From behind a marble pillar, Anthony watched Andrew bow with studied courtesy to Edith and Sybil where they were deep in conversation on a secluded bench in the Orangery, and then marvelled at how skilfully he separated the two, leading Edith away to the wide steps to the Salon upstairs. Only when they were out of sight, did Anthony pay his respects to Sybil.
"Mrs Branson, might I beg a moment of your time?"
"What do you want?"
This was not what Anthony expected. It was a very bad start to a difficult conversation. He passed a hand over tired eyes, and tried to think how to regain ground.
"Have I offended you in some way, Mrs Branson?"
"Not me, no. But you have vilely betrayed my sister. You have misused her, sir. If you did not love her, why did you marry her?" Sybil all but spluttered her bitter resentment on Edith's behalf.
After having little sleep over the previous five days, the discussion with Edith in the coach, and the run-in with Chauvelin, Anthony was in no mood for niceties.
"She omitted to be honest with me, madam. Your lady mother informed me that my wife was the source of all your misadventures last year; misadventures that almost got you all killed and which almost started a war between England and France!"
Sybil, confronting the stone-faced man her sister's husband had become, was not the least surprised by this, confusing Anthony further.
"Of course she wouldn't tell you about that. She promised the Austrian delegation that she would never tell a soul. I only know because she asked my forgiveness for it when we were in prison and expecting to be guillotined."
At that moment, Sybil saw her brother-in-law's face change to that she had known from before his wedding. This was the man who adored her sister, and who was desperate to reclaim a happiness that he thought he had lost forever.
He stepped towards her and asked in a much gentler tone "Can you not tell me, Mrs Branson? It might be the only hope for our marriage."
Although she too softened, she said "It really isn't my secret to tell, Anthony."
"I so want to trust her again. I need to trust her. If the only way I can do that is by asking you to betray a trust, well, I'm sorry but I will ask it of you. Sybil, what is her secret?"
Sybil sighed and her eyes strayed up the stone staircase.
"When that awful man attacked Mary in her bed and then died there, Mama and her maid helped to cover up the fact of where he died, by putting his wretched body back where he should have been. The other two, more senior diplomats from Austria helped to cover up how he died, making sure that his relatives and the Austrian press were told a different story, that sort of thing. But in exchange for that assistance, they asked Edith (who they recognised as the most sensible of us all) to repeat a version of the story to any revolutionaries who may come prowling, which implicated the Austrians in a plot against France. The purpose was to press Robespierre into declaring hostilities with the Austrians and to force him to send his army to the Austro-French border which would enable the Dutch and the Spanish to invade with a clear path to Paris, to overcome the Terror and stop the bloodshed. Then the politicians could start talking and perhaps some peace and order could be brought to Europe. The Austrians insisted on complete secrecy, to protect their part in the scheme I suppose, and to reduce the risks of its failing.
"Well, Edith did her bit exactly as instructed. It wasn't her fault if Robespierre was more interested in twisting the situation to implicate and then execute a British Earl and causing a war over the Channel rather than escalating the skirmishes on the Austrian border as everyone believed he would. The Austrians' scheme wouldn't work if they declared war on France because it required the French army to relocate to their border. An Austrian invasion would serve no purpose. Robespierre did intensify the conflict with Austria eventually, but by then the Dutch and the Spanish had lost the initiative and didn't do their bit, and the whole thing imploded … with us, the Crawley family, at the centre.
"Edith blames herself. And she still believes herself bound by her promise of silence to the Austrians. That's why, even now, she won't tell Mama or Papa, or Mary … or you … and you all still blame her."
Anthony stared at her, then at the stairs up to the Salon.
"Oh, dear God! Oh, Edith! How I have misjudged you."
"How will you atone for your misjudgement?" Sybil pressed.
Anthony turned his attention back to his wife's sister.
"I don't know. And, alas, I am forced to offend still more. Mrs Branson, I am disgusted at myself for having to tell you this when you are expecting. I beg you, be brave and composed for the sake of your unborn child, but your husband is not on manoeuvres with his regiment, as you believe him to be. He is not even in England. Tom, as you know, was a member of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel at the time of your rescue …"
"He's in France! I knew it! I knew he wasn't telling the truth when he said he'd given it up! Why couldn't he trust me?!" Sybil exclaimed, her jaw tense.
Anthony took one of her hands. "He wanted to, I know. But I wouldn't allow him to, not yet. "
"You! Surely … you're not a member of the League are you, Anthony?" Her disbelief was palpable.
"Yes, I am. And I vow to you, Sybil, that I will do everything in my power to bring him home to you." He took a deep breath. "He was captured a day and a half ago; he's in prison in Paris."
