Sigh… I apologize profusely to you all for being so slow in updating but Uni is really kicking my butt. _ I will make an effort to try and write more often but unfortunately, I am unable to promise anything in the way of more frequent updates. For those of you still reading, I thank you for your patience. I am hoping chapter 4 will come along more quickly.

Chapter 3: Hesitation

Breakfast passed slowly. Percy recovered from the fright he had suffered earlier and now sat completely contented in the presence of his beautiful wife. They had breakfasted together in her chambers and engaged in light conversation well after the silver and china had been cleared away.

It was unfortunate that Sir Percy was ill, but both husband and wife enjoyed it as a reason to be excused from the responsibilities of everyday life. Never had he seen her smile so often and it warmed his heart to know that such radiance was for him alone. While Percy delighted in the company of his dear Marguerite, he could not, however, help feeling anxious about the league's work. It had become his life and what had started out merely as sport had evolved into a struggle of life and death that sent chills down his spine after every successful escape. Even such marital bliss could not keep his thoughts off of France and his work there. The league had a very important rescue coming up and he needed to assure himself that everything was going according to plan.

He also admitted to himself, somewhat ashamedly, that he wanted to be long gone when the doctor arrived. He was not the sort of man to be frightened of anything, save of course losing those he loved, but when it came to physicians he preferred to stay as far away from them as humanly possible. The things he had seen them do to his mother had terrified him as a child. She could hardly be faulted for being ill. Does one blame an invalid for the loss of a limb? And yet they treated her as less than human. His fears had dissipated with age but the distrust stayed with him, buried deep inside. The mixture of duty and unease formed a potent pair.

"Margot," he said hesitantly as he took her hand in his, "there is some important business that I must discuss with Sir Andrew and…"

"Concerning the League?" She interrupted. He had avoided her gaze initially and now stroked his thumb across her fingers, fidgeting in his discomfort.

"Yes," He said after a time, unsure how she would further react. "We are due to bring back the Duc de Luynes in less than a fortnight and…"

"The Duc de Luynes?" she asked incredulously, the hurt in her voice painfully apparent. "You lie in bed, sick with fever and exhaustion and all you can think about is some aristo who needs saving? Percy, you are ill! You are in no condition to ride all the way to London. And you have only just returned from France. Chauvelin will not stop until he has caught you and seen you to that horrid scaffold. I could not bear to lose you now. Are you going to leave me again just as I have finally found you?" Tears snaked silver trails down her cheeks as she choked out the last words of her appeal. He gave way instantly.

"Oh Margot." He pulled her into his arms and kissed away her tears, guilt shooting through him all the while. "You know I could never stand to see you cry." She sniffed audibly, turning away from his attentions.

"It was not two days ago that you were cold and indifferent to my tears. And now you wish to leave me to go back to France so that you may continue your sport. Those nobles are more important to you than I am." She had aimed the shaft well and it struck true. His hold on her loosened as the words pierced his heart. The wounds of their estrangement were still fresh and love and regret battled the pride that had kept them separated for so long. Gently, he slipped a hand under her chin and turned her face to look up at his.

"Nothing, no one could ever be more important to me than you. I love you more than anything, more than life itself. Darling I…" He paused, swallowing hard at the unpleasant memories. "We were both cruel to one another," he continued, his voice soft and pleading. "But you must know how much I adore you. I would never do anything to harm you."

He was so weak and vulnerable that one word from her could have silenced his love forever. The very look in his eyes told her the power she had over him. It thrilled and frightened her. But it was the unconcealed sorrow in his voice that startled her most. New tears welled in her eyes as she fell into his arms, burying her face in his shirtfront in regret.

"Oh Percy, please forgive me. I should never have said that. I don't want to push you away again. I'm just… so worried. I don't know what I would do if something were to happen to you now." She refused to meet his eyes, ashamed at her selfishness and pride. It had pulled them apart before and it terrified her that a careless word might do so again. But he held her tightly, silently reassuring her of his love and devotion.

