And They're Off Again

<Percy>

What had he to look forward to at home? A shrew-wife and a disgruntled Prince of Wales. That pair made Chauvelin and Robespierre appear the far more favourable dance partners.

"Could do, I suppose." Noncommittal. What fun would there be without Tony? Returning to France was not Percy�s first choice, but returning to Blakeney manor was definitely his last.

"Yes! I do believe I�m ready for another stint of greasy hair sewn into caps and dragging through the streets of Paris in wooden sabots."

He stuck out his booted foot in Bathurst �s direction. "Pull off m�boot, there. Let�s see if that blister has healed. Nothing confirmed to my mind more definitively that class distinctions are a wilful act of God than traipsing about in sabots in the rain. Bloody cold! Men are all made differently and that proves it. No one else had blue lips from rain-filled sabots, only me."

Bathurst yanked off Percy's boot and tossed beside Percy's seat. "I find it ironic that the whole of civilized Europe bows before the elegance and beauty of Paris fashion, yet these days the few French citizens that wear them are those soon found to be decorating the city lampposts. That is a bit of irony there!" Bathurst mused. "La! but that stint did send me back to our days at Harrow ! Not so much threat of losing one's life then. Besides, I found a few places down in Paris where the ladies could make you forget your name and anything else ailing you... considered dragging Dewhurst down there, though I was a bit worried that they'd finish him off. Couldn't bring Hastings , we'd never get him back... but an adventure usually is good for the soul."

<Percy>

Percy looked on indulgently at the antics of his friends, feeling very fatherly. A subdued Mistress Sally appeared in the doorway and loitered there, looking as if the sun had been stolen from her life. He went to her, hoping to offer her some encouragement.

"Now, now, Sally! You could see how sick he was. Tony will get the best of care, his father will see to that, and before anyone realises the passage of time, he�ll be back here, chasing you around the parlour."

Not nearly compensation enough, Sally�s tearstained expression told him. Percy sighed. "What say; we could write him a letter, eh? We could say how glad we are that he�s safely at home and in the care of the best...what is it?"

"Your letter, sir. I forgot all about it." Like a sprite, Sally was gone, vanished in a spin of broadcloth skirts and starched white apron.

What the devil? Percy asked himself. What letter could Sally mean? Before he had the opportunity to puzzle, she was back, a thick square in her hand bearing an enthusiastically applied seal.

"Thank you, my dear," he said automatically. "Any word who it�s from?" he asked as he bent the package and the wax snapped free.

<Percy>

Percy was wading through the cramped lines on the wrinkled page. He waved his comrades silent and continued to scan while the silence built around them. Finally he looked over the top of the page.

"It�s from m�brother-in-law, Armand. It took me a minute to place the thing..." he paused. "Oh, never mind all that. Let me try to explain." He swept to the sofa and dropped into the corner of it. "Your question, Hastings, was on the mark. Not a love letter, but a call to arms."

Percy took a moment to absorb the cheers from his band of followers before continuing to explain: "One of the first evenings I spent with Marguerite was at a little caf� and Armand told me that his father had clerked for Necker � Jacques Necker." Percy pointed to Hastings once more. "You know how the ministries are set up � Necker is the minister of Finance. He has a dozen men scurrying about organising loans and funnelling money this way and that � the Count du Tournay was one of those. I�d heard of him before...I can�t say where, but I�m sure I met the man at some time, so when Armand said it, his name stuck in my mind."Percy paused to ensure everyone was following his explanation, then flicked the paper in his hand and read: "A man I knew as a child, the Comte du Tournay, has been summoned before the Tribunal to answer certain charges. I cannot imagine why! A gentler soul no one ever met." Impulsively Percy crumpled the letter.

"The bloody Tribunal again!" he growled. "Grudge diplomacy � that's what it is. Robespierre must have discovered some dusty paper from some ancient submission in the records of the old Parlement and taken offence in his fastidious way. Well, someone needs to take a boot to Bully Robespierre's immaculate breeches and I shall be the man to do it!"

Suddenly Percy noticed the crumpled paper in his fist. He laid it on the table and tried to straighten it. He would need these details.

<Percy>

"Perhaps not a first, my friend, but they will figure it out soon enough." He rubbed his palms together. "What ever became of that soup we were promised, hmm? And ale � we need more ale here!" Percy couldn�t sit still. His hands slid into his pockets and he began to pace the crowded parlour. At once point he stood before the window gazing out at the leaves blowing in the wind. How long had he been in France ? How long had it been since he�d sunk his teeth into a thick English T-bone? This brief view of friendly sky and English oaks was all he�d have of home in...

