Author's note: There is no author's note
Disclaimer:I believe we've already been over this. I don't own the Scarlet Pimpernel.
Falcon in the Dive
Chapter 4: This Vision Who Was Not Quite Real
"Marguerite! Marguerite!" Sir Percy Blakeney frantically rushed around his manor, desperately calling for his wife in an attempt to locate the lovely woman. He threw open the door of he bedchambers for the umpteenth time that morning. "Marguerite, where are you? Marguerite!" He helplessly collapsed on her bed in utter despair and exhaustion. His beautiful wife, his angel; she was gone. He buried his head into a pillow and fought back bitter tears of loss that threatened to fall from his eyes.
"Percy, are you alright?" Sir Tony Dewhurst asked as he ran into the room, closely followed by Sir Andrew Ffoulkes. "We came as soon as we heard."
"Oh God, Tony, Andrew, she's gone!" he cried. "She left me! That shining star, the love of my life, she's gone!"
"Calm down, Percy." Andrew said as he put his arm around his desolate friend's shoulders. "I'm sure she didn't leave you. She probably went to go into town. Or to visit Susanne. You know how she loves that girl's company. Or…"
"Or she went to France." Tony interjected, his eyes suddenly lighting up.
"No!" Percy cried as he started freely weeping. "She misses France so much she went back! I was a fool to marry her." He mournfully said. "I took her form the home she loved and now she has returned."
"Nonsense, Percy." Andrew said gently. "She loves you!"
"Percy," Tony said as he knelt before his friend, "pull yourself together. Think. Why would Marguerite go to France?"
"Because she loves it there, Tony!" he cried. "Oh, Marguerite, my love, my darling, my angel…"
"Stop that Percy!" Tony shouted and Percy was immediately silenced. "She loves you, she loves England. That's why she married you, you dolt!" Tony calmed down a bit as his harsh words seemed to bring Percy to his senses. "Now, why would Marguerite leave you and go to France?"
Percy immediately understood what his friend was getting at. "Armand. She's going to try and save Armand." Percy jumped to his feet and headed out the door. "Percy, wait! Where are you going?" Andrew called.
"Tony, Andrew, when were we scheduled to sail to France?"
"Tomorrow evening, Percy." Tony responded. "Not anymore!" Percy nearly shouted. "I want you two to contact the rest of the League. Have them meet here as soon as they can possibly make it here. We sail for France this afternoon!" he triumphantly concluded.
"But on such short notice?" Andrew asked. "Percy, if we rush things now, we are more susceptible to mistakes."
"That, my friend, is a risk we must take." Percy determinately stated. "We cannot afford to lose anymore time. Remember, the stakes are much higher now. Both Armand and Marguerite are on the line. Go now. We have not a moment to lose!"
Tony and Andrew left immediately and Percy ran to his study to formulate a plan. Marguerite hadn't left him; he had never felt such joy. He would soon be rushing into France to save his goddess and he would tell her everything. Percy set to work with a beaming grin on his face from the knowledge that his wife would soon be in his embrace once again.
Marguerite lay completely breathless in Chauvelin's arms. She could not understand for the life of her how he could so easily make her forget everything. Everything except for him, of course. Pulling herself closer to him, she gently kissed his collarbone and his arms tightened around her.
"Marguerite," he softly whispered, "about your brother." Marguerite tensed. She had forgotten about Armand. Chauvelin had promised his release upon his possession of the Scarlet Pimpernel's name. "You must release him. You promised me his freedom."
"Yes, yes." He quickly stated. "But…" But? She was unaware this arrangement had further conditions. "Marguerite," he smoothly drawled as he kissed her neck, "I want you to bring Armand back to the Republic."
"What? Chauvelin, that's ridiculous!" she said in absolute shock. "You know how stubborn Armand is. It would be impossible to…" Marguerite was silenced as Chauvelin passionately kissed her.
"For you, darling," he softly whispered as he broke away, "nothing is impossible." She shivered as he ran his hands over her body and breathlessly said "I'll do what I can, my love."
The word spread quickly that Agent Chauvelin had cracked under the pressure of the Committee's demands. Like gossip so often does, the actual plight of the innkeeper became lost in a torrent of rumors and mistellings of the case. The story mutated from one of the senseless massacre of innocent people to one of the noble slaughter of traitorous aristocrats. This made Chauvelin a hero overnight and forced the public to fear him even more then before, if that was even possible, and nothing could please Robespierre more.
He leaned on the windowsill in his office and looked down at the masses of people in the square. All those people were no doubt talking about the insanity of the already dangerous man.
