15 November 1792, five o'clock in the evening
the home of Sir Andrew Ffoulkes
"It's a code of some sort. Someone's trying to tell us something."
"Lud, fellow, I think that much is obvious," Percy snorted in Tony's general direction. "Otherwise we wouldn't have received these missives, would we?"
"Do you think… it's a cry for help? From someone in Paris, perhaps?" Andrew was giving the broken seal an inquisitive stare, holding it up to the light as though he expected that to reveal anything.
"It sounds urgent… 'imperative that you attend'… but what the devil is this Council business about?" Frustrated, Percy tossed his letter down on the table, atop the forgotten playing cards. It lay there, half open, with the words
Sir Percival Blakeney, Bart.
The Rogue Son
left staring up at him. Percy furrowed his brow and glared at the words, offending in their obscurity. Tony and Andrew's letters had read simply "Companion" below their names, and no one could make sense of the epithet assigned to Percy.
No one could make sense of anything, that was the simple truth of the matter.
"Maybe it's a warning…" Tony muttered, stroking his chin as he paced around the room.
Percy gave him a withering look. "Of what, then?"
"Err…"
Andrew had opened his letter and was re-reading the contents. "Isn't Celestia somewhere in Prussia?" Tony smacked him upside the head in an off-handed manner. "Oww…"
Percy drummed his fingers on the card table, still giving a death-look at his letter. The three men remained in silence, all looking at their respective parchments; Percy glaring from a distance, Andrew holding it absurdly near to his eyes, and Tony perusing it as casually as though it were a dinner invitation. The stillness broke when the door to the library banged open and a pink silken figure appeared.
"Suzanne!" Andrew exclaimed, as he and Percy leapt up from their seats. "What are you doing here?"
"You've got them too!" she shrilled, ignoring the question and pointing a finger at the letter in his hands. "All of you!"
Percy started. "Wait… you mean…"
"I received one earlier today. So did Marguerite." To prove herself, Suzanne brandished a folded paper, which Andrew took from her, looking at the seal.
Tony and Percy exchanged looks. "I'll warrant Armand and Louise did as well," Percy declared.
"Edward? Thomas? The other members of the League?" Tony asked.
"I'll make inquiries," Andrew offered.
"You won't have time," Percy said, snatching his letter up from the table. "By eleven tomorrow morning? Unless we want to spend the night racing about the countryside tracking all our members down…"
"This is madness…" muttered Andrew.
"No… this is a Summons…" Percy said, in a voice not quite his own, then shook his head as though waking from a dream.
Tony, Andrew, and Suzanne blinked at him.
"Err… Percy, we've got something going on here. This is no time for you to go spooky on us."
"I… didn't mean to. I don't know what that was." He looked at the front of his letter again, then dashed to the side of the room to grab his coat from the stand. "I've got to go to Marguerite."
"And you've got to go home," Andrew said to Suzanne. "How did you get here, anyway?"
"Coerced the coachman to stop here before taking me to Mama's. Oh, don't fuss, I left Marguerite's early so I would have time…"
"Deuce take it, girl, you're going to be the death of me."
Percy had long since stopped listening, and was on his way out the door. "Percy, wait!" Tony yelled, chasing him down the hallway.
He rounded neatly to face his cousin. "My dear fellow, this is a mystery that needs solving. I'm going home to my clever wife to see what she's managed to figure out in the time since Suzanne left her." He shook the letter emphatically. "I imagine I'll be seeing you tomorrow one way or the other – either in this Aranothyium place… or I'll meet you at the club at three for a race. Mademoiselle." He executed a smart bow to Suzanne before turning back around and charging out the door, calling for someone to bring him Sultan.
~~*~~
