Teresia

She stood, staring out into the harbour, the salt breeze fanning her cheeks, tangling her hair, making her feel alive. By rights she should be here, she should be waiting patiently at the Roi du Soleil like a good girl... but Teresia Cabarrus wasn't a good girl, she was a woman who loved life and resented wasting it, idling in some shabby inn with a high-sounding name it didn't merit. What did Chauvelin want this time? The note was vague, but then that was his way in her experience. Teresia enjoyed working for Chauvelin, not because she liked the man himself, but because his requests were always challenging. The Spaniard relished a challenge and so here she was at their rendezvous point - well, within walking distance at any rate - and awaiting his arrival with the slow-burning fuse of anticipation dancing in her large brown eyes.

Rough weather plagued the beginning of their voyage, but half way across the weather cleared up and with the exception of billowy clouds overhead the reminder of the journey was relatively smooth. In route Chauvelin, attempted to probe the youth only to receive resistance in the form of vague answers. If nothing else the boy was hiding something. Armand only seemed to come out of his shell when the conversation turned to Marguerite � how she was, had he any messages from her... interestingly enough he did not ask about his brother-in-law � took great pains to avoid Sir Percy Blakeney. It caused Chauvelin to wonder.

Chauvelin made his way above deck when word that Calais had been spotted reached him leaving Armand and Mersot to wait in the cabin. He stood on the bow watching Calais rise out of the water. When the ship landed Armand would be sent with Mersot to Paris to be detained and watched at all cost, he would meet Cabarrus at the Roi du Soleil, enlist her services, and book passage back to Dover with the young Spaniard in tow. As the ship pulled into port, Chauvelin spotted a figure on the pier as the vessel approached the landing, wind caressing the shapely figure and fluttering hair. Even from a distance Teresia Cabarrus stood out, Chauvelin took the opportunity to take her form in � a clinging gown of diaphanous black silk, which emphasized the exquisite creamy whiteness of her skin, with a low neckline to emphasize her magnificently shaped breast � where Chauvelin�s eye lingered a moment longer than necessary. She wore a light shawl which the wind pressed tightly round her shoulders and waist. Mersot and Armand joined him at that moment, Armand giving him a questioning glance at the sight of la Cabarrus.

�You�ll have to go on with Mersot, Armand,� Chauvelin said without meeting the youth�s eyes. �It looks as if matters require that I stay here.� Chauvelin slipped a letter out of his breast pocket and handed it to Armand. �I entrust you with the identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel, Armand. See that Tinville receives it.� The letter he had written as Armand slept, the Pimpernel�s name was not contained with, rather instructions that Armand was to be detained in La Force until Chauvelin returned with instructions. �Mersot, see that you have an escourt. I don�t want our prize wrested from us.� Chauvelin watched Armand pocket the letter. �You are doing the Republic a great service, my boy.� Chauvelin smiled and clasped the boy�s shoulder for a moment before leaving him to Mersot.

Chauvelin disembarked just after those mooring the ship to dock, clambering down the Jacob�s Ladder and strode forward to meet Teresia. She smiled and offered her hand which he bowed over, �It has been some time� but a pleasure as always.� He released her hands and offered his arm. �Though, I must say I was under the impression that we were to meet at Roi du Soleil.�

"As always your beauty is paled only by your wisdom," Chauvelin replied offering his arm to Teresia so that he might lead her to a more secluded spot, casting a final glance at Armand and Mersot as they departed. Only when he was quite sure they were out of hearing, did Chauvelin speak again. "I'm certain you are aware that I have need of your unique talents just as I am certain that you know of the nature of my stay in England this past month."

"Rumours often start with an element of fact, my dear Cabarrus," he replied. "The facts are that I have been assigned the duty of ferreting out the source of frustration for the Republic - the English spies that you mentioned. We have reason to believe that a group of Englishmen have committed themselves to embarrassing our new government and to undermining the decisions of that government, namely the execution of traitors to France . I believe these spies are members of the elite and possibly working under orders of the crown, however my attempts to infiltrate that group have met with much resistance. Which is why I have sought your aid. I believe your talents may be of use in this endeavor."

�Indeed. I wish you to return with me to England where you will play the part of a refugee �escaping the horror of the godless revolution� - I believe is the popular phrase.� One that was used liberally in his presence. �The ton have expressed a great deal of sympathy towards these escapees, which will be of use in infiltrating their ranks � thought it will mean donning your former title and associating your name with that of the Marquis de Fontenay. There you will spread the tale of a family of your acquaintance languishing in prison and awaiting the an appointment with the knife... a family that will elicit our man�s sympathies. A family with small children, an invalid, or elderly... those sorts seem to appeal to him.�

�I have sent Mersot on to Paris to bring me the details on a family that fits what we are looking for,� and while doing so secure their recently acquired bargaining chip. �This would give you some reason to make inquiries without too much suspicion... Also while you are there I wish you to become on intimate terms with a Sir Percy Blakeney.� It took all his effort to suppress the loathing he felt for that name. �His wife is the former Parisian actress, Marguerite Saint-Just, who is also aiding this endeavor. I thought your charms might provide sufficient distraction so that she may operate unhindered.� Which was a half truth, he remembered lecherous Blakeney was easily led around by a beautiful woman... Teresia would confirm Margot�s suspicion further driving a wedge in the couple�s marriage making he plans for the lovely Lady Blakeney so much easier.