"I will stay," he all but whispered, running a hand through her hair to soothe her. Cupping her cheek in his palm he raised her face to his once more, brushing away new tears with his thumb. "But I must at least write to Ffoulkes to give him further instructions and to inform him of my condition. He will pass on the news to the rest of the league but without word from me, they will not act. I cannot allow a man's life to be snuffed out because of my illness."

"I understand. I never meant for you to abandon him, I only…" But his lips silenced her, a tender kiss that spoke of his love and forgiveness.

"Think on it no more, dear heart," he said softly, breaking away only far enough to touch his forehead against hers. "Things have been hard for us both. Let us forget this and think only of our time together."

The rest of the morning was spent in near silence. Marguerite brought her husband a portable writing desk, ink, quill and some of his stationary to write to his lieutenant and friend. When he had finished the note, she sealed it for him then rang for Frank, whom Sir Percy trusted implicitly with all league business, to send the letter by courier to Sir Andrew in London. The whole affair took no more than ten minutes time and then they were back in each other's arms.

Marguerite had forgone the elegant gowns so characteristic to her and had instead donned a simple dress, her hair free of powder and tied back loosely with thick ribbon. Percy thought she looked divine. The dress reminded him of their days together in Paris during their engagement. She looked every bit the star of the Comédie-Française he had fallen head over heels for the moment she stepped out on stage.

"My dearest Margot…," Percy whispered softly in her ear as he held her close. The bed had been hot and restricting and he felt restless being confined to it. After some cajoling on his part, Marguerite had helped him to the nearby settee. They then wasted no time snuggling close, hands entwined and hearts healing in the shared knowledge of the love they held for one another.

It was not long, however, before a soft knock was heard. After being told to enter, a maid curtsied to the couple, slightly embarrassed by their obvious display of affection, and informed them that the physician had arrived.

"Wonderful! Thank you Marie," Marguerite said cheerfully, completely unaware of the dread flowing through her husband. He kept himself outwardly calm and composed, resisting the urge to tighten his grip on her hand. He simply smiled serenely and allowed her to help him back to the large bed.

The physician was sent up and, after quick pleasantries, began his examination. Percy flinched unnoticeably as a little black bag was opened and the doctor's hand reached down for an instrument.

"Calm down, old boy," he admonished himself, making a herculean effort to retain an impassive expression. Luckily for the Scarlet Pimpernel, it was only a pair of spectacles. First his temperature was taken, then a check for irregular heartbeat. The doctor studied him, poking and prodding, and making poor Percy terribly uncomfortable.

"I say sir, I'm not a pincushion!"

"I am truly sorry for the discomfort, Sir Percy, but this is the only way I will come up with a proper diagnosis."

"Diagnosis?" he asked incredulously. "Sink me, my good fellow but I can tell you that. I have a fever and a demmed horrid one at that. Now kindly give me something to remedy it." The man hid his agitation poorly but Percy feigned ignorance. He wanted the doctor out as quickly as possible. He had a mass of welts and bruises on his back that were absolutely unexplainable should they be discovered. Thankfully the doctor had not asked him to remove his shirt yet and Percy was eager to finish the house call before any such demand was made.

"Very well, Sir Percy, if that is what you wish. Though I must interject, for the sake of my profession and conscious, that I am against simply handing out medications without a proper diagnosis. However, since you seem extraordinarily eager and I can't seem to find anything else wrong with you, I will leave you with the bottle and strict instructions to take one teaspoon of the contained liquid twice a day orally until there is none left. Understood?"

"Perfectly," Blakeney replied, relieved that the visit was over and he had not been discovered.

"Thank you Doctor Hall," Marguerite said gratefully as the man closed up his bag and turned to leave. Percy had been his usual foppish self, but something else had added to his attitude towards the attending physician. As she escorted him from the room, questions began to take root in her mind. Something was definitely amiss.

Thank you for all the alerts btw! :3