Emilie sat under the tree, bemoaning her fate. She was trapped, she'd never be able to see Chris again and she was betrothed to Hastings. She couldn't very well run away again, Blakeney would kill her. She stood up sharply, perhaps she could appeal to Hastings's mercy and beg him to release her from this. She walked into the house and found Percy yelling at Hastings. She rolled her eyes. "Well, Percy, I've been sold like a piece of property and you think you're being replaced? Try to think of someone else besides yourself. My father abandoned me, you don't think I crave a father too? This has nothing to do with you, it's my life that's been decided". She motioned to Hastings to follow her into the garden. When they were alone, she turned to him and looked as if she wished to kiss him again. Then she broke away and curtsied. "My Lord Hastings, as honored as I am by your offer, I must beg you to understand that my heart belongs to someone else. I can only ask that you release me from this, based on your mercy as a friend to me. You see, I love Cristof, not you. You have so many girls who love you, why should you want me?" she said calmly, her eyes stained with tears.
Percy stared at Emilie for a few silent minutes and before Edward could even reply, Emilie had told him once more, that he was selfish. Did nobody care? Feeling lower than low, Percy sank down towards the floor and placed his head in his hands, as if he were thinking long and hard about something. Perhaps he should run away again, then his father would never have to look him in the eyes. Even his own aunt didn't love him anymore..."I tried Andrew, I tried... nothing I do anymore is good enough to suit anybody is it?" He asked softly, debating whether or not to go talk to his father about Emilie. He shook all over, mainly from fear and anger.
Andrew glanced quickly over at Michelle. He was tempted to ask that she leave, knowing how Percy felt about publicly displaying his vulnerabilities, but he knew his sister would be discreet.
He knelt down next to Percy, putting his arm around his shoulders. "Perhaps, my friend," he began softly, "therein lies your nemesis. As noblemen we are taught to do whatever we can to please and take care of others, but, sometimes, we must do what we need to take care of ourselves. I remember my own Father telling me this once, and, quite frankly, I was shocked. But he assured me that being selfish was sometimes the only road to salvation. I didn't understand him then, but now I think I see what he meant."
Andrew gave Percy the slightest squeeze, though not too tight; he, too, was English, after all. "You are your own person, Percy Blakeney. You do not belong to your Father, your Mother, your Aunt, or anybody. God made you whole. Now start taking care of what God, in his wisdom, placed in your hands: yourself!"
"My Lord Hastings, as honored as I am by your offer, I must beg you to understand that my heart belongs to someone else. I can only ask that you release me from this, based on your mercy as a friend to me. You see, I love Cristof, not you. You have so many girls who love you, why should you want me?" she said calmly, her eyes stained with tears.
Hastings took a handkerchief out of his pocket and gently wiped away the tears that streamed down her face. "You know I hate to see a lady weep," Hastings said affectionately. "Believe it or not, I am your friend and I daresay I care more about you than that Lovell character. The fellow ain't worth it! He's not worth your heart, not worth your tears. What kind of man who loves you, treats you so disgustly?" Hastings took her hands in his and gently stroked them. "I have so many girls who love me? Love my money or my title is more like it! They only look at the surface, so I wouldn't give them the time of day! You, however, are special, you are kind and beautiful. Even if you've a mind to always throw things at me, I'll happily dodge them if I can be near you."
Andrew spoke a little more strongly now. "When there are cannons firing at you from all directions, and no matter which way you chose someone will be hurt, you simply have to pick a direction and move."
Standing up straight, Andrew continued, "We all have our crosses to bear, dear Percy. And we all have our moments..." He paused, looking down and away.
"I really must apologize to Hastings. I should have had better control over my tongue, but I was just shocked that he would begin a courtship based on one kiss. And a kiss made as payment of a bet, none the less! And I should not have compared him to that knave Lovell. I didn't mean to insult him so."
Then, to Percy and Michelle, "What were your impressions of the Vicomte? I would speak mine, but I dare not use such words in front of a lady."
Michelle shivered slightly. "Something about him... frightens me."
