguerite lazily stretched herself out, enjoying the quiet peacefulness around her broken only by the movements and chatter of the servants in another room. Sound so carried in a large house...it was a wonder Marguerite could not hear Percy's gentle snores upstairs. |
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| It was best to let the two sleep in, her mind had figured, if without her conscious knowing. After that past few weeks' events it was understandable for Percy to be so tired, and Armand still recovering from his fever... For as much as Marguerite longed for both their company she would not deny them rest, needed as it was. She could find it to enjoy her surroundings: not just the worldly pleasures of the rich manor but the view of the country, so different from a bustling city like Paris. Oh, but she missed them both! It had seemed ages since Armand had been well enough to see her, and since Percy had the energy to move beyond these walls. Energy or bravery, one. Marguerite could understand her husband's fear only too well. After what had taken place in Paris, in France, with Chauvelin and his rogue underminings, as renowned as the Scarlet Pimpernel was for his courage it seemed unlikely that any man alive should want to show his face in public again for fear of detection, of being singled out and persecuted for his actions not only against France, but against his own Prince... |
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| Such dark thoughts made even the warm, airy den seem suddenly very cold, and with a small shiver the French woman sat up to rub her arms. Her eyes scanned the room for an escape; something else to think about. Gaze rising up to the surrounding walls she could not help but admire the many portraits hanging over the space. Painted depictions of Percy's ancestors, relatives, groups and families, even a prominent few of Percy himself hung there, all manner of sizes and colors. Marguerite smiled a bit more, comforted by the image of him if not his actual presence. Only a rich man with too much free time could spend his life posing for those dreadful things, Marguerite knew. She had sat for only one herself and had not enjoyed it, though the few with Percy at her side were tenfold more bearable. It was nice to think that the two of them could be preserved together in such a beautiful way, for lovely as it was their life together would not last an eternity. Only their love. Of that Marguerite was certain. Now if only Armand would sit still long enough for a portrait... |
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| Surprised at how she had let her own thoughts wander, Marguerite rolled her gaze back around to the clock upon the wall...almost one. Tossing back her mane of auburn curls with a lofty sigh, Marguerite then made up her mind that if she would spend her day sitting about the house she would at least spend it with someone. Rising up from her perch, she smoothed down the folds of her gown and pushed back her undressed hair as much as she was able. Armand should surely be awake by now. The doctors had said his recovery was going very well, and he should be up and about within days. Knowing her brother and his stubbornness, he would have to be pushed out of bed by that time. Marguerite wouldn't care so long as he was well again. Gathering herself, her gown, Marguerite headed for the guest bedroom Armand was stayed in and left her husband upstairs to sleep. |
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| After Marguerite was admitted with a gentle knock on the heavy wooden door, she slipped inside the relatively small bedroom to find her brother sitting up amid the pale white sheets of his bed, arms crossed over his knees as he looked out at his own window. With a delightful laugh Marguerite swept in, taking no notice of Armand's frightful start when he finally took notice of her. "Oh, Armand! You shouldn't sit in here all day by yourself. How do you expect to get well?" |
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| Heading quickly to his bedroom windows she pulled at the heavy curtains to open them the entire way, bright sunlight spilling in to illuminate the dark woodwork of the room in a blinding flash to which Armand grunted and threw his arms up to his eyes. Giggling merrily like a small schoolgirl, Marguerite cupped her hands around her mouth in an effort to stifle her laughter. |
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| "You would cringe from the light like that, you silly boy. Hiding from it all this time in the dark. How can that be good for one's health?" |
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| She hurried over to sit upon the edge of his bed, bouncing on its fluffy blankets with the lightness of her spirits. "Shame on you, boy, for leaving me all alone in this big house. What am I supposed to do? Sit around and knit like an old woman? Oh, I do wish I could go back to the theatre. If only those English fools would have me. Could you imagine it, Armand? Me flouncing about with one of those silly accents like Percy--" |
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| Armand's sudden shout, a strong sound that defied his frail appearance, silenced his sister as it hit the walls. Falling very still, Marguerite stopped as she was, gazing at her brother in utter bewilderment. She saw him at that moment, really looked and saw what Armand had become as the light shone in on him from the windows. The white nightgown he wore--one of Percy's--was limp and bedraggled over his form with sleep and perspiration. His dark hair hung in unwashed strands over his face and shoulders, his skin as pale as she remembered it in that prison. His face...Marguerite gasped as their eyes met, the gleaming sunlight hiding nothing between the siblings. His eyes were sunken and empty: an animal's. They glared up at the older woman with an intense burning that tore directly through her. Rather than pull away, Marguerite reached forward, setting a firm, gentle hand upon his knee. "Armand...my God, are you alright?" |
