The Scarlet Pimpernel

by Baroness Emmuska Orczy Orczy

  It was late into the night when she at last reached "The Fisherman'sRest." She had done the whole journey in less than eight hours, thanksto innumerable changes of horses at the various coaching stations,for which she always paid lavishly, thus obtaining the very best andswiftest that could be had.

  Her coachman, too, had been indefatigable; the promise of special andrich reward had no doubt helped to keep him up, and he had literallyburned the ground beneath his mistress' coach wheels.

  The arrival of Lady Blakeney in the middle of the night caused aconsiderable flutter at "The Fisherman's Rest." Sally jumped hastily outof bed, and Mr. Jellyband was at great pains how to make his importantguest comfortable.

  Both of these good folk were far too well drilled in the mannersappertaining to innkeepers, to exhibit the slightest surprise at LadyBlakeney's arrival, alone, at this extraordinary hour. No doubt theythought all the more, but Marguerite was far too absorbed in theimportance--the deadly earnestness--of her journey, to stop and ponderover trifles of that sort.

  The coffee-room--the scene lately of the dastardly outrage on twoEnglish gentlemen--was quite deserted. Mr. Jellyband hastily relit thelamp, rekindled a cheerful bit of fire in the great hearth, and thenwheeled a comfortable chair by it, into which Marguerite gratefullysank.

  "Will your ladyship stay the night?" asked pretty Miss Sally, who wasalready busy laying a snow-white cloth on the table, preparatory toproviding a simple supper for her ladyship.

  "No! not the whole night," replied Marguerite. "At any rate, I shall notwant any room but this, if I can have it to myself for an hour or two."

  "It is at your ladyship's service," said honest Jellyband, whoserubicund face was set in its tightest folds, lest it should betraybefore "the quality" that boundless astonishment which the very worthyfellow had begun to feel.

  "I shall be crossing over at the first turn of the tide," saidMarguerite, "and in the first schooner I can get. But my coachman andmen will stay the night, and probably several days longer, so I hope youwill make them comfortable."

  "Yes, my lady; I'll look after them. Shall Sally bring your ladyshipsome supper?"

  "Yes, please. Put something cold on the table, and as soon as Sir AndrewFfoulkes comes, show him in here."

  "Yes, my lady."

  Honest Jellyband's face now expressed distress in spite of himself. Hehad great regard for Sir Percy Blakeney, and did not like to see hislady running away with young Sir Andrew. Of course, it was no businessof his, and Mr. Jellyband was no gossip. Still, in his heart,he recollected that her ladyship was after all only one of them"furriners"; what wonder that she was immoral like the rest of them?

  "Don't sit up, honest Jellyband," continued Marguerite kindly, "nor youeither, Mistress Sally. Sir Andrew may be late."

  Jellyband was only too willing that Sally should go to bed. He wasbeginning not to like these goings-on at all. Still, Lady Blakeney wouldpay handsomely for the accommodation, and it certainly was no businessof his.

  Sally arranged a simple supper of cold meat, wine, and fruit on thetable, then with a respectful curtsey, she retired, wondering in herlittle mind why her ladyship looked so serious, when she was about toelope with her gallant.

  Then commenced a period of weary waiting for Marguerite. She knew thatSir Andrew--who would have to provide himself with clothes befitting alacquey--could not possibly reach Dover for at least a couple of hours.He was a splendid horseman of course, and would make light in such anemergency of the seventy odd miles between London and Dover. He would,too, literally burn the ground beneath his horse's hoofs, but he mightnot always get very good remounts, and in any case, he could not havestarted from London until at least an hour after she did.

  She had seen nothing of Chauvelin on the road. Her coachman, whom shequestioned, had not seen anyone answering the description his mistressgave him of the wizened figure of the little Frenchman.

  Evidently, therefore, he had been ahead of her all the time. She had notdared to question the people at the various inns, where they had stoppedto change horses. She feared that Chauvelin had spies all along theroute, who might overhear her questions, then outdistance her and warnher enemy of her approach.

  Now she wondered at what inn he might be stopping, or whether he had hadthe good luck of chartering a vessel already, and was now himself onthe way to France. That thought gripped her at the heart as with an ironvice. If indeed she should not be too late already!

  The loneliness of the room overwhelmed her; everything within was sohorribly still; the ticking of the grandfather's clock--dreadfully slowand measured--was the only sound which broke this awful loneliness.

  Marguerite had need of all her energy, all her steadfastness of purpose,to keep up her courage through this weary midnight waiting.