Emilie must have been crying in spite of herself. Hastings took a handkerchief out of his pocket and gently wiped away the tears that streamed down her face. His blue eyes were shining with this compassion and respect, they almost glowed. They were looking at her maturely, not like the fool she had seen him as, but filled with intelligence, joy tempered-seriousness, love and even a slight amount of sadness. "You know I hate to see a lady weep," Hastings said affectionately. Emilie smiled; she enjoyed the tenderness he was showing her. Everyone she loved, even Chris had this rough streak, but Hastings seemed kinder, softer, he seemed to understand her need for this security. "Believe it or not, I am your friend and I daresay I care more about you than that Lovell character. The fellow isn't worth it! He's not worth your heart, not worth your tears. What kind of man, who loves you, treats you so disgustingly?" He cared for her? But every man who cared for her treated her badly, her father, Lord Blakeney, Percy, Chris, but never Hastings. Even when she dueled him, he had been considerate. She had seen how skillful he was with the blade, he could have fought back, but he merely defended himself and disarmed her. That was something else she liked about him, he was her friend, not only her suitor. She trusted him, he was a true friend and she had always thought that the key to a happy life was friendship, not obedience. Hastings took her hands in his and gently stroked them. His hands felt wonderful, they were strong but gentle warm hands.
Chris's hands were softer and colder, she thought back to those cold hands striking her and punishing her. These wonderful strong hands, these large tanned hands; they would never hurt her or their children. He respected her, he cared for her, he challenged her, and he completed her. She had to marry him anyway whether she liked it or not, her guardian had given him courting rights, but she could see herself happy, of filling a home with love, like the Ffoulkes home. "I have so many girls who love me? Love my money or my title is more like it! They only look at the surface, so I wouldn't give them the time of day! You, however, are special, you are kind and beautiful. Even if you've a mind to always throw things at me, I'll happily dodge them if I can be near you." It was the last words that melted Emilie's heart. "I never knew you felt this way" she whispered and stepped back for a moment. She had never seen how lonely it must have been, knowing the adoring girls were after a mask and having to show the world a foppish front. Now she was finally seeing the real Edward Timothy Hastings, with a keen intelligence, a worldliness beyond his years, who also was kind and good, and most important of all, who loved her, for who she was and was willing to be humiliated by her harsh tongue to be around her.
That kiss, it had been love. The times she had teased him, had she been flirting? That kiss had made her feel things she had never felt with Chris. The last reserves of her heart, the last strongholds belonging to the Vicompte were swept away. She looked up at him, and realized, she loved him and she was happy to marry him. She smirked and said "Tim, I can honestly say I am not in love with you for your money and title. But I am in love with this soul, this wonderful kind soul that I should have given more credit for. I don't know how you did it, but you've won me over. Now don't think you're getting yourself a docile little wife! There will be objects flying but if you are willing to take a sharp tongued, independent, opinionated and thoughtless girl, then I am willing to take a wonderful Saint who deserves far better then me. " she said softly. She had never called him Tim before. It was always Hastings, or my lord, or an insult. She had never liked the name Edward, but Tim, that name had softness about it. "Now to prove how independent I am" she laughed, threw herself into his arms and kissed him again.
Hastings would have laughed if his lips weren't busy with other matters and this time it was Hastings's breath that was taken away. Emilie kissed him with such ardent passion it was difficult to believe that this was only her second kiss. He held her tightly to him, fully realizing for the first time how much he truly cared for her and how he had cared for her for quite some time. Now she was his.
After several minutes in this passionate embrace, Hastings drew back and looked her full in the face. The bruises were still there under the make-up, and he swore to himself that he would find the cur who dared mar such beauty. He gently brushed a stray lock of hair from her face, then gently stroked her cheek. "This is where it all begins, my darling. This is where it all begins," he said softly and smiled. He took her into his arms once again holdings her close to his heart. "I swear I won't allow anyone else to hurt you." After a few moments more of this. He released her reluctantly, resumed that foppish persona that most people mistook for my Lord Hastings, the ridiculous child-lord, and offered her his arm. "Lud, madam! where does the time go? Shall we return and reassure the others that you haven't done me in with another book!"
Percy fought back boyish tears and forced them back into his system. "I-I don't know what's wrong with me, I should be happy for Emilie." He said softly, knowing that deep down he was happy for her but scared that she would never talk to him again. That morning's events began to sink in and it felt like a great-huge-weight on his chest and one that wouldn't let up until he let everything out, emotion wise.
