Part One: Four Walls, No Doors

The sound of the shattering glass snapped Lark out of her horror driven trance. She jumped, and noticed Lady Hastings and Sir Douglas Shields, the deliverer of this horrible news, were starring at her.
"Oh goodness," Lark mumbled quickly, bending down to pick up the broken pieces of glass, but she just crouched there doing nothing.
Douglas came over to her and put a hand on her shoulder.
"Lark, are you alright?"
"No, I'm not *alright*!" she exclaimed, straightening up and taking a step. The shattered glass crunched under her shoe. "Who is this former Guilder? Do I know them?"
"No," answered Douglas, "I'm afraid even I have not obtained the traitor's name." He paused. "It could be anyone."
"How did you hear of this traitor?" asked Eliza.
"I'm afraid I heard directly from Chauvelin himself. Well, a close source anyway," Douglas replied. "I do not know who it is, but I do know that Chauvelin is as aware of the Violet Guild as he is of the League."
Lady Hastings went pale and fell back into a chair. "Who could it be? I trusted everyone completely...." she trailed off, tears in the corners of her eyes. But Eliza pushed them back. She was not one to cry. She looked over at Lark with a pleading glance. "Lark, you must go to Chauvelin and obtain the name of this traitor so he may be stopped immediately. Do not accept the assistance of any other member of the Guild except myself and Sir Shields. right now, you two are the only ones I really trust." She straightened up. "If you will excuse me...I'm going to lie down for awhile." With a faint good night escaping her lips, the founder of the Guild glided out of the room, leaving Lark and Douglas alone.
Douglas ran a hand through his still rain soaked hair. "We need a plan."
Lark knew the perfect option. "Michelle," she sighed.
"Who?" asked Douglas.
"Me," she replied.
Douglas was confused. "What?!"
Lark briefly explained to him the entire soap opera of Michelle, Percy, Grappin, Chauvelin and her as Grappin's wife. "Chauvelin believes I have gone back with Grappin," she finished, "but I can once again go crawling back."
"Can this be done without Percy's assistance?" Douglas questioned. "I do not believe it would be wise to involve the League in this mission."
Lark shook her head. "Percy's presence is always a help, but I will be able to get out of this myself I believe."
She paused, twirling her black hair around her finger nervously. "I had hoped to never do this again, but..."
"What if you arrive there and Percy is there as Grappin?" Douglas asked.
"Percy is back in England," she told him. "The only League members in Paris now are Andrew and Lord Hastings."
"What can I do to help?" Douglas asked.
"There is nothing you can do," Lark told him. "I must do this alone. Don't worry about me, Sir Shields, I've done this many times before and it has never failed."
She patted his hand and tried to reassure him, but he failed to look convinced. "You've got to believe me."
He nodded, but avoided her eyes. "Yes, yes, Miss Wingfield. I do not doubt your plan."
Lark sighed and got to her feet. "I'll go tomorrow. We don't wish to waste time."
"We must certainly don't," he replied, eyes focused on the table top.
Lark said good night and left him alone.
Lark had not spoken to Douglas or Eliza the morning she departed for Chauvelin's, even thought she did not leave too early. She was still a bit upset over Douglas' lack of faith in her always solid plan. Still, she could not allow her emotions to get in the way of her mission. Seemed her love for him would always be unrequited.
Chauvelin's door loomed ahead, and once again she hoped this would be the last time she saw it. Lark knocked and hoped Chauvelin was at home.
He was, and before she had a chance to prepare, he stood before her, dumbfounded. "Michelle? You've returned....again!"
Lark hesitated before springing into action. "Yes!" she hugged the stunned citizen. "I've returned to you once again, Chauvelin, but I must warn you I am a bit emotionally scarred." She stepped past him into the house.
"Michelle, I should tell you--"
"Grappin left me! Can you believe it? After all I did for him!  That rotten Belgian!"
"Michelle, dear, that's horrible but--"
"You're the only one who really treats me right, Chauvie, so--"
Lark stopped short when she reached the parlor. A young man, dressed in simple English style clothing, stood there, holding a hat in his hands.
"Oh, I see you have a visitor," she turned around to face Chauvelin, finding the visitor's features nothing short of disturbing.
"Yes, Michelle," Chauvelin smiled, going over to the young man. "This is James Hamilton, my new informer."
That named was familiar to Lark, but she could not remember where she had heard it. Perhaps she was mistaken. "Hello," Lark greeted him, rather coldly. When was he leaving so she could question Chauvelin?
"This is the Michelle you speak so often of?" James asked Chauvelin, a rather evil glow about his face. Lark was still trying to place his name....and his face, which, despite the strange madness about it, looked oddly familiar. So this was Chauvelin's new informer....wait a minute...
"Yes," replied Chauvelin, answering James' question.
Chauvelin's new informer....oh no!! Lark's eyes grew wide as she suddenly realized this James Hamilton was a Guild member! He was the traitor!
She remembered Lady Hastings had introduced him to the group not too long ago. He hadn't been a member for long, so he probably didn't know the League secrets yet, but what he didn't know now he could find out by posing a single question! Since he hadn't been a member for long, he probably didn't know her. However, she could never be too sure...she had to get out of there!
"I'm sorry to be interrupting your meeting," Lark apologized, backing away. "I'll leave and return later." She turned, but someone caught her arm. With a great amount of fear freezing her heart, Lark Wingfield turned around and stared into the eyes of Mr. Hamilton.
"Leaving so soon, Miss Wingfield?" he asked, looking her straight in the eyes with a smirk.
"Wingfield?!" exclaimed Chauvelin, rushing over. "LARK Wingfield?"
"The very same," answered Hamilton without looked away. "No doubt they found out about a spy. Well they won't find out who squealed on their little game, now will they?"
Lark tore herself out of hi grip, ripping her dress in the process. Chauvelin, however, caught her arms and held her tightly against him. "You're married to my Belgian spy!! Has he been leaking secrets to this Guild of yours?"
"Yes, I am married to him," she lied, struggling to break free. There was no chance she would ever betray Percy. "And he knows nothing of what I did behind his back. I used him, but he is innocent."
Chauvelin glanced at James, who was still smirking. "Is this true? Is Grappin innocent?"
Hamilton shrugged. "I don't know, but," he grinned, "I can find out."
"Do so," ordered Chauvelin. "We'll keep her securely locked up until the truth is ascertained." He paused, and glanced down at the struggling young woman. "Then we'll make certain the blade kisses that pretty little neck of yours...without incident."