"Sink me, Hastings! Before we leave this refuge, we must send a letter to Ffoulkes and demand his presence across the channel. Someone must know where the lad is hiding. And MacKensie. And Dean." If he was going to tweak Chauvelin�s nose once more, he would need a few broad shoulders to lean on. He would need a few quick-witted fast riders. Some cheerful conversation to pass the long hours. Someone to laugh at the sight he made in his tattered great coat.

Percy stood at the door and shouted down the hall: "Jellyband! You have guests who require your august company!"

<Percy>

Percy tossed his snuffbox at Hastings with deadly accuracy. "Silly blighter! Be still and let me think." He continued to pace like a bear in a cage. "Why do I need Ffoulkes? Allow me to tell you a fable." Percy took a seat across from Hastings. "Once upon a time, about six months ago, there was a dear old woman unjustly condemned to the Tuesday matinee in Place de Greve for nothing more grave a crime than operating a drop-off post for letters between Leveson Gower and Pitt with our friend Dewhurst as courier." His eyebrows raised as he caught Bathurst�s change of expression. "Yes, you recognise this fable. You played a role in it." Percy eyed Hastings. "I say, do return my snuffbox now that I have your attention." He held out his hand. "A certain shifty-eyed French ferret set a shadow upon a bold English gallant who had eyes only for a delectable opera dancer � yes, I�m referrring to you, Hastings � I knew about that. I also knew that it was you who led Chauvelin to our hideout because I had assigned Blair to tail Chauvelin. That�s how I discovered where you spent your afternoons." Percy grinned as Hastings squirmed."I need more bodies. There need to be riders and shadows. Sword arms and musket sharp-shooters. Watchers and listeners. Ffoulkes is accomplished at all those things."

Andrew awoke, the sensation of her hand stroking beneath his nightshirt too provocative to go disregarded. For five days he'd had less than four hours sleep at a stretch. He captured the little minx's hand. "Are you determined to kill me, mademoiselle?"

She warmed his ear with a throaty laugh. "I assumed you were up for it, non?"

Andrew wondered if the woman was a secret weapon of the French to sap a young man's strength and destroy his interest in returning home. For the moment he�d forgotten who had told him �for a good time, visit Madame Dominique�. Certainly he'd rested here far too long, turning the better part of a week into a sexual sensation.

A gentle tugging match ensued with the mademoiselle determined to raise the hem of his nightshirt while he struggled to keep its folds pinned beneath him, but the more she tickled him, the less he was inclined to struggle. �Zooks!� he muttered, �you have drained me as one would a cup of wine. I shall never be able to walk out of this room.�

The sweet demoiselle kissed his adam�s apple, then the dimple in his chin.

�And where did you wish to go?� Once more her hand mastered him, grasping the pearls of his manhood in a trained hand. �I am the Goddess of Ecstasy!�

Oh, that she was! As she toppled Andrew into the feather pillows and straddled him for the nth time, an obscure thought came to him.... of Thursday... the Luxembourg garden. He had an appointment to keep.

�Unnnh,� he moaned through the exercise, trying to keep one corner of his mind clear. �Jeudi? Is it Thursday?� he asked.

<Percy>

�How true. Wouldn�t we all like a little that?� Percy spoke wistfully, thinking of the wife he thought he�d married, comparing her mentally to the one he had.

When Mr. Jellyband responded to the summons, Percy directed him to bring quills and paper for every one of them. �And that soup I heard tell of � is it to be served in good time?�

Poor Jellyband was putting the mileage on the shoe leather today! Back and forth. Upstairs and down. His old knees were aching, but the grin on his face didn�t waver as he made mental note of the bills and their rapidly increasing balances.

***********************************************************

Andrew trod with a light step along the path, whistling cheerily as he made his way to his destination in the Luxembourg garden. The jaunty spring in his walk was enough to rouse the sleeping pain in his shoulder, forcing him to stop for a moment, to rub it, before continuing at a more sedate pace.

The stab wound was nearly healed and he was anxious to get back to London ; Armand St. Just may be a generous friend, but a month of his enforced company had worn Andrew's patience rather thin. Although Andrew's shoulder was too tender for riding, he'd joyously taken to parading the streets for hours, drinking in the crisp autumn coolness and assessing the available women. This last week, spent in Madeleine Couthon's bed had been a bacchanalian feast after Lenten fasting. Had it not been for the urgency of this meeting, Andrew may have remained ensconced in the dancer's flat indefinitely.

The woman he was meeting on a bench that faced the terrace of the Luxembourg palace was elderly and her agitated movements betrayed her fear. She spied him coming and, rather than waiting for him on the bench, she got up and ran toward him.

