Dover

And endless journey, Andrew thought, and one he was pleased to see come to a conclusion. How wonderful it would be to spend some time at home, dressed in his own clothes and enjoying his own pleasures. First on his list was a visit to Carlton House and the Prince of Wales who was always able to make him laugh.

"I say Bathurst," Andrew said, "don�t you wonder somewhat about young Saint-Just? What d�you suppose he�s likely to find to do in London?

And Mademoiselle du Tournai? Would she turn up at some fancy dress ball, or vanish into the twilight world of immigrant workers. It all depended on whether her father had been able to bring some kind of income out of France .

�We can only hope that the boy doesn�t take after his sister,� Bathurst said, solemnly. �You�ve spent some time with the lad, Ffoulkes. Are you so certain he�s trustworthy?�

The three gentlemen, for that was how they were dressed, sat at the corner and remained largely unnoticed, save those occasion when Mistress Sally passed close and brought with her the attention of the room. On those occasions, should one of those gathered have given the trio a moments thought they would have believe that two of the men were in the middle of a game of dominoes, with the third watching the game. Had that same person watch for a while longer they would have noticed that the pieces were only laid when Sally brought the rooms attention in their direction. The conversation seemed dominated by the smallest of the three, a man dressed in funereal colors and dark hair.

�By now word should have spread through Calais and Boulougne to watch for Saint-Just, in the meantime I wish you to return to France with Beaucarnot and determine if the boy has left the country,� Chauvelin murmured to the tall, thin man on his right. �I want you to sent word of any activity involving the Pimpernel � dates, times, places, names... Everything! A pattern must be established between the rescue and individuals who have been absent during those times. Perhaps some of these rescued �migr�s still have family in France that can be used as leverage...�

Chauvelin fell silent as the front door open and a rather disheveled Armand Saint-Just entered, slightly winded. Chauvelin stood without realizing he did so, the two men with him followed his gaze. �Wait for my signal,� Chauvelin hissed. �Our plans maybe changing slightly.� Chauvelin moved across the room watching Armand�s movements, the boy seemed to be looking for someone. His appearance caused Chauvelin to wonder, why the unkempt appearance and how did the boy get past passport inspection to board a boat to England ? Someone would have to answer for such lax security. Chauvelin slipped up to Armand and placed his hand on Armand�s shoulder before the boy noticed the revolutionary�s presence and did so with a start.

�Citoyen Saint-Just! I daresay you look as though you just swam the channel,� Chauvelin said in a fatherly manner. �Are you alright?� Chauvelin kept his hand on Armand�s shoulder, Armand would be going no where with him, even if Chauvelin had to take him himself.

Andrew watched until Armand disappeared in the brush obscuring the path uphill to the Fisherman�s Rest, then returned his attention to the du Tournai family. Damnation, he�d missed his opportunity to help Suzanne ashore � Tony had the girl in his arms. Andrew scowled, then tried to wipe the surly _expression off his face; it wouldn�t do for the girl to think he was so easily won. She was too young by half to be aware of her power around men; in fact, Andrew preferred to think of her quietly at home with her needlepoint, out of sight of the rakes and reprobates that frequented the fashionable haunts of the London ton.

The count deposited his wife on the sandy beach and said, "Safe. We�ve all made it safely to England , thanks to your brave Scarlet Pimpernel. I insist, Lord Dewhurst, that you give me his name. How can I repay an enigma. Come, sir, I insist!" Du Tournai offered his arm and his wife clung to him. Andrew scurried toward the breathless mademoiselle as Tony put her down, his expression filled with chagrin at the count�s insistence.

"Indeed, you are safe, Mademoiselle. Allow me to assist you up the hill to the inn where your family will have breakfast before we begin our journey to London."

He set the girl down and stepped to the side, looking down at his cold, soaking breeches. Suzanne�s skirt had brought back a bit of sea-water as well. Tony looked up just in time to see the expression on Ffoulkes�s face. HA! Had he been in Paris and had that not been the vicomptesse Du Tournai Tony would have swatted her backside as a playful goodbye. How he loved to watch the other boys boil over women and such a trivial thing for them to argue over! Lud knows that with horse racing, yacht racing, hazard and all the other card games these fools played they had plenty to hate each other for. But women?! That had never made sense to Lord Anthony Dewhurst. "And women! I wonder if Sally is up at the Fisherman�s Rest. ...Pity, I would hate to wake the lass." Tony mumbled to himself, smirking all the while. It was no wonder a few of the younger members of the League thought Tony was a bit daft with his habit of speaking aloud to himself!

