Nox Invictus {Percy}

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It was done... and yet not finished. At the ball, Marguerite had agreed to help Chauvelin find out the identity of the Scarlet Pimpernel, the heroic man with whom all the women in England were hopelessly in love in spite of the fact that they did not know his true identity. On the carriage ride back to the estate, she was undergoing the most dreadful internal turmoil, knowing she was betraying the noblest creature in the world, but for another man she loved dearly: her brother Armand. It was the dilemma of Isabella in Measure for Measure, but she had not chosen to let her brother die, and instead was plunged headlong into sin.

The night wind whipping her cheeks was not the only reason her eyes stung with blinked-back tears. Thankfully, Percy did not notice, as he was focused on his driving, enjoying the feeling of the ride in the open air as much as Marguerite usually did. Marguerite, too, was lost in her own thoughts, though she occasionally cast a glance at her foppish husband. He never looked as handsome as he did when focused and excited by driving his horses and the inane mask of idiocy was gone from his face. Oh, would that he could do something for Armand!

She did not notice when the carriage stopped abruptly before the entry hall. Percy helped her down, ever the gentleman, and she withdrew into the garden to think, letting the cool air provide her solace. But she was not alone in this, as in her wandering, she soon discovered her husband in the garden as well.

Perhaps it was what she had done that made her desperate for companionship. “Sir Percy!” she called, her breath catching as she saw him in the moonlight. She still loved him, in spite of everything. “Will you not stay to enjoy this delicious weather?” she asked, trying to sound light-hearted, though her voice trembled with pleading and despair. “Or are you so desperate to be away from your wife?” As he had been the whole night, nearly. She could not expect that he could offer any real solace for her, but all the same, she found herself wanting to be with him.

[SIR PERCIVAL BLAKENEY]

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WORD COUNT: 1,015 NOTES: Percys sad

Percy always preferred to drive back to Richmond after a party, rather than take up rooms at the host’s house, or organise accommodation there. The long night drives cleared the turmoil that wrought his mind; he was always able to think clearer under the starry night sky. The night was warm, but a cool breeze blanketed the two as Percy drove the open carriage down a quiet road. The only sound was that of the carriage rattling and the horse’s hooves clicking against the road. Percy did not speak, nor did his wife. Both chose silence during the journey. Percy was in no doubt that his wife had plenty to think about, and did not choose to disturb such thoughts. He himself had a lot to consider that evening. His arm brushed against Margots as he drove, the sensation of her arm beside his, stirred past memories of their courting days. How things had changed, he thought his brow creasing as he pushed the painful memories away.

Tonight he would not think on it. He would not…

He was a skilled driver and pushed the bays forward, as they galloped away from the large London houses, towards the quiet countryside in which Blakeney Manor resided. His wives conversations with the untrustworthy fox Chauvelin had not gone unnoticed by Percy, he was concerned over what she had to discuss with the man, but he had more important things to worry about than the dealings of his wife. Too many lives were at stake in France and he had to do something about it. Chauvelin was a mere thorn in his abundant plan, and although thorns could become problematic, Percy was certain he could outwit the cunning fox.

The ball had revealed much to Percy, and he knew now that he must make the journey across the channel to France. This time the mission would hold twice the danger, but his only concern was succeeding. His life was merely a small price in comparison to the cause. The league were waiting his signal, but as he drove he was certain he should complete it alone. The fewer involved the stronger the success rate. His eyes fell to the large silver ring that remained on his hand always. Beneath the innocent silver, the ring concealed his greatest secret. The symbol that brought hope to so many. Percy knew it would be difficult to convince Andrew to allow him to make the trip alone, but it was vital Andrew stayed behind. If something were to happen to him, Andrew would remain to lead the men. He was lucky to have such a faithful friend as Andrew.

Percy guided the bays through the gates of Blakeney Manor. The house was built on the river and was vastly becoming one of the more historic Manors in England. The gardens that surrounded the Manor were beautiful and Percy made sure that they were kept in tip top condition. They drove past the main terrace, towards the entrance hall and the stables, where the stable boys –no doubt- were awaiting their return. In fact, half the staff would be awaiting their return sleepy eyed, they were always ready to attend to Sir Percy and his Lady’s needs, at any hour of the day or night.

