NOTE FROM AUTHOR: I need a lot of advise on the ending... this is my very first attempt at ending a novelette. Thank you for all your encouraging and edifying reviews! They have all been so helpful and I am very grateful to you all for your time and input.
Enjoy!
E. Ellington
IV
Whilst Jeanne was being borne swiftly toward her father and the sea, where were Madame Andole and Adel?
That same day, not far away they were safe and free. They were now being escorted, whither, they knew not as yet. Along rough and deserted roads and paths they traveled, sometimes buried in a vegetable cart driven by two roughly spoken and likewise clad citizens, sometimes huddled in evil-smelling rugs and driven by the same seemingly heartless and cruelly-spoken citizens.
As yet Chauvelin knew nothing of their escape—nor that of Jeanne and her father. He sat in Calais, placid and contented, waiting to be notified of everything being in readiness fr the Barbarous act he planned to carry out.
Madame Andole and Adel had been surprised and not a little startled, to be whisked out from their dismal occupancy before they could utter a word of protest. It all happened so swiftly, that as they were bundled toward safety every minute, their heads still reeled in disbelief of the miracle for which they had hardly dared to hope or pray. They did not dare to think of the joy of meeting with their daughter and sister, whom they thought was still in England—and not to mention their beloved husband and father, from whom they had been as quickly and ruthlessly whisked away—for, if God had chosen to free them, it could only be true that their dearest was waiting for them, to go with them into that land of safety and happiness—England.
There, they would meet Jeanne, and then only would their family—which had been torn apart, how long they could not begin to conjecture—would at last be complete. That was the only clear thought that possessed them as they bumped along badly-paved roads toward the sea—and ultimate safety.
Chapter 11
Unbroken Promises
I
The sea was calm. Hardly a wave ruffled its surface. The Daydream, waiting in its hide-out for its passengers so that it could embark toward England once more, lay silent and still at anchor. For three days it had remained thus.
Andole, impatiently waiting, sat on deck, allowing the little wind that blew to ruffle his clothing, however slightly. It seemed to put new life in him; the old uncertainties and fears dared not show themselves now. He knew he was safely in the hands of their English friends, and it was only a matter of hours now before he would be, with all his family, in England.
He looked out over the shore from which the yacht anchored. Trees in all directions shut out all connection with the rest of the shoreline, great boulders piled everywhere made travel difficult here.—All factors pointed to a bad spot for push-off or landing. The Scarlet Pimpernel had chosen his shove-off well, for here unwanted pursuit from land would be next to impossible.
He turned under deck, to ease the eager anxiety to see his family who even now were coming toward him. Also, he was tired, for the watching hours were long and the soft, prodding breeze fatigued him. He soon drifted into a fitful and dreamless sleep.
From around the corner from where Andole had sat, waiting and watching, came two gentlemen. They were the same two who had escorted him, but now both wore their sea-faring attire, knowing this to be the day the return-voyage would take place.
Sir Percy Blakeney, Bar., walked alongside his longtime comrade and one of his most trusted members of the league, Sir Andrew Ffoulkes. Their manners, those as if they had been sipping wine amongst the finest ladies of London.
Sir Andrew spoke first.
"I look forward to meeting my Suzanne once more. I could see it in her eyes, though she tried to hide it, that she was worried ill for me when we left."
This young man, dashing, gentle, and kind, looked longingly out to sea, where in the distance beyond sight, lay Dover, and home. Still, he likewise longed to be with his other comrades, who even now were facing dangers every minute.
Sir Percy Blakeney smiled on his friend a knowing, sad smile, which yet held the smoldering fire of adventure.
"She can have no reason for fear now," quoth he, "for I sent a career on ahead. Marguerite will no doubt call on her to read it."
"What time are the others expected?"
"In the next hour, if all went as planned. But I have confidence I them, especially Tony."
The latter sentence went without saying. Sir Percy—the Scarlet Pimpernel—had the utmost confidence in his league, and was—except, perhaps once— always satisfied in this.
Therefore, a smile flitted across the baronet's mouth as they continued their stroll on deck. One looked sometimes toward the sea, but frequently both looked toward land, searching and listening for the signal. At last, after half an hour of waiting, the two began to descend below deck.
Suddenly, piercing the afternoon stillness like a knife, the call of a King Fisher rang out across the beach.
