And once again, hello, and welcome back. I've very little to say, other then this is the BIG chapter that all of you have been waiting for. So, I sort of made some things up. Big deal, I've got some really cool thing called "Artistic Licence". Oh yes. BUT! I really want to know what you think of it, as it is pretty important to the development/conclusion of the story. And there.So, please review if you like it, review if you see something you don't like,and enjoy!

Disclaimer: Someday, I shall own the rights to something that everyone will want to copy, but the Scarlet Pimpernel will never be one of those things.

Falcon in the Dive

Chapter 9: You Are My Home

Marguerite stood outside Percy's room nervously twisting a lock of stray hair around her finger. Trembling horribly, she reached out to the door handle, but quickly withdrew her hand. The moment she opened the door, her judgment would begin, and Percy alone would decide if she was to live or die, for she surely could not live without him. If he were to reject her, it would certainly be the death of her.

She reached out for the handle again and tears seeped from her eyes as she grabbed the brass knob. Breathing deeply and composing herself, she wiped away her tears and slowly opened the door. Cautiously peeking her head into the room, she saw her husband standing at the window, his hands clasped neatly behind his back as he gazed into the streets below.

Marguerite momentarily stopped breathing; her beloved husband was wrapped in bandages. She nearly started to cry once again but breathed deeply and controlled herself. She would ask about that later. She slipped through the slightly opened door and gently closed it behind her. "Percy." she whispered in a trembling voice.

Percy inhaled deeply and held his breath for a moment. He had promised himself that when he spoke to his lovely wife, he would forget all that her brother had told him and hold no prejudice against her. However, now that she was standing in the room, his vow was becoming increasingly difficult to uphold as his mind betrayed him and images of Chauvelin and Marguerite engaged in the throes of passion filled his mind. He slowly turned to face her, and as his pained eyes locked with her desperate ones, he softly whispered "Marguerite."

Marguerite smiled happily as she finally heard her husband's voice again. She began to walk swiftly towards Percy so that she might embrace him but stopped suddenly as if some deadly shaft had struck her. Her eyes shone with torment and pain as she looked upon her husband and brought her hands down over her womb. She was impure, and touching Percy may soil his innocence and perfection.

Percy watched intently as the emotions played across Marguerite's face; first to joy, then to pain and remorse. His heart broke as he watched the beautiful young woman in such a state of misery and wanted nothing more then to draw her into his arms and tell her that everything would be alright. That he already knew what happened and he forgave her. But this stubborn, jealous side of him rooted him to the spot as a part of him couldn't bear to touch her when mere hours before, her naked body had shared tenderness or God knows what with that French halfwit.

Marguerite was overcome with shame and guilt for her actions over the past two days and began to silently weep. "Percy, I…" She choked on her words and cried harder. She needed to tell Percy, but it was proving to be much more difficult then she had previously imagined it would be. "Percy, I need to speak with you." She tearfully said.

Percy finally broke. Despite his attempted to remain removed from his traitorous wife, he was still desperately in love with her, and the sight of her crying the way she did was nearly as bad as Armand's news that she was sleeping with Chauvelin. Finally moving form his place at the window, he walked swiftly to his wife and took her in his embrace.

As Percy wrapped his arms around her, Marguerite wept even harder and pushed away from him. "Percy, please! I am undeserving of your love!"

"Why, Margot?" he cried in agony as she refused him.

"Because I stand before you knee deep in sin!" she shouted as she wept uncontrollably. "Percy, I have been spying for Chauvelin, and it was I who betrayed your name to him! And Chauvelin and I, we…"

"Marguerite, stop!" Percy cried, quickly interrupting what he knew would be news far worse then what he just heard. "Can we just deal with these problems one at a time? Please?" He slowly walked over to her and gently drew her into his arms again.

"Percy, please!"

"Do you love me, Marguerite?" he asked softly, tilting her chin up so he could look into her beautiful blue eyes.

Marguerite calmed down instantly. Though he knew that she betrayed him, he was still sweet, gentle Percy. After being lost for so long, she had finally found the man that she fell in love with. All acts, all disguises had vanished; this was Percy. She encircled his waist with her arms and laid her head on his chest. "I love you, Percy. More then anything, more then life itself."

Percy's heart took flight. Everything was right in the world at that moment. Never mind that she betrayed him, or that his worst enemy was her lover. She still loved him, and as long as they had their love, all would be well. Gently stroking her hair, he softly whispered, "See? We love each other, Marguerite. We can work through this. Now, let's start at the beginning." He released her and led her to the bed and had her sit down. He knelt before her and gently took her hands in his. "Your first problem?"

