“Everyone in London knows Lady Blakeney,” said Andrew Ffoulkes. “She and Sir Percy are the leaders of London society. Everyone admires and respects her.”
“Well, I, for one, do not admire and respect her,” said the comtesse, stiffly. “What is more, if she is the type of person you enshrine in your society, I fear that I cannot say much good about it. We knew each other, once. She and my Suzanne attended school together. However, it seems that she preferred to learn her lessons at the hands of the Revolutionary tribunal. While our world was collapsing all around us, she helped to pull it down.”
“Really, I’m sure that Lady Blakeney-” Ffoulkes began but the comtesse interrupted him.
“Your Lady Blakeney was responsible for the death of the Marquis de St. Cyr. If you prefer to forget such things here in England, I can assure you that I recall them quite vividly. We are in England now and we are grateful for your English hospitality. We shall try not to abuse it. However, should I encounter Marguerite St. Just, I shall refuse to acknowledge her existence.”
Ffoulkes leaned close to Dewhurst and whispered in his ear. “This is a most unfortunate turn of events, Tony,” he said. “Lady Blakeney is due to arrive here at any moment. Percy’s ridden out to meet her coach.”
Dewhurst nodded. “With any luck, we can get them upstairs to refresh themselves and then try to head Percy off. It wouldn’t do to have-”
At that moment, a coach was heard pulling up outside. Seconds later, the door to the Fisherman’s Rest opened and Marguerite Blakeney entered.
“Lord, I’m famished!” she said. “The air in here smells quite delicious.” She saw the others and her eyes widened in surprise. “Andrew! Tony! What a delightful surprise! And is that…? It is you, Suzanne! Whatever are you doing here in England?”
“Suzanne, I forbid you to speak to that woman,” said the comtesse, pointedly looking away from Marguerite.
For a moment, Marguerite looked both stunned and hurt by this rejection; but understanding quickly dawned and she recovered, albeit a bit shakily.
“Well! What bug bit you, I wonder?” she said, attempting to sound casual.
The young vicomte stood up, drawing himself up to appear as tall as he possibly could. “My mother clearly does not wish to speak with you, madame,” he said. “We have no desire to socialize with traitors!”
“See here, now,” Ffoulkes began, but at that moment, the door opened once again and Finn walked in, shaking the dust off of his coat.
“Begad, what have we here? “ he said, taking in the momentarily frozen tableau.
Marguerite smiled a bit crookedly. “Oh, nothing very serious, Percy,” she said, lightly, “only an insult to your wife’s honor.”
“Odd’s life, you don’t say!” said Finn. “Who would be so reckless as to take you on, my dear?”
The young vicomte approached him, taking a jaunty stance with his hand upon the pommel of his sword. “The lady is referring to my mother and myself, monsieur,” he said. “As any apology would be quite out of the question, I am prepared to offer you the usual reparation between men of honor.”
Finn stared down at the boy, putting a look of astonishment upon his face. “Good Lord! Where on earth did you learn to speak English? It’s really quite remarkable. I wish I could speak your language as well, but I’m afraid that the proper accent is quite beyond me!”
The lad looked at him with irritation. “I am still waiting for your reply, monsieur.”
Finn glanced at Ffoulkes and Dewhurst in a puzzled fashion. “My reply? What the devil is this young fellow talking about?”
“My sword, monsieur!” the vicomte said in exasperation. “I offer you my sword!”
“Begad,” said Finn, “what good is your sword to me? I never wear the damned things, they’re forever getting in the way and poking people. Damned nuisance, if you ask me.”
“I believe the young man means a duel, my husband,” Marguerite said.
“A duel! You don’t say! Really?”
“Yes, a duel, monsieur,” said the vicomte. “I am offering you satisfaction.”
“Well, I’d be quite satisfied if you went back to your table and sat down,” said Finn. “A duel, indeed! This is England, my dear chap, and we don’t spill blood quite so freely here as you Frenchies do across the water. Odd’s life, Ffoulkes, if this is an example of the type of goods you and that Pimpernel import, you’d be better to dump ’em off mid-Channel. A duel, indeed! How perfectly ridiculous!”
Marguerite chuckled. “Look at them, Tony. The French bantam and the English turkey. It would appear that the English turkey has won the day.”
“You are wasting your time, young sir,” she said to the vicomte. “My husband, as you can see, is far too sensible a man to allow an insult to his wife to make him do anything so foolish as to risk life and limb in its defense.”
“Please let the matter drop, like a good fellow,” Dewhurst said to the vicomte, placatingly. “After all, fighting a duel on your first day in England would hardly be the proper way to make a start in your new homeland.”
Looking a bit taken aback, the vicomte looked from Finn to Dewhurst and then shrugged his shoulders. “Well, since monsieur seems disinclined to accept my offer, I will take it that honor has been satisfied.”