Lark glanced sideways at Duncan MacLeod, the handsome Scottman's that
was a good friend of the Wingfield's. An expert woodsman, MacLeod was
frequently Sir George Wingfield's hunting companion. But not today.
"I think I have a suggestion," MacLeod spoke in his thick Scottish
accent. "Lark and I can go inside and distract the guards, while you
stay out here and take the family to the big guy."
Lark couldn't help
but stifle a laugh. Duncan had been referring to Percival Blakeney as
'the big guy' ever since he joined the Violet Guild. It was obvious he
held Sir Percy in high esteem, just like the others.
"Agreed," said
Eliza, "but how are you planning to distract all those guards? There's
well over ten guarding the door alone. Once you're actually inside,
there will be even more to deal with."
Duncan grinned devilshly.
"Don't fret, Lady Eliza, I have thought up the perfect illusion." He
ducked into the shadows. Lark exchanged one final glance with Eliza
and followed him down the block. "Mr. MacLeod, before anything is done,
can you please explain to me what your plan is?"
"No need for
formalities," said Duncan, turning his head to flash her his 100 watt
smile. "Just Duncan will do."
"Well then......Duncan, what does this
plan call for? Nothing too ridiculous I hope. It was bad enough the last
time I was here. If any of your plan calls for crying and babbling on
about fru fru, count me out."
Duncan laughed.
"No need to worry about
a thing yet, my dear. All you need to do is stay hidden."
She followed
him across the street. Together they walked in the dark besides the
prison. Ahead they could see a flickering lantern and the low rumble of
men's voices.
"Stay here." Duncan instructed her suddenly. "I'll be
right back."
Lark didn't hesitate, she simply stayed against the
building, drawing her cloak more tightly around her shoulders. The early
morning hours always seemed so much colder in France. Duncan ran out
from his hiding spot, jumping around frantically.
"I've caught the
Scarlet Pimpernel!" he shrieked in French, waving his arms in the air.
"I caught him, I say!"
The guards seemed unamused.
"Idiot," muttered
one. Lark worried that Duncan wouldn't be able to trick them, but the
Scotsman seemed to have no intention of giving up.
"Tis a miracle!"
Duncan yelped. His French was flawless, Sir Wingfield often joked that
Mr. MacLeod spoke the language better than the French themselves.
"You
must help me! I trapped him in my stable, but I'm afraid he might
escape. He's tricky sort of fellow, this Pimpernel."
The guards
snickered.
"What's he look like then?"
"He's tall," began Duncan,
"and ugly. It's hard to say exactly. After all, it IS dark." "Is your
stable far from here?"
"No, not at all! It's around the corner!
Please hurry, citizens! He may make a hole in my stable and all my
horses will escape!"
"Alright," the head guard agreed. "Take us to
your stable, citizen. You there," he added, pointing at a solider. "Stay
behind and keep a close watch."
"Yes, sir!" the chosen one barked.
"Hurry, hurry!" Duncan encouraged, starting backwards down the
street. In a neat formation, the soldiers followed the hysterical
Scotsman down the street and around the corner. Lark was only
slightly relieved. What to do about the one remaining guard.....?? Her
mind raced, but only a million useless ideas swarmed in her head.
Then,
just before she was about to give up and go back to Lady Eliza for help,
she realized exactly what she had to do.
*****************************
Duncan led the foolish
soldiers over to a stable two blocks from the prison. It was an
abandoned building, and it would do perfectly.
"Is this it?" barked
the head soldier.
"Yes," whispered Duncan, cowering in fear, "go on
ahead."
"This is it for you, Pimpernel!" called the lead guard with a
sinister laugh. He threw open the door to the stable and marched inside,
the others right behind him. Duncan moved closer to the door.
"Have
you got him yet?"
"I don't see a thing!" one of the men exclaimed.
"There's not even a horse, let alone the Pimpernel!"
Before any of
the men could think about escaping, Duncan shut the door and locked it.
With a satisfied smile, he hurried up the block to rejoin his comrade.
*****************************
"Oh help me! I feel
faint!"
Lark stumbled in front of the jail, a hand to her forehead.
The guard seemed concerned.
"Do you require a doctor, Miss?"
She
leaned dangerously towards him, and fell into his waiting arms. The keys
to the prison jingled from his belt, and were now within easy reach.
"Oh, no, thank you, sir," she said, trying to keep her French informal.
"I shall be quite alright. It's all the excitement, you see," she
babbled, slipping the keys from his belt and into her own pocket. "I
believe I just laid eyes upon the infamous Scarlet Pimpernel!"
The
soldier was taken back.
"The Pimpernel? Where?"
"Down there," she
said, pointing in the direction Duncan had run off in.
"It was just
awful. He was single handedly cutting down ten French soldiers!"
The
soldier's face paled. In a second he had helped Lark stand up once
again.
"The Pimpernel destroying the French, you say? How many blocks?"
"At least ten," she assured him, "perhaps more."
Forgetting all
about his watch and everything else, the soldier headed down towards the
endangered French. Just as he had disappeared among the shadows,
Duncan came jogging up, a triumphant grin doing his handsome face.
"How
did you rid of the last one?" he inquired as she fumbled for the keys.
"I took him for the idiot I knew he was," she explained, unlocking
the main entrance. Duncan opened the door a crack, quickly peeked
inside and closed the door again.
"Three guards," he reported. One in
the middle of the room, the other two at the far end."
"Well, what do
you propose we do?"
He grinned devilishly.
"I have yet another plan."
***************************
Lark was not pleased with Mr. MacLeod's idea, but it was a cunning plan,
and she had no other choice but to follow it.
'This had better work',
she thought as she waited for Duncan to be ready.
"Ready?" he mouthed
to her. She swallowed nervously and nodded. MacLeod slapped
himself across the face as hard as he could, leaving his own hand print.
Lark screamed bloody murder and cried out, "Unhand me, you filthy pig!"
In French, of course.
Duncan yelled back in the same romantic
language, "Nonsense, you useless wench! You've run away for the last
time!"
"What's going on out- mmmffph!" the soldier that had come to
see about the commotion was silenced before he could finish his
sentence. The strong Scotsman had him in a headlock, and a minute later,
the man fell unconcious.
"Hurry up," Lark encouraged as Duncan
dragged the Frenchman around the corner into an ally way. "We're running
out of time."
MacLeod emerged a few minutes later, dressed in the French
soldiers uniform. Lark broke into muffled laughter. The costume was much
too short on him.
"Shut up," muttered Duncan. He held out his hand to
her. "The keys."
She handed them over and watched him disappear into
the jail from behind the partially open door.
"Who are you?" asked a
raspy French voice.
"Relief" snapped Duncan, "your shift's over."
The other soldier checked the time. "We still have two more hours."
"Well, Citizen Chauvelin told me to relieve you now."
The soldiers
were hesitant.
"What happened to your uniform?"
"They didn't have my
size," explained MacLeod, "now go on home."
"You're going to take
over our shift by yourself?" asked one.
"Where's Pierre?" asked the
other.
Duncan was obviously getting irritated. Their time was running
out. "Pierre ran after some citizen who was disturbing the peace. When
he returns, he will help me with the shift."
The soldiers were
satisfied with this explanation, said goodnight to Duncan, and left.
When they were out of sight. Lark went inside to join Duncan who was
unlocking the cell holding the Marquis and his boys. The Scotsman was
also trying frantically to explain the situation to them. When
everything was clear, the five took the back door out and headed into
the ally Lady Hastings was waiting in. As Lark approached, her own smile
faded when she saw the solemn expression on the woman's face....