Sniffling slightly as her tears receded, she softly said "I betrayed you to Chauvelin." Despite that she had just confessed a terrible truth, she smiled lovingly at her husband. "You're the Pimpernel, Percy. I…I couldn't believe it, but it's true, isn't it?"

"That it is, Madame. Now, why did you betray my name to our Frenchie friend?

"I…" Marguerite swallowed and tried to compose herself. That piece of information would be much harder to tell him. "It…it's complicated."

"I have time, and you have my undivided attention."

Marguerite sighed and whispered, "I came to France to save Armand and was caught by Chauvelin. He gave me a choice: deliver the name of the Pimpernel to him, or Armand would be sent to the Guillotine. I, of course, didn't know that you were the Pimpernel, so I agreed to his terms. I got Armand to tell me that you are the Pimpernel, and I…" Marguerite suddenly stopped. She couldn't go on unless Percy knew about her affair.

Percy sensed his wife's tension and affectionately squeezed her hands. "It's alright. Go on."

"Percy, may I ask you a question before I continue?" Marguerite asked shyly.

He smiled sweetly at the woman. "But of course."

Before I left for France, I spoke to the Pimpernel at the Prince's Ball. That was you, wasn't it?"

"Sink me, but it was!" he said in his most foppish manner, which immediately relived the tension and earned him a slight laugh from his wife.

"Then you know, Percy, about my previous relationship with Chauvelin?" she said quietly.

Percy's countenance dropped a bit and he quietly responded, "Yes, I know about that."

"Well, Percy, Chauvelin never stopped loving me. He still does. I tell you this because he threw in a second condition for Armand's safety. On top of delivering the Pimpernel's identity to him, I was…" She fought back the urge to cry and continued onwards. "I was to become his lover again."

Though Percy had already known this, nothing could prepare him for the pain and anguish he felt when Marguerite herself had told him of the awful extent of her actions. Straining to keep the pain out of his voice, he softly asked "And you complied?"

Tears once again fell from Marguerite's eyes. "I did. That's how he got me to confess your name. He…he touched me and I lost myself, Percy. He interrogated me when he knew I couldn't control myself, and it slipped before I knew what I was saying. I couldn't control myself, Percy." She was crying freely now and threw herself into Percy's arms. "I'm so sorry! Oh, God, I'm so sorry, Percy!"

Percy pulled Marguerite close and held her tightly. His pity and sympathy for the weeping girl in his arms quickly dissolved into anger, not toward his wife, but toward Chauvelin. As it seemed, the agent was wholly responsible for Marguerite's betrayal of his name. However, he braced himself for the explanation of her infidelity, for he believed the reason for the affair to be twofold. "Marguerite, there is no need to be sorry for betraying my name. You were doing what you believed to be right. I forgive you for that entirely." Gently kissing the top of her head, he seated her back on the bed and said "Now, tell me about this little liaison of yours."

Marguerite began to cry harder. "Percy, I fear that you will no longer love me after I make this confession."

He smiled sweetly and gently whispered "Nonsense. It may pain me, but we will always have our love. We can overcome all vices as long as our love stays strong."

Marguerite smiled sadly at her husband and found the strength from Percy to continue. "Percy, I did become Chauvelin's lover again for Armand's sake originally, but it didn't take long for it to develop into something more. I…" She tried to speak, but new tears choked her voice. Failing to fight the tears, she began to weep bitterly and between sobs she managed to choke "I love Chauvelin, Percy."

The Pimpernel felt as though he was drowning; he couldn't breathe and his head was spinning. Hearing those terrible words from Armand was bad, but when Marguerite spoke those same words, Percy watched helplessly as his entire world shattered before his eyes. He put his elbows on his knees and buried his face in his hands. "Oh, God, no…" he cried as tears began to fall from his closed eyes. "My Margot, you lied to me. You said you loved me."

Marguerite's tearful eyes filled with desperation. "Percy, I do love you!"

"How can you say that?" he quietly asked, slowly shaking his head. "You just now confessed your love for Chauvelin. How could you love two?"

Marguerite renewed her frantic, uncontrolled weeping and threw herself at her husband's feet. "Percy! Percy, please!" she cried, desperately clinging to her husband's leg as though he would disappear. "Let me explain! Please, Percy, my love, please!" She laid her forehead against his knee and wept harder, gently whispering "Please…"

Percy took his hands from his face and looked down at the pitiful woman at his feet and absentmindedly stroked her hair. "Go on, Margot." he said quietly. "I'm listening."