  Everyone else in the house but herself must have been asleep. She hadheard Sally go upstairs. Mr. Jellyband had gone to see to her coachmanand men, and then had returned and taken up a position under the porchoutside, just where Marguerite had first met Chauvelin about a weekago. He evidently meant to wait up for Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, but wassoon overcome by sweet slumbers, for presently--in addition to the slowticking of the clock--Marguerite could hear the monotonous and dulcettones of the worthy fellow's breathing.

  For some time now, she had realised that the beautiful warm October'sday, so happily begun, had turned into a rough and cold night. She hadfelt very chilly, and was glad of the cheerful blaze in the hearth: butgradually, as time wore on, the weather became more rough, and the soundof the great breakers against the Admiralty Pier, though some distancefrom the inn, came to her as the noise of muffled thunder.

  The wind was becoming boisterous, rattling the leaded windows and themassive doors of the old-fashioned house: it shook the trees outside androared down the vast chimney. Marguerite wondered if the wind would befavourable for her journey. She had no fear of the storm, and would havebraved worse risks sooner than delay the crossing by an hour.

  A sudden commotion outside roused her from her meditations. Evidentlyit was Sir Andrew Ffoulkes, just arrived in mad haste, for she heardhis horse's hoofs thundering on the flag-stones outside, then Mr.Jellyband's sleepy, yet cheerful tones bidding him welcome.

  For a moment, then, the awkwardness of her position struck Marguerite;alone at this hour, in a place where she was well known, and having madean assignation with a young cavalier equally well known, and who arrivedin disguise! What food for gossip to those mischievously inclined.

  The idea struck Marguerite chiefly from its humorous side: there wassuch quaint contrast between the seriousness of her errand, and theconstruction which would naturally be put on her actions by honest Mr.Jellyband, that, for the first time since many hours, a little smilebegan playing round the corners of her childlike mouth, and when,presently, Sir Andrew, almost unrecognisable in his lacquey-like garb,entered the coffee-room, she was able to greet him with quite a merrylaugh.

  "Faith! Monsieur, my lacquey," she said, "I am satisfied with yourappearance!"

  Mr. Jellyband had followed Sir Andrew, looking strangely perplexed. Theyoung gallant's disguise had confirmed his worst suspicions. Without asmile upon his jovial face, he drew the cork from the bottle of wine,set the chairs ready, and prepared to wait.

  "Thanks, honest friend," said Marguerite, who was still smiling at thethought of what the worthy fellow must be thinking at that very moment,"we shall require nothing more; and here's for all the trouble you havebeen put to on our account."

  She handed two or three gold pieces to Jellyband, who took themrespectfully, and with becoming gratitude.

  "Stay, Lady Blakeney," interposed Sir Andrew, as Jellyband was aboutto retire, "I am afraid we shall require something more of my friendJelly's hospitality. I am sorry to say we cannot cross over to-night."

  "Not cross over to-night?" she repeated in amazement. "But we must, SirAndrew, we must! There can be no question of cannot, and whatever it maycost, we must get a vessel to-night."

  B
ut the young man shook his head sadly.

  "I am afraid it is not a question of cost, Lady Blakeney. There is anasty storm blowing from France, the wind is dead against us, we cannotpossibly sail until it has changed."

  Marguerite became deadly pale. She had not foreseen this. Nature herselfwas playing her a horrible, cruel trick. Percy was in danger, and shecould not go to him, because the wind happened to blow from the coast ofFrance.

  "But we must go!--we must!" she repeated with strange, persistentenergy, "you know, we must go!--can't you find a way?"

  "I have been down to the shore already," he said, "and had a talk to oneor two skippers. It is quite impossible to set sail to-night, soevery sailor assured me. No one," he added, looking significantly atMarguerite, "NO ONE could possibly put out of Dover to-night."

  Marguerite at once understood what he meant. NO ONE included Chauvelinas well as herself. She nodded pleasantly to Jellyband.

  "Well, then, I must resign myself," she said to him. "Have you a roomfor me?"

  "Oh, yes, your ladyship. A nice, bright, airy room. I'll see to it atonce. . . . And there is another one for Sir Andrew--both quite ready."

  "That's brave now, mine honest Jelly," said Sir Andrew, gaily, andclapping his worth host vigorously on the back. "You unlock both thoserooms, and leave our candles here on the dresser. I vow you are deadwith sleep, and her ladyship must have some supper before she retires.There, have no fear, friend of the rueful countenance, her ladyship'svisit, though at this unusual hour, is a great honour to thy house, andSir Percy Blakeney will reward thee doubly, if thou seest well to herprivacy and comfort."

  Sir Andrew had no doubt guessed the many conflicting doubts and fearswhich raged in honest Jellyband's head; and, as he was a gallantgentleman, he tried by this brave hint to allay some of the worthyinnkeeper's suspicions. He had the satisfaction of seeing that hehad partially succeeded. Jellyband's rubicund countenance brightenedsomewhat, at the mention of Sir Percy's name.

