Isabella felt her heart nearly stop. The entire League? How was it
possible? Why were Sir Andrew and the Pimpernel still free? Had they
acted yet? Was Chauvelin setting a trap for them? Where were they
now? Isabella's mind was bombarded with many panicked questions, but in
the stunned silence of the room she asked only one.
"Which prison?"
"Temple."
Temple Prison. One of the most well-guarded in all of Paris. Isabella
knew this would be the most dangerous mission the Guild had faced thus
far. As much as she knew how critical it was that they act, and
immediately.
Lady Hastings commenced to divide the Guild into two teams--one to
protect Sir Andrew and the Scarlet Pimpernel, and the other, larger one
to liberate the League. Still stunned into silence by the terrible
news, there was no good-natured grumbling over small assignments among
the Guild members this time. Truth be told, there were no small
assignments this time. Everyone was important and their full obedience
to orders was vital. Isabella was placed in the larger group, the one
that would get the League out of Temple Prison. Hopefully.
"The Pimpernel and Sir Andrew are in a house in the Rue de Richelieu,"
Lady Hastings was telling the first group. "Chauvelin and his spies do
not yet know where they are, but they will no doubt soon find out. We
leave for France immediately, all of us," she hurriedly informed the
Guild. "My lord Timothy's yacht lies in wait for us at Dover, and the
skipper is ready to leave as soon as possible. If we leave now, we'll
get to Calais just at the turn of the tide. We must not delay. All of
you with carriages, take up as many as you can. You on horseback,
outdistance us and inform the skipper to make everything ready for
immediate departure. I will give all orders on the ship. God speed you
all, my friends, and keep you safe."
They left in haste and silence. Isabella shared Lady Hastings' carriage
with two or three others. She sat directly opposite her leader,
silently watching her all the way. At times Lady Hastings tried in vain
to sleep, at others she stared straight ahead of her with glazed eyes,
her mind far away. But for most of the short journey, her eyes were
closed, her hands folded, and her lips moving silently and reverently.
She prayed--nobody but her and God know exactly what for, but it is for
sure it bore some relevance to the safety of the Guild, the League, the
Pimpernel, and her husband especially.
Sadly, Isabella gazed out the window of the carriage, and mentally added
her own prayers to those Lady Hastings was offering up to God.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * *
The sun had just set when they arrived at Dover, and the tide was on the
turn. As soon as they all set foot on the ship, the skipper cast off.
The Guild went down into the ship's hold to receive their specific
orders.
"All of you in the first group," Lady Hastings said immediately, taking
charge, "those of you that are to protect Sir Andrew and the Pimpernel,
surround the house in the shadows and wait while I ascertain if they are
still there. Once I give the signal that they are, keep your swords
handy and permit no entrance to that house whatsoever, while I go with
the second group to the Prison. We," she said, directing her attention
to the second group, "will enter the Prison under the guise of soldiers,
supplied each with a second uniform hidden under our clothes. We will
then split up and head for the varied cells where the League members are
being held."
She laid out the plan of the Prison in every detail,
giving the numbers of the cells where League members were. All this
information she had already obtained, before she came back to England to
gather the Guild.
"Each of us will go to a different cell, telling the
guards we are replacing them at their post. If they resist, use force.
Do not waste time; speed and efficiency are vital. Once the other guard
has left or is unconscious, enter the cell and give the occupant the
extra uniform you have hidden. Tell him to put it on and follow you.
If he asks you who you are, say only 'a friend.' Lead him out of the
prison in this disguise and to the alley directly opposite the house.
I'll make sure Timothy knows what to do from there; hopefully the others
will listen to him. Leave your charge in the alley and quickly
disappear to the Place de la Revolucion. Wait there in the shadows for
the rest of us."
She turned again to the first group.
"Timothy will
lead the others up to the front of the house. You will know it is him
by the three-whistle signal he will give. Once you see the League
approach the house and hear the signal, you need to remain in the
shadows until you are sure they are safely with Sir Andrew and the
Pimpernel in the house. Then make all haste to meet us at the Place de
la Revolucion. From there we will immediately depart for Calais and
England, leaving the League safe with the Pimpernel. Any questions?"
"Where are the uniforms?"
"Here," Lady Hastings said, sliding back a panel in the wall behind her
to reveal a closet full of French Army uniforms. There were at least
fifty of them, in various stages of cleanliness.