Marguerite looked up into Percy's trusting eyes and instantly felt safe, peaceful and calm; feelings Chauvelin's eyes never drew from her. This was why she loved Percy so much more then she loved Chauvelin; loving, gentle and safe, Percy was her home. She owed him this explanation. "Percy, I'm going to tell you everything. You need to know this. I cannot explain otherwise."

She looked down briefly to push back and residue tears and met Percy's eyes once again. "Chauvelin and I met the day we stormed the Bastille. To make a very long story significantly shorter, we very quickly discovered that we loved each other. We never confessed this, we just knew it, we could feel it. He was the first man that I ever truly loved." She blushed slightly and turned her eyes away from her husband. "Chauvelin made me a woman, Percy." she said quietly. "I loved him so much, I didn't think twice about giving him my virginity."

Feeling her husband tense, she reached up and gently stroked his cheek. "Then I met you, Percy, and my whole world changed. It didn't take long for me to fall in love with you. You are more loving, more gentle then Chauvelin ever was. You became everything to me, and six weeks after I met you, I was ready to give you the rest of my life."

Marguerite's face fell and her eyes once again filled with sorrow. "Chauvelin and I, we never really broke up. We were both terribly busy, he with the Revolution and I with the theater, so we didn't see each other often during this time. My acting career had taken off, and I was usually doing two performances a day. Chauvelin had become a central figure of the Revolution and he was holding three fulltime jobs. He often came home after I had already fallen asleep and would leave before I woke up. Business of his would also take him away from home for weeks at a time, so I rarely saw him. It was around this time that you came into my life. I think that I met with Chauvelin once during the time you were courting me. I didn't break off with him then because he was my lover and you were, so I thought, an overzealous admirer."

She took a deep breath and a few tears came back to her eyes. "The next time I saw him, Percy, you and I were engaged to be married. You made me forget him for a little while, not stop loving him. Naturally, he was furious, but I knew I made the right decision. My love for you was so much more pure, more lasting and much stronger then my love for Chauvelin. But nonetheless, I was never given the chance to get over him. Six weeks is hardly enough time to get over a longstanding lover like Chauvelin."

Tears once again to flow freely as she recalled the painful memories and she whispered, "Then, after our marriage, you changed. I didn't know what happened, but the man I had fallen in love with had disappeared entirely, and I couldn't help myself from missing Chauvelin. Our marriage was supposed to help me forget him, but since you were gone, I only desired him more in my loneliness. As long as you were near, I still held on to the hope that the man I fell in love with still existed somewhere inside you, so I managed to push Chauvelin away the times he tried to get me back. Then I came to France. With you nowhere near, he was easily able to bring me back to him. And I…Oh, God, I'm sorry! I'm so sorry!"

Percy was absolutely stunned. He naturally knew none of this. Poor woman. She had been refused the chance to forget her love for Chauvelin because of the whole St. Cyr incident, and that wasn't even her fault. If anything, it was his fault for not clarifying the situation on their wedding day. And still, even after all the anguish and torment he had put his wife through, she still loved him. Percy's eyes slowly filled with tears. His sweet, beautiful Marguerite had to suffer all this because of his own stubbornness. He gathered her into hi arms and held her tightly as he covered her face with kisses. "My love, you have nothing to be sorry for."

"Percy, I've been unfaithful!" she cried in disbelief. "The worst crime I could possibly commit against you I have committed!"

"Then just promise me that you will love me faithfully for the rest of our lives."

Marguerite looked at him like he was the only man in the world. She gently stroked his cheek as if testing whether or not he was real. "Percy…" she softly whispered, full of awe, admiration and love for the man in front of her and she slowly leaned forward and pressed her lips against her husband's.

The moment she kissed him, all the passion that Percy had kept pent up during their marriage came unleashed. He wrapped his hands around her arms and pulled her as close as he could and he deepened the kiss, moaning in pleasure.

Marguerite was surprised at the passion her husband exhibited, but she instantly melted into him. For a few short moments, everything was the way it should have always been between them, but a sharp pain ran through Marguerite and she quickly pulled away from Percy as the pain in her abdomen reminded her what now lay within her body.

Percy whimpered in protest as Marguerite's lips left his and, slightly flushed and out of breath, looked pleadingly at hi wife as she slid off his lap and stood by the window. "Marguerite…" he begged as he stood and reached out to her.

"Percy, I don't think you understand." she said sadly. "You could not possibly forgive me so quickly if you did."

