The Long Road

The trip to London had been less than ideal. When Bathurst and Teresia had returned to the Fisherman's Rest it was to find the coach booked full. He had hoped to procure the conveyance solely for himself and the lady, but, as Jellyband explained to him, the seats had already been sold and he knew it would not do to make a seen especially in the position he was in.

The ride itself was a miserable ordeal, cramped and crowded. He was wedged into a corner beside a solemn cadaverous looking merchant, opposite Teresia who was sandwich between a sour faced old matron and a timid looking young woman whom might have been the old woman's lady in wait. Too many bodies around to be more intimate than apologetic glances rewarded by quaint smiles and sparkling eyes. God, her eyes! He knew he'd been staring too long when the elderly woman opposite him noisily cleared her throat and cast looks of disgust at him, evidently she had charged herself with protecting Teresia's reputation.

The sun began to set before they reached their destination causing the driver to stop for the night at a dusty roadside inn, where at the first opportunity the interfering old hag pulled Teresia away with her to share a room with her and her little maid thus preventing he from taking up where they left off on the cliffs. Was the heavenly host set against him?

The journey recommenced at early the following morning, where he found himself opposite the plain faced maid while Teresia was seated furthest from him, no doubt the old woman's doing. Bathurst used the time to set the agenda for their arrival in London, he would see to Teresia's needs then contact Fanshawe and find out what that little pub Chauvelin had been up to in their absence, then he would have to contact Blakeney... perhaps he could arrange a late supper with the lady that evening. When they made London , Bathurst procured a private carriage for himself and Teresia at the first opportunity, relieved to abandon their previous ride and its occupants to their own devices and ordering the driver to the Spanish Embassy.

"I fear you have had a miserable experience of my country thus far, but I feel certain that London will make up for your previous discomforts," he said when they were finally alone. Finally.

"Your fellow countrymen have been most kind to me. " she replied. The memory of their travelling companions still etched on her memory. At first she had been glad to find the coach full. It saved her the hassle of cooling Bathurst 's ardour herself. However the mistimed consumptive cough and puritan clucking of that old lady had nearly driven her to violence at least twice. Only by telling herself that she was a poor refugee, anxious to save her beloved husband... and must present herself as such... could Teresia curb the urge to hit the harpy for her unnecessary intervention. In their private carriage, Teresia laughed at the image. "I wonder what she really thought of us?"

Bathurst shrugged. Now that he was alone with Teresia the unpleasantness of the journey behind them was fading from memory. �I s�pose she imagine me to be a rake of the worst order and you some foreign beauty whose unwittingly fallen into my clutches.� Bathurst smirked, some might not say that was far from the truth. It excited him that his little Marquise was just as disappointed that the elderly woman interfered.

Lord, what a question! Was there a safe way of responding to it? "From me? You'll just have to find out yourself," he winked, trying to appear casual when in fact he was becoming increasingly far for it. He crossed his legs and folded his hands in his lap to obscure the apparent answer. Tried thinking of horses, hats, meals he had suffered through on these trips to France in the vain hopes off putting his mind off of the excitement he felt for this irresistible woman. They were close to the Embassy, if he didn't think of something soon he knew he'd die of embarrassment once the lady saw his erection pointing out their path.

That brief contact almost undid him, they had arrived and her fall had only made the matter worse. She would see it and think him a lecher, a man unaccustomed to the company of women. As the carriage door opened he quickly slid out facing the coach in the hopes of concealing his arousal, desperately trying to think of something to put counteract Teresia�s spell over him. The solution that came was a gruesome one. As they pasted through Calais on their way back to England, he, MacKensie, and Hastings had had brought the duTournais to a dingy little inn, le Chat Gris. The owner of the establishment had a saggy, round little wife that was wholly the opposite of Teresia. Bathurst fixed this creature in his mind, the thought of her in any sexual connotation was enough to make any man cold � he didn�t recall seeing children at the inn.

A hand held out to him broke dispelled that horrible image, as Teresia offered him her hand to help her down. He took the hand and helped her down, noting the smile on her face. Had she seen? Lord, he hoped not. If she had she didn�t seem to might for she did not shy away or give him a look of disgust that would shrivel any man�s pride. He plucked up the courage to smile back. How on earth had he been so fortunate as to run into a woman so completely perfect?

Alighting from the carriage she flashed a sideways glance at Bathurst before turning her attention to the architecture of the Spanish embassy. Teresia Cabarrus had no great love of buildings unless they were in the classical Greek style, but it did allow her a moment to bite her lip in a mix of amusement and glee at the effect she was having on this impressionable young man. Vaguely she wondered what she would do if she encountered that Blakeney fellow before Bathurst had led her to the league of the Scarlet Pimpernel? To play them both would be risky. To ignore either one would compromise her mission from Chauvelin... yes, Chauvelin, perhaps he would have the answer. She wasn't sure how long she would be in the embassy, but hoped he would be sniffing around the office of his Spanish counterpart.

