Oh dear. I knew it was all my fault- and the worst part was, I was happy about it. I was happy that I was the reason Andrew didn't want to leave. I felt like I could fly- but Elizabeth was glaring at me. That was the problem. It was all my fault.

"Andrew, I do-don't think our conversation was really that-that interesting." Lorette put in timidly.

"Then perhaps I can liven it." Andrew smiled. He was smiling at me, and the best I could do was look down at the skirt I was twisting in my hands.

"Suzanne," Elizabeth stated matter-of-factly, "looks sick. You should take her for a walk, Andrew."

I glanced up, surprised. She looked so smug. I didn't want to leave! Well, maybe I did…

"Is that agreeable with you, Suzanne?" Andrew asked, so kindly I wanted to tell him everything. Why I wanted to go, why I didn't…

"Yes, I suppose." I whispered, still staring down at my skirt. He stood and I followed suit, placing my hand in his arm. I shot back one desperate glance at Lorette before walking out to the garden.

"Well?"

"Well what?" I responded.

"Did you have a lovely time while we were literally counting beans for the trip?"

"Of course. But I'm also sure you know what the Scarlet Pimpernel did, and where we're going."

Lorette looked up from her checklist, grinning. "I was kidding, my dear. Don't listen to a word I say. I do hope you had a lovely time. But you did miss out on quite a bit. We're rescuing a noblewoman and her seamstress. The Pimpernel is going to rescue them, but Fern, being so close to Chauveglob, knows he has a trap planned."

"Chauveglob?"

"Chau-veil-lynn or whatever his name is." Put in Elizabeth from where she was packing disguises across the room.

"Sha-ve-la is closer. Lorette, you're French! You should know!"

"Yes, m'dear, but I do love insulting the man."

"You still haven't told her what we're doing." put in Elizabeth.

"We're simply moving the ladies from La Rochelle to La Flotte. The Pimpernel can pick them up there."

"Simplicity itself, my dear!" piped in Fern, flouncing down the stairs. "You and I are going into the prison, where they are stupid enough to have a stair going up to the wall in the courtyard. We'll find a way to get them out of their cell, up those steps, and over the wall to where Elizabeth and Lorette will be waiting. I'll let you over, too, and I'll try distracting the guards long enough to give you a safe getaway."

"I'm terrified of heights!"

"Not more than being chased by guards, dear. If you're desperate, I could take Lorette instead."

"Oh, that sounds wonderful!"

Fern looked shocked, Elizabeth dumbfounded. Lorette was simply chuckling over the provisions. Evidently they had not expected me to say yes. But I was just a mouse!

"Well…" Fern mouthed the words carefully. "I suppose… But you'll have to listen to Elizabeth…"

Elizabeth's smirk was enough for me. "I- I was just joking. I'll go."

Fern sighed in relief. "Alright, then. You ladies had better head home. I'll take care of what's left and meet you in Dover!"

"Wh-who is that man?" I tried not to shiver.

"He let us in, goose. Now he's following us to make sure we follow up on our intentions." Fern replied.

"Are we?"

"Of course. Where have you been for the last ten minutes?"

"Trying not to faint."

"Suzanne! I told you it was going to be easy. I wasn't joking, however fond you may be of doing so." She muttered, evidently in reference to my backing out of backing out. We just have to get to the cell... here it is."

I was shivering now. Fern took the key from the man and swung open the door. This place reminded me of too many terrible memories. The two ladies were in the back corner. The orphan Comtesse couldn't be more than 22, and the seamstress was scarcely 17, if that. I smiled reassuringly. I didn't look very reassuring, however, in my National Gendarme uniform. Fern pulled out her long and official looking scroll she had spent nights on.

"The Ci-devant Comtesse Pauline de Croÿ and seamstress." She read off. If my manly voice was half as good as hers, I'd be allowed to talk. The two women, resigned and saddened, stepped forward.

"You will take hold of the girl, Citoyen Tessier." Fern told me. "And you, Rossau, the woman."

Rossau obeyed, but Fern had to stomp on my toes a few times before I grabbed the girl roughly enough.

"You are being transferred to the prison at La Flotte." Fern announced. We walked the two women out of the hall and into the courtyard. I could see Fern looking wistfully back at the stairway she originally planned to use. Fortunately for everyone involved, we'd changed plans.

Lorette and Elizabeth were waiting with the cart. It wasn't the usual open, rickety type, more like a racing carriage with the top cut off and loosely disguised as a tumbril. And as a racing cart it would be used! The second the ladies were up, Elizabeth brought the whip down over La Rochelle's fastest horses. Rossau stared blankly at our disappearing wheels for a minute before wheeling back and sprinting to the prison. That was part of the fun- our carriage had been waiting a good distance from the prison, and Fern had smartly chosen the least athletic guard to be our escort. His wheezing form was less than a quarter of the way back by the time we lost sight of him. When he did get back, his compatriots would find the entire garrison's horses hamstrung. By that time, we'd be long gone. Fern and Elizabeth were whooping hysterically up in the driving seat, while Lorette was comforting the lady. I sunk down beside the seamstress.

That hadn't been too bad…