The Spanish Embassy

For the second time that day Teresia Cabarrus, alias Mme la Marquise de Fontenay, descended from a coach outside the Spanish embassy in London . Shaking off Bathurst had been easier than she'd imagined for he seemed anxious for her to be well out of the way before contacting his friends on her behalf. Having arranged to meet her later that evening, he'd left her at temporary lodgings just west of Westminster in the care of a respectable widow. Teresia had waited a few minutes and started to fuss over the loss of her ring. The landlady had tried to calm her by getting her to think about where she had last seen the ring and eventually Teresia had said that it must definitely be at the embassy. A carriage had then been quickly ordered and, declining the landlady's kind offer to accompany her, Teresia had set off alone to collect the ring, which she herself had tucked down the back of the chair in the waiting room.

It was just after three when she found herself once more in that busy room. Seating herself in the chair she felt for the ring and, after a heartstopping moment of fear that someone else had found it first, located the object and slipped it back into place on her finger. There was no sign of Chauvelin yet. Perhaps he'd been delayed by the ambassador. She settled down to wait, her frequent though mild fidgets were all that showed the world how impatient she was. She could not afford to be away too long, lest her landlady become suspicious or, worse still, Bathurst return earlier than planned.

If only the meeting with the French ambassador had been as productive as the meeting with Lady Blakeney, but then he hadn�t expected any progress. He had taken great pains to monitor the clock on the mantle behind the ambassador without giving the impression that the meeting was an effort to kill time. The points were legitimate, but they had been discuss before � repeatedly � and the answers were always the same.

At 3 o�clock, as Chauvelin was trying to extricate himself from the meeting, the Ambassador launched into his well-rehearsed final statement on Spain �s official stance. A lengthy statement that Chauvelin had heard too often before, but fortunately he was saved at the midpoint by the ambassador�s own assistant with the reminder of another appointment waiting. Perhaps luck was on his side after all. It was ten after the hour - would Teresia have lost heart?

He caught sight of her for a moment passed a door before a clerk obscured his view. She sat beating a devil�s tattoo upon the arm of the chair in her impatience. �Mademoiselle,� Chauvelin greeted her formally. It was better that anyone passing thing they had never met. �Since your companion has yet to appear that I might have the privilege of your company.�

She glanced up and, quickly realizing that Chauvelin wished to appear a stranger to her, even managed a soupcon of surprise in her expression and voice. "Encantado Senor...? Or ought I say Monsieur? Forgive me, but from your accent I see you are a Frenchman." She held out her hand in the polite yet reserved way that strangers tend to adopt.

Chauvelin took a seat near Teresia, coincidently the very one that Bathurst occupied earlier that day. The passing clerks eyed Chauvelin with an air of amusement, seeming to be under the impression that the little Frenchman was tempting to seduce a woman far out of his league. Better that then the truth, Chauvelin thought, and perpetuated the idea by leaning in slightly closer.

"I take it that you are a stranger in this land?" he remarked for the benefit of his audience and continued in a more subdued tone. "I take it that you have already made friends?"

"I do not think you would be disappointed," her eyes sparkled over the rim of her cup. Teresia Cabarrus was certainly enjoying their private joke. "He has promised to introduce me some of his friends later this evening and I have every hope of finding them equally as charming... if not, more so."

Chauvelin raised an eyebrow, �How fortunate.� Teresia certainly had a windfall� or did she? Her meeting with Bathurst was perfectly timed � too perfect � and that on her first day in England she would stumble into the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel seemed too good to be trust. He was hesitant to put his faith into something that came so easily. Whether Bathurst was involved in the league was not so much a pressing concern in his mind as the possibility that this Bathurst might be leading Teresia on in the hopes of getting her in more intimate positions. It just seemed far-fetched that a band so cautious thus far would slip so quickly and easily.

�Even so, my dear lady, you should always take care. Even in the most hospitable of lands, there are those who would take advantage of the na�ve and unwitting.�

"I know... I'm one of them!" she laughed merrily aloud as though making a marvelous joke, but her words were all too true. "I thank you for your caution, Monsieur, but you need have no fear on my account. I sleep with one eye open, as the expression goes."

She was a tad arrogant (weren�t all the Spanish?) but so long as she was successful, her arrogance didn�t matter. �Eminently wise, my dear,� Chauvelin concurred. �I believe such an individual with afford you an excellent opportunity to an old friend of mine and her husband.� Least her forget her other mission.

"After all I have heard of this enchanting couple, I should be sorry indeed not to make their acquaintance. Though perhaps it is too much to hope that I shall do so tonight."

�I don�t imagine so,� he conceded, shifting slightly in his seat. �But I believe that individual like your new friend could help in that area. The aristocracy are known for their excessive and decadent soirees� and that particular couple happen to be the pivot of fashion. I dare say it wouldn�t be difficult at all.� That would be the tricky part, while Marguerite practically had an open invitation to every gathering in London , Teresia would have to coax this Bathurst into attending the same functions. Then there was procuring an invitation himself, it wasn�t like Paris where he had some authority � he would have to see Lord Grenville.

�I believe I have kept you long enough, Madame,� Chauvelin said, rising to his feet. �Perhaps we can arrange to meet again. Is there an address where I might write you?�

She wrote the address of her lodgings on a small scrap of paper. "I am lodging under my married name of De Fontenay. Hasta luego, monsieur." Once again she offered a hand as she rose to take her leave.

Chauvelin took her tiny hand in his and bowed low over it. �Expect to hear from me soon,� Chauvelin said, his voice scarcely a whisper. He watched Teresia float out of the room without another glance. This Bathurst was too perfect, willing to do whatever was necessary to bed the wench � Teresia had better keep him on a short leash. He waited a moment before taking his own leave, already planning to visit Grenville, to dispatch Desgas to watch over Teresia, then there were messages to be sent back to Paris � a progress report and further orders for dealing with Armand Saint-Just.

Despite the his physical exhaustion, Chauvelin was feeling extraordinarily pleased with himself. The Pimpernel was cunning to be sure, even so the cage was close on him and before it would shut on him.