I started writing this about 8 months ago and took it down for a time, unsure of whether I wanted to continue it. But I've decided to try again, here with a revised version and hopefully a better one at that. Here's the short intro to start it all.

(La, I do not own anything Scarlet Pimpernel, as this is a humble work using the creation of the wonderful Baroness)

The ornate hallway clock bellowed two deep notes, marking the second hour of the dreary May afternoon. The chiming echoes reached the study down the passage, but did not stir the figure sprawled across one of the many fine sofas within. Rain bespattered the windows of the great mansion as the spring storm continued to drench the English countryside. The dull hum of falling raindrops soon blanketed the house with a sleepy calm as a lazy fog rolled in across the gardens.

The sound of approaching horses was nearly lost in a sudden burst of thunder, rolling in rhythm to the faint sound of hooves pounding against the gravel road. As the thunder faded, the frantic galloping grew nearer, jarring the peaceful stupor that hung about the house. A minute passed and two dripping horses skidded to a noisome halt outside the front portico. Two well-dressed men, one somewhat taller than the other, leapt from their mounts and strode to the heavy front door. After the slightest pause, they entered without ceremony, latching the door quietly behind them.

The taller man glanced hastily around the grand foyer. "He may not be back yet."

His companion tossed aside his soaked riding coat nervously. "Where else could he be in such a downpour, Andrew?"

Sir Andrew Ffoulkes frowned. "His favorite carriage is missing. Perhaps he is detained in town?"

His friend smiled grimly. "Ah yes, I'm sure he waited for such blessed weather to visit his tailors."

Sir Andrew's frown deepened as his eyes continued to peruse the empty house. "Perhaps urgent business called him away." His gaze flicked to the stairs, then back to his companion. "Tony, the study. Perhaps he left a note…"

Lord Antony Dewhurst nodded and both men leapt up the richly carpeted stairs to the second floor, wherein they turned sharply to the left and down a passageway. Lord Tony knocked firmly on the door to the study, and, upon receiving no answer, swung it noiselessly open.

"Ah, late again," a sleepy voice drawled from the corner of the room. The two gentlemen started at the sudden break in silence, but rushed quickly across the threshold and toward the source of the familiar voice.

They halted before the velvet sofa, gazing down with astonishment at the man stretched across it. Sir Andrew stepped forward. "Percy! What the devil are you doing in here, and asleep at that?"

A lazy smile played at the corners of Sir Percy's mouth, his blue eyes sparking with amusement. "Lud, Andrew, would you expect me to be out in this dreadful weather? I'm afraid 'twas a day best spent inside. Demmed spring." He glanced over at the soaked gentlemen and laughed. "But I see you've been out enjoying it."

Both men managed a grim smile. On another day, they would have heartily joined in the joke, but the events of the past few hours had deadened them to any amusing trifle. Their news would not please their leader any more than it did them.

But Percy had closed his eyes again, and had not caught his friends' despairing glances. He continued to prattle on unaffectedly, "But I suppose the wet will be the fashion of ball, if this rain keeps up tonight. T'would be a demmed shame if-"

"Percy, please!" Sir Andrew interrupted, unable to contain himself any longer.

Percy's eyes shot open at the exasperated tone of his friend, the lazy smile fading from his handsome face. He sat up slowly, his blue eyes clouded with concern. "What is it, man?"

Sir Andrew threw a fearful look at Lord Tony, who nodded solemnly. Sir Andrew sighed. "Hastings. He was captured this morning two leagues outside of Paris."

Percy's eyes glinted. "What was he doing over there?" he inquired coldly.