"No, my Margot! I do understand!" he cried desperately. "Mind you, I'm not happy about your relationship with Chauvelin. I'm just happy you've returned to me." He looked sadly at the ground and morosely said, "You had no reason to come back to me. I've been horrible to you."

Marguerite shook her head slowly, and fought the urge to weep again. She had to stay strong. "There is no excuse for what I have done. And now my sin will plague us for the rest of our lives."

"What?" Percy was terribly confused. He had forgiven her, and everything was going to be alright. What was she getting at? "Margot, I don't understand…"

"Percy…" she whispered in a trembling voice as she looked at her husband with tears veiling her eyes. "I'm with child."

Percy staggered back as if he had been shot. Everything else he had been prepared for, so he could handle himself with a relative amount of calm and composure. But this was completely unexpected and therefore only that much more painful. For two nights, Agent Chauvelin, his hated enemy for now multiple reasons, had been lying between his wife's legs and now his seed had taken root within her. He had lost the battle; not only did Chauvelin make Marguerite love him, he bedded her, and now she was going to bear his child. She was forever bound to the agent, as her child, her first child, would be a part of the depraved, seductive fiend. Her first child. Her first child should have been his. "And what shall you do with it?" he asked harshly.

"I don't know." she said quietly as the tears ran down her face. "Oh, Percy. You're angry with me, aren't you?"

"Angry?" he asked dumbfounded. "You think I'm angry? Marguerite, angry hardly begins to cover it!" he shouted, his voice quivering with rage. "In nine months, I'll have to look at a piece of Chauvelin for the rest of my life!" He laughed bitterly and fixed a vice-like grip on the bedpost. "Just think of it. A living result of your passions to remind me that you were unfaithful to me, that you are in love with another man, that you made love to the most deplorable creature that ever walked the earth. All this while we were married!"

He turned and viciously glared at his wife. "And even now as I look at you, I possess the knowledge that a Hell fiend rests inside you. A spawn of Satan, just like its father!" He tightly clenched his eyes shut and covered his face with his hand. "How do you suppose these wounds are to heal if this child will be the knife that cuts the injury deeper each time I look upon it?"

Marguerite was crying harder then any of the previous times. Percy's anger frightened her, for she had never seen the man genuinely enraged, but she knew she deserved this, fool that she was. "I…Percy." she sobbed. "I don't have to have the child. I could try to miscarry it. I…I don't have to eat, or we could try to poison it, or…"

Percy's anger evaporated and his eyes filled with fear as he listened to the woman speak. He rushed to her side and took her into his arms. "No, no, Marguerite." he whispered as he stroked her hair. "No harm is to come to you or your baby, do you understand?"

"But, Percy, I…"

"Hush." he said as his arms tightened around her. "What's done is done. Though I am unhappy about it, I have already forgiven you for your affair with Chauvelin. As this is a result of your passions with the man, it was unfair of me to get angry with you for this. I overreacted. I'm sorry."

"We…we could find some way to dispose of the child after it is born. We could leave it at a church or…"

"Marguerite, listen to me." Percy held her at arms length and looked into her desperate eyes. "You conceived this child in your love for another man. The very least you can do is take responsibility for your actions and raise your child."

"But, Percy! What about you?" she cried. "You said that my baby will only cause you pain! Would you not like to be rid of the child?"

Percy smiled lovingly at Marguerite and tenderly embraced her. "My love, even though the child is Chauvelin's, it's just as much yours. How could I bring myself to dispose of something that is a part of you? Raise your chills, Marguerite, and I will try to be the best father I can be to your baby."

Marguerite looked at her husband with the highest esteem. She slid her hands around his neck and whispered, "I love you, Percy." before softly kissing him.

Percy would have stayed like that for the rest of eternity, yet as the sun shone through the window, he became urgent. The sun was starting to sink and it wouldn't be long before it set. He had to get them out of France. "Come, Margot!" he triumphantly stated as he broke away from her. "We need to get you and that brother of yours back to England. No doubt half the Republic is searching for you two."

Marguerite was positively shining. England. Home. She was going home. She suddenly remembered the question that she needed to ask her husband and quickly stated "Percy, may I ask you a question?"

"Certainly, my love." he said as he pulled on a shirt and dressed himself for the journey.

"Were you injured? You're covered in bandages."

"Ah. Yes." he said casually. "Our friend Chauvelin decided that I would look simply splendid with a few bullets lodged in my body. So much for his taste in fashion. It looked simply horrid, let me assure you."

Marguerite gasped in horror. "Oh, my Percy, are you alright?"