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| Armand pulled away from her, kicking off the sheets from around his feet to scoot away, further towards the headboard of his bed. "I'm fine, Margot. Just leave me alone." |
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| "I'll do no such thing," she answered readily, rising up to circle around the bed in order to sit closer by her brother. She reached out, brushing hair away from Armand's face, and again he pulled away from her touch. His skin felt warm, at least, and not the deathly cold that was caused by the fever he'd contracted. "Are you feeling any better, Armand? You certainly don't look--" |
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| "I'm fine," Armand insisted, his voice low, almost a growl. "You don't need to hover about me. I'm attracting enough flies as I am." |
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| "You look nothing of the sort. Let me fetch you some cool water. You settle back into bed and I'll draw the curtains. You need rest, Armand. Here, let me help you--" |
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| "For God's sake, Marguerite!" Armand shouted, yet again, save for this time his shout was accompanied by a violet toss of his body, hurling himself out of bed to stand at its side, his outline a near glow against the windows as he glared back at his sister. "I'm not a little boy! Don't treat me like one!" |
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| Marguerite was stunned, having never seen her brother act as such. Percy had indeed said that delirium was a part of the fever Armand suffered, but that had long since passed. Her brother should have been near recovered, and yet here he was before her: accusing, violent, a mere remnant of the boy she knew. "Armand, I did not mean--" |
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| "I don't care what you mean." Armand turned away, pulling harshly at the curtains again to yank them closed. "Everyone here treats me like I'm still a boy running around Paris. I'm not a little boy! I'm a man, Marguerite." Once darkness had nearly enclosed the room again he seemed calmer, protected by this veil of shadow that concealed his expression, his thoughts. He looked down at his hands, seeming to not notice Marguerite's moving around the bedside to approach him. "I'm not going to begin to say I'm as much a man as Percy. I never will be. No one will. But I'm a man, Margot. A man of his own free will. Why can't you see that?" |
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| "What are you saying, Armand?" |
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| But Armand would not answer her. He rambled on, calmer, rational at least, and yet there was a distance in his voice. Why would he not look at her? Her brother whom she loved more than anyone in the world, save Percy...she could not stand to hear him saying such things. To her Armand would always be her little brother. A man indeed, perhaps, but only so much as she could view him so. He was still very young in the eyes of the world. |
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| "I'm saying...I want to go back to Paris." |
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| Marguerite reached for him frantically, latching onto Armand's shoulder and pulling him back to face her no sooner had she heard such lunacy. "You are not serious! They will kill you the moment you set foot in that God forsaken city." |
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| "There are things I have to do, Margot." He pulled away from his sister, meeting her eyes only briefly. Marguerite could not tell what lie behind his dark childish eyes, only that there seemed a sadness there. A sadness reflected in his strained voice. "I don't expect you to understand, but I have to go back..." |
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| "Marguerite, please," he said again, pacing the room as though a caged animal, wanting to get out. Armand rubbed his forehead wearily. "You can stay here. You have Percy and all your success...you'll be well cared for." |
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| "Success?" Marguerite felt she could scarcely keep up, rambling as he was. |
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| "You know what I speak of, Marguerite. Your success...you know as well as I that you were the St. Just that made something of herself. You were a marvelous actress, one of the greatest intellectuals France has ever seen. You married for love, not money, and on top of all that you did it yourself. You had no help. You're a strong woman who had persevered all her life, and now...look. Look at your surroundings and all you have. But what have I done with my life? Nothing. I'm just stupid little half-witted Armand who never amounted to anything save for following his sister around like an incompetent guard dog!" |
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| He collapsed on the last word, his strength simply giving out as he took a step towards the window. Catching himself on the bed, Armand gasped for breath, and though Marguerite immediately ducked to his side he pushed her away, determined to rise on his own. Marguerite stood back, tears forming in her eyes as it registered in her mind what her brother was claiming; discrediting himself and even worse: disowning her. "But Armand...you're my brother. I would have gotten nowhere without you. I need you still, my friend. Please, do not leave me...Armand!" |
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| But Armand would say nothing. He kept his back turned in stubborn resolution and sat back onto the bedside, staring away from her at nothing. Marguerite reached for him, one tentative white hand quivering in the dim light, but she could go no further. Armand had made up his mind, right or not. So it was quickly, before he could hear her tears, that Marguerite fled the room. She swept upstairs, hoping to find comfort elsewhere in the form of her husband. |
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