A Summoning: The Scarlet Pimpernel

15 November 1792, two-thirty in the afternoon

Blakeney Manor

Marguerite Blakeney turned the letter over a few times, examining it.  The parchment, starched and heavy, was of a kind she had not seen before, as was the odd seal – tricolour wax, with the impressions of a white star, a silver moon, and a gold sun all entwined.  Surely it was meant for Percy; any message from the League would be sent to him, not her, and her only personal correspondences were with Louise and Suzanne.

And yet James had put the letter in her hand, and sure enough, it was her name so neatly scripted on the front.  Even that confused her, though, and she flipped the letter over to peruse it again.

Lady Marguerite Blakeney

Daughter of Flame

Marguerite had no idea what that meant, and yet she did know, somewhere deep in the recesses of her soul.  Her mind tried to dredge up the reference, but it was like trying to recall a fragment of a dream once the sun has risen: insubstantial, unexplained, but still maddeningly there.

"Marguerite!  Marguerite!"  Suzanne de Tourney (soon to be Ffoulkes) could be heard before seen, though when she burst through the doorway to Marguerite's room, a floof of pink ruffles, it was certainly a spectacle.  "Marguerite, I—oh!  You've got one, too!"  Suzanne drew a folded bit of paper from within her lacy sleeve.

"Have you read yours yet?" Marguerite asked, walking over to her friend.

"No, I was too afraid.  I thought I might have received it by mistake."

"As did I."  Marguerite touched Suzanne's missive lightly, noting the wax seal, identical to the one on her own letter.

"Let's open them together!"  Suzanne giggled, still so much the schoolgirl Marguerite had met years earlier.  "Perhaps the boys are funning us!"

Marguerite smiled wryly, but couldn't help think that there was more to this than a boyish prank, especially when she noticed that Suzanne's letter was addressed to:

Mlle Suzanne de Tourney

Companion

Marguerite slid her finger under the seal and split the letter open.  Before she could unfold it, she felt a furry brush against her calf, and realized one of the kittens had crawled beneath her skirt again.  Opening parchment, she noted that it was in the same flowing script as on the front.

"'Lady Marguerite Blakeney,'" she read aloud.  "And I presume yours says 'Suzanne de Tourney' – 'Your presence is requested at the three-hundred-forty-seventh Council of Principals, to be held on the Fourth of September, YED 26, at the Castle Celestia in Aranothyium.  The Portals have been opened, and your Summons will occur precisely at the eleventh hour of the morning on Friday, the 16th of November, Greenwich time.  It is imperative that you attend.  Further matters will be elucidated at the Council.  Formally, Lady Arawyn of Celestia.'"

Suzanne tittered nervously.  "Well, what in heavens does that – yeeah!"  She jumped up in the air suddenly.

"It's just Arabelle or Aurélie, Suzanne, they seem to have developed an affection for ankles.  But what do you make of this letter?"

"I haven't the slightest…" Suzanne replied, tucking in back into her sleeve, then reaching down to pick up a tiny calico kitten.  Aurélie, Marguerite thought, bemused.  "Celestia… is that in Prussia?"

"I don't think so, Suzanne… besides, that's only the castle's name… Aranothyium…"  Marguerite twisted the unfamiliar word around her tongue with surprising ease.

"Hmm, well, it sounds quite foreign to me," the blonde girl remarked, stroking Aurélie between the ears.  "Maybe it's in the east, the Ottoman Empire or India or some such.  Or perhaps even in America.  But then how are we supposed to get there by tomorrow morning?"  Marguerite shrugged.  Suzanne's dainty lips formed a pout.  "Well, I still think the boys are playing a joke on us, and it isn't at all nice of them.  What else could it be?"

Marguerite looked at the strange, broken seal again.  "What else, indeed?"

~~*~~