*Abigail got to her knees and cleaned up her clumsy mistake. A traitor who knew
all the secrets. This could mean the death of...no!*
The rain was falling in sheets, drenching Abigail, Eliza, and the unexpected
messenger of the malignant news as they ran down the street to the place where
Sir Andrew Ffoulkes was currently placed. The reached the door out of breath and
sodden from the storm. The rain thoroughly disguised their tears of fright and
animosity, and the
only visible sign of the unhappiness was a small sniffle on Eliza’s part every
now and then. The traitor, Alexandria d'Allaire, was (or had been) one of Lady Hasting’s
dearest friends and a faithful guilder. The logic to why Alexandria d'Allaire had
decided to go against them, straight to Chauvelin, and most likely bring the
lives of the Scarlet Pimpernel and the entire Violet Guild along side her,
Lord Poole,(the messenger) knocked on a short wooden door, only loud enough for
the person inside to hear. The couldn’t risk any suspicion, any more than they
already attracted. Ffoulkes, curious, opened the door for the soaked, teary trio
and invited them to sit. Lord Poole explained the ominous situation they and
many others were thrust into while Lady Hastings and Abigail prepared hot drinks
for themselves and their companion.
When they returned to the room, Andrew was pacing wildly whilst an infuriated
expression redeemed his customarily merry facial features. He, as Lord Poole had
been was enraged, but soon was overwhelmed with the feeling of dread as he
realized their condition.
The question of what to do came up many times. Alas, not one person in that
dark chamber could conceive even an outline of an idea. There was absolutely no
one who could escape without going into hiding, and the Scarlet Pimpernel! What
a brave and courageous man he was! How was that traitor’s conscience strong
enough to survive
bearing information that could terminate such a heroic man, as well as at least
fifty, seventy others? It baffled Abigail as she watched Sir Andrew pace the room
with his strong hand trembling around the porcelain teacup. On the cup was the
symbol that if acknowledged (and who, with even the tiniest inkling of pride
could deny connection to?)
could very well mean the death of them all. A crimson star-shaped blossom.
A restless night followed as the three returned to England as soon as possible.
From there they would finish their final (could it be?) mission for the Scarlet
Pimpernel. Lady Hastings then sent a note to all members of the Guild still
remaining in France, instructing them to leave immediately. No one was in the
least safe there anymore.
Abigail was sitting in her home, the suspense weighing down her heart. A
servant appeared in the doorframe of Lady Chauncey’s sitting room, announcing
the arrival of Lady Hastings. Within a second Eliza had walked into the room and
sat next to her. A
look of determination concealed her usual carefree smile. The ever surprising
leader of the Violet Guild had another plan being born in her mind at this very
Abigail eyed her visitor with concern and suspicion. What could she be
thinking of that would involve me?
Finally Eliza spoke.
“I have a plan,” she said with enthusiasm. Abigail replied with equally as much
“I figured as much.”
A twinge of guilt came over her as she saw Eliza’s
reaction to the latter remark.
“Abigail, we are all under extreme amounts of stress because of this dilemma,
but I honestly believe this idea will work as long as we work together. You will
cooperate, won’t you?”
Abigail looked at her friend with playful sarcasm and answered,
“Oh, of course not. Why would I cooperate? I’ve done countless assignments such
as dressing up as a man, and spying on Citizen Robspierre in the middle of the
night,because of the guild. Why could I cooperate now?”
Lady Hastings sighed impatiently before she revealed her plan.
“And this is yet another one of those kind of missions, Abigail. Are you up to
“Wonderful. I chose you for this duty because, being an actress, it would be
easiest for you than anyone else in the guild. I need you to...”
The conversation continued throughout the afternoon and evening. Eliza left the
mansion with a look of confidence and relief on her face.
Abigail arrived in Dover promptly at first tide the next morning. She was alone,
except for her lackey, who would see her depart. The harbor was bustling as
Abigail looked for *The White Rose*, her husband’s schooner. He too, understood
the peril of the situation and
gladly gave up his beloved yacht for her mission.
The boat arrived in Paris that evening, and Abigail hurried to the usual
meeting place for visiting Guilders. Naturally no one else was there, and she
had the entire place to herself. Which was even better. She quickly freshened up
and went out to the government buildings. On her way, she collided with someone.