Part 2: Last Hope
Douglas paced back and forth, worried. Lark had been gone the entire day. This seemed most unusual.
"I think I should go out and see what happened," he decided, making a beeline for the door.
Lady Hastings called after him, "Douglas, please be careful!! If she has been captured..." she trailed off, unwilling to go on.
Douglas spun, a sharp, firm glare in his usually placid blue eyes. "I'll find out where she is."
"Just don't get--" before Lady Hastings could complete her warning, he slammed the door shut, "captured."
His three cornered French hat pulled down nearly over his eyes, Douglas Shields slunk in the shadows of twilight. He prayed they had not captured her. If she was killed....oh, he should have admitted his love for her when he had the chance! Even if she didn't feel the same way at least she would know!
Trying to think positively, Sir Shields approached the Paris jail. He had a connection there. This is where he had found out about the treasonous Guilder.
Finding his way to the back of the jail, he knocked thrice and waited. The contact appeared besides him.
"There's a girl I inquire about," said Douglas.
The contact asked, "Wingfield?"
"Yes," Douglas replied urgently. "What has become of her?"
"Chauvelin has captured her, but I don't know where she is being held," replied the contact.
"Still no word on who the informer is?" asked Shields.
Douglas gave the man some money. "For your silence," and slinked away. Chauvelin had Lark....

Douglas knocked violently on the hideout door until Lady Hastings answered, weapon in hand. She pulled the young man inside.
"We're abandoning this base," she told him. "It's not safe."
"Where are we to go?" asked Douglas, "Chauvelin has Lark, m'lady, and we *must* save her."
"I'll to England to get help," she told him. "This is going to be our most dangerous mission yet. The secrets of the Violet Guild have been exposed, but perhaps we still have a chance to protect the League. You are to go to the League hideout and stay with Andrew and Timothy. Explain to my husband the trust situation, but tell Andrew that just the League's existence is in danger."
"How do I explain how I know of the League?"
"Tell them Lark told you and that she's been captured and you need their help to save her."
"How fast can you get help?" asked Douglas.
"I'll send you back-ups tomorrow, but I will not return. It is much too dangerous for me to be in Paris right now. Do you understand?"
He nodded. "Good luck to you, m'lady."
They went their separate ways.

Douglas gave the password Lady Hastings had told him and waited to be attacked. He went inside and needless to say there were surprised faces. Three of them. Douglas was shocked to see Percy there, but he had to conceal it. He quickly gave the Leaguers the entire story of why and how he was there, lying just enough so he told the story, but left the Guild out.
"So what you're saying is that someone found out about the League and told Chauvelin. Lark knew and went to find out who it was and got captured," Andrew confirmed.
"Correct," nodded Douglas.
"So you sent for more help," Hastings said. "How?"
"Safely," he replied, "it's not important how. They'll be there tomorrow morning."
Percy finally spoke. "Do they know about Grappin?" he asked.
"No, as far as I know," replied Douglas.
"Not unless Lark revealed something that is," Andrew spoke up. "Chauvelin may have subjected her to any means of torture--"
"She wouldn't tell," interrupted Percy. "Not Lark. She'd die before telling them anything." He glanced at Douglas. "Do you know where she is being held?"
"No," Douglas told him.
"She's probably still at Chauvelin's," Percy thought aloud.
"I wouldn't risk Grappin giving Chauvelin a visit for awhile," Hastings decided, "they might question you."
"Agreed," said Percy, looking off into nothing. "Who did you send for, Douglas?"
Duncan MacLeod of the clan MacLeod nearly spit out his wine when Lady Hastings told them what had happened. It was two in the morning, but when she arrived with urgent Guild business, he, Christopher and Charlette were quick to wake.
"What do you mean Chauvelin captured my sister?!" roared Christopher. "Why, if I ever get my hands on that bast--"
"Christopher," Duncan interjected fiercely, as rattle as he was, "do you want your father to hear you?"
Chris scowled and glared straight ahead. "I'll kill him."
"What do you want us to do?" asked Charlette, taking hold of her brother's arm.
"I need you to go to Paris so we can save Lark and stop this treasonous Guilder."
"Oh no," Charlette decided, shaking her head. "You best take someone else, m'lady. I've never been there before and would just get in the way."
"Good point," Eliza agreed. "Chris, Duncan, are you willing?"
"Of course!" they both exclaimed.
"You'll need a third member of your party," Lady Hastings thought aloud. "Someone who'll keep you two in line...."
Suddenly she had the perfect idea.