�It would appear highly suspicious if Mme la Marquise left France unmolested,� Chauvelin replied. �No. As I told you, our prey as an eye for the tragic� and so your escape will be nothing less than that. You will assume the disguise of a boy, a stowaway, I leave any further creativity to you.� Chauvelin took a deep breath before plunging on to the more unpleasant question. �I will make arrangements for you to see Blakeney before you meet him. He is exceptionally tall, blue eyes and fair hair, amongst the other fops you will meet he is exceptionally so� but you will see that for yourself.� He could not convey to her the grating voice, that laugh that sends shudders through him... No, he could say no more without revealing the absolute loathing he felt for the man.

Blue eyes and fair hair... well that could be one in twenty of the people she met daily, more so she presumed in England, which she'd heard had strong Nordic links in its past. As for exceptionally tall, define tall? Teresia had spent a lifetime surrounded by Spaniards and Frenchmen. To her, tall began at about 5ft7! Vague as the description was, she instinctively knew it would be unwise to probe further. Chauvelin was obviously uninclined to pursue that part of the conversation. She allowed the matter to rest and turned to his other statement... an idea was forming fast. "There is a shop three streets from here, which sells items - ahem - acquired from the surrounding estates. I have heard talk of it." she added with a sideways glance, "They are free with their tongues at the Roi du Soleil. I require just one set of adolescent boy's clothes, of good quality, but sober colours. Obviously it would arouse suspicion if I were to buy them myself, do you have anyone I could entrust such an errand to?"

�Consider it done,� he replied, Mersot and Armand would have left for Paris by then, but there was a boy amongst the crew who had proven reliable and would draw no suspicion in making the purchase. �I plan to leave with the next tide. You will be ready in that time?� It was more of a statement than a question. �What else with you require?�

"Nada." It would not do to take anything else with her, except money and maybe a few pawnable jewels for effect. "My expenses will be covered as usual?" she asked mimicking his tone, as she checked her watch. Six hours to the next tide, it would be a night crossing, which was good. "Now I must arrange to have my things stored safely whilst we are away. Have the clothes brought to me at the Roi du Soleil, but let the boy be discretion itself or the whole of Calais will know what we are about before we leave port," she rose to take her leave, "and the whole of Kent, before we even sight Dover!"

Chauvelin nodded to each of her questions, whatever the expense would be worth paying once they had their prize. Not even considering the monetary value of the Scarlet Pimpernel�s capture, there was the clout that came with it. The right man could build a considerable position for himself, make himself a power worth reckoning if he knew what he was doing. �The boy will arrive two hours before the tide. I trust that will suffice,� he said as a means of dismissal.

He was getting close, so close to getting everything he desired. Once Teresia was strategically installed he would pay another visit to the delightful Lady Blakeney, where he could further turn the screws � tell her that he could do little without the Scarlet Pimpernel as collateral. Given the right spin, Marguerite would be ever so compliant.

Teresia sat below deck feeling extremely ill indeed. A cold sweat lay on her forehead and the motion of the ship toiling on through the night made her insides churn. It was pitch black, airless and uncomfortable. Somewhere not too far away she could hear the other travellers... some snoring, some laughing and drinking... but Teresia was supposed to be a "stowaway". She couldn't let them see her. Besides which she doubted her legs' ability to hold her at the present time. She wondered where Chauvelin had got to? Obviously it wouldn't do for him to be seen wandering the lower decks too much. It would draw attention to her and make her present sacrifice meaningless... mayhap even jeopardize her cover... but still, where was he?

She consoled herself that seasickness would add an invaluable air of truth to whatever story she chose to tell at the journey's end. She had ripped one of the pockets out of her petticoats to construct a makeshift bag, which hung around her neck and into which she had stuffed jewels and money. She would have sufficient means to live well in England, but for now the second-hand male clothes were all she had. The linen she had rubbed with tallow wax to make it appear well worn at the collar and cuffs. The suit itself had been a tolerable fit, or at least as tolerable a man's suit could ever be on a woman's figure. It had been faded elegance when the boy had delivered it... it would be filthy dirty when she finally was able to emerge from this rat infested hole. What time was it? She desperately wanted to know. How much longer would she have to feel this way? Where was Chauvelin... with a lamp so she could read her watch? Why did ships have to behave in such an unnatural fashion the second one stepped below deck? Why couldn't these darned spies be German or Swiss? Ohhhhh!

