Disclaimer: The Scarlet Pimpernel and its characters belong to the marvelous Baroness Orczy. Not me.
Oh, Margot.
Physically, only a few metres separates us, you and I.
Emotionally, it's so much more.
Why do we have to be like this? One word, one touch, and I could hold you...breathing in your sweet perfume, running my fingers through your silken hair, losing myself in your eyes, so like endless pools of deep blue ocean...
But I cannot. And I know that you would never allow it.
Pride seems to rule above all in this awkward, estranged world of ours. And as my eyes search the room for your elegant figure, as I nod absently at whatever Hastings is saying, as Dewhurst compliments the hostess on her gown, I am lost.
Then my gaze meets yours, and being so close to you, yet so far, for a moment, I can't breathe. I am hoping, though I do not know what I am hoping for.
The exhilaration does not last long. My heart seems to sink like a pebble thrown carelessly into a pond, your glance, filled with contempt, shot at me indignantly before you turn to accept an invitation to dance; your exquisite charm and beauty having, as always, captured the attention of most every man in the room.
I feel myself swallow hard, futilely attempting to ignore this incident as I always do when something like this happens. But my lungs seem to refuse me service, my heart having hit rock bottom and shattered into a thousand pieces that can seemingly never be put together again.
"Percy?"
A hand rests on my arm and I start, an absurdly foolish thought coming to mind. But as much as I wish it to be so, the eyes that meet mine are not yours. Instead, they are those of finely cultured English gentlemen, half of which belong to the League. You shall never know this, though...I had been about to tell you that day...that fateful day, but the letter had come first. The letter that had turned my world upside-down and sent all of my dreams of our life together falling into oblivion. The letter that had crushed my heart and strengthened my damned pride.
"Zounds, I must have drifted off, what?" I hear myself reply flippantly, an inane laugh following the statement. I can feel Andrew's eyes on me though, and I avert my gaze, not wanting, for some odd reason, to surrender to anyone the feelings raging inside of my head.
If only...if only things were different.
But they are not, and as much as I wish to believe so, they will never be.
Oh Lord, Marguerite...what I would do to let you know how much I love you...how I would willingly lay down my life at any moment in time to guarantee your happiness...
For now, I can only dream and fantasize, though even that has become difficult.
I can only wish. Wish that you, a shimmering, glistening star, will, someday, do more than spare a mere glance at a foppish idiot like myself.
I can only wish.
