15 November 1792, six o'clock in the evening
Blakeney Manor
Marguerite had been sitting in the library, ensconced in a chair next to the fire, ever since Suzanne had left her, with only the enigmatic letter and a pot of hot chocolate for company. Outside, the sun had set, and she had not bothered to get up and light candles, and had given the servants instructions not to bother her, so when Percy came in, only the flickering of the fire illuminated the room. She stood up then, with the letter in her left hand. "You?" she inquired.
Percy strode across the room and plucked it from her fingers, glanced over it quickly, and pulled his own out of his pocket. "I, as well." He deposited that, too, into her grasp.
"What do you make of it, Percy?" she asked, looking up at him.
"I do not know, madame," he said, dropping a kiss on her forehead. "But I mean to find out."
He moved over to light one of the oil lamps. "But how?"
"I haven't quite worked that part out yet." He grinned over at her. "But we're both intelligent individuals. Something will come to us."
Marguerite compared the two notes, identical but for the addressee. "'The Rogue Son'?"
He quirked an eyebrow at her. "'Daughter of Flame', m'dear?"
Shaking her head, "I don't know, but it…"
"Seems familiar, don't it?"
She pressed a hand to her temple. "It does… and yet I don't know why… and it's been giving me a headache all day."
Percy flopped down into the armchair she had vacated, long limbs sprawling. "Where did it come from?"
"James only said that a cloaked messenger had given it to him."
He nodded vaguely. "Andrew's butler said the same thing…"
"Andrew received one as well?"
"And Tony, and Suzanne. I don't suppose your brother popped in this evening, did he?" She shook her head. "Pity. I'd like to know if he and Louise are wrapped up in this as well." He tugged his cravatte open a bit, and then sighed. "A mystery, Margot…"
She stepped over and settled herself on his lap, and he looped his arms around her. "You don't suppose… I mean, I don't believe Chauvelin could have anything to do with it, could he?"
Percy took the letters from her. "If we had been told how to get where we are going, or even where the demmed place is, I might suspect him. But we can't very well walk into a trap if we're not going anywhere, can we?"
"What do you suppose will happen at eleven tomorrow, then?"
"I simply don't know, m'dear. But I propose we be ready for it."
Marguerite let her head drop onto her husband's shoulder, and he began absent-mindedly toying with one of her red-gold ringlets. "Margot…" he said after a few moments passed.
"Hm?"
"That dress Suzanne was wearing today looked awfully familiar."
Marguerite grinned to herself. "It ought to have. It was mine before she altered it."
"You gave it to her, then?"
"Yes."
"Good. Pink looks ever so much better on her. On you, it's just… inexplicable."
"Why do you think I've switched to blue and gold, my darling?"
"Infinitely better."
Marguerite laughed, and Percy smiled. The events of the previous month had been trying, but all worth it, just to hear her laughter and feel her warmth once again. To have his Margot back at last… any trial was worth that.
"Percy?"
"Margot?"
"Do you get the feeling that this is the beginning of a great adventure?"
He gave a mock-sigh. "I hope not, m'dear. I haven't yet recovered from the last one."
She laughed again. "Oh, but Percy!"
"Yes, yes, darling, I have that same feeling. Mysterious letters, sent to the League and their loves, bearing enigmatic and symbolic seals… it has all the markings of the start of something tremendous."
~~*~~
[Authoress's Note:
[For further reading, please see Christine Persephone's The Summons.
[Disclaimer: I do not own the Blakeneys or anyone else in this story. I believe they quite own themselves.
[And really, various film- and musical-producers will insist on dressing Marguerite in pink. I can not ken why. Pink with that hair just can not work properly]
