insignificance when compared to Blakeney’s. Ffoulkes kept an elegantly understated suite of apartments in London and it was there that they all met to begin planning out the activities of their creation, the crusader who would shortly become known throughout all of England as the Scarlet Pimpernel.
They began to form their league. Ffoulkes and Dewhurst would, naturally, be the first and senior members, taking their direction from Blakeney. Lucas and Andre would act as their links to Blakeney when he could not contact them himself. Together, the three of them discussed the possibility of recruiting fellow adventurers to their cause.
Dewhurst proposed five members, whose personal qualities and qualifications were discussed at length; Ffoulkes brought up four names. They talked about it late into the night and it was decided that all would make good candidates, providing that they could take direction without question and never be informed of the Pimpernel’s true identity.
“All right, then,” Finn said, when they had finished for the night, “I suggest that the two of you begin approaching those whom we’ve agreed upon discreetly and sound them out as to their feelings on this matter. Be very circumspect initially and if you have any doubt as to the degree of their commitment, let the matter go no further. Are we agreed?”
“Agreed, “ said Ffoulkes.
“Agreed,” said Dewhurst.
“Good,” said Finn. “In that case, we shall meet again at Richmond. Confer with de Chalis once again and make certain that he knows what to do. We’ve made a good beginning, gentlemen. Now let’s start gathering momentum.”
Andre felt sorry for Marguerite Blakeney. She couldn’t help it. Since Lady Blakeney had arrived at Richmond, Andre had been spending a great deal of time with her, both to help keep a distance between her and Finn and to keep track of her so that she would not inadvertently cause any element of the adjustment to go awry.
Although she knew that Marguerite St. Just had been instrumental in sending the Marquis de St. Cyr and all his family to the guillotine, it was difficult to believe that Lady Marguerite Blakeney could have been involved in such a thing. Andre wanted very much to question her about it, but she could not bring herself to do so. For one thing, as a servant, it was not her place. For another, it was not a topic of conversation that could be easily brought up. She had no idea how Lady Blakeney would react if she asked her about St. Cyr and she didn’t want to risk doing anything that would interfere with Finn’s work in the slightest. She had to keep reminding herself that she was a soldier and that she could not allow her personal feelings to enter into the situation. There was far more at stake than the welfare of one woman.
However, on the other hand, she wished that there was something she could do to ease Lady Blakeney’s burden. She herself was far from being unblooded. Andre had killed many men. Sometimes, the cause had been just, but other times, it had not been. Marguerite Blakeney had the blood of a family of French aristocrats upon her hands. When compared to the amount of lives that Andre had taken, it was a small thing, indeed. Andre could not bring herself to feel guilt or to bear blame for anything that she had done, although she had a few regrets. Given that, it was difficult to take the attitude that Marguerite Blakeney deserved no pity for having sent St. Cyr to the block. She did not know the circumstances attending the St. Cyr affair. Perhaps there was a reason, some explanation for why Marguerite had done what she had done. Certainly, it was hard to believe that she could have acted coldly in the matter, without remorse, having condemned an entire family simply because her society had determined that aristocrats were enemies of France. After all, Marguerite St. Just had married an aristocrat, albeit an English one, and now possessed a title herself.
As the wife of a baronet, Marguerite Blakeney was more than entitled to act the part, to treat people of a lesser social class as inferiors, to act as though the servants were nothing but possessions or menial employees, part of the woodwork. But Marguerite was kind and considerate to all the members of the household. Within days after her arrival at the Blakeney estate, she had won the love and unswerving loyalty of all the staff, who went out of their way to see to her comfort and to make her feel welcome. The stablemaster saw to it that she had the gentlest horse and he was thrilled beyond all measure when Marguerite, though vastly inexperienced in such things, came to assist him when one of the mares was throwing a colt. The gamekeeper shyly brought her a baby thrush that had fallen from its nest and helped her nurse it back to health. Within the week, she had learned the Christian names of all the servants and she had made it known to them that if there was anything they needed regarding their own personal matters, they were free to come to her for help. The servants, so far as Andre knew, were ignorant of the part that Marguerite had played in St. Cyr’s execution and she was convinced that if they were told of it, they would not believe it. She had a hard time believing it herself.