Waking up at 2:30 A.M was *not* Raymond Denver's cup of tea, but when duty called, he answered. Within five minutes of hearing about the crisis, he was in the coach with the others, heading for the channel at top speed.
"Are you accompanying us, Lady Hastings?" Christopher asked.
"I'm afraid not," she replied. "It's much too dangerous for me to be in Paris now. I'm afraid Chauvelin knows who I am and must have a reward out for my capture. You three must join up with Douglas, Andrew and Hastings on this mission. This is not something to be taken lightly. The survival of the Guild, the League and Lark depends on your success." She paused. "If you fail...all hope is lost."
The three men exchanged looks. This time there was no room from error.

PART THREE: Fighting and Planning

Mr. James Hamilton, private British citizen, stormed through the front doors of Chauvelin's home, slamming them as he entered.
"They're gone!"
'Thank heavens,' Lark thought. She sat tied up on Chauvelin's couch, the man himself guarding her.
"What do you mean they're gone!?" Chauvelin asked, getting to his feet. "The Violet Guild has abandoned their base?"
"Yes," replied Hamilton. "They are wary of all members now, but if I could just find one of them....they all trusted me. I was the innocent new member."
"Are any still in the city?" asked Chauvelin.
Hamilton thought for a moment. "Besides Lady Hastings, who may or may not still be in hiding, I know Douglas Shields was one of the remaining members remaining in Paris."
Chauvelin paced for a moment, thinking. "You said the Violet Guild protects the League, correct?"
"Yes," replied the spy.
"Then they must have extensive knowledge of the Pimpernel and his League, correct?"
"Yes," answered James, getting at what Chauvelin was.
"But since you were such a new member, you didn't get a chance to find out about the League...." he glanced at Lark, "but perhaps someone else would know..."
Chauvelin and James both turned and grinned evilly at Lark.
"She was one of Lady Hastings most trusted agents," Hamilton told the Frenchman.
"If you think I'd actually tell you anything, think again," snapped Lark, trying to inch away from the two.
"Who is the Pimpernel?!" Chauvelin demanded fiercely, towering above her.
"Don't you wish you knew!" she replied just as fiercely.
Hamilton slapped her across the face. "Tell us what you know!"
Lark's cheek glowed red, but she bit her lip, fought back tears and seethed, "No."
"Is what you said true about Grappin?!" Chauvelin continued, eyes intent.
"Yes!" she insisted. "Why would I lie?"
"You have before," Chauvelin snapped.
Lark wasn't sure, but she thought she saw a hurt look in his eye as though he really had had feelings for Michelle and was upset over knowing she had been a phony all along. Lark never thought she would ever think anyone was scarier than Chauvelin, but suddenly the Frenchman seemed tame alongside the venomous James Hamilton.
"If you won't tell, we'll force it out of you!!" yelled Hamilton, black eyes flashing menacingly.
Lark set her jaw. "I would love to see you try."
Hamilton glared at Chauvelin, who's eyes seemed to have lost the bloodthirsty glow they had held only moments before. "You wish to torture her?" he questioned.
"Of course!" replied Hamilton so suddenly he startled Lark. "Do you or do you not wish to have the information on the Pimpernel."
Lark was taken back. This man apparently thought he could boss Chauvelin around!
"Of course," Chauvelin shot back, glancing from Hamilton to Lark. "I'd do almost anything to receive that information." He paused, and glanced back at Lark. "Isn't there another way?"
"Another way!?" exploded Hamilton, stamping his foot and making Chauvelin jump. "What has gotten into you, Chauvelin?! She's just a girl!"
"I know that!" roared Chauvelin, not sounding too sure of himself. "Don't you *dare* tell me what to do! I'm Citizen Chauvelin!!"
Hamilton didn't even flinch at Chauvelin's outburst. "You don't seem so sure of that! Why does it seem I'm more for this revolution than you?"
Chauvelin was pacing. "No one is more for this revolution than me! No one!" He looked over at Hamilton "No one!"
This time Hamilton jumped. "If you want to keep your head where it is, I suggest you torture this insignificant creature."
Chauvelin ceased his pacing. He glanced at Lark with an uncertain look in his eye. He tugged at his revolutionary sash and decided, "Do what you wish."
Lark clenched her teeth together. "Your revolution is disgusting! It's out of control! Keep murdering the innocent, Chauvelin!" she yelled at the Frenchman, whose back was turned to her. "You have no honor! You should be ashamed of yourself!"
Chauvelin spun around, eyes flashing.
Lark continued. "You're letting this fool take control already! It's over, Chauvelin! When you're climbing the steps to the guillotine, I hope you think of me."
Chauvelin clenched his teeth. "And I hope you think of me." He spoke to Hamilton without taking his eyes from Lark, "If she won't give you what you want, kill her. Today."
Hamilton nodded with a grisly smile.