"Safe. We�ve all made it safely to England , thanks to your brave Scarlet Pimpernel. I insist, Lord Dewhurst, that you give me his name. How can I repay an enigma. Come, sir, I insist!" Tony nearly groaned aloud.

"Comte! Surely you understand our need for secrecy! The League has been jeopardized by you knowing my identity. I trust that we will not have to discuss a need for secrecy. It is simply imperative for our operations to be successful!"

"Of course!" The Comte chimed in as though he thought the question of 'Who is the Scarlet Pimpernel?' to be completely out of line. Tony grinned and slapped the old man on the back and continued low in his ear so that the Comptess standing beside them would not hear. "Besides, ol� boy, I would hate to have to seal your lips permanently after having kept them open for another day." Tony winked and jogged off as the Compte was left, bug-eyed, to consider his statement.

She hopped out of Tony�s arms and onto the beach. With the darkness still around them, Suzanne could not see more than the shadow of the cliff above them. She looked down, allowing her eyes to adjust. The sand was soft beneath her tired feet. She reached down and removed her shoes. It may have been un-lady-like, but this was hardly a situation for proper etiquette. Her stocking feet sank into the soft sand. One of them covered a cold rock. The sensation of that rock against the arch of her foot nearly undid her. How long had it been since she had been able to enjoy the simple things in her environment. And had they ever been to a beach?! Suzanne could not recall a time when she had even seen the ocean! She turned to look out at the moon dancing across the water, the waves breaking softly against the beach. It was beautiful.

Exhausted, Suzanne could feel tears pricking the backs of her eyes again. She took a deep breath, closing her eyes for a moment. She swallowed past the lump in her throat and tried to calm her rapid breathing. It was all very overwhelming, the idea of waking up prisoners such a short time ago and finally, a start of a new day free in a foreign country. Everyone in Paris may have the title of "citizen", but the aristocracy were certainly not treated as citizens in their own city. "Indeed, you are safe," the voice interrupted her thoughts. "Mademoiselle. Allow me to assist you up the hill to the inn where your family will have breakfast before we begin our journey to London."

"Oh... of course... Merci." A tear escaped and trickled down her cheek despite her efforts to keep them at bay.

Bathurst followed sulking a bit, the girl was obviously enamored of young Ffoulkes, how would that affect his own chances at the girl. After a few moment of thought, Bathurst paused a moment and jogged up to speak with Tony. �Dewhurst, what do you make of this Armand Saint-Just?�

Armand went gladly, chuckling under his breath at Bathurst 's words: "I would prefer the solid ground." Taking up a seat in the boat that left the yacht's side, leaning forward with his arms crossed over his knees, the young Frenchman didn't take his eyes from the coastline. An age had passed before he was able to leap out onto solid ground, and little else was needed beyond Bathurst 's suggestion before the youth shot off like an arrow, scaling the gentle slope up to the Fisherman's Rest. Arriving breathless but ecstatic, he shoved his weight against the front door to barge in with a rather embarrassing amount of noise. Instantly turning a few shades of red, he lowered his eyes and closed the door behind him with a painstakingly amount of care to keep it quiet. He wished he'd known the tavern would be so full� Hoping to avoid any more unwanted attention, Armand shuffled across the floor towards the kitchen, tired eyes straining to catch a glimpse of Sally or Jellyband. The person he found instead proved to be quite different.

Feeling a hand come down on his shoulder with the finality of the guillotine itself, Armand's breath caught in his throat as he jerked with a start. He didn't remember Jellyband having such a grip� Twisted to look back, the red hue that had covered the youth's cheeks when he entered � and all color for that matter � fled in fear instantly. True, Chauvelin's first words seemed nothing but comradely, but Armand's thoughts flung themselves back down to the coastline. Bathurst , Andrew, Tony�the du Tournais! He had to warn them! But how? All this thought passing by in the space of a second, Armand had to gulp to unlock his throat and forced a grin, his voice coming as strong as he could manage. "Citizen Chauvelin� I�I� Yes, I'm quite alright." A nervous laugh escaped him as Armand dared to meet his former compatriot's gaze. "Oh, be serious, Chauvelin. You know I can't swim�" The weight of the man's hand on his shoulder lingered like a plague, and it was perhaps then that Armand knew he wouldn't be seeing Marguerite any time soon. "What are you doing here?"

