I had thought this might take place somewhere in the middle – between the lines – of someone else's story, but having re-read that story I now have to say rather that this is inspired by: Delle's "Below and Beneath", found on the Yuletide Treasure archive.

It imagines what might have happened on the Day Dream after the escape from Chauvelin in the final chapter of "The Scarlet Pimpernel"; I always feel Baroness Orczy's ending to the book seems a little hurried – I wish she had shown us more of the reconciliation between Percy and Marguerite!

SOMEWHERE IN THE MIDDLE

Her stays made it uncomfortable to lie down, so whilst Percy lay sleeping at full length beside her, she remained sitting up, leaning against a pillow at the head of the bed; she had thought she would not be able to sleep but she was exhausted and her mind began to drift. The Day Dream was bearing them back home, to England, and safety: home, safe, with Percy, and Armand safe too – such unexpected happiness! The gentle swing of the boat on the tide lulled her to sleep.

She suddenly awoke to find Percy throwing one arm across her and pillowing his head on her lap; she could hardly believe it but he seemed to be fast asleep and she held her breath, not wanting to risk waking him yet – partly because he needed the rest, partly because she did not want him to move away. For almost a year he had barely touched her except in the most ceremonious way – handing her into or out of the carriage, or offering his arm as they entered a ballroom; he had seemed more distant, more cold and formal, with every month that passed, and she had begun to accept that this was the way their marriage would always be, ceasing even to mourn the illusions she had enjoyed before their wedding.

She thought back over the past few hours; in spite of his obvious pleasure that she needed him to carry her down to the boat, and the endearments exchanged on the journey, she had not yet dared to hope that his physical reserve towards her would not return; then she remembered the look of doubt on his face as he had leant in the cabin doorway, and the relief which followed her assurance: he had, after all, been just as uncertain as she was…

Was it possible, she wondered now, that he could truly forgive her, and that they would be able to begin again, and remake their marriage? She blushed with shame, and closed her eyes, to think of how she had betrayed him – unwittingly perhaps, but betrayed him all the same; how could she expect him to put that awful fact aside? The irony was not lost on her that she had used to describe the Scarlet Pimpernel – in Percy's hearing – as "the shadowy king of her heart", and yet she had betrayed him – how would he ever be able to trust her? She could not be surprised if, once they were back in England, Percy began to distance himself from her again – and this thought, snatching back the happiness she had glimpsed, was so unbearable that she almost cried out.

He stirred a little, and she held her breath: perhaps she might never be this dear to him again, and she did not want to lose a moment. His lying in her lap, so intimately close to her, was so strange and exciting that her mind, almost against her will, travelled back to the day of their wedding, or rather, the night which followed it, when she had hardly known what to expect, and – although God knows Percy himself had never given her the least cause – she had been apprehensive. In the event, she had had nothing to fear: he had been infinitely gentle and unhurried and she had wondered, afterwards, why there were so many frightening old wives' tales. She had awoken the next morning with a sense of completeness, and calm satisfaction that the rite of passage had been successfully negotiated, and she had been delighted to find that he still lay beside her. Only hours later, the rumour about her denunciation of the St Cyrs had reached Percy, and thus had begun, almost immediately, the many bitter months of their estrangement – they had not lain together again since then.

Now she knew that Percy had only affected indifference: she had seen, that night on the terrace at Richmond, that he still loved and wanted her …. Now she understood that he had been terribly hurt, and why he had concealed his feelings from her; she saw, now, that if she had been less preoccupied with her own disappointment and unhappiness, and more attuned to his, she might have been able to pierce that armour months ago… It was also rather humbling that, accustomed as she was to being fêted for her beauty and wit, in fact it was Percy who was more deserving of admiration, Percy whom she had come to believe was stupid and dull – how could she have allowed herself to be so easily deceived, she who prided herself on her intelligence and powers of perception? Oh, she would make amends! She would – if it pleased God to give them a second chance, and the time to use it – she would make Percy rejoice that she was his wife!