As she looked up at him, blushing, she recognized him instantly. His stern gaze,
and the passion and fire behind his gray eyes. The adamant frown on his thin
lips that completely complemented his character. She hadn’t realized her role
would come into action so quickly. It caught her off guard and she took almost
suspiciously long to regain her composure. Luckily
Chauvelin, as planned, was struck with her beauty and did not notice her infirm
response to the encounter.
He controlled the visible temptation, apologized and began to walk away.
Although he willingly acceded when Abigail, exercising her skilled accent called
him back. He led her to his home, not wholly understanding why. There was
something about her. Something that reminded him of someone of the past; someone
who should have
been his but chose differently.
When the two arrived Chauvelin suddenly pulled the half-suspecting Abigail
close to him and kissed her ardently. Abigail cringed in her mind and returned
the kiss. Everything so far was going as planned.
Abigail waited for the right moment to bring up the recent rumors. She finally
got her chance while Chauvelin took a breath.
“Paul, I have heard so much news about, you and revealing the Scarlet
Pimpernel, I do not know what is true or not. It is so confusing!
He, in his lust revealed just the right amount of information to Abigail. The
next day she would go to the place where he had Mlle d'Allaire imprisoned, and
talk to her.
It was dark and silent when Abigail was returning back to her temporary home,
exhausted. She had had a busy, stress-filled day, and tomorrow would be even
more eventful. Tomorrow would be the day when she would actually be able to,
solely deliver the Scarlet Pimpernel and his league, as well as the Violet Guild
from Evil’s strong
clutches. One chance, was all she would have to secure the lives of all those
courageous beings. She drifted into a restless, uneasy sleep, as she thought of
her procedures of the next day.
The song of the bird outside her window in the morning was intended to be
refreshing, but to Abigail, the tune was nothing but an nuisance. She had
limited time to accomplish what she set out to do. Chauvelin had carelessly told
her where Alexandria d'Allaire
was being held. She had to go there quickly before he realized what he had
done. She left her hide-out very early, and set out for a small home near the
edge of Paris.
The wooden door opened with a squeak and the tear-stained face of Alexandria d'Allaire
appeared. She profusely welcomed Abigail, who was someone she could trust.
Abigail only uttered one word.
Alexandria d'Allaire burst into tears.
“Abigail, I...I don’t know what h-had come over me! I am so very sorry. I
haven’t told them anything yet.”
She buried her face in her hands and muffled
her last sentence. Abigail listened to her babble, puzzled.
She hasn’t told
anyone anything yet? This could
be easier than I thought!
“You haven’t told Chauvelin the identity of The Scarlet Pimpernel yet?” she
queried. Alexandria shook her head.
“Nor any names of members in the Guild, except myself. If you didn’t know, I am
of French origin. My father and mother are cousins of the King himself. Last
week they were found and taken from hiding. Their trial is to be tomorrow, and I
felt I had to do something. So I told Chauvelin I was working with the Scarlet
Pimpernel and could
tell him his identity, as well as the members of the League if he would spare my
parents. He hasn’t let my parents free yet, so I haven’t told him anything
concerning The Pimpernel. Alas, when I was talking to Chauvelin last week, I
believe I saw a familiar face. A Guilder. I’m sure he went straight to Eliza.”
Abigail had been listening to this confession with growing confidence. They
still had a competent chance of escape with herself, Alexandria d'Allaire, her parents,
and The Scarlet Pimpernel. She revealed her new-born plan excitedly.
“Oh this is marvelous! It will be much simpler than I thought! When you and I
go back to the place I’m staying, I’ll send word for The Pimpernel to save your
parents, and return to England. We can leave to-night on my schooner! ‘Tis so
No sooner did she take a breath, she felt an icy hand on her shoulder. She
turned around slowly, cursing herself for being so careless. She looked up into
Chauvelin’s derisive eyes.
“Did you forget, my dear, that the very walls in this city have ears? You can
both come with me.”
