Armand glanced anxiously at Sir Andrew Foullkes, dressed in his ragged sailor's uniform, and hoped he looked as unrecognizable as his friend did. The fashionable, lively and kind young nobleman appeared to be a seafaring middle-aged brute with leathery tan skin caused from starting his career in his teens. Somehow, Foullkes had made some of his teeth disappear, pulling off the entire illusion. Armand scratched his itchy pepper gray wig, which was falling out of its ponytail in the back,and pulled down his pants, trying to cover his ankles. They were frayed at the end, and his sans-culotte costume was topped off with his dirty bare-feet and red Phrygian cap.
"Are you sure about handling this Armand?" Foullkes muttered in a tentative, uncertain whisper. Armand gulped down a hard lump in his throat and nodded, knowing all to well that what he was doing conflicted everything he had believed in, and went against everything he had worked for years. Still, Armand was going through with this fantastic, bizarre plan his brother-in-law had entrusted him the first meal without Marguerite. Halfway through the supper, after Percy had commented on the cut of his sleeves and such trivialities, he remarked,"I am going to visit Paris for a few days while Lady Blakeney is away. You are welcome to accompany me." Armand glanced up at Marguerite's husband, somewhat shocked that the coward Blakeney would want to go to France at all. The look on the man's face stupefied him even more. There was still a laziness to his blue eyes, but also a fervent, intense gaze in them, and Armand was thoroughly confused by this foppish man's sudden new attitude.
"What sport is there for you in France, Sir Percy?" He was answered by a half-shy smile and then by Percy's bell, tinkling in his long, feminine hands.
"Plenty to satisfy me..." Percy gazed off toward a window and then smiled. Setting down his fork he asked, "Would you like to take our conversation elsewhere? Or are you not done with your food yet?" For a reason Armand could not explain, he agreed to join him, leaving half of his food on his plate, and started toward the study downstairs. "Odds life Armand! There is more appropriate rooms for this conversation." Percy lead him to the stairway and guided him to a room that had totally gone unnoticed by himself. He vaguely remembered mistaking it for Marguerite's room and trying it, but finding it locked, he had passed on. At the time, Armand believed that there were probably dozens of rooms in the manor that were locked; it was nothing to be unexpected, but something struck him odd or special about this door, now that his brother-in-law would take special care to lock it. Percy took out an ornate key, unlocked it and paused before entering.
"I am choosing to trust you Armand, and have suspected-" Percy was cut off by Armand's laughter. Such an expression on Sir Percy's face, one of total and absolute seriousness, shocked Armand into this hysterical laughter. For a moment Percy raised an eyebrow in conusion and then smiled inanely again, and Armand could hardly feel that he had in some way disappointed him, and tried to explain his reasons for his humor.
"You demmed Frenchies are all the same," Percy muttered and stalked into the room. Armand could barely believe he was almost pleading to gain Percy's confidence again. This fellow probably needed to talk to him about something important, maybe a business transaction, or marriage advice. He knew things weren't going well with his sister's marriage to Blakeney. There was obviously serious problems between the two of them if Marguerite had fled to him the day after her marriage, and came back to this Percy, who she claimed was different from before, though Armand could not remember Percy sweating over anything non-trivial before matrimony.
"Give me reason to be unlike any 'Frenchie' Percy. Tell me, what would you confide in me?"
"Gad my dear boy!" Percy laughed his usual laugh again. "I wish your opinion on the color of the new smock of my coat! What do you think?" Armand ignored this somewhat bitter and sarcastic comment Blakeney made. He was being thoroughly surprised every moment of this encounter.
"This is not what you dragged me up here to discuss, Sir Percy."
"I did not drag you up here to be laughed at, Armand." Percy's eyes and voice blazed with emotion again.
"Of course Percy, forgive me. I was just a little shocked at first..."Armand had drifted off as Percy smiled his real smile. It was a full smile, of joy and fulfillment.
"You will see Armand, that I have plans for this sport in France," Percy replied as he shut the door and locked it. Armand glanced around the room, filled with plush furniture like every other room in Blakeney Manor. In front of large windows overlooking the garden, a wide, dark desk invited one to sit in the comfy, velvet chair behind it. Armand could tell Percy spent many hours alone in this room, whether napping or watching his wife and her friends strolling the grounds. On one wall were two maps, one of France, and then Paris. On the other side of the dark wooden wall, was a picture of a beautiful blonde-haired lady. Armand guessed it must have been an ancestor. He glanced back at Percy who was already sitting down in the chair behind the desk, leaning on his hands. "But I must have your word that this will be a secret, from everyone, even M-" Percy paused for a painful, suspenseful moment. "Even your sister."
"Why?" Armand sat down on a chair across from Percy. He was now more curious than ever about this proposition Percy was suggesting, and wished he would get to the point.
"You see Armand..."Percy shuffled his hands together and then started over, "I am sure you have heard of the Scarlet Pimpernel?"
"That English fellow whisking away aristos?"
"Yes my dear Armand. What would you you do if I told you I...knew him?" Percy was nervous, shaking actually. His fingers tapped a tattoo on the desk aand his leg moved to an unsteady rhythm.
"You know the.. Scarlet Pimpernel?" Out of all the aristocrats the spy could have told his identity to, it was this man? The fop of fops, king of dandies?
"Did he tell you this himself?"
"No!" Percy shook his head instantly. His eyes finally rested on Armand's figure, although he could not quite meet the other's eye. "No, the Scarlet Pimpernel would not tell anyone his identity."
"How do you know then?"
"He saved me..." Percy finally met his eyes and Armand found depths of passion, longing, curiosity. understanding, and heartbreak.
"What? When did the French dare try to guillotine you?"
"It was a time a great physical, and emotional trouble for me personally."He sighed and leaned back in his chair. "He found me, or rather, I found him in the streets of Paris. He saved his first of many that day," Percy gave a wistful smile.
Armand thought he understood now. "Percy...Are you in league with the Scarlet Pimpernel?"
Percy had given a long laugh, not inane and annoying, but full, amusing and actually joyful. "Sink me Armand! I am the Scarlet Pimpernel."
Armand remembered the conversation they had afterwards, of his incredulity at this reveal, the more Armand thought about it, the more it made sense to him. Percy was the center of the circles in London, he was rich and totally unsuspected by everyone who was acquainted with the fop or even thought they knew him. Thinking of this again, he remembered Percy's blind trust in him, not knowing for sure that he wouldn't betray him. Armand knew if he went back on his oath, Percy would never look at him the same way.
"I'll meet you at the Chat Gris in two days," Armand informed Foullkes and went on his way to Calais' prison. Even though Percy was in Paris to help with the league there, Armand knew he'd look at him with pride and satisfaction the next time he saw his brother-in-law.