Percy brought the bays to a standstill as the staff emerged, waiting respectfully for Sir Percy and Lady Blakeney to depart. He jumped down from the carriage quickly, not speaking he guided his wife from the carriage. He dared not look her in the face, for a simple gesture such as taking the Lady’s hand held great pain for him. He departed quickly from her side once she seemed settled, and moved to give the staff their orders for the night.

She had gone once this task had been done and Percy sighed a breath of relief as he slowly made his way through the gardens, pausing to gaze up at the bright moon. The pain that gripped his heart was tightening and tonight had been harder than any other night, to hide behind the foppish charade that so easily came to him. There she had stood…the belle of the ball; all eyes admired his wife and tutted so easily at her marriage to the biggest fool in England. His anger and frustration had been bubbling that evening; how his wife could have been so cruel to the St-Cyr family baffled him. A family who he admired and respected had gone to their deaths because of his wifes tongue. The sad thing was even though she had confessed she’d done the deed, Percy still loved her with all his heart. Zounds! He wanted to plunge himself straight into the river, in the hopes the water would wash away the thoughts and feelings that plagued him so.

He turned quickly away from the water removing the temptation. He would rest, if only for a short while, till the sun came up. Then Percy would have a horse prepared and go straight to London to make the essential arrangements for his mission in Paris.

Percy’s thoughts were cut short as his wife’s words interrupted him. He paused for a moment, not wanting to turn and address her, but knowing the time had passed where he might have been able to pretend he had not heard her words. Tiredly, he turned to gaze at her, his breath catching and heart breaking as he looked at her in the moonlight. She was truly ravishing and it was no wonder she was the talk of London.

‘MeLady’ Percy said politely acknowledging her presence by inclining his head coolly. ‘Nay Madame’ he said, standing stiff backed and staring at her through glazed eyes as he tried to remove himself from her presence before it drove him mad. ‘I warrant you will find the night air far pleasanter without my company’ he said placidly, ‘I am in no doubt that once my presence is removed, your Ladyship shall prefer it’ he said, nodding his head again as he attempted to remove himself from her presence.

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[atrb=border,0,true] [style=height:340px; overflow: auto; text-align:justify; background-color:64DF85]Always this mask of lazy politeness! It agonized her. He would not even meet her gaze; he turned to her slowly, and inclined his head. Did he hate her so much, truly? “No!” she cried hastily, moving closer to him as he started to leave, one hand out as if to stop him. Blinking, she withdrew her hand, letting it fall tamely to her side once more, useless. It would be powerless to stop him anyway, since he seemed to wish to go. Surely he could not think that she truly wanted him to go. When had she been that cruel? “No,” she said, more calmly. “That is, I meant I have no wish for you to leave.” He could not have misunderstood what she had said. Where was the arrogant Percy who knew that he could light up a room with his laughter? Why did he think now that she would enjoy being without him? He left her alone often enough. He had done so at the ball tonight, falling asleep in a room after God knows what he had been doing the rest of the night. The room where the Scarlet Pimpernel was supposed to have appeared. Thank the Lord the Pimpernel had not been there, or he would have been caught – caught by her own feminine wiles, from the note that she had stolen from Sir Andrew so cleverly! Ah, to have her talents used for evil! - but it was to save her brother. She could not have lived with herself for such a sin as revealing the Scarlet Pimpernel for certain; she could barely live with herself now, just for agreeing to help Chauvelin. She could not live with herself, even if it was to help her brother live. No one could understand her suffering, not even her husband. She was willing to extend grace to him, while undergoing her own trial, because she felt that nothing he had done could compare to her own sins. Even neglecting her, as painful as it was. He would leave her now, in her greatest moment of need. He simply could not understand. Sometimes she wondered if he ever had. Those memories of when they first met, when he had seemed so desperately in love with her, were the only thing that reminded her that once, they had belonged together. Somewhat bitterly, she sighed, drawing closer to him with expression softening. “If anyone should go, it is I. It is clear you have no desire for my presence anymore.” She smiled sadly, looking at him for a moment before glancing away. “I never wanted you to be this distant from me, standing together as we are,” she murmured; “though you seem to wish for it.” She blinked back tears which were beginning to shine in her eyes. “How close we were once! How altered things are! When we met for only the briefest of moments, how desirous you seemed of remaining close to me; it only took that moment of being together for you to cling to me at every party thereafter, even when so much time had passed without seeing me. How ardently I thought you loved me!” She shook her head violently, as if to shake away the painful memories, her curls bouncing and her fur-cloak sliding down her shoulders before she met his gaze, watching him for some kind of reaction.