  "I'll go and see to it at once, sir," he said with alacrity, and withless frigidity in his manner. "Has her ladyship everything she wants forsupper?"

  "Everything, thanks, honest friend, and as I am famished and dead withfatigue, I pray you see to the rooms."

  "Now tell me," she said eagerly, as soon as Jellyband had gone from theroom, "tell me all your news."

  "There is nothing else much to tell you, Lady Blakeney," replied theyoung man. "The storm makes it quite impossible for any vessel to putout of Dover this tide. But, what seems to you at first a terriblecalamity is really a blessing in disguise. If we cannot cross over toFrance to-night, Chauvelin is in the same quandary.

  "He may have left before the storm broke out."

  "God grant he may," said Sir Andrew, merrily, "for very likely thenhe'll have been driven out of his course! Who knows? He may now even belying at the bottom of the sea, for there is a furious storm raging, andit will fare ill with all small craft which happen to be out. But I fearme we cannot build our hopes upon the shipwreck of that cunning devil,and of all his murderous plans. The sailors I spoke to, all assured methat no schooner had put out of Dover for several hours: on the otherhand, I ascertained that a stranger had arrived by coach this afternoon,and had, like myself, made some inquiries about crossing over to France.

  "Then Chauvelin is still in Dover?"

  "Undoubtedly. Shall I go waylay him and run my sword through him? Thatwere indeed the quickest way out of the difficulty."

  "Nay! Sir Andrew, do not jest! Alas! I have often since last nightcaught myself wishing for that fiend's death. But what you suggest isimpossible! The laws of this country do not permit of murder! It is onlyin our beautiful France that wholesale slaughter is done lawfully, inthe name of Liberty and of brotherly love."

  Sir Andrew had persuaded her to sit down to the table, to partake ofsome supper and to drink a little wine. This enforced rest of at leasttwelve hours, until the next tide, was sure to be terribly difficult tobear in the state of intense excitement in which she was. Obedient inthese small matters like a child, Marguerite tried to eat and drink.

  Sir Andrew, with that profound sympathy born in all those who are inlove, made her almost happy by talking to her about her husband. Herecounted to her some of the daring escapes the brave Scarlet Pimpernelhad contrived for the poor French fugitives, whom a relentless andbloody revolution was driving out of their country. He made her eyesglow with enthusiasm by telling her of his bravery, his ingenuity, hisresourcefulness, when it meant snatching the lives of men, women, andeven children from beneath the very edge of that murderous, ever-readyguillotine.

  He even made her smile quite merrily by telling her of the ScarletPimpernel's quaint and many disguises, through which he had baffled thestrictest watch set against him at the barricades of Paris. This lasttime, the escape of the Comtesse de Tournay and her children had been averitable masterpiece--Blakeney disguised as a hideous old market-woman,in filthy cap and straggling grey locks, was a sight fit to make thegods laugh.

  Marguerite laughed heartily as Sir Andrew tried to describe Blakeney'sappearance, whose gravest difficulty always consisted in his greatheight, which in France made disguise doubly difficult.

  Thus an hour wore on. There were many more to spend in enforcedinactivity in Dover. Marguerite rose from the table with an impatientsigh. She looked forward with dread to the night in the bed upstairs,with terribly anxious thoughts to keep her company, and the howling ofthe storm to help chase sleep away.

  She wondered where Percy was now. The DAY DREAM was a strong, well-builtsea-going yacht. Sir Andrew had expressed the opinion that no doubtshe had got in the lee of the wind before the storm broke out, or elseperhaps had not ventured into the open at all, but was lying quietly atGravesend.

  Briggs was an expert skipper, and Sir Percy handled a schooner as wellas any master mariner. There was no danger for them from the storm.

  It was long past midnight when at last Marguerite retired to rest. Asshe had feared, sleep sedulously avoided her eyes. Her thoughts were ofthe blackest during these long, weary hours, whilst that incessant stormraged which was keeping her away from Percy. The sound of the distantbreakers made her heart ache with melancholy. She was in the mood whenthe sea has a saddening effect upon the nerves. It is only when we arevery happy, that we can bear to gaze merrily upon the vast and limitlessexpanse of water, rolling on and on with such persistent, irritatingmonotony, to the accompaniment of our thoughts, whether grave or gay.When they are gay, the waves echo their gaiety; but when they are sad,then every breaker, as it rolls, seems to bring additional sadness, andto speak to us of hopelessness and of the pettiness of all our joys.

  CHAPTER XXII CALAIS