Douglas Shields was jerked out of a light sleep by a pounding at the door. He awoke to see both Hastings and Ffoulkes asleep. Percy seemed very tired, but he dragged himself over to the door. "Yes?"
Douglas heard Duncan MacLeod's distinct Scottish accent. Percy recognized it too and allowed MacLeod, Chris and Raymond Denver inside. Raymond introduced himself to Percy quickly, since they had never met.
"This the backup you sent for?" asked Percy, his voice slightly hoarse.
"Yes," replied Douglas. "Duncan, what's the time?"
"'Tis seven thirty," replied the Scotsman. "Have you thought of a plan?"
"Not yet," admitted Douglas.
Duncan replied, "Well then, what are we waiting for?"

Lark was exhausted and battered, but try as he might, James Hamilton could not get any information out of her. He had been trying all night and was exhausted himself.
"Where do you think the Guild has gone?" he demanded, kicking her in the shin.
Lark sighed. "I don't know."
Chauvelin came into the room looking well rested. "Has she given up anything?"
"No," admitted Hamilton with a nasty look in Lark's direction and a laborious sigh. "Do you wish me to continue prodding or kill her now?"
"I wish you to do neither," Chauvelin paused and thought for a moment. "Go out and see if you can locate any member of the Violet Guild. Perhaps they will be willing to surrender information."
With a yawn, Hamilton nodded and left the house.
Lark and Chauvelin were left alone. The Frenchman sat beside her on the couch. She tried to inch away, but could not.
"Why won't you surrender any information on this Pimpernel?" asked Chauvelin in a rather calm manner.
Lark's eyelids were halfway closed, but she replied, "Because I have sworn to protect his identity, just as you are sworn to protect the Republic. We are the same, Chauvelin, you and I. You wouldn't give up Republic secrets just as I will not divulge information on the Pimpernel." She paused to yawn. "Tell me, citizen, do you enjoy killing?"
Chauvelin did not reply.
"Do you?" she insisted.
"I do what must be done," he answered firmly.
"To save what: yourself or your country? Who are you really trying to save by sending the innocent to die, Chauvelin?" She spoke softly, intently watching his reaction.
The citizen looked straight ahead, avoiding her eyes.
She continued, "I do what must be done as well, Chauvelin. I'm saving the innocent. It is the League and the Guild who are saving your country from the bloodthirsty radicals like you who are just trying to save themselves by accusing others of going against the Republic. People like you just want to stay in power, no matter the cost. Some innocent blood is the price to be paid for two more weeks of radical rule. This may have began as effort to save the country, but it has turned into something else, has it not?" She paused. "Am I right, Chauvelin? Am I?"
"NO!" he exploded, leaping to his feet. "No!!! It was all for the country! It was all for France!"
"Oh is that so?" she questioned innocently. "Then why is France still suffering?"
Chauvelin turned to her, a flashing, pained look in his eye. He pointed a finger in her face. "You listen to me, you little harlot. We are saving the country by purging it of opposition to the Republic! A country cannot stand when the people do not support it!"
"By this 'purging' you will only draw more opposition! These people whom you have jailed have committed no crime! Most of them have no evidence convicting them of treason, yet you murder them anyway!"
"We execute, not murder, and it's all a precaution!" he shot back.
"The murder of the innocent is called *murder*, Citizen, and what you call a precaution I call paranoia!!!" She was out of breath from yelling, and she was no longer tired.
He looked upon her, a blank expression on his face. "I do not wish to continue a political argument with you. It is quite obvious neither of us will accept the other's point of view"
"Agreed," lied Lark. She had convinced herself that Chauvelin was now questioning what he himself thought of this entire revolution.
'He has been doing this for too long to accept me completely,' she thought, 'but I believe that if he hadn't been brainwashed, he would have agreed with me. He seems to be growing tired of the killing, despite his mechanical martinet disposition'.
Chauvelin was still looking at her. Slowly he sat down again.
"Are you afraid of me?"
She turned to face him again. "I used to be," she admitted, "but I no longer am."
He did not ask why. Instead he turned the conversation to Grappin.
"So...if what you told me was true, you're married to Grappin." 'Uh-oh', thought Lark before answering, "Yes, I was."
"Was?" questioned Chauvelin.
"Well, he left me when he found out I had lied about my name."
"You mean you lied to him about your name?" Chauvelin was shocked.
Lark continued spinning lies. "I only married him to get access to you," she told him. "Besides my lies, I also believe he left me for another woman." She actually smiled, thinking of Percy's love for Marguerite. "As much as I hate Grappin, I speak the truth when I say he never assisted me in my work for the Pimpernel."
They sat in silence for a moment.
"You seem quite calm for someone who will most certainly be dead by the end of the day, " Chauvelin commented.
"Oh, I have feeling I'll be alive," she replied.
"I assure you you will die if you continue to refuse to give information," stated Chauvelin.
"I disagree."
"Is the Pimpernel coming to rescue you?" joked Chauvelin.
He moved closer to her. "You do not believe I will actually order
your execution, do you, Lark?" She shook her head.
Chauvelin ran a finger the length of her leg.
"Perhaps we can work something out...."

