A/N: This is my version of the story of the Scarlet Pimpernel. Based off the movie, starting at my fav scene: Lord Greneville's ball. It's a Marguerite/Paul (Chauvelin) pairing, so if you don't like that, read at your own risk. Reviews are welcome, flames are not. This story will be told mostly from Margot's perspective with Paul's and Percy's thrown in occasionally. I've just decided to make this story not a one-shot, so let me know what you think!
LOVERS Chapter One: A Pimpernel Discovered-----------------------------------
Lady Marguerite Blakeney walked slowly to the empty corridor where Paul Chauvelin was waiting. She tried not to stare into his emerald eyes as he watched her approach.
"There was only a fragment left by the time I got to it," she whispered quickly. She could still feel Paul's eyes on her.
"Could you make anything out?" he whispered back. She could hear the passion in his voice, as much as he tried to disguise it.
"It said, 'Leave for France tonight. Meet me in the library at midnight for your instructions.' "
"The signature. How was it signed?"
"It wasn't signed. There was only the symbol of a small flower."
"The Scarlet Pimpernel." A slow smile spread across Paul's thin lips. "In the library at midnight. You have done well, my dear," he said, turning towards her, "very well indeed. Remarkable how we compliment each other. But then, we always did."
He reached out and ran his finger down her jaw, turning her face towards him. As she gazed into his eyes, his hand slid slowly down to her shoulder. Against her will, her hands crept up his chest.
Suddenly his grip on her shoulder tightened as he pulled her into him, kissing her with more passion than he ever had before. He moved over her to trap her against the wall with his body. Despite Marguerite's mind screaming at her that she was married to Percy, she reached around his neck to pull him closer. As she did so, a shrill voice rang across the corridor.
"So this is where you're hiding." A plump woman was striding towards them." You promised me the next jig, you naughty boy."
Paul quickly turned around so that the plump woman did not have time to see Marguerite. Numbly, Marguerite watched them go. As she reached up to touch her lips where Paul had kissed her, one solitary thought wormed it's way into her mind: The library, midnight.
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As various giddy faces swirled by, Paul caught a glance at the clock. 11:55. In five minutes, the Scarlet Pimpernel would be in the library. As he danced, he entertained fantasies of the Pimpernel's capture. As the clock began to strike, Paul disentangled himself from the dancers, escaping the ballroom just as the clock struck twelve.
He strode into the library, but a quick glance around told him all he needed to know. The library was deserted. A draft from the open window brushed his check. He walked over to it, but the balcony, stairs, and garden were deserted. A quiet snore drifted across the room. Paul turned to find Sir Percival Blakeney stretched out on the couch. Seeing the fop asleep without a care in the world, and Paul almost laughed out loud. What would Percy say if he knew Paul had just kissed his wife? Or, even better, what Percy say if he knew his wife had kissed Paul back?
Paul turned to go, and as he did, something on the floor caught his eye. Picking it up, he recognized it as one of Marguerite's earrings. Bringing it to his face, breathing in her sweet scent, he realized two things: Marguerite had been her and warned the Pimpernel that he, Paul, would be here, and therefore the fop was the Scarlet Pimpernel.
Paul spun on his heel and walked back to the window. The garden was, he noticed upon a second look, not deserted. Marguerite was sitting on a bench in a far corner of the garden, looking up at the window where Paul stood.
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When Marguerite looked up at the library window, she saw Paul silhouetted there, watching her. As she looked, he stepped out of the window and onto the balcony. Still watching her, he descended the stairs and crossed the garden to sit by her.
"I found this in the library," he said quietly, holding up her earring. "How careless of you to have dropped it."
"Thank you," Marguerite replied, taking the earring.
"So, you knew all along, didn't you." It was more a statement than a question.
"Knew what?" asked Marguerite, confused.
"That your husband, my dear, is the Scarlet Pimpernel," Paul said silkily. Marguerite gasped.
"I did not know," she said.
"He never told you? And yet, he told your brother."
"Armand?"
"The very same." Paul brought a letter out of his coat pocket. "This letter is addressed to him, signed by the Scarlet Pimpernel. Evidently, he does not trust you as much as it seems. Neither of them do."
Marguerite sighed. Her brother, and, come to think of it, probably all of the servants at the Blakeny manor, had the confidence of her husband, and she, his wife, did not. A tear slipped down her cheek and she began to cry.
"My dear, if I knew this would distress you so, I would not have mentioned it," Paul whispered. At this Marguerite cried harder, knowing that although Percy was her husband, he did not trust her. Yet Paul, who now would never be her husband, trusted and loved her completely. Did Percy even love her anymore? Marguerite had no idea. Paul reached out and wiped a tear from Marguerite's cheek. "I'm sorry," he said.
"No, Paul, I should be sorry, for the way I spoke to you thins morning. What I said, I didn't mean it. I guess I was trying to make it true, by saying it." She was, of course, referring to that morning when she had insisted that Paul had never been quite good enough for her.
"It's quite alright, my dear," Paul said, taking Marguerite's hand in his. Just then, a voice rang through the stillness to reach their corner of the garden.
"Marguerite, darling, the carriage has arrived." Marguerite and Paul looked up. Percy was standing on the balcony, looking at the sky.
"I'm sorry, Paul, I must go. Thank you," Marguerite said quickly. Paul nodded and stood, leading Marguerite to the balcony stairs.
"Good night, my dearest," he whispered, kissing her cheek lightly.
Marguerite reached the top of the stairs and turned to wave farewell, but Paul had gone. She turned and smiled at Percy, content, for now, to let him take her arm and lead her back through the library, and home to the Blakeney manor.