Abigail did her best to escape. She wrenched herself away from Chauvelin and ran
to the door, only to find it surrounded with soldiers. Chauvelin had caught up
with her and took hold of her arm again. With his free hand he slapped her face,
unyieldingly took her to the soldiers, who then led the two now condemned women
to a prison. There, they were thrown into an open cell. Left alone, Alexandria d'Allaire
sat in a corner, quietly sobbing, whilst Abigail stood, back against the wall,
wondering what had happened, and what was in
store for the two of them. She and her companion would both be tortured until
they would reveal their priceless information. Abigail knew she would never
tell, for anything. But she wasn’t so sure about Alexandria. Would she
sacrifice the life of the Scarlet
Pimpernel and a hundred others to save her own? Abigail hoped she could be
The two spent the rest of that day and night in that horrid penitentiary. The
rising sun awoke the two women from a uncomfortable, dreamless sleep. Breakfast
was nothing but a meager portion of bread. Nothing eventful happened until about
two o’ clock. Two soldiers came for the women. Abigail and Alexandria were
very resistant and rebelling. One soldier pushed Abigail down harshly. He said
to his compatriot,
“They’re too unruly for the two of us, we’ll come back for the other later."
As they led Alexandria away. Abigail yelled one final plead,
“Die before you tell anything!”
Abigail sat in the cell alone. Waiting for the signal of her death when a tall
soldier came to her. He faced her through the hole in the door with an amused
look on his face. The soldier opened the door and stepped in. He laughed out
loud seeing the condition
Abigail was in. Her face and hands were dirty, her unpowdered hair was covered
with straw, and her dress had a rip in it. He finally spoke.
“Lud! Never before have I seen Lady Abigail Chauncey in such an embarrassing
state. Begad my dear, if you only had a looking glass! ha ha!”
Abigail had a fleet of emotions in the few seconds while the tall soldier was
laughing. Anger, and when she realized that it wasn’t a soldier at all, only The
Pimpernel himself, happiness with a twinge of embarrassment because of her
horrid physical appearance in front of her leader.
The ‘soldier’ took her hand and casually led her out of the cell. Although
instead of taking her to Chauvelin, he led her to a small house in an alley.
There he gave her explicit instructions.
“I have no idea why you are here my dear, but leave immediately. I have the
Count and Countess d’Allaire safe in Calais hiding. I’m going there now. You get
your things and meet me here. I’ll be waiting. I need myself and the Count and
Countess to go
on your schooner, I told my skipper to return to England. Someone here who
shouldn’t knows my yacht too well. Is this ok?
Abigail had barely got everything. She nodded. Percy grabbed her shoulders.
“Go quickly, Abigail Chauncey.”
With that she ran to the guild ‘fort’ and gathered what little she brought with
her and returned breathlessly to Sir Percy. Disguised as two lovers, with
Abigail’s papers, the two escaped Paris successfully. The trip to Calais was
mostly silent, until Abigail broke the quietude.
“What happened to Alexandria d'Allaire?”
At this comment, Percy’s frame fell. A look of sorrow crossed his face.
“The guillotine, m’Lady. She wouldn’t tell Chauvelin anything,” he sighed.
What a heroic man. Alas, he cannot save everyone, however much he wishes he
Eliza Hastings and Lord Chauncey were waiting for Abigail when she returned.
They were confused but overjoyed when the Count and Countess and the Scarlet
Pimpernel followed her off the boat. Abigail embraced her husband and chatted
gaily with Eliza on the way to her carriage. She turned around, remembering the
Count and his
Abigail approached the couple, and curtsied. In their eyes she observed
gratitude, yet much grief. The woman, in broken English, spoke first.
“Our daughter was brave. I miss her. Why did she die?”
Abigail felt empathy for this woman, whose daughter just gave her life for the
Scarlet Pimpernel, yet not being able to explain to her dear parents. She was
suddenly inclined to say something to them.
“Madame, your daughter was extremely courageous. It must have been very hard
for her to keep her mouth closed when she knew she would die for it. Your
daughter knew important information that she was to keep a secret for no one but
herself and when it came down to even her last moments, concerning life or death
she did. In doing so she saved no less than a hundred people and many more to
come. You should be proud of her.”
With that she gave the two a warm smile and headed for Percy. When she
was close to him she could feel his valiantness and audacity.
has to be the
luckiest woman in the world, she thought. She smiled gratefully to the man
before her and gave him her eternal gratitude.
The light was fading quickly and the harbor was unoccupied by everyone except
for Eliza Hastings and Lord and Lady Chauncey. Eliza embraced Abigail and looked
at her with admiration and respect. Although Eliza was in debt to Abigail for
more than her respect. The little fling between Abigail and Chauvelin, real or
not, had been the most revolting event Abigail had ever experienced. She hoped
to God that would never have to happen to her or anyone ever again!
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