Andre, perhaps much more than Finn or Lucas, was in a position to understand the fervor of the French revolutionaries. Finn and Lucas had traveled throughout all of time and they had seen the cruelty of the “haves” to the “have-nots,” but Andre had lived it. She had been born a peasant, she had been a knight, and she had served a king, or a prince who would have been a king. John of Anjou had been a tyrannical, ruthless ruler and his brother Richard had not been much better. When Richard died and John became the king, his own barons had rebelled against him, forcing him to sign the Magna Carta. From what she had learned of the history of France, the treatment of the French peasantry by the aristocrats was not much different from the way that the invading Normans had treated the Saxons in the time from which she came. Leaving aside the right or wrong of it, Andre could understand why the crowds in Paris cheered each descent of Dr. Guillotin’s deadly blade.
In spite of her effort to maintain a personal detachment, Andre’s heart went out to Marguerite Blakeney. She was a stranger in a strange land who did not yet know anyone but the servants in her own household, with the sole exception of Lord Antony Dewhurst, whom she had met only once. She had no friends, this woman who had commanded the respect and admiration of the finest minds of Paris, and she believed that she had married a man who no longer loved her. Perhaps, with Percy Blakeney, that had been the case. His love for her might well have died when he found out about St. Cyr, but Blakeney was dead now and Finn Delaney had taken his place.
Andre had little doubt about Finn’s feelings. They had fought side by side together and they knew each other very well. Perhaps Andre even knew Finn better than he knew himself, despite the fact that he was several lifetimes older than she was.
She knew that Finn Delaney was strongly attracted to Marguerite Blakeney. She had seen the way he looked at her when Marguerite’s face was turned away. At first, she had thought that it was merely lust and perhaps at first it was. Marguerite Blakeney was extraordinarily beautiful and Finn Delaney was a rampant specimen of manhood. Andre had often thought of bedding him herself. However, lust was a thing that was easily satisfied and when lust was unrequited, a convenient substitute would often do. Finn displayed none of the distemper of a rutting male. Moreover, he displayed no inclination to redirect his urge. They were close friends as well as comrades in arms and Finn knew well that Andre would be more than willing to give him an outlet for his tension, but that was not the problem
Perhaps Finn did not love Marguerite, at least, not yet. However, he obviously liked her a great deal. He admired and respected her, and Andre knew that he was having the same difficulty reconciling Marguerite with the St. Cyr affair that Andre was having. She knew that playing the part of an uncaring, alienated husband was having its effect on him. He was finding the role increasingly more difficult to play and they had only been together for a brief length of time. To complicate matters even further, Marguerite perceived a change in her husband, a change beyond the distance that had grown between her and Percy Blakeney before Finn stepped in to take his place. She knew that her husband had become a different man, though she would never know just how literally true that was.
No amount of research or preparation, even in a case that was exhaustively detailed, which this one was not, could ever account for every slightest detail. Even though Marguerite had not been married to Percy Blakeney for very long, she was still his wife, prior to becoming his wife, she had been courted by him for some length of time. It was only inevitable that she would notice some inconsistencies in the behavior of her husband and Marguerite was at a loss to account for them.
At dinner on the second night of their stay in Richmond, she had watched with puzzlement as Finn enjoyed three helpings of roasted chicken and it was not until Finn had finished the last portion that she remarked upon the fact that he had always hated chicken, avoiding it because it gave him hives. Finn had mentioned the matter to Andre afterwards when he instructed her to stay close to Marguerite and gain her confidence, so that he would be kept informed if he suddenly exhibited any other uncharacteristic behavior. To which end, Andre was soon able to tell him that Marguerite was mystified as to why he had taken to wearing a gold eyeglass, when he had always
