“Oh, hush, Richard!” said his dinner partner, an aspiring actress well out of her depth in this society, whose knees had been tightly clamped together throughout all of dinner in order to frustrate Sheridan’s groping fingers. She gave him a shove with her elbow, not very hard, but hard enough, considering his state, to topple him from his chair and send him to the floor, where he remained.
A gentleman seated across from him turned to face a friend of his across the table and, indicating the seat vacated by the dramatist, quickly said, “That’s five pounds you owe me.”
“The Scarlet Pimpernel,” said Dewhurst, at the same time motioning the servants to prepare a place for the old Frenchman at the table. “A small, star-shaped red flower, I believe.”
“How very fascinating!” said Lord Grenville. “I say, Dewhurst, can you shed any light upon this situation?”
“Only a little, I’m afraid, milord. For the most part, I am as much in the dark about this singular gentleman as are the rest of you. As some of you may know, Percy and I are old acquaintances, having met abroad and spent much pleasurable time together on numerous occasions. Percy was the proud owner of an absolutely splendid yacht, a beauty of a schooner called the Day Dream. We had sojourned in the Bay of Biscay aboard that lovely craft and I had determined that I had to have her.”
“The Pimpernel, Dewhurst!” said the Prince of Wales. “What of this Scarlet Pimpernel?”
“I’m getting to that, Your Highness,” Dewhurst said, beginning to saunter round the table slowly, enjoying his role immensely. He came to the spot where Sheridan had fallen, stepped over him and paused a moment, then picked up the playwright’s glass, which was still three-quarters full. “Faith and I believe ole Richard’s finished with this glass. Well, waste not, want not.” He took a sip, then glanced down at the floor. “I say, Burke, I’ve heard that Sheridan could really hold the floor in Parliament and now I see that he’s adept at holding the floor here, as well.”
This sally was greeted with uproarious laughter and Edmund Burke, especially, laughed heartily, pounding on the table and shouting, “Well said, well said!”
“Tony, stop with this nonsense and get on with it!” said William Pitt. “What does Percy’s boat have to do with this mysterious Scarlet Pimpernel?”
“A great deal, Bill, a very great deal,” said Dewhurst, “and I might add that it is my boat, now.”
“What?” said Marguerite. “Percy, you sold the Day Dream to Tony Dewhurst?”
“Odd’s life, m’dear,” said Finn, “what do I need with such a boat in London? Sail her upon the Thames? Better employ a racing horse to pull a plough, I say.”
“Yes, well, Percy sold the Day Dream to me,” Dewhurst went on, “and I might add that he was very generous, doubtless anxious to stop my constant pestering of him on that account. Well, gentlemen and ladies, much as I am loath to admit it, I am not much of a sailor, I’m afraid. In fact, I’m not a sailor at all, being quite content to leave such matters in the very capable hands of the Day Dream’s Captain Briggs, who had agreed, with Percy’s urging, to stay on with his entire crew. However, I suddenly found myself in the situation of a child whose eyes were bigger than his mouth, for when I sat down with Briggs and became acquainted with the amount needed for the upkeep of the Day Dream, I was somewhat taken aback. I mean, what do I know of such things as hauling, painting, scraping, caulking, and so on? Though I am not known for being frugal, I could see that I had acquired a most expensive toy. Therefore, when Briggs informed me that he had been approached by an agent acting for some gentleman with regard to hiring the Day Dream for the purpose of bringing some goods over from France, I was quite agreeable. After all, a toy that pays for its own upkeep is considerably more attractive than one which slowly bleeds its owner dry.” He chuckled. “As Ffoulkes here, an experienced sailor, told me, a boat is nothing more than a hole in the water into which money is poured.”
There was some laughter at this, but clearly, the audience was growing impatient to hear about this Scarlet Pimpernel.
“And so I agreed to hire out the Day Dream, so long as I was not using her,” said Dewhurst. “Well, imagine my surprise when I discovered that the goods brought over from France were the Duc de Chalis and his family! Briggs passed on a note to me, signed with this star-shaped flower, begging me, as a man of some position, to use my influence to help the Duc de Chalis and his sons begin anew in England and to pardon the slight deception in the name of freedom and humanity! What is more, I have learned that the moment that our new arrivals here set foot on English soil, a note, signed with that very star-shaped flower, had been delivered to Citizen Fouquier-Tinville, the public prosecutor, informing him that the guillotine had been cheated of three victims and that this was only the beginning!”
There was spontaneous applause at this and it took some time for the tumult to die down before Dewhurst could continue.
“Well, needless to say, my friends, not only was I astounded at the daring of this adventurer who is unknown to me, but I was humbled by his dedication to the principles that we all, as Englishmen, hold to be so dear. This Scarlet Pimpernel, as he calls himself, is a sterling example to us all. I know not who he is, nor do I know why he has chosen to cloak himself in secrecy, but I do know this: I am proud that, in some small measure, I was able to assist him. I have instructed Briggs that in the event he should be approached once more in a similar regard, he is to return in full the fee paid for the hiring of the Day Dream and make the boat available at any time for this Scarlet Pimpernel, to use as he sees fit, with my most sincere compliments, for further daring rescues! Ffoulkes, here, has consented to join me in doing everything in my power to make those rescued by this gallant at home in England and I urge all of you here this night to join me in a toast to this courageous man and to lend him your support! Gentlemen,” he said, raising his glass high, “I give you the Scarlet Pimpernel!”
They all rose as one, with their glasse
s held aloft, and echoed the toast.
“The Scarlet Pimpernel!”
God damn, thought Finn. Too bad we can’t recruit this character into the corps. He’d be a natural. They all drank the toast and sat back down to engage in animated discussion and interrogation of the Duc de Chalis. The remainder of the evening was taken up with speculation concerning the Scarlet Pimpernel. Dewhurst and de Chalis could not have played their roles any better. The unknown Englishman had instantly captured everyone’s imagination.
After dinner, many of the guests went dancing in the ballroom, but a large group of gentlemen congregated in the parlor, there to smoke their pipes and sample the bottled fruit of Blakeney’s cellar while they discussed what went on across the Channel and, in particular, the involvement of the unknown Englishman in the rescue of French aristocrats.
Edmund Burke took advantage of the situation to launch into a heady polemic concerning his opinions on the revolt in France. Finn lit up his pipe and sidled up to Dewhurst speaking not quite quietly enough to avoid being overheard.
“What’s he on about, I wonder?” he said, in a somewhat bored tone.
Sheridan, who had regained consciousness and, though unsteady on his feet, seemed intent on draining Blakeney’s cellar dry, heard him and lurched over to them.
“He’s on about the Revolution once again,” he said unevenly.
“I’ve heard this dreary song before in Parliament. Though he seems to have committed it to memory, it doesn’t get much better with repeat performances.”
Burke, meanwhile, was gaining steam in his diatribe against the leaders of the Republic.
“It is right that these men should hide their heads,” he said, vehemently. “It is right that they should bear their part in the ruin which their counsel has brought on their sovereign and their country. They have seen the medicine of the state corrupted into its poison! They have seen the French rebel against a mild and lawful monarch! Their resistance was made to concession; their revolt from protection; their blow aimed at a hand holding out graces, favors, and immunities!”
Sheridan belched loudly and Burke shot him a venomous look.