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[SIR PERCIVAL BLAKENEY]

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WORD COUNT: 353 NOTES: Percys sad

There was a time where Percy’s every thought concerned Marguerite and he let her know it, but now he had to hide his love for her behind a mask of indifference. The mask stayed strong, but inside he was dying. Being in her presence for so long when he was already feeling so weak tortured his very soul. How could the woman he love have committed such an inhumane act? How could the wife of the Pimpernel not be trusted with the lives of fellow Aristocrats?

He attempted once again to remove himself from her presence, but her words hindered him. Sir Percy was always the gentleman, and would never be rude enough to leave a Lady’s presence so impolitely. Percy involuntary sighed turning back to face his wife. He did not say anything, merely looked at her lazily exuding an air of nonchalance, while inside he was overwrought with emotion. Oh Sir Percy was quite the talented actor.

‘Begad!’ Percy said lightly, yawning as his wife spoke, ‘You desired my presence, Madame?’ Percy asked tiredly, his head buzzing with the words his wife spoke, while his face portrayed utter boredom. ‘I trust you do not desire it to indulge in heartfelt reminiscences…you know how they tire me.’ He said frigidly.

His entire demur was cold and uncompromising, he did not wish to make his wife unhappy, no one wished to make the person they loved unhappy, but he saw no other choice. It was his only means at pushing her away, and it was all because of the choices she had made. His bitterness over this fact was extreme. ‘You must pardon me’ he said coldly, ‘for my dull wits cannot accompany you there. I am in fact quite exhausted and wish to retire to my bed’. Percy bowed his head once more, in an attempt to extract himself from his wife’s presence. Her beauty in the moonlight was almost godly and Percy was struggling to contain his heartbreak.

He stood ridged, his face stern his eyes cold as he once again turned from his wife ready to leave the awful scene.

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[atrb=border,0,true] [style=height:240px; overflow: auto; text-align:justify; background-color:64DF85]“I did. I do,” Marguerite corrected, trying to meet his gaze, her blue eyes narrowing at his yawn. How could he possibly be tired? Chauvelin had discovered him sprawled out and sleeping upon a chaise lounge at the party, while she had been having a moral dilemma and internal battle! What little good he had done her there – what little good he was doing her now! And still she loved him; foolishly, desperately, helplessly. She should return his coldness, but she trembled with passion and hurt. “Heartfelt reminiscences! I thought once you would never tire of me,” she sighed. She reached for him, knowing he would not take her hand, but wishing to God that he would. She needed to be held and comforted, but the knife that had been driven into her heart was only cruelly twisted by her husband now when he pushed her away. What consolation could she have in life, knowing that she must lose her morality, her brother, and her husband? What if Chauvelin did not even save Armand, after her betrayal of the Pimpernel for his sake? How could she have trusted him? Well, she did not even know if she could trust her husband. How quickly he had turned from his love for her! “It would make you tired to remember how you loved me!” Her lip trembled as she spoke, and she had to collect herself to prevent her teeth from chattering. “I am tired, Percy, so tired. Tired of remembering too, because oh, how it pains me!” With sudden vehemence, she continued, “I thought, like a fool, that because I loved you, that it would be enough! But something changed, Percy - something changed between us, and ever since, you have been nothing but cold and distant!” Her voice became choked, tears shining in her eyes as she seized his coat before releasing it, staggering a little in her grief, unable to speak.

