An idea that popped into my head earlier today. Musical based.
I don't own The Scarlet Pimpernel.
Only a Loaf of Bread
It was the very worst day for Percy to become ill. Marianne was bringing her lover, Daniel home to met him. Marguerite had met the lad earlier. No matter how many times his wife assured him that he was a fine gentleman, Percy couldn't stop stressing about it. Countless things could happen to Marianne. From getting kidnapped by the fellow to being robbed of her virtue. That or the last thing the family wanted was to repeat what Percy and Marguerite went through.
Percy was at his desk, writing away. He hadn't been feeling well all morning. But he told himself that it was nothing. After a sip of water he'd be fine. As he got back to work he couldn't help but lay his head down on his desk. Slowly, his eyes closed.
"Darling," Marguerite was whispering into her husband's ear, "It's time to get up."
"Huh?" Percy faced his wife, rubbing his head. "What time is it?"
"Just after five, dear. Are you all right?"
The light from the window was Hades. Every time he was face with the blinding sun, Percy felt apart of him die. Mostly his head. He made Marguerite block it from his view.
"Just fine M'dear. I better prepare for Daniel," said Percy, standing.
As soon as he had stood, Percy collapsed back onto the chair. Marguerite extended a hand. Percy ignored it. He could get back up on his own, thank you very much. The Englishman tried at least two more times before giving up. Marguerite had to led him to the bed.
"You're not fine, Percy," she whispered, "Try to rest a bit. I can tell Marianne to bring Daniel over another time.
"No! No, no, I'll be fine by then," Percy replied.
Marguerite rolled her eyes. "As if I'd believe that. Call for me if you need anything."
Before he knew it, Percy was awake at six in the evening. Another hour wasted on sleep. He trudged out of bed in order to dress. It took him exactly ten minutes to find one sock. The other took much longer.
"Percy? Percy? What are you doing out of bed?" was all Marguerite said when she found him trying to put on mismatching boots.
"Well, I do need to look presentable tonight, Margot." He chuckled, but his laughter turned into a cough.
"You need to get to bed! I've had Daniel reschedule. You've got the whole rest of your day off. Tomorrow, too. I'll make sure of it." With that, Marguerite got Percy back into bed and killed the candle that was burning on his nightstand. She closed the door behind her.
When Marguerite exited, she found her six children outside waiting for her. Everyone. From Marianne to little Augusta. Marguerite couldn't remember the last time they seemed to be getting along. Usually Gabriel was teasing one of his younger sisters or Philip was annoying the rest of them. Augusta wasn't in hysterics. This wasn't normal.
"What happened?" Marguerite questioned, putting her hands on her hips.
"Is Father all right? That's all we want to know," Marianne answered.
They looked innocent. Not a glint of naughtiness in either of their eyes. When Marguerite investigated the area around them, nothing seemed to be off. Could they actually be getting along?
"Your father's sick," Marguerite answered, "Let's not disturb him."
"Can we make him a treat?" asked Lydia.
Their mother smiled. "Yes, I think he would like that very much. What shall we make?"
All the younger siblings looked up to Marianne. Their oldest sister tapped her chin as she thought. Marguerite could tell that she was disappointed that she wouldn't be able to see Daniel that night. But she hid it well. Marianne had always been good at hiding her feelings. A skill that convinced Marguerite that her daughter was bond to become an actress such as herself.
"Why don't we make a loaf of French Bread for father?" Marianne suggested, "Whenever I'm ill, I find that a slice of hot bread and a bowl of warm soup cheers me up."
One by one the rest of the children agreed. They made their way downstairs, chatting happily. Once they made it, Marianne took charge. Marguerite had never been the best cook. It was up to their children to make a tasty dish. Marianne took out all of the ingredients. Philip broke an egg. Lydia claimed that she was too old for these kind of things. Her children's good behavior was falling apart. Some of Marguerite was glad. Children weren't made to be perfect.
"We need to add the flour in now, Gabe!" Marianne ordered.
"All right- Wait? Who took the flour?"
"Yeah, right. I see it behind your back Sophia!"
"Wait! Sophia don't give that to Augusta!"
"Why should I listen to you, Bossy Marianne?"
"Ha! Got it from her!"
"Give that back, Gabe! I wanted to pour the flour in!"
"It's kind of hard not to fight, Philip, when you have to deal with her."
"Why has Little Lady Lydia been so quiet?"
"Oh no! Lydia! Come here!"
"What does this do?"
"Don't touch the oven, Sophia!"
Chaos had erupted by the time Marguerite returned to check on her children. Percy was still asleep, so she wasn't gone for too long. Only to press a we cloth to his forehead. In that time somehow they were about to make a mess. Once they saw that their mother had returned, the Blakeney children stopped everything that they had been doing.
"What happened here?" Marguerite asked, trying her best not to shout.
"Um, she started it!"
"Yes, you did!"
"It was Lydia!"
"Hey! We all know that you started it, Sophia!"
"Wait, where did you come from, Lyd?"
"Augusta was the one who-"
"Silence!" Marguerite exclaimed, taking a deep breath, "Now Marianne you go first."
Each of the children took their turns telling their part of the story. In the end, they agreed that the mess had been all of their faults. The family cleaned up their mess and made a loaf of bread that hadn't caused much chaos. After the bread had cooled, the cook made a bowl of soup for Percy. The children carried the tray with the food upstairs to his room.
"Hello, Father," all of them whispered as Percy opened his eyes.
"Ah. The ones thing I've been needing most: fresh bread," said Percy, leaving his children to giggle, "Set it down here, Ari." Marianne set it on his nightstand.
As Percy nibbled on his bread and drank his soup, the children told him all about the naughty things the others had done. Percy listened with amusement. These were defiantly the children he knew.
The ones who teased each other endlessly, annoying him to bits, yet Percy couldn't help but love them.
Thanks for reading! Please review!