"Performing a service to the republic, my dear boy," Chauvelin replied confidentially, lowering his tone so that none around might hear. That he should meet Armand here was a complete surprise to Chauvelin, but one that he might turn to his advantage. His shrew mind had been formulating a plan from the moment when he laid eyes on the boy, one that Armand would comply with whether he was traitor or not. "I'm sure you are aware of my purpose in England ... since your sister, Marguerite, has been such a key figure in aiding me, I'm sure she wrote to you about it despite my insistence that such letters might be intercepted." As Chauvelin spoke he led Armand to the corner table where Beaucarnot and Mersot sat watching the approaching pair keenly.

"It was because of her help that my mission has been successful. I have determined the identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel," the name was spoken in such a low whisper that Armand had to lean in to hear it. Chauvelin watched as Armand blanched, if possible more so than he already was. "Indeed. I must get this name to France... to Robespierre and Tinville who will be able to take the necessary precaution to stop this man. I believe he is in France at this very moment and there we may be able to catch him." Chauvelin made a slight gesture to Beaucarnot, unseen by Armand, and Beaucarnot slipped away before Armand could register his presence. "I had no idea that I would have the good fortune to meet you, but perhaps you could be of aid to me." Chauvelin had arrived at the table with Armand and Mersot stood as they arrived. "My assistant, Beaucarnot, will be arriving to a spot near here with the proofs to unmask this phantasm that plagues the republic. We were to travel to Calais and part company there, one to stay in Calais , another to ride south to Boulougne in case he has not left the country we can take charge of the ports and ferret the man and his followers out. Your aid can be vital here, Armand. I was planning to ride to Paris myself and present the proofs, if you join us then I can send Mersot to Le Havre and you can stay in Calais , to mobilize the troops. And in case the devil slips by, then we, you and I can return to England . I realize how anxious you must be to see your sister, but if you help me in this and we succeed in capturing the Pimpernel you with be a national hero, perhaps as great as Danton! Imagine it!" If Armand was in league with the traitors to France he would follow Chauvelin to find out what Chauvelin knew and perhaps to foil their "scheme", and if the boy was a true patriot he would wish to help the republic by capture it's greatest enemy since the king himself. "Will you help me, Armand? Will you help your country? There isn't much time, we must go meet with Beaucarnot!"

Armand barely had the time or the wits gathered to answer any of Chauvelin's comments. He put up no resistance in being led over to the table where the two other men with Chauvelin waited, feeling like a lamb among wolves. But the young Frenchman listened with utmost attention to what his superior said, worried to near death that Chauvelin knew about Percy's location and also of his own involvement. Or maybe, by chance, he didn't�maybe Enjolras's last encounter hadn't been reported. It seemed a lot to hope for, but either way such a guilty conscience could give Armand away. Not at all disillusioned by suggestions of fame, the youth became more concerned after hearing Chauvelin's proposition with finding a way to thwart the entire mission. Feeling short of breath, Armand vigorously nodded, hoping and praying that by going along the others of the League would slip by unnoticed. "Any sacrifice for the Republic," he said with some sound of rehearsal, straightening his posture self-consciously. "I'm at your disposal, Citizen."

If would not have given him away, Chauvelin would have laughed at his good fortune, instead he smiled and clapped Armand on the shoulder. �I knew I could count on you, Armand,� he said, laying an arm across Armand�s shoulders and moving to Mersot to follow. �We must hurry. We have booked passage on a vessel that will leave for Calais with the tide, but there is much to do in the mean time.� Chauvelin steered Armand through the patrons of the Fisherman�s Rest, through the Georgian style door and at a quick pace placed asmuch distance between it and themselves.