"I cannot stay," she explained, calling over the distance, "but I must give you this... " She held out a bizarrely folded paper. Warm. Possibly it had been concealed inside her bodice. Andrew's eyes strayed to the woman's fichu and measured her soft, sagging breasts. "The dates?" he asked, his voice pitched very low.

She nodded distractedly, then spun around and scurried away. Andrew folded the paper into a smaller square and pocketed it. When he resumed his whistling, the tune was sober. Restrained.

***********************************************************

<MacKensie*>

Sir Edward Mackensie woke up with a start. He only did that for two reasons. One was when Percy was wanting or needing him to go on a mission and the second was when he had a hangover from the night before, because Edward had problems keeping the bottle out of his hands. Well, sad to say, this time it was neither of these things. Edward had this funny feeling that all of his friends were together at the Fishermans' Rest. The Fisherman's Rest was popular with the league of the Scarlet Pimpernel when they were crossing the channel from one side to the other before or after a mission. So after informing his valet Robert that a horse was needed, Edward was off. By the time that he had arrived, Edward was sticky and hot and in need of a cold brandy. He was restless and had been right in the fact that his friends were there. The thing that he had NOT been prepared upon his arrival was their way of dress. Edward was dressed in only the best, down to his cravat. "La, I came here for a social call and lud love me, what do I find? A bunch of ninny's dressed as disgusting objects. What have you got to say for yourselves? Sink me, it makes one fear for the future!"

Hastings stood up and swaggered up, if that is what that particular form of staggering could be called, to the smartly dressed Sir Edward MacKensie. La, man! Your sweating like a pig! an you mean to give us a lecture on fashion sensibilities? You mark by works, sir, you'll cringe at the disgusting object you appear, when we head back with you." Hastings gripped MacKensie's shoulder to keep from falling.

"Damn it, man! We just come from the seventh circle and seen the devil himself," Hastings rambled. "And we go back again! If not for that army of Percys..." he made a vague gesture in Percy's direction "... if not for them... we'd be overwhelm!" Abruptly, his tirade ended and he began to giggle wildly. "La, but you should had seen Tony's face when he was pried away from Sally!"

<Percy>

Percy looked up from the letter he was writing to ask, �Are you going to a ball, MacKensie? Or a wake? Or may you have a few hours to spare on a bit of adventure?� He picked up his quizzing glass to more completely examine MacKensie�s appearance from stem to stern. �Most interesting effect on the reivers of your coat,� he said. �Is it ribbon?�

I think I'm going to be sick, Hastings thought, releasing MacKensie's shoulder and stumping over to a chair which he collapsed into. He closed his eyes and refused to open them until the world stopped spinning and was no longer in possession of some mad law of reproduction that allowed every man to have half a dozen copies of myself.

He chuckled again, as the memory of Tony being torn away from Sally entered his mind. The expression! Too amusing to stop laughing. "We can always have Tony meet us on the other side."

<Percy>

"On the other side of what, milord Hastings? Twas my opinion the man was on his deathbed." Percy spoke soberly, the only reasonable voice among his jolly fellows. "I�ve seen Tony sick like this before and it was a couple of months before he was on his feet again. Surely we�ll be safely returned home long before Dewhurst is about."

He signed his letter, then sprinkled sand over it and glancing across to his friends said, "I don�t know about you, but if Jellyband doesn�t appear with that soup, I�m going to storm the kitchen!"

"I don�t know about you, but if Jellyband doesn�t appear with that soup, I�m going to storm the kitchen!"

Bathurst lumbered to the doorway Jellyband had disappeared through. "Jellyband! I fear Sir Percy is nearly faint with hungry! I fear he shall perish on the floor of this establishment if sustanence is not brought immediately!" He glanced over at Hastings, draped limply over a stair, eyes closed and slightly green. "And bread for Lord Hastings!"

Bathurst threw himself into seat, and listened to the growling of his belly. "When do you proposed we leave? With the next tide? Where is du Tournay now? Paris ? One of the providences?� Hastings finally broke the silence. Bathurst sat up and listened intently, slightly surprized that Hastings was sober enough to ask such a sensible question.

"Is it just him or will there be a family added into the mix? Ther..." Bathurst stopped himself as Jellyband and Miss Sally came with the soup. "Lud love ya, Jellyband! Sir Percy nearly expired!"

Andrew rounded the corner and entered the gates of the Palais Royal. He hoped the simple cut of his plain grey coat was sufficient for him to blend in with the crowd that always filled the garden. Tables and chairs lined the walk nearest the outer walls and it was along the shop doors where Andrew strolled. Armand could be found at one or another of the cafes � revolutionary talk was like honey to him. Andrew judged that he was safe when seen in Armand�s company, for while he was a well-known revolutionary, less than a dozen people knew he had turned his coat.