A slight smile played across Robespierre's face. Let them talk, for it caused them to live in more fear of the Committee then before.
Robespierre was pulled out of his daze as Chauvelin entered the office. "Good morning, Citizen." Robespierre said, giving a quick nod in Chauvelin's direction.
Chauvelin's pale eyes scanned the room. There sat Robespierre at the window, and another man at his desk. Chauvelin cocked his head to one side and stared at the boy. Who was he? He was certainly too young to serve on the Committee. A secretary, perhaps? Choosing that it would be in good practice to acknowledge his superior, he nodded in his direction.
"How are you, Chauvelin?" he asked indifferently.
"As well as can be expected." Chauvelin answered. "May I inquire as to who your assistant is?"
Robespierre's eyes widened in confusion. "What assistant?"
"The one sitting at your desk."
Robespierre looked at Chauvelin in disbelief. There was nobody at his desk, and only he and the agent were in the room. He realized that however mad the man was yesterday, it was much worse today.
Robespierre shook his head and changed the topic. "Never mind my assistant, Chauvelin. You promised me the name of the Pimpernel today."
"Ah, yes." He walked over to a cabinet in the corner and traced the carved designs with his index finger.
"Well, who is he?" Robespierre shouted.
"A man by the name of Sir Percy Blakeney. He is an English Baronet in the court of the Prince of Wales." Chauvelin's eyes narrowed as he quickly turned and strode toward the center of the room. "He is the husband of Marguerite St. Just, now Marguerite Blakeney, and the brother-in-law of Armand St. Just, who is in league with the man." He walked over to Robespierre's desk and shuffled through some files, looking thoroughly at select documents.
"Chauvelin, what…" "I'm not finished yet, Robespierre." Chauvelin said coldly. "Armand knows more about that damnable Englishman then I could ever hope to know. Executing him would deal a harder blow to the Republic then to the Pimpernel. I want him working for the Committee."
"Very well."
"His sister is the one who secured the name of the Pimpernel from him. She will be spying for me indefinitely." A wicked smile played across Chauvelin's face. "We have one of his league and his beloved wife. He has no choice but to come to us. And when he does, he won't escape."
"And how can you be certain about that, Chauvelin?" Robespierre sneered. "He has escaped from your grasp dozens of times. What makes you so confident he can't elude you this time?"
Chauvelin cast a dangerous glance at Robespierre. "I didn't say he couldn't get away from us, Citizen. I have no doubt he is entirely capable. I said that he wouldn't. He will refuse to leave without both St. Just's. That's his nature. He won't abandon the ones he loves."
Robespierre laughed harshly at what he considered to be the rantings of a mad man. "You're a fool, Chauvelin. The Pimpernel will merely take them away as he has done with all of those damned aristocrats!"
"Wrong!" he shouted as he slammed his hand down on the desk. "The boy he may be able to take; in fact, I expect him to have success in that endeavor. But Marguerite…" He heaved a sigh of content. "Lovely Marguerite. No, she won't go back with him. And he won't leave without her. She stays. So will he. He can only elude capture within France for so long. He won't leave France; we're bound to catch him eventually."
"He is her husband, Chauvelin. How can you be sure that she won't go back with him?"
Chauvelin slammed his hand into Robespierre's shoulder and held him to the wall. "Because," he whispered, bringing his face within inches of the other's, "I've been making love to his wife."
Releasing Robespierre, he slowly walked towards the desk. "Now, your very presence is a nuisance, and I demand to know who you are." he loudly declared, speaking to no one but the apparition that only his eyes could see. The young boy looked up at Chauvelin and did nothing but smile.
Robespierre didn't move. For a little while, Chauvelin sounded logical and in full control of himself. Yet this short moment of clarity was shattered and he reverted back into his mad ranting. Robespierre clutched the place where Chauvelin had held him and pulled his shirt away slightly to examine the area. His eyes widened in surprise; the place where Chauvelin's hand had touched and the surrounding area was already beginning to show signs of discoloration. It appeared that along with his insanity, he had acquired immense strength.
"Chauvelin, listen to me!" Robespierre commanded as he walked toward his agent.
"Who are you, boy?" Chauvelin whispered to the smirking child.
"There's nobody there, Chauvelin." Said Robespierre as he reached out to touch the man, but stopped as he saw the agent tense, his breath quicken, and his eyes dilate so none of the pale yellow could be seen. Robespierre slowly backed away as a sudden fear gripped him when he realized that, contrary to what he previously believed, he could not control the insanity that held Chauvelin.
The boy gracefully stood and began to walk toward the slowly retreating agent. "May I speak with you, Armand Chauvelin?" the apparition smoothly drawled.