�I�m certain that your sister will be grateful to hear that you are alright,� Chauvelin said as they headed towards the inner harbour. �There will be writing implements on board and I insist that you write her and tell her you are well. I know for a fact that she has been most worried. I will see that the letter is taken to her immediately.�

Beaucarnot met them at the harbor and whispered something quickly in Chauvelin�s ear before leading them to a small craft. Chauvelin took Armand below deck and there provided him with paper and a writing implement. Then stole up into the deck of the craft where he took Mersot and Beaucarnot aside and whispered. �He is not to leave this vessel until it reaches Calais.� The pair nodded. Chauvelin descended again. �Have you finished?�

Armand laughed in return, though not half so merry. Dragged so much as he was led out of the Fisherman's Rest at a strangely quick pace, the young Frenchman risked a quick glance about. They were headed for the harbor. Chauvelin wouldn't see the others. Relief unparalleled relaxed his tense shoulders, though little time was available to enjoy it before Armand found himself below deck on a vessel headed back to France . Everything was happening so quickly� Seating himself where Chauvelin indicated to write a letter to Marguerite, Armand went ahead with dogged persistence, scrawling out in French handwriting. Short and to the point, he only paused at the end of the last sentence. He couldn't say exactly why, but the urge to say something about Percy, about his being the Pimpernel, was an impulse Armand had to check himself to keep from carrying out. Why in the world would he want to do such a thing? Perhaps it was the secrecy� He'd never kept anything from Marguerite for long in the past. He hated lying to her. But Chauvelin would undoubtedly read the letter to check it himself. It then dawned on him what might have been the real reason for the letter's existence. So Marguerite wouldn't worry� Armand sighed. If nothing else, when Percy got back to Richmond he would know where Armand was. The young man jerked with a start at the sudden appearance of Chauvelin, and quickly scrawled his signature to finish the message. "Ici," he nodded, handing it over.

Chauvelin nodded as he took the letter and slipped it into his coat pocket. "I will see that Beaucarnot delivers it immediately," he said. "My advice is to get some rest. Once we reach Calais we'll need to ride on into Paris immediately, so I fear there will be little opportunity to rest then." Chauvelin gave Armand's shoulder a fatherly squeeze, then left the room and close the door behind him.

On deck, he found Mersot and Beaucarnot exchanging course jests with a member of the crew, who excused himself as Chauvelin approached. "Mersot, you will proceed with Saint-Just and myself to Calais , from there you will escourt the boy to Paris , we'll find a guard to accompany you in Calais ," Chauvelin whispered to the more slender of the two, then turned to the more stockier fellow. "Beaucarnot, you will stay in Dover . Keep your eye out for from any �migr� that may pass through. Take special note of any Englishmen that may accompany them. I'll return with the first tide once young Saint-Just has been dealt with and my business in Calais is concluded." Then he added as an afterthought, he place a hand on Beaucarnot's shoulder. "The boy has been told that you will be taking a letter to his sister, I want him to continue thinking that."

"And what of the letter?" Mersot asked.

"Once I've read it it will be destroyed," Chauvelin replied. "Fear is our asset in this. Now off with you, Beaucarnot. I suggest you return to the Fisherman's Rest and keep your eyes and ears open." Beaucarnot nodded and slipped away into the night as Chauvelin and Mersot watched. "You! I want you to stay close to Saint-Just at all times. I won't have his slip away when we're so close." Mersot grunted and made his way below deck, while Chauvelin remained where he stood, smiling to himself. Finally, things were going to plan.

"What?" Tony said, slightly annoyed. He turned to address his colleague. "Well, my dear boy, I rarely consider the little bit. He is eager to prove himself, but he is young and impulsive." Tony rarely gave into the cattiness of the League. He often chose to keep his personal opinion until Percy asked for it. Truth to be told, Tony liked Armand a lot. He knew the boy just wanted a chance and Tony was willing to give it to him. In fact, Armand reminded him of himself at his age... although Ton had been infinitely more graceful and handsome, but no doubt Armand's lack of proper parenting affected his manor. "Why do you ask Bathurst ? It seems an odd question to be posing now that we are home..."

Bathurst stuffed his hands deep into his pockets, and collected his thoughts. Since the beginning of this last trip, I've been thinking of that lunch with Fanshawe, the afternoon we saw Lady Blakeney meeting with Chauvelin,� Bathurst began. "As much as I wish to believe the lady's innocence, it was rather peculiar for her to show up there. If Fanshawe is right and the lady is a spy, what is to say that her brother isn't helping her. I've always heard the pair were close, what if he tell her of what he's seen? identifies us to her? Who's to say she won't pass that information to Chauvelin? I was hesitant to mention it before in front of Percy, considering his mood of late... The lad seems sincere enough, but..." Bathurst 's words trailing off, allowing Dewhurst to fill in the end. "I worry what will happen when brother is reunited with sister."