"Thank God Timothy
believes in preparing for the worst. There are more than enough
uniforms here for us and the League both. And here," she said, sliding
back another panel, "is peasantry clothing for us to travel in.
Everyone needs an outfit of this, but only those of us in the second
group need the uniforms. Two each, remember. Now, I will get Timothy
out, so that I can fill him in on the details of our plan."
She
continued to rattle off names of League members to various Guilders,
informing them of their cell numbers and locations. Isabella heard a
few names she recognized--Sir Jeremiah Wallescourt, Armand St. Just,
among others--and some she had never heard before, but she paid little
heed to them. She was stricken by the overwhelming strength Lady
Hastings displayed. She seemed fully in control of herself, despite the
grief she must feel.
"Isabella," she heard, "you will take charge of Lord Antony Dewhurst's
cell. You have your sword with you?" Lady Hastings asked. Isabella
nodded, patting it unconsciously in the folds of her skirt. "Keep it
handy--you may need it. His cell is number 274, down the main hall,
almost at the very end, on the right.
"That is all I must say, except to wish you all God speed and good
luck. We must hurry and change: we will dock on the coast in less than
an hour."
Silently the Guild rose and began choosing disguises. None of them fit
right on anybody, but perhaps it was better that way.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * *
Isabella marched to the prison gate behind Lady Hastings, feeling
awkward and unwieldy in the misshapen uniform over peasantry clothing.
In daylight it would have been obvious to a half-blind man that she was
an impostor. It was a good thing the night was dark.
Lady Hastings was in the guise of a sergeant of the guard, the rest of
the Guilders behind her as regular soldiers. It was a trick the
Pimpernel himself had used to get aristocrats out of Paris, but it had
never been used to get *into* the prison before.
"Open the gate in the name of the Republic!" Lady Hastings shouted as
they approached, signaling the others to halt. She used a deep bass
voice.
"State your purpose!"
Isabella's eyes widened in fear. Obviously the guards had been warned
about rescue attempts, and threatened with their lives not to let it
happen. Lady Hastings, however, didn't skip a beat.
"Reinforcements sent to guard the damned English aristos. We can't be
too careful with them." She spoke with authority, daring the man to
speak a word against her. It worked.
"Very well, sergeant, you may pass," the guard said meekly, opening the
gate at once. He was obviously afraid of Lady Hastings; a thought that
would have made Isabella smile if the occasion had been less serious.
Obedient as machines, they marched through the gate in formation, turned
to salute Lady Hastings, then marched dutifully down the various
corridors to their assigned cells.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * *
Lady Hastings strode down the corridor to cell 218, Lord Timothy
Hastings' cell. Her sergeant's uniform allowed her to take over from
the guard without protests. She quietly entered the cell to find her
husband seated on the floor, leaning against the wall, exhausted.
"What now?" he asked of the sergeant he saw before him.
"Timothy."
Lord Hastings' head snapped up at the sound of his first name and
scrutinized the "man's" face. He got up and embraced his wife
desperately.
"Darling, you came."
"Of course I came, dearest. I couldn't leave all of you here."
"The Guild?"
"Here with me, every last member." Lady Eliza extracted the uniform
from her clothing. "Put this on and follow me. I'm going to lead you
to the alley opposite the Pimpernel's lodgings where, if all goes well,
your comrades will also be. When they all arrive, you need to lead them
to the door as a regiment of soldiers--they will all be wearing uniforms
like this. Before knocking on the door, whistle three times. I've got
Guilders watching the house to protect Andrew and Percy, and that is the
signal by which they will know it is you. Enter the house as if going
to search it, then shut the door and reveal yourselves to Percy. If
anyone asks you who rescued you, the answer we are giving is 'a
friend.'"
By the time Lady Eliza had finished the briefing, Lord Timothy had
already put the uniform on over his own ragged costume. He gave her a
kiss and said, "Let's go."
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * *
Cell 274 was guarded by a single soldier, but he was tough-looking and
dangerous. Still, Isabella hoped he could be frightened into obedience,
as the guard at the front gate had.
"Liberte, Egalite, Fraternite!" she said in as deep a voice as she could
manage as she saluted him. He returned the salute somewhat
suspiciously. Obviously he had been warned and threatened with his life
not to allow anybody near the prisoner.
"I am to relieve you as guard over this man, citizen soldier," she
resumed, trying to sound as authoritative and confident as Lady Hastings
had. He looked at her warily.