PART FOUR: Four Walls and a Gun

Once Hastings and Andrew were awake, the seven gentlemen began formulating a plan to save Lark and discover the traitor's identity.
The men decided to split into two groups, so just in case one was trapped, the other could come to the rescue. In the first group was Percy, Douglas and Duncan. Hastings, Raymond, Andrew and Chris made up the second group.
"Are we all clear?" Duncan questioned.
Everyone nodded.
Duncan turned to Christopher. "Don't do anything stupid or daring just for a cheap thrill, understand?" instructed the Scotsman. "This is not the time to be fooling around."
Chris nodded. "Don't worry about me, Duncan."
"Good luck to everyone," Percy said softly. He had been acting rather strangely ever since he heard about Lark and the jeopardy of the League's secrecy. With the Pimpernel's parting words or encouragement, the first group departed for Chauvelin's.

Lark's eyes grew wide at Chauvelin's suggestion. "That wasn't exactly what I had in mind." She tried to edge away, but could not.
"Then may I inquire your idea of keeping yourself alive?" Chauvelin inquired.
"Actually, I'm certain you could not bring yourself to actually have me killed when you hesitated to have me tortured." She paused and raised an eyebrow. "I believe there is more to you than meets the eye, Citizen Chauvelin. You certainly intrigue me."
Chauvelin moved against her. "Do you care to share why?"
"I believe you know why yourself," she replied, breathless. Why did she always feel so attracted to this man!! He may not be thoroughly evil, but he was bad. Bad!!
Even though she knew this, she pushed those thoughts out of her mind. Chauvelin wanted her, and he made no secret of it. Why, she did not know. She had a feeling it had more to do with something other than lust.
And for some reason, a reason that haunted her, she wanted him in return! She remembered the previous mission in which she was not truly dreading the experience of his lips upon her skin. And was just something about this revolutionary maniac she just had to have.
Chauvelin moved his face so close to hers that she could feel his breath on her. It was driving her insane. He spoke, in a whispering tone.
"Lark...I believe I am not the only 'intriguing' character in this room."
"Oh...?" she sighed in a squeaky voice.
He leaned forward and kissed her, holding her face in his hands.
She let him.

Douglas walked besides Duncan MacLeod as they approached Chauvelin's house. The first order of business was to locate Chauvelin in the house so an exact plan of distraction could be formed.
Duncan elected himself to go search for the Frenchman. the Scotsman crept up alongside the house between the brick and the bushes. As per the Pimpernel's suggestion, Duncan headed straight for the parlor windows. He came upon where Percy had pointed to and looked indoors. What he saw shocked him entirely. It made him nauseous and jealous all at the same time.
Chauvelin was there alright...with Lark. Duncan didn't stay to look very long. Within a few seconds he retreated back to where Percy and Douglas were stationed.
"Is he inside?" Percy asked.
Duncan didn't reply right away. "Huh? Yeah..."
"What?" asked Douglas urgently, sensing something was wrong. "What's the matter?"
Duncan hesitated. "Even if I told you, I doubt you would believe me."
Douglas and Percy exchanged a look.
"Well, you must tell us now," Percy insisted.
Duncan cleared his throat. "Well, both Chauvelin and Lark were in the parlor."
Douglas asked, "is she tied up?"
Duncan hesitated. "If she was....she isn't anymore."
"What is *that* supposed to mean?" Percy questioned and Scotsman.
"Well," Duncan began again, "they were....uh....together...."
Percy's jaw dropped. Douglas still didn't understand.
Duncan turned to the naive young man. "Douglas, let's just say it's going to take something really big to distract Chauvelin now."
Douglas grew pale and he stumbled back a few steps. Percy had to catch him. "WHAT!!??"
"Relax," Duncan interjected. "They haven't gotten to that level, but they're certainly working on it."
"There must be some sort of explanation for it," Percy decided.
"It didn't look as thought she was trying to fight him off," revealed MacLeod.
"We've got to get her out of there!!" Douglas exclaimed, thoroughly heartbroken. He now had no confidence in her having any feelings for him. could she? He was disgusted. "Now!"
"Okay, calm down everybody," Percy interrupted, trying to make sense of everything. "Let's think of a plan to distract Chauvelin and get to it quickly."