Tony leaned in, interested in Bathurst �s opinion as he rambled on about Percy's traitorous wife and her brother.

"Bathurst! By jove, I think you've cracked the case wide open!" Tony exclaimed, nearly slapping his knee in excitement. He leaned in to continue the conversation at a more private level. "Perhaps you should inform Blakeney! Surely, knowing that his wife is *possibly* loyal to the French Republic is of little concern to him, why not add that he may have overlooked her little brother?! Surely the man who has managed to outwit all of Robespierre's man power has over looked that simple detail!" Tony wanted to cuff the lad for his stupidity. His voice lowered, his tone flattened as he leaned closer to his colleague, his fury barely contained. "Now I know how you boys like to talk, but I highly suggest that you silence yourself right here and now Bathurst . Armand St . Just is loyal to those he has pledged his allegiance to. That is the last I will hear of this issue from you. Is that understood?" Tony swallowed, his throat suddenly dry. "If anyone brings this up again, I will personally investigate... and Bathurst ... you do not want to face the consequences of my discovering you have been spreading rumors. I do not have a light hand... believe me. Vous comprenez?" He glared, his jaw clenched as he waited for Bathurst's response.

Bathurst�s eyes narrowed, he did not like being threatened. But Dewhurst�s adamant position did allay his fears. If he was wrong about Armand, he�d make it up to the boy. But he did have that bond with Lady Blakeney and Bathurst saw her consorting with Chauvelin himself, and he wasn�t the only one to see them. Her guilty had been confirmed by Percy�s reaction on the voyage to Calais. The lady was unfaithful at the least and a spy at the worst.

�I�m mentioned my suspicions to you and to Ffoulkes, who I thought to be the most trust worth,� Bathurst explain. �And I ask with good reason. Fanshaw showed me that Lady Blakeney is being watched under suspicion of treason. She is being followed, Dewhurst. Once Armand makes his appearance he is going to fall under the same scrutiny as her ladyship, which may lead to us and the work that we�re doing. The Prince of Wales may think that what we�re doing is jolly good fun, but the King does not. Do you understand the point I�m trying to make?�

Tears! Obviously the child was exhausted. A frightening day. Andrew knew how it felt to leave one�s home, to venture to a strange land. To speak in a language different from what one normally used and to bank on the kindness of strangers for comfort.

Perhaps he gripped her hand too tightly, determined to show friendship. Then, the most stunning action he�d ever witnessed � Milady du Tournai pulled off her shoes and she sank ankle-deep in the English clay of Dover . With tears washing her cheeks she stood in the mud and breathed the ocean-scented air. Andrew was enchanted. In a world where predictability was all the thing, this spontaneous act and the equally spontaneous emotion tugged at him in a way nothing had for longer than he could recall. He�d cried when he�d heard that most of his family had perished. Then, he�d turned his back on Ffoulkes and Scotland . Today he was remembering through the actions of another homeless waif.

Spontaneously he stepped forward. �Allow me to assist you up the hill to the inn where your family will have breakfast before we begin our journey to London ,� Andrew told the pretty mademoiselle as he offered her his arm. Owe a debt to England he might, but he paid taxes in this country now and it was within his rights to welcome new lost souls to the land of opportunity. �Perhaps they will serve one of my favourite dishes � parridge.� Deliberately he rolled the rrrr�s in good Scots fashion and made the dear French mademoiselle smile. He was determined to win her in whatever way he may. �You must sample the parridge. I insist!�

"Allow me to assist you up the hill to the inn where your family will have breakfast before we begin our journey to London ," The man offered his arm. Suzanne placed her hand on his forearm. "In a moment?" She asked, wiping the tear from her cheek. "I... I cannot let them see me in this state." Suzanne had turned red again. She could not believe that she had cried in front of this stranger. She turned from him and took a few steps away to collect herself before they started up the cliff.

