Notes from the author: This is my first (and hopefully not last) attempt at The Scarlet Pimpernel fanfiction. I wrote this for a prompt challange and I am quite happy with it and wanted to share. (The prompt was 'must include a letter of some sort.) Feedback is welcomed with open arms. I do not make any profit from this, besides the love in my heart for this man and the love he shares with his wife.


Sir Percy Blakeney, a baronet, the most foppish man to ever enter and entertain the English court was now months into his person as a servant in the house of a corrupt government official. The Prince of Wales himself wouldn't have recognized his favorite Lord should he have passed him on the street. Oh no, Sir Percy was so far beyond the crowd that he normally amused with his simple rhymes and games. Covered in dirt, unshaved, matted hair, dressed in rags, hunched over ever so slightly and speaking French as if it was his natural tongue. Oh no, no one took notice of the man. Like he had intended. In fact they embraced him, one of their own. A true loyal and humble servant to the tribunal.

That night however, finally away from the small town he was in gave him the time to stretch his legs both literally and figuratively speaking. He had met with the rest of his League that he had here in France, having Sir Andrew freshly arrived from England. From Richmond in fact. The very place he longed to be. With his beloved Margot. He had dismissed his gang, seeking a few moments of solitude to himself.

"Before I forget," Sir Andrew Ffoulkes said returning to his closest friend and handing him a piece of well worn paper. It only took a moment for Percy to know who it was from. The way his name was scrawled on the paper, it even smelled of her perfume. How good it was to have something so close to him that was in her possession for even the briefest of moments. He was almost afraid to touch it should it be ruined. Almost.

He could see her so clearly. Her red-golden hair had become loose from how she had worn it during the day, a few rebellious curls along her neck and the side of her face. She was at the desk in his study, the candle burning besides her setting a soft glow on her already radiant skin. He had made sure she had her own desk, her own room even. But since the end of their estrangement she hadn't used it. She preferred using his, it smelled of him. Everything in the room had made her feel closer to him, as if he was there with her. He couldn't argue with that.

Oh how he missed her. How he longed to see her, to touch her, hold her in his arms again and kiss the full lips of his beloved. Since they had married he'd found it most difficult to leave for France. He was no longer daring his life, but often hers and her sanity as well. He knew that he couldn't give up his life as the Pimpernel but knowing the pain he caused her hurt him more than he could often show. With that thought he finally opened the letter she had sent. Andrew stood besides him as he read it, closed it and read it again, staring out of the window.

The color had drained from Percy's face and Andrew wasn't sure of how to approach his chief. "Percy?"

Sir Percy however couldn't think. All thoughts had stopped. He didn't dare believe the words on the paper, but they were hers. Of that he had no doubt. With a sudden turn he faced his best friend, a smile on his face. A smile that usually meant something was going to happen that would risk one of their lives.

"Pe--" Andrew was cut off when his dear friend grabbed him by his broad shoulders and planted a kiss on his lips before running out of the room leaving the letter and a bewildered Andrew behind. After recouping Andrew took the letter from the floor and read it.

--

Marguerite sat on the chair that was so often occupied by her beloved husband. She put her elbows in the same place he did, now worn with ware. She sat and stared at the paper before she started her letter.

Dearest Percy,

I waited as long as I could to tell you. It is something I've debated with myself for many long hours on how to tell you. It was my wish that it would be in person so I would be able to see your face as you heard. For you to be the first to know. By the time you get this, word might be out and I do beg you to forgive me. I waited as long as time and nature permitted. The thing of it is, my love, I am with child. The doctor now thinks I am well over three months along now. Oh Percy, how I long to see you! How I long to spend my days talking with you over what he should name him, or her. Either way I would be happy, for it would be our child. Our child! A child begot out of our love. Oh do hurry home to me, Percy. With all the love I posses,

Yours,

Margot

With that she sealed it for good measure before having Frank send it to Sir Andrew Ffoulkes's so he could deliver it safely into Percy's hands. With that done she blew out the single candle on the desk and went to bed.