"Quite, my dear. Think nothing of it." He offered his arm to her and she eagerly took it. He led her out into the hallway and unceremoniously barged into the next room where they saw Tony, Andrew, and Armand staring dumbstruck at the Pimpernel and his wife.

Part of their speechlessness was due to the fact that Sir Percy Blakeney, Baronet, didn't bother to knock. The other part of it was that Percy and Marguerite were both glowing in their joy. All three men had expected the division between their leader and his wife to be much greater. It seemed, though, that the couple was perfectly cozy and comfortable in each other's company.

"Really, men." Percy said in his laziest drawl. "I leave you alone for what I imagine to be quite some time and you are not yet ready to leave? Sink me, but that is demned inconvenient! Come now. Hurry, hurry! We leave for Calais presently!" The three men jumped to attention and the Pimpernel, his lady, and his League were speeding toward Calais within ten minutes.


A large, black warhorse thundered across the French countryside toward the fast approaching coastal village of Calais. Both horse and rider were a fearsome sight. The beast was huge and fiendishly wild looking, which only made the rider more chillingly terrifying. Immaculately clean and kept, the golden eyes of the man glowed with sinister resolution and purpose, a vision of the Angel of Death himself. The horse stopped just outside the town and the rider dismounted and landed heavily on his feet. Instantly righting himself, he quickly strode into the city.

A sailor saw the vision in black approaching and quickly went to meet the man. "Citizen, what is your business?"

Swiftly drawing his sword, Chauvelin brought the blade straight across the man's neck; the steel biting into his flesh so deeply the head was nearly dislodged. "My business is none of yours." the agent cruelly said to the corpse at his feet as he deftly stepped over the body.

He quickly made his way over to the small inn located just before the dock, instantly striking down any poor soul that happened across his line of vision. He stepped into the inn and immediately took note of the man standing behind the front desk. "Have you seen that yacht in the harbor, Citizen?" Chauvelin asked sweetly.

The innkeeper looked up and quickly looked the man over, noticing the tricolor sash around his waist. The innkeeper paled; no visit from a revolutionary leader was ever a good thing. "Yes, I have." he answered politely.

"Beautiful ship." the agent continued. "I heard that it belongs to Sir Percy Blakeney of England."

"That it does, Citizen. He's a good man,Lord Blakeney is."

"Ah." With his suspicions confirmed, the agent slowly approached the man. "How long have you been aiding the Pimpernel, traitor?"

"What? I'm sorry, Citizen, but I haven't any idea what you speak of." The man was terrified, and he only hoped that it didn't show. There was no possible way the agent could have known about his assistance to the Pimpernel.

Chauvelin struck out at the man with lightning speed and the tip of his sword pierced the innkeeper's eye. He shivered in pleasure as the man's screams filled the air as he dropped to the ground and writhed in sheer agony. "Honesty is a virtue, traitor." Chauvelin quietly stated as he placed his foot on the man's mouth, instantly silencing the man's cries of pain. "Confess to your crime and I may let you live."

"I concede!" the man yelled as the agent removed his foot. "I have been aiding the Pimpernel!"

Chauvelin shook his head and softly clicked his tongue. "For shame, traitor." he gently admonished as he placed the heel of his boot on the man's temple and gradually applied pressure. Chauvelin began to softly chuckle and pant, his face flushing as the man's screams increased in pitch as more and more pressure was applied. The agent's foot suddenly sank several inches and the innkeeper's cries instantly ceased.

Chauvelin stood motionless for a few moments and allowed his arousal to subside. As he turned to leave, he noticed a torch upon the wall that lit the room. He impulsively reached out and took the torch from the wall and ran up the stairs with it. As he stood in the arrow hallway, he lifted the torch above his head and allowed the flames to lick the ceiling, and it wasn't long before the dry wood caught fire. Satisfied with his handiwork, Chauvelin dropped the torch and left the inn.

Within minutes, the entire building was engulfed in flames. A coastal wind began to blow and the fire jumped to another building and the inferno grew incrementally larger with each passing moment. Within an hour, the sun had set and the entire city of Calais was ablaze.

Chauvelin stood in the center of the city, completely untouched by the surrounding flames and seemingly unaffected by the heat. He shrugged off his coat, vest and shirt. His tanned, muscular body glistened with sweat, which made the flames around him gleam off his skin, giving him an ethereal glow. He looked up into the sky and his pale, yellow eyes reflected the blood red moon that hung low and menacing in the heavens.

"Come to me, Pimpernel." the agent smoothly whispered to the burning sky. Chauvelin's maniacal laughter rang throughout the night as the city of Calais continued to burn.