"Perhaps they will serve one of my favourite dishes... parridge. You must sample the parridge. I insist!" Suzanne laughed. She thought of the times she had heard Englishmen attempt to pronounce the French "r". The trill, rather than guttural growl, that resulted tickled her to the bone. At least she knew this gentleman was trying to cheer her, otherwise her laughter at his bizarre pronunciation might have offended him! She took a deep breath and turned back to him. The wind picked up a bit and blew cold air from the water. The result was a violent chill. Suzanne rubbed her arms and quickly fixed herself close to the gentleman's side, her arm in his. "Merci, monsieur... and I would love to sample this... what did you call it?" She asked innocently, hoping his pronunciation would be humorous.

"Fine." Tony said. "I simply do not want you denouncing anyone just yet. Aren't the French doing enough of that for us?" He eyed Bathurst . "Have you spoken to Percy about this? Perhaps, once he catches up, Andrew and I could talk with the man. This may have been a detail he has over-looked. The poor chap is absolutely ragged nowadays." Tony tapped a finger against his chin, discovering a disgustingly scruffy face. Why... one more day without a shave and he would have a full-grown beard! Tony tried not to ponder such upsetting things as Armand�s possible disloyalty and his sandpaper chin. He would not see Sally until he had refreshed himself... although part of him wanted to eat and ride all the way home, fast as he could. Tony always had trouble sleeping in any bed that was not his own, even if it was with a woman whose... company... he enjoyed.

Bathurst groaned in exasperation, �I have no intention of denouncing anyone, Dewhurst. I�ve sworn my loyalty to the League, just as you have. If anything should happen, if for any reason we are to make any accounting of our actions, it is the League I will stand by.� Bathurst brushed back a few strands that had slipped his queue as they walked, and hazarded a glance back at Ffoulkes and Suzanne. �And I haven�t said anything to Blakeney. You were there when he found out that I witness a meeting between Chauvelin and his wife. I thought it was safer to talk to you or Ffoulkes.� He would have mentioned it on the pier if not for the appearance of sweet Suzanne.

As they approached the Fisherman�s Rest, Bathurst heard the chaos of conversations beyond the doors and frowned. Jellyband should have started to clear the regulars once he heard they were coming. Was the boy bashfully following young Mistress Sally around trying to get some attention and only receiving it from a jealous Tom Waite? Bathurst quicken his step, was standing before the Georgian door in a moment which he threw open and strode in, raking his gaze over those assembled and meeting Jellyband�s eyes. Bathurst crossed the room and indicated he wished a private word with Jellyband who ended his conversation with Hempseed and met Bathurst half way. �A private room,� Bathurst said, and Jellyband was leading Bathurst to a private parlour as Dewhurst entered with Ffoulkes and the du Tournai family, who were welcoming heartily and shown to the small room where the ladies immediately used the fire to warm their chilled little hands. Bathurst pulled Jellyband outside. �Is dinner ready? And the rooms?�

�Aye, nearly, my lord!� Jellyband replied. �Though we were not expected you so early. Sally, good lass that she is, made sure to have something prepared in such a case.� Bathurst stared at him - didn�t expect?

�Didn�t Saint-Just arrive a few minutes ago?�

�Lady Blakeney�s brother? Aye, he was here but a moment, though he left with a couple of my guests �fore I had the chance to greet him,� Jellyband explain.

�Two of your guests?� Bathurst repeated. �Did he seem to know them?� Jellyband replied in the affirmative. �The dinner and the rooms, we�ll need them ready right away,� Bathurst said in a tone of dismissal. Why did Armand leave? Whoever they were they were not men Jellyband was familiar with or he would have said something. Tony and Andrew were standing by the doorway. �Seems young Saint-Just left before he let Jellyband know we arrived.�

What was this? Andrew tore his interest away from Mademoiselle du Tournai and fixed it on Bathurst . "St Just? What do you mean, he left? How could he leave without anyone noticing?" But, his cheeks coloured guiltily. Would he have noticed had Fisherman�s Rest burned to the ground before he set foot on the porch steps? His every thought had been focused exclusively on the lovely young woman at his side. "Who saw him leave?"

�Jellyband saw him enter and then leave with two men before we arrived,� Bathurst said, giving Tony an I-told-you-as-much look. �I shouldn�t have sent him ahead alone, but he�s gone now. Any ideas why?� Bathurst had his own suspicions.

Immediately cross, Andrew shouted at his friend, "Gone now? Gone how?" He gazed in perplexity from one face to the other. "Steal a horse? Commandeer a coach?" Everyone was thinking of Armand, hell-bent toward some rendezvous in London, his secrets tucked in a coat pocket. Was he a spy? Andrew took in Bathurst �s confused look, then Hastings �s startled look. Tony? Tony�s expression was blank � as if he couldn�t believe it, or saw it all too clearly.