Without saying a word, Chauvelin turned on his heel and rushed out of the room, slamming the door behind him. Smiling slightly, the boy crossed the room and passed through the door.
Mercier and Coupeau led Marguerite to Armand's cell. As Mercier flipped through the keys, Coupeau walked to Marguerite's side.
"Mademoiselle, after you conclude your visit with your brother, may I speak with you?" Coupeau lowered his voice. "It is of the utmost importance."
Curiosity crossed Marguerite's face. "Of course. What's wrong?"
"Your brother waits for you, mademoiselle." Mercier called. "He will be kept within his cell for security reasons. Is that alright?"
"Yes, yes, that's fine. Thank you." Marguerite turned to enter the room, but was stopped as Coupeau grabbed her hand. "Please. Don't forget, Madame."
Marguerite nodded. "Don't worry. There is very little I forget, Citizen." She said as she entered the room.
Armand was lying on the cot in his cell, staring blankly at the wall. Marguerite tread softly into the room and was about to speak, but Armand spoke first.
"So, Marguerite. How was the bed of Agent Chauvelin?"
Marguerite flushed a deep shade of red. How could he say such a thing? She tried to respond, but found herself unable to articulate anything. Armand took her inability to speak as a sign to continue.
"Oh, but of course, he must be very good to be able to entice you to get underneath him. After all, the Devil must be incredibly skilled to drive people from God."
"Might I remind you, Armand," Marguerite said through clenched teeth, "that if you weren't careless enough to get captured, neither of us would be here right now!" Marguerite's outburst stole Armand's retort, for he knew that she spoke the truth. "Armand," she whispered, "you're going to be released within the week. But I must stay here in France. That was one of the conditions for your safety."
Armand winced. The fact that Marguerite was bound to Chauvelin was bad enough; the fact that it was his fault was unbearable. "I want you to stay here with me, Armand." Armand's head snapped up. It all made sense now. She was under orders of Chauvelin to keep him under Republic control.
He stood up and glared at his sister. "Hear me now, Marguerite." I will not be tempted to work for the Republic like you. Percy will come for me. And mark my word, when I see him, he will know of you and Chauvelin."
Marguerite's eyes widened in terror. "No, Armand you can't!"
"Watch me, Marguerite!" Armand snarled. "And why do you care either way, spy? You don't love him."
"No, that's not true!" she cried. "I love –"
"I'm done with you, Marguerite." Armand said as he lay back down and turned his back to his sister. "Leave me."
Marguerite could not stop her tears. She had so much to say to Armand, but any words she uttered now would fall on deaf ears. Casting one last glance at her brother, she turned and left the room.
Closing the door behind her, she composed herself and wiped the tears form her eyes and walked to Coupeau's side. "You wanted to speak with me. What is it?"
"Madame," he whispered as he pulled her to the side, "I couldn't hope worrying about you, but I fear for your safety."
"What?" she asked quite confused. "What's wrong?"
"I don't know if you've noticed or heard, but Citizen Chauvelin has gone insane."
"That's impossible.' She said in a hushed tone.
"I assure you it is as I said." Coupeau quietly said. "He has become violent and completely unpredictable. I thought that as his lover you should be aware of his current state." He released her and smiled at the beautiful creature. "Just be careful, mademoiselle. If you need anything, do not hesitate to call for me. I'd hate to see your pretty self damaged."
"Yes, she said slowly. "Thank you for your concern, but I'm sure I'll be fine."
She left the prison and quickly made her way back to Chauvelin's flat. As soon as she got in, she collapsed. The girl was clearly shaken. She had lost her brother, she was going to lose her husband, and if what Coupeau said was true, she may very well lose her lover as well. Things couldn't possibly get worse.
Taking a few deep breaths, she calmed down and settled on what needed to be done. Armand was going to tell Percy everything; that she had betrayed him, that she loved Chauvelin, and that she was spying for France. This was to be avoided at all costs.
Despite all that had happened, she was still hopelessly in love with Percy. To lose him would be to lose everything. So Armand simply could not get to Percy before she did at any cost. She would tell him everything, and deep in her heart, she knew he would understand and take her in his arms and kiss her like he used to. This way, she would have her husband and a chance to rebuild her brother's faith in her.
And Chauvelin? She would have to look into his supposed madness further. But whether he was truly insane or not, Marguerite had already decided that if it was at all possible to return to Percy, she would leave Chauvelin without a second thought. That was her final decision. Nothing could change that.
The Daydream docked at the coastal town of Calais that very afternoon. The League had mobilized with incredible speed after Percy's frantic message and they were able to leave England that very morning instead of later that afternoon like Percy had earlier planned.