Taking a deep breath, Percy realized that he should at least tell Andrew about what would have happened had Andre' not come along in time. "A-Andrew- there's something I've got to tell you but I'm not so sure I want Michelle to over hear, it might upset her." He gave an almost sheepish smile for his friend and dropped his head so that nobody could see the shame in his eyes. "And you've got to promise me you won't tell anybody else, I don't think they'd even care or they'd go overboard and tell my father."
Andrew studied Percy's countenance. A dark look clouded his handsome face. Though Andrew knew there were many troubles at the Blakeney home, he felt yet another shocking piece of news coming on.
Lively Lord Hastings had often ribbed Ffoulkes for his "monk mentality," but he was right in far more senses than merely noting that Andrew was a bit shy with the ladies. Of all the Devils of Harrows, Andrew had by far the most stable home life. No one in his immediate family was severely ill or had died, and the four Ffoulkes were very close, even if they annoyed each other from time to time. Furthermore, Lord Ffoulkes was a kind, fair-handed man, who did his best to instill those virtues in his son.
It was only natural, then, that the young friends would look to Andrew to share a confidence. And Andrew sincerely enjoyed being able to counsel his pals. Doing good deeds always gave him great satisfaction.
But he knew that he was still a boy in many ways. He'd habitually try to emulate his father when in tight spots, but Andrew didn't always live up to his own aspirations. Look at how he'd intentionally hurt Edward, just to get him back for hurting Emilie and Percy. That's no way for a man to act. But it is how a teenager can sometimes act.
As Michelle politely left the room, Andrew worried that acting too grown-up was going to get him into waters that were far more deep than he could handle. He wondered how many more burdens he could bear.
Michelle stood. "I just realized I left my hat and gloves in the library! How silly. Excuse me, I must go and get them." She gave her brother and Percy a smile and small curtsy as she left the room. She went to the library, where she quickly found her missing items on the floor where she'd dropped them. Then, feeling mischievous, she snuck out into the garden in the direction she supposed Timothy and Emilie had gone. She reassured herself that she wasn't breaking her promise to her brother about not going out alone, as she was still on the Blakeney�s land and, after all, Lord Hastings and Emilie were out here, too! She stopped to look at and smell some of the flowers growing along the paths, enjoying the sunlight and beautiful surroundings of France.
Michelle continued to wander, never realizing that as she did so, she was moving further and further away from the house--and closer to the forest. She carefully picked a small, fragrant flower and smelled it. She was happy to be in France, away from dreary, rainy England.
Then he looked back at Percy. Someone he cared about needed help. Even if he couldn't succeed in doing the right thing, he'd die trying. "I give you my word of honor, my friend, I will not tell a soul. What's on your troubled mind?"
Percy gulped and glanced nervously around the room as if there were other's there who might over hear him besides the walls surrounding the two of them. "M-my father and I we, got into a fight this morning, he says that I disappoint him, that he'd rather me be gone from his sight than anything else."
Sweat began to pour down his forehead. He grabbed hold of a near by book case in order to steady himself, Percy was shaking from nerves. He had been brought up to never display emotion. Whether it be in public or at home but this was Andrew he was talking to, one of his dearest friends.
"I-I tried to kill myself this morning, Andrew. I would have succeeded, had Andre' not come to stop me. I was going t-to end my life by hanging myself." He let out a slight sob. "Even Emilie doesn't know this, I know you said you wouldn't tell her I'm still scared she'll find out, there wasn't any other way of ending the pain...even now I still feel at loose ends.."
"Dear God," Andrew softly whispered as he heard Percy's confession. He knew his friend had been under great strain of late, but to take one's own life! How could he have contemplated such a thing?
Andrew's jaw dropped as he listened. The only thing that snapped him back to reality was when he unconsciously lifted his hand to his mouth and found it wide open. He shut it quickly, cleared his throat, and looked about the room as if the right words to say would be painted on the walls or sewn into a pillowcase.
Ffoulkes took a deep breath, then sighed it out, forcing him to take another deep breath. He looked up to his friend with fear, anger, and sorrow in his eyes. "My Dear God, Percy! Suicide?! How could you attempt such a thing! Sure, we've all had our days when everything's gone wrong, or when we feel we've failed at life miserably, but suicide?! And then there's eternal damnation to worry about! Percy, had you fully considered... Did you really... How can I... I don't know what... I just... I..."