Waiting for Bathurst to take her arm, La Cabarrus swanned past the doorman, who greeted them with a cordial "Buenos Dias!", and stepped onto Spanish soil in the middle of London.

It had taken little effort to calculate when the coach Teresia was traveling in would be arriving in London. And although it was unlikely that he would meet her this morning it was important that he establish due cause for frequenting the Spanish Embassy, a letter was quickly penned and sent with Jean Giry to the Spanish Ambassador to expect Chauvelin around 3 o�clock. In the meantime, that would get Teresia and her escort ample time to arrive and enough time for Giry to pass her a note stating the time and location for her to meet Chauvelin.

They were greeted in a large entrance hall by a short man with a heavy Catalan accent, who bade them follow him into an adjoining room, where they were asked to wait. Drinks were brought for them as they lounged in the comfy chairs. It could have been a private reception room, but for the endless traffic of inky clerks, who wandered through carrying papers and greeted one another in their native tongue. After a while that Catalan returned to inform them that the Ambassador was quite busy but that, owing to the manner of Teresia's arrival in England , they would surely be seen within the hour. After ensuring that the pair were as comfortable as possible for their wait, the little man turned on his heel and left again. So they remained, watching the thoroughfare of clerks and other employees - one or two of whom acknowledged their presence - and listening to the ticking of the large mantle clock.

As per instruction Jean Giry waited across the street from the Embassy until he saw the carriage pull up with an attractive woman matching the description Beaucarnot gave him along side an English fop. Unable to follow them in without causing a scene or compromising his position, Giry slipped around back to the servants entrance and waited until a young man came to enter whom he paid to deliver a slip of paper with Chauvelin instructions, using the excuse that he wanted to call on the lady himself to allay the young man�s fears.

The wait was far from exciting, and it was damnably difficult to be charming and flirtatious with all the clerks passing through the room. The incessant ticking of the clock over the mantle piece only served to emphasize the length of time that passed. The hospitality was generous despite it all, after a length of time a young man came in to replenish their tea, pouring out a cup and handing it to Teresia and then himself. The young man seemed especially interested in Teresia, Bathurst thought then put it out of his mind as the other man served him. He was becoming jealous of a mere boy, and one who would never stand a chance winning Teresia. �Y�know, I think Lady Portarles� ball is coming up� I can�t think of a better way to introducing you into society,� Bathurst comment. She would steal their breath away and, most importantly, she would be there with him.

"That sounds delightful." she replied, then added "Si?" as a young man came over to speak to her.

"Senora de Fontenay," he took her hand in greeting, "the ambassador will see you now. Follow me please." Teresia rose to follow and, as she did so, palmed the piece of paper he had handed her.

About 20 minutes later she emerged from the ambassador's room and rushed to Bathurst 's side. "Oh, what am I to do?" she asked, in the tone of one who has lost all hope, "The ambassador says he can do nothing to help my friends, because they are French citizens and Spain has closed her borders to France. If it were I in prison and my friends here, then it would be different, but..." she looked up with tears brimming, always a good ploy, "I have failed them... there's nowhere left to turn."

Bathurst placed his hands on her shoulders, looking down into her liquid eyes - gadzooks, how could any man refuse those! "There, there, midear," he consoled her. "We've not nearly run out of options. Save your tears for when there is not hope, but rest assured we're not there yet." He needed to talk to Percy, surely this was a matter for the League to take a hand in. In fact, the timing worked out perfectly. They would be heading into France to chase after that conniving Armand Saint-Just, this would give them the opportunity to make a worthwhile rescue. "Many of the �migr� who come here have mentioned this Scarlet Pimpernel character... perhaps if we speak to the right people, then word might reach him."

"You really believe he would help my friends?" she asked with a loud sniff and hope rising in her voice. She sank into the chair to her left and gazed up at Bathurst as her saviour. Chauvelin's note lay warming at her bosom. There were two hours yet and Bathurst seemed most eager to introduce her to the very men she came to find. Besides, she could hardly wait around in the embassy for all that time now that the ambassador had granted her an audience. Drying her tears on a plain, white handkerchief which Sally had found for her the day before, Teresia used the cloth to mask the fact that she was removing one of her rings. Carefully she palmed the item and tucked it surreptitiously down the back of the plush leather chair. What better excuse than a missing ring could bring her back at 3 o'clock?

Tremendous pity welled up in Bathurst �s heart for Teresia�s friends, if only for the pain that it caused the dear little lady. As he knelt down beside her he took one of her hands in his, stroked it tenderly, �Sounds like the very thing he would do, m�dear. We merely need to bring it to his attention, hmmm?� Bathurst rose to his feet and drew Teresia up with him. �What say we take lunch and look into your lodgings? Was the Ambassador any help in that matter?�

"He has given me a long list of respectable lodgings." She said the word 'respectable' with a hint of irony in her voice. She rose to take his arm, handing him the list as she did so to make doubly sure that Bathurst 's attention didn't wander to the ring she'd left on the chair. "We can peruse it over lunch... at least I shan't be homeless tonight... and then you can tell me how I am to go about getting the attention of a man no one has ever seen. You are right, I think... if I could but state my case, he must surely help my friends."

