Oh godness. Sorry about such a long wait. Really, between school and everything I don't know where the time has gone. I do hope you'll forgive the time it took getting this up. The past few months have been so incredible hectic. I will endeavor to get another chapter up soon but please be patient. Uni is a mean mistress… _
Chapter 4 - Memories
Marguerite saw the physician to the bedroom door, thanked him once more then excused herself. Closing the door quietly, she contemplated the events of the past half hour. Outwardly, her husband wore his usual mask of inane gaiety, all smiles and slow wit. But that keen intuition given to all females told Lady Blakeney that something was still amiss. Walking softly back to the bed where he lay, she found herself worrying. Whatever bothered the indomitable Sir Percy was certainly of note.
She sat on the edge of the bed and stroked his face. His skin was still hot but the fever had broken. He smiled up at her, taking her hand and caressing it in both of his.
"Something is troubling you." It was not a question and Percy shifted uncomfortably under his wife's stare.
"Tis nothing my love," he said with a half-smile. "Merely glad to be alone once more."
"Percy, please. I can see that you are worried about something. Don't shut me out again," she pleaded gently. "Let me help you if I can. At least allow me to try."
He sighed, utterly defeated by her words. She was right. They had been distant for so long that it was difficult for him to open up. He squeezed her hand lightly, looking apologetically into her deep blue eyes.
"Forgive me, dear heart. It was not my intention to keep things from you. I was wary of being discovered. The beating I received from those soldiers still shows clearly on my back. It would be difficult to devise a believable excuse for such wounds." While his answer was truth, he could see it did not satisfy her. "Ah, my dear Margot," he thought wryly, "how easily you pull things from me." Sighing, he turned his gaze away, his thumb rubbing slow circles across her hand.
"However, what is… troubling me, as you say, is not something I have kept only from you. The whole of fashionable English society knows that my mother was… unwell towards the end of her life. They do not know, however, the extent of her "treatment." It was the reason my father left England when I was a boy, to escape the attentions of physicians wishing to experiment on my poor mother and to keep me from seeing the ghastly things they did to her. He could not bear subjecting her to those vultures…" He stopped for a moment, swallowing loudly around the lump forming in his throat. "The memories are… vivid, those of a child. I was five when at last we went abroad. It is those memories which color my feelings of all medical men." He looked down at their entwined hands and cracked a wry smile.
"I have grown out of it mostly, come to understand that they are not all deranged. They do more good than harm I think. Though I still am wary of some of their methods." He turned his face toward his wife and she graced him with a sympathetic and loving smile. He leaned to kiss her but a racket from the ground floor interrupted the gesture.
The sound of frantic shouting reached their ears followed by heavy footsteps on the landing and the door bursting open to reveal Lord Anthony Dewherst.
"Blakeney!" came the cry from the doorway. "Blakeney it's… it's Ffoulkes!" Lord Tony gasped between breaths.
"Calm down Tony, catch your breath. Good. Now what's happened?"
"Ffoulkes. They took him. Just this morning."
"Who? How?"
"A group of Frenchies. Hastings and Kent were with him but were overwhelmed. Said there were nearly twenty of those cursed frog-eaters." It was then that Tony's eyes fell upon the figure of Marguerite, seated on the opposite side of the bed. "L-lady Blakeney!" he stuttered, his cheeks turning a bright red. "My deepest apologies, my lady. I would never…" but a hand from her cut him off.
"Please, Lord Dewherst, do not fret on my account. France is no longer the country of my childhood. And it was the French who almost killed my husband and brother not two days ago. I pray you, continue with your story. It seems most urgent." Lord Tony bowed low, embarrassment but also admiration clear on his face. Turning back to his friend and leader, he resumed his report.
"As I said, they were heavily outnumbered. Hastings suffered a saber slash across an arm, Kent, a ball to the shoulder. Both are home recovering now, eager to help any way they can. Hastings can be ready for action within the week. Kent's condition is somewhat more serious. He was devilish lucky though. A few centimeters to the left and it'd have gotten his heart for sure."
Blakeney nodded, taking in the information with a calm and calculating mind. Marguerite was astounded by his reaction. Fear had gripped her heart when she heard Ffoulkes had been taken. He was Percy's closest friend and lieutenant. To be able to quash his feelings of worry to think and plan clearly could be no easy task. It occurred to her then, how he must face this sort of situation often during his exploits in France. She gazed at him with no small amount of awe. Just when she thought she had really begun to know him, a new layer had been revealed.
"Do you have any clues as to were they've taken him?" she heard Percy say.
"They were in Dover at the time, ready to sail across on the Day Dream as per your orders. Apparently, Ffoulkes had told them to split up to divide the French forces and gain cover. But both Kent and Hastings said that only a few chased after them. The bulk of the party was left to wrestle down Andrew."
"Chauvelin knows Ffoulkes is my second."
"Do you think he plans to torture information out of him?"
"No. Chauvelin is too smart for that. He knows Andrew won't talk. I'll wager he intends to use him as bait."
"For you?" Marguerite interjected, her voice suddenly verging on hysterical.
"It would seem so."
"Oh Percy you mustn't. You can't! Not in your condition!" Percy grasped his wife's hand firmly, a reassuring smile on his face. He flicked his eyes up to Lord Tony for barely a second but the man caught it. He nodded ever so slightly then cleared his throat.
"Good man, Tony," Percy thought.
"Pardon me, Lady Blakeney, I understand your unease, but may I beg a word with Sir Percy in private." She looked between Lord Tony and Percy for a moment before sighing and casting a worried glance on her husband. Percy smiled, gently squeezing her hand. She returned the gesture, bowed to Lord Tony and exited the room. Once gone, the younger man heaved a sigh of relief.
"So Percy, what are your orders?"
"There's a tavern not far from here, the Blue Bull. Ready yourself for a trip across the channel and send word to Stowmarries and Galveston to meet us in Dover at 2 o'clock tomorrow morning."
"Us? Surely you're not coming too?"
"Indeed I am. I will meet you at the Blue Bull at precisely midnight tonight. We will then ride to Dover and onwards to France."
"Really Percy, you must know that Chauvelin has set this up expressly to catch you–"
"Which is precisely why I'm going myself and not sending one of you chaps on instead. He'd kill any one of you straight off, no chance at the guillotine to save you."
"But Percy, you're–"
"You took an oath of unquestioning obedience when you joined this league, Tony. Trust me now, as you have on so many other occasions despite your feelings."