…
After comforting and reassuring Sybil as best he could he made his way up to the ballroom, spotting the French Ambassador almost at once. Chauvelin was circling Edith, waiting for his moment to pounce. Anthony covertly followed where Chauvelin shadowed Edith, and then, when the Frenchman accosted her, Anthony positioned himself just around the corner from the corridor where his greatest enemy confronted his wife.
"My Lady Strallan."
"You!"
Edith controlled the urge either to run away, or to scratch the ambassador's eyes out, and composed herself.
"You are now the French Ambassador, I believe, so I suppose you have every right to be in England. I also understand that you would be expected to attend a ball given by His Royal Highness, the Prince. But approaching me, speaking to me, after what you did?! You despicable worm! Get away from me, and stay away!"
She turned away from him, only to be frozen by his next words.
"Really, my lady. Would you shun me when I hold your brother-in-law's life in my hands?"
She spun round, fear creeping around her body like strangling vines.
"W-what do you mean? What have you done?!"
"Do you know where Captain Branson is, right now?" He took delight in not answering her question.
"On manoeuvres with the Reserve" she answered with more certainty than she now felt.
Chauvelin shook his head, condescendingly, taking a few steps more towards her.
"Is that what he told the sweet former Lady Sybil?"
"She prefers to be referred to as Mrs Branson!"
"Really. How egalitarian of her!"
"What do you want of me?" she demanded.
"A small service for France."
"After what you did to me and my family, why would I do that?"
"Because if you don't, Tom Branson will die on the guillotine."
"W-what?!"
Chauvelin sipped his wine, enjoying Edith's panic.
"Tom Branson is under arrest in the Bastille. He has been found guilty of aiding the enemies of the Republic, because he is, as you have every reason to know, a member of the League of the Scarlet Pimpernel. He will go to the guillotine … unless …"
"Unless, what?" she whispered.
"Unless you would be willing to do a tiny favour for me."
"Last time I told you anything, you beast, my entire family were sentenced to death!"
"Let's hope it doesn't come to that this time" he answered, his words dripping with menace that shocked Edith for a moment. Her memory of Chauvelin's betrayal and all that had led to the Crawleys' imprisonment overwhelmed her.
"I told you a family secret, which you wilfully misconstrued in order to justify reporting us to the Committee of Public Safety. For this you were rewarded with a seat on that Committee yourself!"
"I? Misconstrued the information that your elder sister had congress with an Austrian spy?" his voice dripped with offended innocence.
"He was merely a diplomat sent to sort out properties owned by Austrian nationals, as you well know! And he attacked her! It was true that she flirted with him mildly at dinner, but then he forced his way into her bedroom and tried to rape her in her own bed! When he died from a heart overloaded with drugs and alcohol, it was too good for him."
"You were so easily led, my lady" he sneered. "Always in the Lady Mary's shadow, ever overlooked. And now? I admit that you have found your venom since last we met, but you have not got it from your husband, I think. Did you believe marrying an older man would be safer than getting a proper husband? Perhaps you thought he'd be more grateful than a younger man, less tempted to take a woman more beautiful than you as a mistress, but more likely you didn't think you deserved anything better than inept, boring, old Sir Anthony Strallan!"
The barbs hit home. Edith visibly sagged, her tears getting the better of her.
"Tom … is he … ?"
"Captain Branson is as well as can be expected … after one has had the privilege of assisting the Committee in their … enquiries."
Edith gave a shuddering breath, and Anthony, still hidden, still listening, grieved for her.
"What do you want me to do?"
"Find who is the Scarlet Pimpernel."
She barked an unbelieving laugh. "Oh, just that! Nothing much then. Only the one thing that every man, woman, and child in London has been trying to find out for over a year!"
"I am sure that such a task will not defeat you, such a clever and very well-connected woman."
"You're not serious." She stared at his grim face. "You are serious. You cannot expect me to … I wouldn't know where to begin."
"Begin by finding a note that your other brother is about to pass to Sir Andrew ffoulkes. The contents will, I am informed, lead me in the right direction."
Edith closed her eyes as the full horror of her situation hit her. "You want me to intercept a private message between Matthew and his friend, betraying their trust and enabling you to apprehend a brave and noble man who saved my life and the lives of all my family and send him to the guillotine? Or you will execute Tom? God help me!"
"I sincerely hope He will, madam, because I need to know what is in that note, and I need to know by the end of this wretched ball! So make haste! Tom Branson's wounds are still bleeding, and he does not have much time left!"
With that he swept away.
Thank you all for your kind condolences. They are very much appreciated.
