Post by Deleted on Jan 4, 2013 12:43:03 GMT -5
| [atrb=cellSpacing,0,true][atrb=border,0,true][atrb=style, width: 460px; background-image: url(http://i44.tinypic.com/34fb0ns.jpg);-moz-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; -webkit-border-radius: 0px 0px 0px 0px; border: 4px ridge #7a9aa9, bTable][tr][cs=2] lady marguerite blakeney. 37. citizen/aristocrat. elizabeth mcgovern. | |
[rs=2] | Appearance: It is almost universally agreed upon in Paris that Marguerite St. Just, the former actress and now Lady Blakeney, is stunningly beautiful. She has brown hair that is usually coiffed into the latest fashion; it was somewhat damaged from her time in the theatre with the outrageous costuming, but it still looks mostly thick and healthy, and has natural curl to it. Her eyes are bright blue, and her complexion is nice, rather pale, with neat features on her face, a sharp nose, and soft lips. She is curvy, and though her form is still pretty slender, after a few years in fine society with Percy, and without acting, she has put on a few pounds. Of course, she is still always corseted, and she still looks just as radiantly beautiful and voluptuous. She dresses very well, as they can afford it, and Percy is (or at least pretends to be) finicky about such things. Besides, she has her own vanity, and is accustomed to fine clothing. Personality: Some might believe Marguerite to be shallow because of her beauty and her love of silly banter, soirees, singing, and dancing - but those people are likely just envious of her and have not gotten to know the true Marguerite St. Just. Sometimes that happens when one is an actress, because you must constantly wear a facade, but in person, Marguerite is nothing if not warm and sincere. She enjoys conversing with anyone from a royalist to a beggar if they are engaging. That, of course, is just the side of her that made her the toast of Paris. Beneath her high society persona, though it is a real part of her feelings, she is fierce and tenacious. She knows how to earn what she wants as an actress, and she will not allow herself to be treated more poorly than she deserves - even by her husband, though her spirit and independence might be unusual. When he acts foppish, she has no qualms about showing him her disgust and irritation. That is not to say that she does not love Percy; it is because she loves him so passionately, even some ten years into their marriage, that she demands he give him the real Percy and not the fop. The other great love of her life is her brother Armand. She would do anything to protect him, even if it goes against conventional morality. If other people are hurt by it, well, it does pain her, because she does not wish for anyone to die, and most of the time she determinedly does the right thing, but Armand comes first. Desperate times call for desperate measures, and they have certainly seen a few desperate times together. She cares foremost for her brother, and then about what other people think of her. There is more to life than a good or bad review, no? History: Marguerite St. Just was born an idealist. The young French actress believed that she could change her country, through her acting and through a partnership with the rising star Chauvelin. He took a position in government, and she took a position with the Comedie Francaise company in Paris. They were planning on changing the world together. But then, her world changed. Her brother Armand was viciously beaten because he fell in love with an aristo's daughter who was much richer, and Armand was saved by an English man named Percival Blakeney. Armand was all she had after their parents died, and Marguerite was justifiably grateful to his savior. Percy carried Armand to a tavern, and was instantly smitten with Marguerite, as far as she could see when he asked if he could see her again. She invited him to a soiree at her home with Armand, where he interrupted Chauvelin attempting to kiss her. Percy acted rather ridiculous, but she was charmed by him and enjoyed their banter. She soon realized that there were two sides of Percy, neither of which she could understand in full: the foppish dandy he showed at parties, and the intense sincerity of the man he showed her when they were alone. And he took opportunities often to get her alone - romantic picnics, notes in her dressing room, pulling her into quiet corners. Chauvelin began to grow suspicious, and began to grow more jealous - at the same time that he grew more obsessive about punishing the aristos with Madame Guillotine. As she grew closer to Percy, she grew more disgusted with Chauvelin and his feelings that the revolution had to be so bloody. But he had power over her - he read the notes that were meant for her, and he had her brother Armand in his employ. Chauvelin asked if she would reveal information she had learned, as a citizen of France, but she refused. She asked if he would do it inside, and he promised that he would not. However, their relationship changed. Her relationship with Percy moved rapidly and passionately towards marriage, meaning that she stopped acting, and Chauvelin suffered. But three days after their wedding, something changed. Even in private, her husband acted like a fop. She was confused and disconcerted. She began to long for the romantic ideal of a man like the Scarlet Pimpernel, who was rescuing innocent people from the guillotine, even though she loved Sir Percy. At least, she loved the man she thought he really was. Now she could not be sure. As fascinated as she was by the Pimpernel, he was also a stumbling block to her, as Chauvelin wanted to use her to learn the man's identity. He took advantage of her, like he had when he had put her name on the warrant for the St. Cyr's family's deaths even though she hadn't wanted them to die. Percy was angry at her for it, everyone was, but how could she explain the truth? Thankfully, Armand was saved... and so was Percy, who she realized just in time to avoid revealing his identity was the Scarlet Pimpernel! Everything was resolved between her, Percy, and the Tournay family who had publicly denounced her for her alleged hand in the St. Cyr's deaths - though she would always feel guilty. Chauvelin was thwarted in his plan to reveal (and defeat) the Scarlet Pimpernel, but not, perhaps, forever. For a time, Marguerite and Percy lived happily in England with Armand and his paramour, but now have returned to France, and revolution seems to be coming again. Sample: It had been a long and unpleasant night for Marguerite. Three days into her wedding, she had already started to dislike the prospect of sleeping alone, and so it had continued. As she tried to close her eyes, she kept feeling foolishly startled that Chauvelin was coming after her, and Percy was not here. Where he actually was at this ungodly hour, Marguerite - as Percy himself might say - hadn't the foggiest idea. She sighed and rolled over, listless. Was he at some tavern with another woman? Had he been displeased with her on their wedding night? ...no, that was not possible. That was not the Percy she knew. Or at least the Percy she thought she knew. Was he truly going out to have his buckles mended? Would anyone even help him at this time of night? These questions remained unanswered as she at last fell into a troubled sleep, the book with which she had unsuccessfully tried to distract herself still futilely held in her now-limp fingers. The nightmares came, as they always did, and when she woke, it took a moment for her to convince herself that it was not real, as it always did. She wiped away her tears and washed away the perspiration from her brow, dressing and comporting herself, glad that Percy was still lazily asleep and could not see her. How would they ever have children at a rate like this? ...no, it was better that they didn't, when things were so strange and awful. As she opened the curtains to look out the window, the brass rings holding them clanked together softly, and she turned to look at the disturbed Percy. "My apologies, I did not mean to wake you," she murmured. Sometimes, this greeting was haughty, but today she was tired and felt defeated. "Do you stand any chance of getting back to sleep, or would you like me to call for tea? The maids will already be up at this time." As is every respectable person in this city who hasn't been gallivanting about all night, she wanted to add, but did not. What was the use? She only stared at him blankly, closing her eyes in exasperation before composing herself. That was about all she could stand. First his foppishness about the cravats with the elitist comment about lesser mortals, and then the formality with her title? Perhapsh he was teasing, but she could not know anymore. "Lady Blakeney," she answered, angrily imitating the way he'd used her title, "is beginning to regret one engagement in particular!" With that, she gathered up her skirts and hurried out. . |
emmy. 19. ad on an affiliate. |