"I was told not to leave my post."
"And I was told to relieve you, citizen," she said, her tone
threatening. "I have direct orders from Citoyen Chauvelin not to
tolerate any resistance from anybody. Are you resisting?"
The soldier was shaken by the mention of Chauvelin. "No, no," he said
hurriedly, relinquishing the post and cell keys to Isabella. They
exchanged salutes and the man hurried off, most likely beginning to fear
for his head.
As soon as his steps had died away, and she was sure no one was about,
Isabella opened the cell door and stepped inside. Lord Tony Dewhurst
looked up at the sudden sound, but quickly looked down again, seeing it
was only another soldier.
"What to you want from me now?" he began to ask.
"Hush," Isabella said urgently, the tone of her voice immediately
quietening him. She took the French uniform from her coat and tossed it
at his feet. "Put that on and follow me without a word."
He obeyed
instinctively. In a moment he had put the uniform on over his clothes.
"Who are you?" he asked cautiously before she opened the door again.
"A friend," she said simply, with a smile. "Now quiet and follow me."
The journey out through the corridors of Temple Prison seemed much
longer than it had been coming in. Isabella tensed every time she and
Lord Tony passed a French soldier, fearing to be stopped and
questioned. But nobody seemed to take an interest in them. When they
reached the front gate, the guard let them out without a word; soldiers
leaving the prison to patrol the streets was quite a natural thing to
see. Isabella led her charge to the prearranged meeting place, where
several other men in uniform were hiding in the shadows.
I certainly hope that's the rest of the League, she thought as she
wordlessly pointed for Lord Tony to join them. She sighed in relief as
he recognized them, and hurried to join Lady Hastings at the Place de la
Revolucion before they started to ask questions.
When Lord Tony turned to thank his rescuer, she was gone.
* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *
* * * * * * * * *
Sir Andrew looked up in alarm at the knock. He glanced over to Sir
Percy, who nodded solemnly for him to answer the door.
He opened the door to see almost twenty citizen soldiers of the Republic
on his doorstep. Sir Andrew felt weak; of course they would send so
many to arrest the daring Scarlet Pimpernel. Yet one thought crept
through his reeling senses--Why had Chauvelin himself not come?
"Bonsoir, citizens," he said quietly, opening the door wide. The
soldiers swiftly entered the room and one closed the door behind them.
Closed the door--? Soldiers of the Republic never bother to close the
door . . .
"Can I help you, citizens?" Sir Andrew asked meekly, thoroughly confused
by the behavior of the soldiers. Sir Percy was sitting quietly and
unobtrusively in the corner, cautiously studying the men in soldiers'
uniforms that now began to lounge about the room wearily.
"Citizens, I do not understand--" Sir Andrew began again, trying to make
some sense out of the confusion he saw before him. He was cut off by
one of the soldiers.
"Ffoulkes."
Sir Andrew started at the sound of his own name and looked closely and
scrutinizingly at the soldier who had spoken. Suddenly his face lit up
with recognition.
"Hastings? But how . . ."
"Never mind that now, my friend. It doesn't matter how, anyway.
Fellows, let's get out of these demmed uniforms, shall we?" Hastings
said quietly.
Astonished, Sir Percy slowly stood as the eighteen men shed French
uniforms to reveal the costumes he had last seen them in, before the
arrest. How on earth had they all gotten out of the prison at the same
time? He turned to the man nearest him.
"What happened, Dewhurst?" he asked.
"I don't know, Percy. It's hard to say, it all happened very fast. A
guard came into my cell, tossed this uniform at me, and told me to put
it on and follow him. I obeyed. He led me right past the guards, out
of the prison and to the alley opposite this house, where the rest were
waiting. They all had been similarly led out of the prison. When I
turned to thank him, he was gone. Hastings took charge, leading us up
to the door, and here we are."
"Who was the soldier who rescued you?"
"He didn't say, except that he was a 'friend'. And a demmed good one, I
say."
A friend. Who were these "friends", who would risk their lives to
rescue his men? Although Sir Percy was grateful to them, he would feel
much more comfortable with the situation if he knew who they were.
Confusion and uncertainty were two feelings he was not accustomed to.
"We will leave immediately," he said, addressing the entire League,
together once more. "We need to get you fellows out of France before
they discover your escape."
And when they all returned to London, the Guild was waiting to welcome
them home.
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