He stirred again, and murmured something – "Margot?" – "Yes, Percy, I am here, I am here, dearest" she whispered; but then she realised that he was not really awake, and she returned to her innermost thoughts as she looked down at him lying in her lap. Her gaze wandered slowly, as if seeing for the first time, over the smooth thick hair, the straight brows and firm mouth, the pale skin, slightly shadowed around the square jaw; his nearness, his embrace after so many lonely months, the faint scents of his hair, and skin, and fresh shirt, were combining to make her feel as if she had drunk a little too much wine …. The soft shirt had fallen open at the neck and she watched the pulse in his throat; she could see the smooth skin of his broad chest, and she suddenly longed to touch him, to feel that strong heartbeat against her own breast, and his skin against hers … She realised that this was desire, strong desire for him: a feeling she had not recognised in herself since their marriage, and which she had not thought she would ever feel again, and she stretched out a hand towards him; then she drew it back, almost shocked at herself – what would he think of her if he should wake, now? He might not wish it – it might be too soon – or perhaps it would never be, again… For months she had deliberately pushed away any recollection of their wedding night, but now everything seemed different and she knew she wanted to recapture the joy which they had both felt then; how very bitter it would be if they were to return to their separate lives again!

She leant her head back against the pillows and closed her eyes, but the tears came now, slipping slowly down her cheeks, dropping on to her gown, as she allowed all the pent-up emotions of the past few days to surface, and wept silently while Percy slept.

Eventually she began to drift into a half-waking, half-sleeping reverie, dreaming of the two of them together, all misunderstandings resolved, forgiven and forgotten… making a fresh start… living completely as husband and wife, as they both had hoped all those months ago… perhaps it was not impossible after all…

Despite the pain his shoulders and back must have been causing him, Percy seemed to have been sleeping soundly as he lay in her lap; but as she slipped into deeper sleep herself, he woke, suddenly and quietly.

He did not move at first, but still lay with one arm thrown over Marguerite and his head in her lap. It was altogether unfamiliar – they had never lain like this even in the days of their courtship – but it was tender, comforting, and he had slept deeply. He knew she was asleep and he did not want to move, but he also knew that they might not be far from Dover and that Marguerite would wish to be prepared for the landing, so he raised himself up on to his elbows, wincing a little as he did so, and pulled himself up to sit beside her, leaning back gingerly against the pillows. He had, perforce, to sit very close to her, the bunk being not very much wider than his broad shoulders, and Marguerite was well awake by now. As if to relieve the tension of their unaccustomed situation, Percy said with a smile, "When I had this boat fitted out I had not expected ever to be entertaining a lady in my cabin, but if you are to become a regular sailor, my dear, I shall need to have some adjustments made to the sleeping arrangements!" Then, seeing the tearstains on her dress, he asked quietly, "You have been crying, sweetheart?"

She did not reply, struggling not to weep again, but when he gently turned her face to his and smoothed the tears off her cheeks with his fingers, she somehow knew that all would be well.

"Percy…" she said, her voice barely more than a whisper, "I… Will you…" She did not know how to put into words all that was in her heart, but he cut short her hesitation, putting a finger on her lips and saying, "There is no need to speak of what is past, dear; we did not understand each other, you and I, and were lost, one to the other; but now we are found, and all that matters is that I love you, and you, I think, love me, and we are together again." He took both her hands in his, and kissed the palms in turn, and then, looking deep into her eyes, he said, "I love you, Margot; I have loved you since the first moment I saw you; and I shall always love you, until I go to my grave." She could not speak, but as she returned his gaze he saw in her face all he wanted to know, and he kissed her, at first gently, then, as she returned the kiss, more passionately –

Suddenly there was a quiet tap at the cabin door.

He broke away from her, "That's Andrew's knock", he said, his voice shaking a little, "I'm sorry, m'dear, but I think it may be time for us to make ready for landing. – Ahem… Come in, Andrew!"

It was indeed Sir Andrew, who, seeing the revered chief and his lady sitting side by side on the bunk, was almost overcome with embarrassment, until Percy recovered his own composure and said cheerfully, "Andrew, if you are come to tell us we are coming into Dover, I shall be for ever in your debt if you can find some shoes on board that may nearly fit her Ladyship!"

THE END