Disclaimer: The Scarlet Pimpernel is not mine, the Scarlet Pimpernel will
never be mine, and that is a fact that I have learned to deal with.
Hey-Lo all!!!! This is my first non-Robin Hood fic! I know... I should update my other ones...-_-
Hmph. I had to write a SP ficcy! It was an emotional, physical, and psychological need!
Read, and enjoy!!!
"The Scarlet Romance"
~*~
It was dusk, and Paris was darkening. Madame la Guillotine had finished her bloody work, and the carts carrying the coffins were just finishing hauling the bodies of the cursed aristos and the men, women, and children, deemed traitors to their graves. The creaking of these bloodstained vehicles caused something to stir in the darkest alleyway in the terror ridden city.
The girl who had been sleeping there awoke, and she struggled to sit up. Her face was caked in mud, and as she moved from her resting place on the cobblestones, the paper thin dress she wore tore along a seam.
Another noise reached her ears, and she recoiled in horror, suspecting that it was a member of the secret police, coming to get the final remnant of her family. The de Lyons had in its day had been one of the most respected in the provences. But the two men who were running down the alleyway were not French, but English.
"Blakeney... I don't think... I can keep... this up... much longer."
"Just a bit longer... I don't think...they will...be able to either."
The one who had said that he could not last much longer ran ahead, and then tripped over the girl. He lay sprawled in the alleyway next to the girl. "Excusez –moi," He said breathlessly in perfect French.
Blakeney stopped by his fallen companion, "I say, Tony, are you all right?"
"A twisted ankle I think..."
"Damn." Blakeney looked about hurriedly. "Wait a minute. I barely noticed the girl who tripped you..."
"It was an accident, Monsieur." She whispered, fearful of his retribution.
Blakeney ignored her as the clatter and shouts of whoever was chasing them grew nearer, "Lie down in the shadows like she does." Tony obeyed as the other man did the same.
The pursuing men ran past them to stop in the road a hundred yards from where the girl and her British companions were lying. They looked about, terrified and not unsure of what to do.
"Where did he go?"
"He can't be far; we had him in our possession a quarter of an hour ago."
"If Citizen Chauvelin finds out that we had the Scarlet Pimpernel in our hands and let him slip away, he'll feed us to Madame la Guillotine!"
The Scarlet Pimpernel?!
"Then it is simple, Citizens, we will split into two groups. One will go left the other right. We will meet back here in a half-hour. If we do not succeed in finding the British dog, we will not tell anyone we ever had him. Understood?"
There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd, and the motley band of ruffians ran in different directions from each other.
Blakeney and his companion rose from the mud, laughing at the folly of the soldiers. As they began to move away, the girl, asked in desperation,
"Which one of you is the Scarlet Pimpernel?"
The laughing stopped. "Why do you want to know, Mademoiselle?" Tony said.
"I must speak to him."
"Why must you? So you can find out his whereabouts to tell our good friend Mr. Chambertin?" Blakeney asked dryly.
"No Monsieur."
"Why then?"
"My name is Madeline de Lyon."
"What?!" Blakeney exclaimed.
"The de Lyons were guillotined three weeks ago!" Tony added incredulously
"Oui Monsieur. My whole family was guillotined except for me." She stopped speaking and coughed, her whole body shaking with effort.
"Good heavens, the girl's ill!" Blakeney examined her with his lazy blue eyes, looking her up and down. "I should have suspected she was aristocracy by the fact that she could understand English. Tony, where's our nearest attic or cellar or something?"
Tony thought for a moment. "The apartment above the blacksmith's shop I believe."
Madeline felt strong arms lifting her easily. Lying comfortably in Blakeney's arms she whispered into his ear, "Merci." Then she fell into unconsciousness.
****
Madeline awoke in a bed. A bed! She had not slept in a comfortable bed since the revolution had begun. She breathed a sigh of joy and snuggled into the cool, crisp sheets and thought perhaps it all had been a dream. Maybe Mama would be in the next room singing and her little brother Thierry would come bouncing into her bed, asking her to tell a story. No. She could still feel a dull pain in her side and in her chest. But if she was not home, where was she? She took in her surroundings. She was in a plain bedroom that smelled like the sea, and felt her it rock gently back and fourth. A boat?! How in the world did she get on a boat?
The door to her room opened, and a somewhat familiar figure walked in, carrying a tray of some sort. The name Tony somehow came to her mind.
"Bonjour, mademoiselle."
"Bonjour monsieur."
"Ca-va?" he asked conversationally, "how are you?"
"Pas mal." She answered. "Not bad."
He smiled at her. "That's wonderful, mademoiselle."
She smiled back.
"We'll be in England soon."
"L'Angleterre?"
"Oui," he said, switching back to French. "You shall live with me, in my manor."
"Really?"
"Oui." He answered. "If there are no objections to it..."
"Non monsieur." She said quickly, "Anything is better than the streets!"
"Excellent!" a large grin spread across his face. "Well, I shall see you in a few hours; I have some duties up on deck. If you will excuse me, mademoiselle?"
"Adieu." She said smiling at him. When the door to her cabin closed, Madeline snuggled into her deliciously soft pillows and fell asleep.