She knew it was wrong. She also knew she was in love with Douglas. There was just no explanation. She just could not help herself.
Chauvelin was working on unbuttoning the buttons on the front of her dress without removing his lips from her. She untied the ribbon that was holding his hair back. They both seemed to be madly attracted to something neither would reveal to the other.
He removed her dress.
She removed his shirt. She knew it was wrong, but like a runaway train she just couldn't be stopped. Had she always longed for this? She wasn't sure. Everything seemed so jumbled now she couldn't do anything except live in the moment and forget the past and disregard the future. She didn't love him any more than he loved her. Or was she mistaken.....

Percy, Duncan and Douglas were trying to get their thoughts organized so they could put their distraction plan into effect.
As they were moving around the house, the three bumped into another gentlemen who appeared to be doing the same thing.
"James Hamilton?!" Douglas breathed, surprised to see the new Violet Guilder creeping around Chauvelin's.
"Douglas Shields!" Hamilton seemed ecstatic to see him. "I am thrilled to see you! I discovered that one of us has crossed over--"
"I know," interrupted Douglas.
Hamilton glanced at Shield's companions. "Mr. MacLeod...and..." he stared at Percy. "...I've not had the pleasure of meeting you, sir."
Percy was obviously aware that Douglas had left something out of the initial description of the events. "Christopher Wingfield," he replied.
"Oh. I wasn't aware Lark had siblings, or that she had been captured until a little while ago."
"Yeah," Duncan dryly commented. "Us too."
"Were you coming to rescue her?" questioned Hamilton.
Neither of the three particularly wanted to respond.
"Aw, come on! I know a short cut inside if that's what you're looking to do. Follow me." Hamilton began walking away, indicating for the other three to follow.
"Should we follow?" questioned MacLeod.
"He's not the traitor," Douglas mumbled, forgetting what Lady Hastings had told him. "He hasn't been with us nearly long enough." Drawing a deep breath, he began to follow, the other alongside him.

The *real* Christopher Wingfield was doing exactly what he was *not* supposed to be doing, according to Duncan MacLeod at least. His group had split into pieces, and Chris' job was to ascertain the progress of Percy's group so he could inform the others if they were in trouble. he seemed to believe the only was to carry out his mission was to follow directly behind them, but without interfering and without being spotted. When he heard Percy give him name as Christopher Wingfield, Chris recalled something of much importance. Chauvelin knew who Percy was. this could get rather tricky.
The three were following some chap named James Hamilton now, and Chris crawled alongside them in the bushes. Duncan had glanced at the shrubs on a few occasions (perhaps he feared an animal would jump out at him), but Chris had hidden himself rather well.
He followed the trio as they came around Chauvelin's home and up to a back door. He watched as Hamilton opened the unlocked door with a grin.
"That was easy," he heard the Scotsman mumble. Without hesitation, the three men followed Hamilton indoors, closing the door softly behind them.
'Great', thought Chris. 'How am I supposed to watch them now?' He came out of his hiding place and noticed there was a window, but it was quite high. To access it, he would have to climb on the roof.
Chris grinned. Perfect.

"Did you hear a creak?"
"Forget it. It was probably just the wind."
Lark couldn't help but be a little wary. Had they come to rescue her? Or perhaps it was just the wind like Chauvelin said.
Chris hoisted himself onto the roof, and leaned over the edge so he could see through the window. The blood was rushing to his head, but whatever worked.
Douglas spoke, "You ready from here?"
"Not quite," interjected Hamilton, a sinister edge to his voice. He reached into his coat pocket and pulled out a loaded flint lock. He gestured towards a door at the back of the room with it.
Chris' eyes grew wide with horror. The traitor! They were trapped!

Part Five: Surprise, Surprise.

Before Christopher could even fully react to the sight of someone pointing a gun at his friends, Duncan MacLeod of the MacLeod clan suddenly whipped out a sword and challenged Hamilton.
But before you could blink an eye, and without any hesitation, the trigger was pulled, a shot rang out, and Duncan MacLeod gripped his chest and fell with a groan and a curse to the floor.
"Duncan!" Douglas gasped, staring at the dying man with a sick, saddened look upon his face. He turned and looked at Hamilton, a fierce anger building his features. "How could you, Hamilton?! How could you betray us?! How could you kill him?!"
Hamilton didn't flinch. He just pulled out *another* gun. "Just like I'll kill you if you don't get into that closet."
Percy put a hand on Douglas shoulder, "Live now," he instructed calmly, "fight another day."
"Yeah, if you're alive to see one," snapped Hamilton. He motioned for them to get in the room using the firearm. The two remaining members of the rescue squad obeyed the traitor and stepped into the claustrophobic closet.
Hamilton shut the door, locked it and took the key. Then he picked up Duncan's sword, stepped over the dead man's body, and left the room with a smirk.
Christopher was so overwhelmed he wasn't sure what to do! Duncan was dead, and he couldn't waste time going back to get the others. This needed immediate attention. If Chauvelin saw Percy....all would be lost.

Lark clearly heard a shot ring out in the house and she immediately froze, as did her partner.
"That was a gun shot," mumbled Chauvelin, surprised and confused. "What the..."
Lark sat up, out of breath. She looked down at herself, dressed only in her undergarments. "A gunshot..." she mumbled. ""
"Shush," Chauvelin interrupted. "I'll go see what happened."
"I'll go with you," she volunteered.
"No," he commanded. "Stay here."
She sighed.