Chauvelin consulted his pocket watch for the 23rd time since the ship left dock, wondering how close Armand and Mersot were to Paris at that moment. The papers that he had given Armand with the supposed name of the Scarlet Pimpernel were in fact orders for Armand's arrest and the arrangements for what was to be done with him. He wondered at what point Armand would realize his duplicity - not that he would be able to escape when he did, Mersot had strict orders to watch Armand at all times and to take any actions he thought needful. By this hour, they would have found shelter for the night hopefully to make Paris by the following. Would that he could have taken the boy himself, then there would be not need to worry, however there were no many other variables to consider.

It would be another hour, perhaps a quarter more than that, before the ship arrived into Dover. It was high time to check on the comfort of his little stowaway, he thought restoring the time piece and seizing a lantern he slipped down into the bowels of the ship. If discovered and questioned he would claim that he had taken a wrong turn, easily enough done in the pressing darkness. He would occasionally stop and turn the beam of lantern around to check for signs of life, listening in the darkness for the merest hint of a hidden presence and not but the occasional scratching of scurrying rat's feet. The fact that she was here and so well concealed proved Teresia's loyalty and endurance. He whistled his signal so that she knew it was he and no other who had entered.

"I see that you are doing considerably well given the unfavorable conditions," Chauvelin said quietly, drawing nearer. "We are due to land in an hours time." He set the lantern atop a nearby crate and knelt beside Teresia, noting the sickly hue her face had taken on and dark rimmed eyes. The lady evidently had a weak stomach for sea travel. He took one of her hands and rubbed it between his to get the circulation flowing. "I wouldn't imagine that you would require food..." Certainly food would be the last thing on her mind. "... I image there is little beyond that that I can provide you."

An hour... a whole hour... "Joder!" she moaned quietly. Meekly she allowed Chauvelin to massage her hand, though she was almost forced to pull it away at the mention of food. What a strange sense of humour the man had! "What happens when we reach England ?" she asked, fighting back the nausea which swept over her as she tried to think. "Obviously I can't just walk off the ship like an ordinary passenger, nor can I be seen with you. Perhaps this is the best opportunity we will have to talk for days, maybe weeks to come." It cost her a great deal to speak, but there was a determination in her eyes, which told anyone looking into them that Teresia Cabarrus knew exactly why she was here and wasn't going to let a little thing like seasickness ruin their plans.

"Walk off the ship... no. It would be best if your presence was felt when you arrive.� He began to work on her other hand. She would need to be in good health for what he had planned. �There are many aristos slipping into the country, you need to stand apart from the crowd. Thus far the English are fascinated by though aristos saved by the Scarlet Pimpernel because they provide an interesting story, so we need to make you an interesting story, my dear.�

�I will be disembarking immediately, there will be a coach waiting a short distance away that will convey me to London. I will have felt Dover within a quarter of an hour of landing, after that I was you to make your way off ship. Create as grand a scene as you like, I want attention drawn to you. It is likely that the Pimpernel keeps himself informed and so the greater the scene the greater the likelihood he will hear of you. If you�ve strength, I would recommend that you set off at a run, towards the Fisherman�s Rest if your legs can carry you. They host nobility on occasion and with luck they will when we arrive, however if not then it is certain that word will spread from there. I am sure you will be caught, but that will give you the opportunity to present your �tragic� story.� He could imagine that she would be a source for pity before she had the chance to speak, they would shudder at the thought of what horror would force a beauty such as this to abandon her home, dress as a boy and make a desperate bid at freedom - picture her as he saw her now in these cramped, cruel conditions... It was too perfect.

�I will be leaving Beaucarnot behind to watch over you, we will communicate through him. He will watch from a distance and prove you assistance should circumstances become too difficult.� Chauvelin released her hand. �When you�ve settled yourself leave word of a time and place for you to meet with him. He can convey any message I have for you then.�

�The Fisherman�s Rest,� Chauvelin repeated. �It lies west of the Admiralty Pier, there is a sign overhead� not that I suppose you�ll be able to see it on the dark. It is surrounded by hops and apple trees and the entrance is fashioned in the Georgian style. We know that escapees have passed through that hostel on their way to London , but have yet to determine how much of a role it may play in the Scarlet Pimpernel�s plans. If nothing else can be gained from your stay you can make arrangement on the coach for London leaves from that point.�

Chauvelin paused for a moment, hovering by her side, wondering if the lady was up for the task set before her. She looked scarce able to walk much less make the run he required. As he stood he was already forming alternate plans in case le Cabarrus wasn�t up to par. If she failed to leave the ship he would give Beaucarnot orders to search the ship and create the scene they needed at the pier... although it would mean that he would have to his assistant back to Paris. But hopefully it wouldn�t come to that, hopefully Teresia Cabarrus would continue her habit of surprising him