Andrew had rattled back toward the door, yanking it open. He looked intent on bowling down the stairs, but paused for a moment. "Someone�s got to stop him!"

Bathurst grabbed Ffoulkes by the shoulder to restrain him. "We don't know where he's going, Ffoulkes! We don't know who he met. He could be going to London or just down the road or to Richmond to see his sister." Instantly Bathurst wished he hadn't thought of that remark. "You could ride all night and never find him." Bathurst looked at Tony who seemed at a loss for words or just unable to speak. "Our first priority is to the safety of this family."

He shot a glare Bathurst 's way that could have frozen the man through. He lowered his voice, not wanting the Du Tournai's to overhear everything they were saying... especially after the outburst Andrew had at the news of Armand's disappearance. "I agree with Bathurst . The Du Tournai's are our first priority. No doubt that we will be able to discuss this further once the *rest* of us have arrived. Understood? As for now, we should secure rooms for ourselves and the Du Tournai's. You all look as if you had just wandered from the River Styx and I suspect you are missing a few coins to prove it!" Tony winked, "And you, old boy..." He said, addressing Andrew. "Wooing does not appear to sit well with you. Well, at least not wooing in the *traditional* sense." He gripped his friend's shoulder and laughed heartily. "Leave this mess to me," he continued, his eyes fixed to Andrew's. "I will help clean it up if I can." He then turned to the two ladies who were warming themselves at the now raging fire. "I will see to it that your rooms are prepared by the time that your meal has arrived. Comptess... Anne." He bowed and excused himself to have a little private conversation with Jellyband. Any information he could glean from the inn keeper before another member of the League decided to take matters into their own hands was valuable indeed. Something about the disappearance of the Saint-Just boy did not make sit right with Tony. Even if Saint-Just was a spy like his sister appeared to be, disappearing so obviously like he had done simply did not make any sense! It was very sloppy indeed. "There must be some detail that has been over looked," Tony said aloud to himself.

Something had gone wrong. Suzanne was certain, for surely the nice gentleman that had been so kind to her could not be cross about the service at the Fisherman's Rest! No no... there was something else wrong. Were they in danger? Were the Scarlet Pimpernel and his men in danger for lending their aid to Suzanne's family? Suzanne could not hear anything the men were saying, mostly due to her fatigue, she imagined, so she tried to put such troubling thoughts from her mind. She stretched her feet out in front of the fire. They were still bare and now soiled from walking through the clay, but Suzanne didn't care. Her mother must have been exhausted also for the comptess made no comment about them! She shifted in her chair, the boning in her stay felt as though it were carving patterns onto her delicate ribs! Oh to be rid of the wretched device for a few hours.

It was then that she overheard it. Had one of the men said, "Armand"? No no, surely she was mistaken and hearing things. And what was the likelihood that Armand St . Just was the man they were referring to? Due to the recent arrival of many French refugees, there had to be a number of men in the area of Dover named Armand. The fire crackled and practically caused Suzanne to jump out of her skin! She wished that their food would arrive shortly, for the only concern she had after her hunger, was sleep.

With Tony�s hand on his arm, Andrew swallowed back his need to fly after Armand. Of course, Tony was right. If Percy were here, he would insist that du Tournai take precedent over his natural concern for Armand. Still, he would also demand that someone try to ascertain how Armand left so he could be followed.

What was it with Tony, suddenly acting as if he had a clue? Acting solicitous to the ladies, taking Jellyband aside for questioning. Andrew rubbed his jaw and tried to think. Had his proprietary interest in Mademoiselle du Tournai rattled his brains? Tony said so. What if it were true?

Dewhurst returned five minutes later to find that their food had been served. He sat down at the table with the rest of the men, and started eating. Egad! This food was ambrosia compaired to the sewage they had forced down at Le Chat Gris. It was not heavy in his stomach either. He drank and ate slowly, savouring the food on his palete, enjoying the freshness of the eggs and fruit. Everything in France was either dying or dead and everything in England seemed new-born and alive! He finished his food, saying little, and went straight upstairs, stopping by Andrew and telling him if he needed anything, not to hesitate to wake him up. He shook the man's hand and eagerly ran the steps and crashed onto his pillow, exhaustion taking him over.