Chauvelin crept down the hallway, slightly wary of what he would meet up with. He was surprised to see Hamilton coming towards him with a loaded gun.
"Hamilton?" he exclaimed, confused.
In response the informer pointed the gun at the informant. "The very same."
"What are you doing?!" Chauvelin was shocked at this sudden behavior. "Put that away!"
"Oh, I think not, my French friend. You might say by killing you I am doing the Republic a favor." He grinned.
Though extremely rattled, Chauvelin remained calm outwardly. "What brings you to that conclusion?"
Hamilton held onto the firearm with a firm grip, as though killing someone would not phase him in the least. "You've lost the true Republic spirit, Chauvelin. You've grown a bit soft. I'm sure it's only a matter of time before you're helping out the Pimpernel instead of hunting for him."
"I should kill you myself for such slander!" Chauvelin roared. "I want to catch the Pimpernel the most out of everyone in this country!"
"Perhaps you did at one time." Hamilton spoke in a calm, steady manner, walking forward holding the gun. "But I believe that stupid girl had warped your sense of right and wrong."
"That stupid girl had a name," Lark stepped into the hallway (still not dressed), "and I believe you know it, James."
Hamilton glared at her. "You whore. Thanks to you, a great man has to die."
"He doesn't have to die," Lark continued.
"Perhaps you're right," sighed James. Quickly he pointed the gun at Lark. "Perhaps you do."

Christopher *had* to do something. Percy and Douglas were locked in a closet, and Duncan was dead. Who knew what had become of his sister.
Quickly he climbed down from the roof. Perhaps the door was still unlocked. He tried it, but unfortunately that traitor had locked it. There had to be another way...

Before Lark could reply, Hamilton grabbed her and held her against him, Duncan's sword to her throat.
"Now I can kill you both," Hamilton declared happily.
Before any further words could be exchanged, there was a crash and a thud. Hamilton turned around to look, holding the sword closer to her throat.
"Who's this now?"
Christopher Wingfield had just jumped through a window and crashed five feet to the floor, but he got up, relatively undamaged. "Sorry about the window," he apologized with a grin and a shrug.
"Who are you?" Hamilton demanded.
"Just call me superman," Chris answered coolly. "You better unhand that young maiden, or I'll be forced to hurt you."
"How?" scoffed Hamilton. "You have no weapons!"
"But you do," Chris pointed out, raising both eyebrows.
Hamilton turned his back to Chauvelin. "Take one more step, you fool, and I'll slit her throat from ear to ear."
"Not if I can help it!" yelled Chauvelin. He rushed forward and pulled Hamilton hair back. Lark kicked him in the shin, causing him to drop the sword. He shoved her forward and she stumbled to the ground. Chris attacked next, trying to pry the gun free of his fingers. Hamilton kicked him away and spun around to face Chauvelin.
"I'm going to do what I should have done long ago!" Hamilton cried out. With a mad look in his eye, he aimed at the Frenchman.

Douglas had his ear pressed against the closet door so he could hear what was happening. "Sounds like there's some sort of struggle," he commented. He paused to listen. "I hear Christopher's voice."
"Wingfield?" Percy was surprised. "I should have known he wouldn't have stayed with the others."
"Leave him alone!" Douglas heard Lark shriek.
"Go find another customer, harlot!" James was heard yelling. Doglas heard a grunt and a thump.
"Oh my..." Douglas muttered, "what's going on out there! What's he doing to Lark?!" He began banging on the door.
"Douglas!" Percy exclaimed, dragging the young man away from the door. "Get a hold of yourself, man!"
Both men heard a grunt, and a shot. A bullet whizzed through the door, grazed Percy's arm and buried itself in the wall. the duo stared at it in disbelief.
"That nearly hit me," whispered the Pimpernel.
Douglas couldn't speak. Imagine if the bullet had struck Percy and killed him! If the man had been standing a foot to the left, he would be a dead man! Douglas would most certainly thank God for sparing his friend in his prayers....if he ever got out of Chauvelin's alive.