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[SIR PERCIVAL BLAKENEY]

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WORD COUNT: 479 NOTES: Percys sad

Of course Percy would not have been lucky enough to escape the continued heartache this conversation was causing, as his wife spoke once more. He stood frozen with his back to her, mustering the strength to again, look upon the face that stirred so many feelings. His most prominent emotion was anger, the woman expected him to be able to love her freely, after she had committed such heinous crime. Sometimes, he wondered if he had not been the Pimpernel, would he have been able to forgive her. Would they still be the happy couple they once were? Sometimes when he was alone in his study with nothing else to plague his mind, he would open up the past memories the two shared together. The joyful times he spent courting her had been some of his happiest moments. Courting a beautiful woman and confounding Frenchies, by stealing away Aristocrats had certainly put a bounce in his step.

He turned in time to see her hand reach out for him and he bowed ‘Your servant Madame’ he said coldly acknowledging the gesture. The moon was sinking beneath the horizon and soft orange rays were beginning to bathe themselves over the grounds of Blakeney manor. His lazy air continued, as if this conversation held no pain for him. It was simply another obstacle between Sir Percy and his bed. He knew he would not sleep today, and he planned to be off to London this very morning, he would rest once there at the Fishermans rest, and await the tide to turn so he could take the journey to France.

‘Twenty-four hours Marguerite’ he said firmly, ‘twenty-fours hours after we had been married, the St-Cyr family all perished at the blade of the guillotine. A rumour reached me, a most popular one, that the wife of Sir Percy Blakeney had helped send them there!’ he said a fire blazing behind his cool eyes as he studied her every expression for a sign of remorse.

‘You only offered me words of reason after the dreadful tale had been accounted to me by strangers! I fancy you did not give me all explanation then’ he said coldly. His wife had only explained herself after he had found out from others, she had kept the horrendous act from him and only offered a meek explanation when he confronted her with the stories he had heard. After that he could no longer look at his wife in the same way, how could he trust her not to betray him to France if she were to ever discover his secret.

Pride had kept Sir Percy away, and it was pride now that demanded she take penance for her actions, no matter how much it hurt him to do so. To love a woman and never be able to show it was the worst pain of all.

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May 22, 2013 17:11:01 GMT -5 @marguerite said:

[atrb=border,0,true] [style=height:240px; overflow: auto; text-align:justify; background-color:64DF85] “I told you myself--” she started vehemently, before he continued. “You listened to them instead of trusting me, trusting that I would never do such a thing! I, your wife, for whom you professed such love!” What had changed between them? Had it really been the St-Cyr incident? It had happened around the time, and that would explain why he had gotten so cold. Killing people was not an admirable trait in a wife. But she hadn't done it on purpose; she had even tried to stop it from happening, but she had been manipulated. She would have explained this to Percy, if she could have. But there – there was her chance. Not that she needed permission to speak, but she did appreciate the encouragement. “Of course I did not give you all explanation,” she hissed. “But I made no attempt to lie! I wanted to tell you, but when you were so cold, so angry... how could I tell you? I knew you wouldn't listen to me!” Her chest was heaving with sobs, unshed tears shining in her eyes. She paused for a moment to collect herself before looking at him again. “I never meant for the family to go to the guillotine. I was tricked into giving his name to Chauvelin. The St-Cyrs hurt my family, and I thought Chauvelin was trying to protect us – to protect France, from nobles who hurt others – he nearly killed Armand – and then he plotted with Austria against his country--! Still, when I found out what was really being done to the St-Cyrs, I tried – God, it was too late already.” She glanced back at him, hoping that he would have heard. Hoping against hope that something would have changed. She looked into his eyes. “I was wrong, Percy,” she said softly. “But you were wrong to shut me out that way.” She looked at his face intently, trying to read something there, trying to see something that she wanted, something that indicated he heard, or felt... something. “You used to tell me that I was as necessary to you as breath,” she whispered.

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[SIR PERCIVAL BLAKENEY]

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WORD COUNT: 502 NOTES: Percys sad

The tension mounted between the two, Percy continued to gaze at his wife with a cool stare as she spoke, in the early morning light Percy recalled the mornings the two had spent watching the sunrise, the orange rays shining down upon the two with all the hope for the future. As she spoke his body became more ridged, he fixed his impassive gaze upon a spot just behind her, unable to meet her gaze any longer.