Percy shrugged as he put on the long brown overcoat of the Belgian spy, Grappin. "Ah, well, the sooner we get going, the better for Armand and Marguerite." He said under his breath.
He walked out of his cabin on to the deck of the ship where he found nine soldiers of the Republic waiting for him. Percy smiled broadly as he approached the group of men. "La, but you boys look fabulous!" he drawled in the voice of fop he was so used to playing. "Not that I'd wear such a thing, mind you. Look at how those colors clash!" Percy sighed heavily and shook his head. "Honesty, you think the French would know better…"
Smiling as he was met with the laughter of his men, he fixed a false nose over his real one. "Alright, boys. We need to split up. Tony, you lead one group, Andrew, you lead the other." Percy eyes narrowed as he began to assume the role of the man he would soon be forced to play.
"Find out all you can about the whereabouts of Armand's cell. He is your first priority, for the chances stand that he has spoken to Marguerite and may know her location. Tony, you and your group shall search the bars and cafes. Andrew, your division is to search the inns and the offices of business. I will seek out Chauvelin. He is sure to know everything we need. I shall meet you all in the café next to the Comedie Francaise at six o'clock."
The League nodded in acknowledgement. "Very well, men!" Percy said brightly. "Onward Ho!"
"Percy!" Andrew shouted. "Chauvelin is a dangerous man. Do be careful."
Percy smiled at his friend as he pulled a wide-brimmed hat over his head. "Don't worry, Andrew. Chauvelin trusts his spy completely."
Chauvelin sat in his office with his elbows on the desk and his chin resting on his hands. He needed to do something about this assistant to Robespierre. The child had greatly disturbed him, but he wasn't exactly sure why. He had seen this child before, of this he was certain.
He looked behind him at the window and gazed at the people walking in the streets below. A triumphant smile passed over his face. All the people that he now looked upon feared him, respected him. Not one of them would dare cross him; the power he held over these simpletons was incredible.
Wearing a grin of absolute satisfaction, he turned around and found himself face-to-face with the pale yellow eyes of Robespierre's child assistant. "Good afternoon, Chauvelin." Said the smooth, impassive tenor voice of the boy.
Chauvelin jumped out of the chair and quickly backed up against the wall. "What do you want of me?" he asked in near hysteria.
The boy simply sat there with extreme amusement on his face. The child was thin, long-limbed, and incredibly pale with jet-black hair and the same falcon-like eyes of the agent that contrasted beautifully with his pale skin and dark complexion.
Laying his long, slender fingers on the desk, he rose from where he was sitting. "I merely wish to help you, Chauvelin." He quietly said.
"You're too young to assist the Committee, boy." Chauvelin sneered. "How old are you?"
"Fourteen, monsieur."
"Who are you?" he asked quietly.
The boy began to slowly walk towards the petrified agent. "Oh, you know who I am, Citizen." The boy smoothly drawled as he advanced on the older man. "I am you, Armand Chauvelin."
As he looked at the child, he knew that what the boy had said was true; there was no mistaking that this boy was in fact the very image of a younger Chauvelin. Swallowing whatever panic that was creeping upon him, he quietly asked, "What do you want from me?"
Young Chauvelin looked up at the agent and turned on the charm. "I want nothing from you, Citizen." He said in a silvery voice as he laid his hand on the man's chest. "I want to help you."
Chauvelin felt himself slipping into the boy's hands, falling prey to the near seductive tone of the younger man. Pulling forth the last of his own resolve, he pushed the boy away and walked to the other side of the room. "And what can you, a mere child, do for me?" Chauvelin asked in a curious but slightly irritated tone.
"I can guide you." He said with sleek cool as he walked toward the agent.
That was it. Chauvelin groaned as he sank to his knees before the child and felt will of the boy replace his own will. The young Chauvelin smiled slyly and gently stroked the man's hair. "Let me lead you, Chauvelin." he whispered in his ear.
Chauvelin shivered and without delay asked, "What do you want me to do?"
"Kill the Belgian spy." The boy answered without missing a beat.
"What?" Chauvelin asked in a daze as he pulled away slightly from the boy's touch. "Grappin is in England."
"Not anymore." The boy tenderly responded. "Stay here. He will seek you out. When he comes, kill him."
"Kill him…" Chauvelin repeated completely dazed.
"Chauvelin." The younger said as he gently pulled the agent's head against his stomach. "Follow me, and you will never falter."
Chauvelin lacked the strength to fight the hypnotic powers of the child, and at that moment he knew that he would do whatever the young Armand Chauvelin said without question.