Part Six: Final Surprises

"Out of ammo?" Chris had thrown the traitor off course, sending the bullet into the closet instead of into the Frenchman. Chris picked MacLeod's sword off the ground and knocked the firearm out of Hamilton's stunned loose grip. The man made no response as Chris grabbed him and held the sword to his throat. "A preview of what's to come, eh?" Chris joked with a smile. "You deserve it."
"Not as much as you do," snapped Hamilton.
"That's for the Commitee of Public Safety to decide. You did, after all, endanger the life of Citizen Chauvelin."
"Citizen Chauvelin deserves the blade, not I," Hamilton commented.
Chauvelin smiled. "I'm afraid the blade will fall for thee, James Hamilton."
Christopher finally made eye contact with the Frenchman. "I turn this bastard over to you, sir. I'm sure you will see to it he gets what's coming to him."
"I can promise you that," replied Chauvelin. "I do wish to thank you, young man, for saving my life."
Christopher didn't miss a beat. "You can repay me by allowing my friends and I to leave France and by forgetting you ever heard about the Violet Guild."
Chauvelin nodded. "Agreed." Chris turned the traitor over to the Frenchman, who left the hall with him.
Chris helped his sister off the floor where Hamilton had thrown her.
"Are you ok?"
She embraced him wordlessly.
"Duncan's dead," Chris said bluntly.
"This is all my fault."
"Don't blame yourself, Lark. You were only trying to do what was right."
Lark drew away.
"I'd better get Percy and Douglas out of the closet," Chris muttered. He could tell there was something wrong with his sister, but didn't know what.
Lark was surprised her brother didn't mention the way she was dressed. "I'll catch up with you."
Lark met up with Chauvelin in the parlor where he was buttoning his shirt. Shyly she picked her dress off the floor. "Hello."
He replied, "Hello."
There was an akward pause.
"Where's Hamilton?" she asked.
"Locked in the closet," he replied
. There was another silence.
"I don't love you, Chauvelin," she admitted quietly, "but I don't regret what we did."
"Nor do I."
She cleared her throat. "What will you do now?"
"I'll keep up my search for the Pimpernel and try and stay alive," he replied with a sigh, "you understand?"
Suddenly, she understood it all. It didn't make it all right, but it made more sense to her. She knew for sure just what she believed about him.
"What will you do now?"
The question caught her by surprise. Quietly she answered, "I don't know."
"Just do me one favor," requested Chauvelin.
"What's that?"
"Don't come back."
~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~~ Lark entered the room where Duncan lay dead and Douglas and Percy had just emerged from the closet, redressed. Horrified, she listened as Douglas told Chris how Percy had nearly gotten struck by the bullet from Hamilton's gun. None of the men had yet to notice her presence, until she began sobbing.
All three rushed over, as she leaned against the wall. "It's may fault! Duncan's dead because of me! Everyone risked their lives because of me! Percy almost died because of me!"
Douglas embraced her, almost crying himself.  Before he could offer any words of comfort, they all heard coughing coming from behind them.
Upon turning around they saw Duncan MacLeod sitting up, looking confused. But  he was not nearly as confused as his companions.
"Duncan?" gasped Chris. "How the...."
Duncan cleared his throat. "My sword?"
Chris handed it to the Scotsman as soon as he was on his feet.
"Duncan, you were dead!" Douglas exclaimed, flabbergasted. "'re back!"
Lark didn't ask questions, she just hugged the clansman. "I'm glad you're alive, Duncan."
Duncan smiled. "Me too."
"Let's get out of here," suggested Percy, glancing around nervously. "Duncan can explain it all to us when we're safe in England."
The five friends left Chauvelin's with great relief.

Duncan explained to Percy, Lark, Douglas and Christopher about his immortality, but swore them all to secrecy. Thus when the story was retold, the part about him being struck by a bullet was left out. And the story was retold many times.
"I can't believe the traitor was Hamilton," a shocked Lady Hastings commented, shaking her head. The entire group, (including Hastings, Andrew and Raymond), had returned to England and they were all glad to be back. Lark, Douglas, Duncan and Chris recalled the story to Lady Hastings at the next Violet Guild meeting, which was held not long after their return home.
"He was quite a fanatic about it too," Chris told Eliza, "but I don't know why."
Eliaz sighed. "I just hope we never have such a scare again. I'm surprised Citizen Chauvelin agreed to never speaking of the Guild. Do you believe he'll keep this promise?"
"Yes," Lark answered quickly. Everyone looked at her, which made her nervous. "Uh...Lady Hastings, I would like to make an annoucement to the Guild, if you would not mind."
"Not at all," replied the leader of the Violet Guild.
After Lady Hastings had captured everyone's attention, she turned the floor over to Lark.
She sighed. "The Violet Guild lives, my fellow Guilders, but it is of no thanks to me."
Douglas turned to Duncan and whispered. "What is she doing?"
Duncan shrugged.
Lark continued. "For reasons I cannot specify, I am forced to announce this," she cleard her throat and said with a waver in her voice, "my resignation from the Violet Guild, effective now and extended indefinately."
"What!?" Chris exclaimed.
"Thank you." Sadly, she stepped down from her chair and confronted Charlette, Chris, Douglas, Duncan and Raymond.
"Why, Lark?" Charlette asked quietly.
"I can't answer that," replied Lark.
"Does this have anything to do with Chauvelin?" Chris demanded sharply.
Lark shot him a look. "I can't answer that either." She glanced at everyone crowded around her, staring with droopy eyes of confusement. "Look, just leave me alone. I know what I'm doing."
As she pushed past them to leave, she passed Lady Hastings, looking calm, but still confused and sad in a very subtle way. Lark almost left without saying anything to the woman whom she admired to much, but she had to stop and say something.
"I'm sorry," she rushed, "but I just can't do it anymore." Before Eliza could react, Lark hurried away and out the door. She was too sad to cry. The only emotion she could feel correctly was the heart wrenching guilt. Lark Wingfield did not regret what she had began physically with Chauvelin, but in another way, a perhaps more damaging one, she had learned too much on this mission. And in this case, ignorance most certainly was bliss.

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