Turned traitor to the republic. Andrew canted his hat brim lower and kept his ears open as he strolled. Casual conversation had given him much to date. Lord but the French were the greatest fools! Everyone chattered volubly, telling every detail they knew, uncaring who may overhear! Why, any traitor could stay well informed in a daily stroll through this garden.

<Percy>

Jellyband�s two maids couldn�t serve the meal fast enough � Percy scooped a wedge of bread off the plate before it was passed to Hastings.

�Where is du Tournay now? Paris? One of the provinces?� Hastings had asked. �Armand�s note says only that he�s been summoned. Hopefully when we get to Paris , he�ll have more information than he shares in his note.�

For all that Percy�s tone sounded grudging, he was well pleased with his newest lieutenant. Far better to provide too little information than to give away too much. Letters could go astray. Fall into the wrong hands. A brief message sounded like news, whereas a more detailed one would take on the appearanc e of directions.

�I suspect Andrew should be capable of joining us; it�s been what � nearly a month? Bad luck that he took that slash; I think it was meant for me.�

MacKensie stared at his colleagues stunned, "Egad, you should take a look at yourselves!" He had seen them all in ragged disguises on their trips to Paris, had seen them in decadent splendor at routs, but for some reason it seemed almost unnatural for them to appear in such a disreputable state on this side of the Channel. He took a seat beside Bathurst, waved away the offer of soup, but seized upon the ale.

"France, eh? Well, my wardrobe could do with a bit of freshing up, I suppose," MacKensie laughed. "So we set sail with the next tide? That should give you a bit of time to change out of those disgusting garment, if only for the sake of my own stomach. Say, this this Armand... are you speaking of your brother in law?

<Percy>

"Armand? Yes, he�s milady Blakeney�s brother and a fine, earnest fellow, I must admit!" Percy paused, chewing thoughtfully. "Have you never met Armand? Lord, I do have a terrible time in keeping all the adventures clear in my mind."

"Armand," he said the name again as if it brought the man�s appearance more clearly to mind. "He is the example of a questing fellow with a great deal of intelligence. He heard words spoken and listened. He didn�t make up his mind quickly, but thought about what he heard. Then, to be certain he did right, he followed the crowd to the assembly and watched a session or two, but mostly he took his training at the Palais Royal, listening to the hell-fire speakers like Desmoulins. What education he has was gained there. But it was not all bad."

Percy�s eyes were filled with visions. "I admire the fellow more than you can know. With all the choices available to him, he kept his head and thought through each option. When he saw that the early promises were not kept, he dared to change his mind, to abandon his early choice and to re-evaluate. Maturity shows in his ability to change course. I admire Armand who�s made such changes in a dangerous time."

<Percy>

Percy, already finished his soup, strolled over to Hastings and laid a heavy hand on his shoulder. "You are so sodden with drink you can�t think straight. Ffoulkes is in France. Wounded. Remember? You were there the day he took that dragoon�s blade through the shoulder. You and MacKensie saw him away while Tony and I took on the dragoon and spooked him back to his mother�s skirts." Percy felt an urge to muss the lad�s hair as if he were a younger brother. He removed the hand and hid it in his pocket. Caresses among friends could be misunderstood.

There was not a man here that he didn�t love with every fibre of his being, not one. They followed him unquestioningly and did whatever fool thing he bade them. They trusted him. Trusted absolutely in his judgement. Percy loved each of them and dared not show it. The cream of England did not stand on tenderness displayed, but on loyalty and strength. Still, a man who�d never known the sweet joy of a brother revelled in this complicated emotion. He strolled to the window and centred his thoughts on the leaves on the trees. Their lives were his without his confounding everyone with the unspeakable tenderness he felt. Lord, MacKensie would get it all wrong � young he was and brash.

More composed, Percy returned to his friends� conversation. ""Armand... the man certainly has some balls..." Bathurst was saying. "Does his sister know that his loyalty has shifted?"

"Probably not," Percy replied, "although I can�t say for certain because brother and sister are very close." Very close � that feeling again. Sibling love was a concept Percy had been incapable of understanding until he�d met Marguerite and seen how she adored her brother. It was an aspect of love he�d been blind to. Now he understood and like floodgates suddenly wrenched open, he felt it.

"I don�t know about the rest of you, save Hastings , but we�re off to bed..." Percy yanked Hastings off the sofa and helped him straighten up. "You�re ready to collapse and I�m asleep on my feet � all three of me," he said with a chuckle. "Tide�s early, lads, and we�re off to France!"