Both turned instantly. Following the sound came a second, which sounded like a female answering.
Immediately following this, a small portion of the dense patch of trees was pulled back like a curtain, and revealed the forms of five cavaliers and three women.
II
An hour or two earlier, walking through dense thicket, Jeanne longed for a rest. The warm sun shown through the trees as it had three days before, spotted and directly overhead. Her escorts tried their best to reduce her exhaustion, and put themselves between her and the briers that whipped by, but though she was grateful for their efforts and was helped by them, still the thorns caught in her face and her legs felt more wearied and ready to collapse with every step.
Suddenly behind them they heard the call of a French bird. Jeanne was startled by its suddenness and closeness: but Lord Tony and Lord Hastings were not surprised, rather were they delighted by the sound. While Jeanne stood looking toward where the sound came from, it was answered from directly behind her. She turned to her two escorts who stood behind her. They did not look at her, but continued to look forward, until the rustling of leaves told of the approaching of human footsteps.
In a few minutes Jeanne recognized two women, one older, one considerably younger, coming toward them, accompanied by three men dressed in pitiable rags.
For a moment she hardly dared believe her eyes.
There, coming toward her, with likewise surprised and joy-filled eyes, were her mother and sister.
Without hesitation she ran toward them, and for several minutes not a word was said nor any sound heard but the soft sound of joyful sobs, as the three passed the time in one long embrace. The five gentlemen stood discreetly aside.
Jeanne hardly noticed them as she looked once more into the loving, motherly eyes of her long-lost mother, and the young, sweet ones of her younger sister. Oh, joy of joys! Could there be any other in this world?
"Mother!" she whispered at last, afraid lest this sweet moment of bliss should be but a dream. "Is it really you? Or am I dreaming?"
Her mother sealed the reality with a kiss on her cheek. Jeanne was not surprised to feel the lips to be wet.
"Yes, it is me," said that soft, ever-loving voice, with a motherly chuckle. Then she lifted Jeanne's face in both her hands.
"I heard you came back to France, love, after being taken there by our friends here… why?"
The question, Jeanne had hoped, would be postponed until a more opportune time. As it was, she felt guilty and blushed at the thought of repeating the story of her loss of faith in the very men that stood apart from them—near, nevertheless—and their chief.
She looked down in utter shame.
"It is a long story, one that will sound better on our way to safety," she said quietly.
Her mother seemed to understand. A slight smile passed over her lips, and she dropped the subject.
"Very well, dearest. For now I will be content that God has brought us together again." She glanced toward the group of men, who turned on cue and answered the question in her eyes.
"If we hurry, Madame," assured Lord Tony, bowing low, "we will be on the Daydream in a few hours and will meet your husband there."
The rest of the journey was stepped in freshness and a spring of step such as had hardly possessed the sisters and their mother in recent weeks until now.
III
So it was that, a few hours later the women first caught sight of their means of travel to the land of happiness and safety. The Daydream seemed to welcome them with open arms as they neared it with every step. Its calm sails promised happiness and peace, its clear, inviting deck assured safety and a place to rest.
Jeanne's father did not hear the calls of the birds above deck. He suddenly woke out of his light sleep a half hour later, feeling more fatigued than when he had laid down. He wondered if his family would come today. Sir Andrew had assured him they were expected any time today.
For several minutes he stayed below, reading some from his Bible. Suddenly he heard footsteps approaching his cabin.
It was Sir Andrew.
"Will you follow me above deck?" he asked. He never had anyone more willing.
From where they stood on deck, Jeanne and her mother and sister caught sight of their husband and father as he made his way eagerly toward them. We will not intrude on that happy scene to attempt to re-account the joyful weeping, the uncontrollable embracing and kissing, and the many unintelligible words directed to nobody in particular as the four reunited after many a week's parting and suffering.
Was Jeanne happy? Had she fulfilled her quest?
All she could say, as she allowed herself to be smothered by the kisses and hugs of her parents and sister, was this: that yes, beyond doubt was she happy, and that no, she had not fulfilled her quest to find her family and bring them with her to safety: she had, instead, found her faith in her Lord and His servants—not excluding the Scarlet Pimpernel, who even then, with a jovial smile on his ever-jovial face, descended below deck with a twinkle in his eye, looking forward to his blissful reuniting back in Richmond.
THE END