Bathurst took a quick glance over the list, there are a couple of locations that were more appealing than the other as far as his goals were concerned, by that was something to be discussed over lunch. �Oh, I�m certain you�ll have sufficient opportunities, m�dear. I know ladies who delight on hosting parties so that �migr�s rescued by the Scarlet Pimpernel can recite the adventure, having your tale told should not be so difficult as you think.�

They had reached the carriage and Teresia stepped inside with electric buzzing through her veins. Less than forty eight hours in England and already she was hot on the trail of this mystery man and his league. "Do we go to them now... or tonight? Every moment is vital to my friends, you must see that. I cannot rest when I know there is a chance, however small, to help them. Were they to die because I stopped for a meal... why, I'd never forgive myself!"

�Well, midear, I�ll have to talk to a few people. We can�t simply show up unannounced,� Bathurst stalled. His first instinct was to seek out Percy and have the woman tell him her tale, but his word stopped him. She bewitched his senses, drove him to all sorts of mad thoughts. He had to suppress those mad urges. �I fear that it will take time to find this Scarlet Pimpernel chap and you certainly can�t starve yourself in the meantime.� He helped her into the carriage and paused a moment before joining her, trying to strengthen his resolve before facing her again. He issued his orders to the driver before joining the lady again.

�We will get you settled and I will contact a few people I know,� Bathurst promised, once inside. �I know that it is difficult request, but I ask that you have patience. As much as I wish we could settle the manner right now, there are ways to do a thing.�

If only she knew the images that sprang to dirty mind when she said that she was entirely in his hand, they would certainly earn him a bruised cheek. But would don�t have earned those visions once the Scarlet Pimpernel rescued the family she so desperately sought help for. If only he could tell her that he was a member of the very same league, her gratitude would be� overwhelming.

�I hope not to make you regret it,� Bathurst smiled, letting her imagination run free for a few moments. Thank god she couldn�t read his mind! �All will be well, I�m sure.� After several minutes the carriage pulled to a halt and the footman opened the door for them. Bathurst stepped out then brushed the footman aside so that he could help Teresia down himself. He felt taller, stronger, more power with the lovely little Teresia on his arm and did not doubt that he was the envy of everyman who saw the two of them. He order a private table as far from prying eyes as could be managed.

�I know it is asking much, but try to enjoy the meal and relax, you have been through much.�

She could see the desire in his eyes and knew she held him faster than ever in her grip. She was as skilled as the best hypnotist ever to put a man in a trance at the county fayre . Bathurst might think she was his dream, but Teresia Cabarrus knew that she was nothing more than a mirage. Oh how he would rue the day he met her when she finally clicked her fingers to wake him and the mirage vanished. She was seated in a cozy nook of the busy restaurant, able to observe all without being observed too much. She couldn't have chosen a better table herself. She glanced at the menu, but didn't recognize any of the dishes. "You had better choose." she said, hoping he'd be flattered by her trust in his judgment.

Oh, was she charming, placing herself so entirely in his hands! Bathurst was warmed by the faith she placed in him. Was this how Percy was trapped by his little actress? Did she melt him down from the inside out and wait till his spirit was broken before planting the thought of marriage into his head? This little lady certainly had the power to reduce a man to a stuttering fool if he wasn�t careful. Look at how she already left him tongue tied and struggling to hold himself in check. Little vixen that she was!

He struggled to keep his eyes from wandering from her elegant face to her ample cleavage � seemed almost unnatural how to pay homage to those perfect beauties � but manners must prevail. Lord help him but she was a temptation! �The lamb, I think,� Bathurst said as much to her as to the maitre. �And have no fear, unlike in France , the food is palatable.�

Palatable? Overdone and covered with some vile, vinegary substance called mint sauce. But it was obviously the English way of cooking, so she did not complain. She remembered how she had felt those first weeks as a child bride in France. The meals then had been as far removed from the cuisine of her homeland as this was to what she had subsequently become accustomed to in her adopted country. She made small talk, asking about the different parts of London in which the Spanish Ambassador had said she might find lodgings.

The lunch went well, Bathurst had managed to successfully skirt around the unpleasantness that had so often come up to sadness the little lady. He was appropriately charming and entertaining � if he did say so himself � and the sparkle in those too deep eyes confirmed it. They discussed her lodging option, with Bathurst playing up the aspects of those residences that most benefited his purposes and down played those that did not. He planned to see a great deal more of Madame de Fontenay.

�If you like we can drive by a few of these places and you can take your pick, after which I will leave you to get settled and I will write to my acquaintances on your behalf,� Bathurst offered at the end of the meal.

"Bueno." she replied with a smile. Throughout the meal she had taken several opportunities to glance at her watch surreptitiously. She knew it was only half past one. Plenty of time for a drive before she had to meet Chauvelin at three. She was sure that if necessary a quick reminder from her beseeching eyes would nudge Bathurst towards his duty should he appear to want to extend the journey too long... and of course she could always rely on her lost ring as a last resort.