Hey-Lo all!!!! This is my first non-Robin Hood fic! I know... I should update my other ones...-_-
Hmph. I had to write a SP ficcy! It was an emotional, physical, and psychological need!
Read, and enjoy!!!
"The Scarlet Romance"
~*~
It was dusk, and Paris was darkening. Madame la Guillotine had finished her bloody work, and the carts carrying the coffins were just finishing hauling the bodies of the cursed aristos and the men, women, and children, deemed traitors to their graves. The creaking of these bloodstained vehicles caused something to stir in the darkest alleyway in the terror ridden city.
The girl who had been sleeping there awoke, and she struggled to sit up. Her face was caked in mud, and as she moved from her resting place on the cobblestones, the paper thin dress she wore tore along a seam.
Another noise reached her ears, and she recoiled in horror, suspecting that it was a member of the secret police, coming to get the final remnant of her family. The de Lyons had in its day had been one of the most respected in the provences. But the two men who were running down the alleyway were not French, but English.
"Blakeney... I don't think... I can keep... this up... much longer."
"Just a bit longer... I don't think...they will...be able to either."
The one who had said that he could not last much longer ran ahead, and then tripped over the girl. He lay sprawled in the alleyway next to the girl. "Excusez –moi," He said breathlessly in perfect French.
Blakeney stopped by his fallen companion, "I say, Tony, are you all right?"
"A twisted ankle I think..."
"Damn." Blakeney looked about hurriedly. "Wait a minute. I barely noticed the girl who tripped you..."
"It was an accident, Monsieur." She whispered, fearful of his retribution.
Blakeney ignored her as the clatter and shouts of whoever was chasing them grew nearer, "Lie down in the shadows like she does." Tony obeyed as the other man did the same.
The pursuing men ran past them to stop in the road a hundred yards from where the girl and her British companions were lying. They looked about, terrified and not unsure of what to do.
"Where did he go?"
"He can't be far; we had him in our possession a quarter of an hour ago."
"If Citizen Chauvelin finds out that we had the Scarlet Pimpernel in our hands and let him slip away, he'll feed us to Madame la Guillotine!"
The Scarlet Pimpernel?!
"Then it is simple, Citizens, we will split into two groups. One will go left the other right. We will meet back here in a half-hour. If we do not succeed in finding the British dog, we will not tell anyone we ever had him. Understood?"
There was a murmur of agreement from the crowd, and the motley band of ruffians ran in different directions from each other.
Blakeney and his companion rose from the mud, laughing at the folly of the soldiers. As they began to move away, the girl, asked in desperation,
"Which one of you is the Scarlet Pimpernel?"
The laughing stopped. "Why do you want to know, Mademoiselle?" Tony said.
"I must speak to him."
"Why must you? So you can find out his whereabouts to tell our good friend Mr. Chambertin?" Blakeney asked dryly.
"No Monsieur."
"Why then?"
"My name is Madeline de Lyon."
"What?!" Blakeney exclaimed.
"The de Lyons were guillotined three weeks ago!" Tony added incredulously
"Oui Monsieur. My whole family was guillotined except for me." She stopped speaking and coughed, her whole body shaking with effort.
"Good heavens, the girl's ill!" Blakeney examined her with his lazy blue eyes, looking her up and down. "I should have suspected she was aristocracy by the fact that she could understand English. Tony, where's our nearest attic or cellar or something?"
Tony thought for a moment. "The apartment above the blacksmith's shop I believe."
Madeline felt strong arms lifting her easily. Lying comfortably in Blakeney's arms she whispered into his ear, "Merci." Then she fell into unconsciousness.
****
Madeline awoke in a bed. A bed! She had not slept in a comfortable bed since the revolution had begun. She breathed a sigh of joy and snuggled into the cool, crisp sheets and thought perhaps it all had been a dream. Maybe Mama would be in the next room singing and her little brother Thierry would come bouncing into her bed, asking her to tell a story. No. She could still feel a dull pain in her side and in her chest. But if she was not home, where was she? She took in her surroundings. She was in a plain bedroom that smelled like the sea, and felt her it rock gently back and fourth. A boat?! How in the world did she get on a boat?
The door to her room opened, and a somewhat familiar figure walked in, carrying a tray of some sort. The name Tony somehow came to her mind.
"Bonjour, mademoiselle."
"Bonjour monsieur."
"Ca-va?" he asked conversationally, "how are you?"
"Pas mal." She answered. "Not bad."
He smiled at her. "That's wonderful, mademoiselle."
She smiled back.
"We'll be in England soon."
"L'Angleterre?"
"Oui," he said, switching back to French. "You shall live with me, in my manor."
"Really?"
"Oui." He answered. "If there are no objections to it..."
"Non monsieur." She said quickly, "Anything is better than the streets!"
"Excellent!" a large grin spread across his face. "Well, I shall see you in a few hours; I have some duties up on deck. If you will excuse me, mademoiselle?"
"Adieu." She said smiling at him. When the door to her cabin closed, Madeline snuggled into her deliciously soft pillows and fell asleep.