His mind was on fire every word she said branded into his brain leaving scarring that would never heal. The entire act had been a ploy by Chauvelin, of course the sly fox would use her, she was talented and if Percy had been in Chauvelin’s position she would have been a prime agent. Who would suspect the delicate actress; her words however innocent would be believed by anyone. How foolish the French were. Pain crossed Percy’s face for a brief moment as his eyes flicked back to her face, the sadness behind her eyes was so apparent he couldn’t help but move closer to her, a passion stirring within him that he hadn’t felt for a long time. She looked so fragile, so sad, a huge contrast from the unforgiving woman that stood before him the night she confessed of her guilt over the St-Cyrs death.

He had always loved her, his love had merely lain dormant, suppressed by his British pride and unbending morals. His love was as strong as the day he’d first laid eyes on her, and at this very moment it flashed across his face as he struggled to find the words to express his feelings. He could not give away his identity; to his wife he was still the foppish Percival Blakeney, the son of a mad Aristocratic woman, who had stirred so much talk among the courts. It was generally assumed that his erratic behaviour was inherited from his mother. Even now when all her cards lay across the table, Percy could not bring himself to tell her the truth.

‘Madame’ Percy said after a short silence, ‘you demanded that I should forfeit my honour, to believe your words’ he said, relaxing slightly as the understanding of his torment dawned on him. ‘Zounds! You suggest that I should have accepted your words, without question, as if I were a submissive slave. Like all your suitors that stood by your dressing room door, desperate for a look from their mistress.’ He said pausing as the words formed so easily upon his lips, ‘I asked for no explanation, I waited for one, hoping against hope that you would explain, but all I received was silence. No word…not knowing who to believe…if you had given me an explantion then I would have accepted it with no question!’ he said with frustration, his voice shaking with intensity as he tried desperately to keep his passions at bay. It took all his strength to not cross the barrier that stood between the two.

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[atrb=border,0,true] [style=height:240px; overflow: auto; text-align:justify; background-color:64DF85] (OOC: Sorry for the delay, I wasn't sure if we were shelving this! But I need more posts with Margo. And apparently more feels.) As he bowed over her hand, the slender fingers trembling as they reached out to him in a gesture similar to begging, and did not take it, Marguerite wavered. At least he was acknowledging her now instead of keeping his back to her so coldly and indifferently. But his lazy carelessness was all the worse. How could he face her and see the agony in her eyes, yet feel nothing? Her breath hitched, throat choked with tears. For a moment she could not speak, but finally, Percy did. And not just his usual nonsense. At once everything rushed back to her; every sin of her past that had made her heart throb dully now stabbed her. In his eyes there was a fire - directed at her, wishing to burn her perhaps, but it was something! Something besides that horrible mask! "No!" she cried, "I told you the truth myself of that odious tale." He went on then, and her chest heaved in rapid, angry breaths. "And you did not believe me before you believed them." Before he had been given such intelligence by strangers, she had never given him any reason not to trust her. He, on the other hand, was always off doing something ridiculous, suspicious, or irksome. Still, what a change had come over him then! He had adopted the air of lazy civility, a coldness that should not stand between a husband and wife who had married for love. "You said you loved me more than life once. Yet you believed, from strangers, that I was so base - that the woman you married was a barbarian! You did not listen to me when I did try to speak, and so I tried to speak no more." Her voice was shaking and she paused, trying to compose herself. "They tricked me, Percy. I have told you what the St-Cyrs did to my family, but I never meant to hurt them. And what I realized what I had unwittingly done, it was too late." Tears filled her eyes as she stood close to him so plaintively. For a moment, she wondered if it was too late for them. Could it be that they, who had shared such passion once, were doomed to never feel it again after being married for a day and a night? "They were going to kill my brother," she said firmly. "He was all I had in the world. And he's all I have now." If Armand was killed, and Percy continued to care nothing for her, then she would be destitute entirely.

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