Dewhurst was the first to retire, which surprised Bathurst considering Tony�s reputation. The conversation remained light, pleasant � mostly concerning prospects for the future. Though their fly from France stripped them of their lands and home, du Tournai, who obviously possessed of a keen instinct, had long before established accounts in England and Austria which would see the family well provided for � including a respectable annual income to the future husband of sweet Suzanne, Bathurst noted. He also noticed with a degree of resentment how the girl�s eyes would wander to seek out Andrew Ffoulkes and drop to the floor whenever he would look in her direction.

�And who is this Scarlet Pimpernel?� the countess insisted as the conversation turned to the details of their rescue where the count told the exciting tale of the giant bedecked Italian who barged through the prison and wrested him from the jaws of death. �When will we meet this personage?�

�The Scarlet Pimpernel is a brave and noble gentleman who has sworn to rescue as many as he can from the terrible guillotine,� Bathurst told her. �I fear though his identity must remain a mystery that he may could he work.�

�Faith, my lord, this Scarlet Pimpernel must be a saint!�

�My dear countess, the Scarlet Pimpernel is a lover of sport, as are all Englishmen. In rescuing the innocent, he has created the greatest sport of all time.� Slightly disappointed, the countess retired for the night, bustling the reluctant Suzanne out of the parlor. A moment later the count followed his wife and daughter, leaving Bathurst and Andrew alone.

The men remained in the parlor. Silent. Armand had not been mentioned since Tony�s departure, but Bathurst had a feeling that he was in both their thoughts. He thought of Blakeney as well � to return on the morrow to find himself doubly betrayed by his wife and her brother. It would be a most bitter blow, this he knew from experience.

�Best not stay up all night and think about it,� Bathurst said as a form of good night and left Andrew to his thoughts. Thrusting his hands deep in his pocket, Bathurst stocked away from the parlour, meeting their good-natured host near the front door.

�Will there be anything else, you�ll require for the evening, my lord?� Jellyband asked, suppressing a yawn.

�The others have retired, all save Sir Andrew and I think he is well settled for the night,� Bathurst said, then paused. �You said you saw Saint-Just leave with some men who were waiting here?�

�Aye, my lord,� Jellyband nodded. �There were three of them sitting at that table in the corner.� He pointed to the table. �When Saint-Just entered the shortest of the lot, a somber looking fellow in black, met the lad by the door. They spoke for a few minutes and left.�

�A short man in black?� Jellyband nodded. Though men of fashion preferred bold colors, black was not wholly uncommon. The man could have been a widower, or an undertaker... or Chauvelin. Curious that the very man conspiring with Lady Blakeney would be waiting in Dover . �If you would speak with your staff and tell me if any saw where they went and by what means.� Bathurst left Jellyband and stalked off to the room Jellyband provided him. He would tell Ffoulkes and Dewhurst in the morning.

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes paced erratically around the taproom of the Fisherman�s Rest. He felt as if he�d walked off the edge of a cliff. No ground beneath his feet. The air he breathed too rich to fuel his body. When Percy had told him falling in love was rather like being trampled by a runaway horse, he�d laughed. �Only for you,� he�d said, recalling the poetry he�d read that spoke of yearning and longing. Nowhere had anyone mentioned this tidal wave of feelings that paralysed his brain while it propelled his feet.

"So, this is what he meant," Andrew muttered to himself. Alone at last, he hoped to organise the wash of feelings and his tangled thoughts. From the first moment he�d been near *her* he�d felt something momentous was about to happen, never suspecting it would be this. Love. Apparently, a man did not choose love � it chose him. She�d looked at him with surprise, as if she felt the same whirlwind of confusion that he did, but she appeared so calm. It couldn�t be true. No one could feel all this and remain calm.

He thought of her taking off her shoes and playing in the mud. Thought about her tears. A spontaneous, tender creature, she would need a strong shoulder to lean on as she discovered her new life � and he wanted to be there for her.

"I shall quit the league," he said aloud. He would have to, if he intended to remain in London to escort Anne about town. Anne-Suzanne. He smiled. She had let him kiss her. She was open for romance. Like him, she was waiting for love. Andrew continued to pace, overwhelmed by exultation, resolving nothing.

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