Andrew began to pace the room, not knowing what he could do or say to help his friend. Percy, meanwhile, just followed Ffoulkes with his eyes, still holding on to the bookcase for support. Then, looking next to Percy, Andrew saw a thick volume, "The Collected Works of William Shakespeare."
"To be, or not to be," Andrew began to recite. "That is the question. Whether `tis nobler in the mind to suffer the slings and arrows of outrageous fortune, or to take arms against a sea of troubles, and, by opposing, end them."
Then to Percy, "That IS the question, dear Percy. Is it better to suffer life's torment or escape like a thief in the night? Hamlet said that `conscience does make cowards of us all' when he decided not to murder himself, but he was wrong! It is the coward that runs from the world by taking his own life! Thank God that Andre fellow arrived just in time to save your soul! God must have placed him there especially for you. Thank God."
Andrew found it difficult to continue, but Percy remained silent, filled with shame and fear. "What has come over you, my friend? You've never been a coward before. You've shown bravery against impossible odds-" Andrew paused a moment as a sudden thought struck him. "Or is that what is really troubling you. You're not afraid to die, because you're more afraid of living?"
Just then, the sound of a distant scream entered through the open window. Andrew's entire body tensed up, and his ears strained to listen. "What was that," he said as he turned with wide eyes to Percy. Then, a moment later, he exclaimed, "Where are Michelle and Emilie?!"
The kiss was even better this time; it was with her whole heart. Hastings was wonderful; he made her feel like a goddess. This was the man she was going to marry! Not some fat ugly old man, but her Tim! When the kiss ended, he looked into her face, brushing a curl from her face, and then stroking her cheek. "This is where it all begins, my darling. This is where it all begins," he whispered with a divine smile. He then embraced her tightly, making her feel so safe. They stayed that way, warm and sweet. "I swear I won't allow anyone else to hurt you." He whispered and Emilie smiled. "My Tim" she murmured. She loved how he was holding her. He was finally acting mature and intelligent. Suddenly, he released her and became the fop again. Emilie's dreams fell a bit; she was betrothed to one person, Lord Hastings and in love with another, Tim. She hated when he played a fop, he was intelligent, he could be more then this. She took his hand and pulled it to her heart. "Must we? Can't we just sit and talk a bit, the garden is so pretty. We just had our lives decided, can't we talk about the future? There is so much to tell each other" she said, wanting her Tim back.
"Your servant, madam," Hastings replied and kissed her hand.
Emilie laughed, her cheeks pink. "I should lose duels more often. Look what good fortune it's given me. I'll have you know every time I've fought with Percy, I've won" she laughed. Her face darkened slightly. "Percy didn't look too happy when it was announced. Do you think I've hurt him. Tim, I am worried about my nephew, lately he's been acting strangely. I wish I could help him. That's why you are so wonderful, Tim. There is so much to cry about, but you laugh and make everyone laugh with you" she said.
Hastings kissed her lightly on the forehead. "I am certain that Percy only wants what is best for you, my love," he reassured her, blushing slightly. "I'll talk to him if you wish."
Emilie placed her head on his shoulder, her own cheeks red from all this romance. "Good, try and get Andrew to have a talk with him as well. I know you both can make him see reason. Whenever I say something, I just end up scalding him. You speak so well, you're sure to make the situation right. Oh and Tim, do not dare think that just because you've stolen my heart, you'll be spared my tongue!" she said, twirling a lock of his hair gently around her finger.
"Lud, madam! Spared your tongue?" Hastings laughed. "I'd prefer to have more of it! As for stealing your heart, good lady, it is only fair play for the one you took from me so long ago." He gently lifted her face and gave her a gentle kiss on the lips. "As for the melancholy Percy Blakeney, I daresay we'll have him to his old tricks in no time. For if I am unsuccessful, he can present his confessions to the good friar Ffoulkes, who's virtue and honor are so disgustingly apparent. I swear I'll make a scoundrel of him yet!" Hastings let loose his merry, foppish laugh.
*************************************************
Back at the Ffoulkes', a search was currently going on for the children. They had dissapeared, leaving no sign of where they had gone. The dishes Michelle had been putting away were sitting, only partially done. Lady Eleanore was wringing her hands, worried about her children. "Where could they have gone?" she asked.
Servants had left their work to look for them, and one hurried in from the stable. With a bow, he said " their horses are gone."
"I'm sure they're fine, El," Sir Matthew reassured his wife. "Andrew will take good care of her."
