The Distinguished Gentleman

After a quick trip to a tailor of excellent repute, a resplendid Lord Bathurst arrived at the once stately home of the ci-devant Marquis du Tournai. The edifice seemed to be falling to disrepair rapidly at the hands of vandals and the lack of maintenance. He made a quick excursion around the perimeter of grounds, taking in the lay of the land, noting the placement of guards before he presented himself at the front door. Greeted by an old servant, clearly overworked for lack of proper staffing he was shown into the drawing room, where he whiled away his time watching out the window the moment of the guards that stood outside.

She nearly hit the ceiling when there was a knock on their door. She'd often wondered what she would do if that knock was, indeed, the revolutionary guard to drag her off to prison with her mother in tow. She clenched her throat and relaxed only slightly when she saw that the person on the other side of the door wasn't dressed in military garb. She glanced in the mirror and sneered at the exhausted figure that stared back at her. She straightened herself and approached the visitor.

"I am Suzanne Du Tournai. What might I do for you citoyen?" She said, her manner reserved, but the edge of her anxiousness cutting through her words. Suzanne had not slept the night before. She had not been able to eat either. She knew that sometime today she would have to force herself to eat something. Suzanne swallowed, despite the lump in her throat, and anxiously awaited the stranger�s response.

So it was true that the little middy knew Lady Blakeney, and evidently the name was a source of discomfort to the Comtesse. Was it because of the lady's former occupation or did she know about some of the former actress's efforts in forwarding the Revolutionary cause.

"Faith, madamioselle! I did not know so many questions could be asked in such a brief span of time!" Bathurst replied. "Let's see if I can answer all your queries. As the introduction from Lord Tony states, we are old friends - went to Harrow together and have been on intimate terms since. The only news I bring from him are his best wishes. His family is well. As for Lady Blakeney... I am not on intimate term with her, persay... but I believe she is well - she has made herself the model of fashion at court in the months that she has been there." That she was a known spy and risked the possibility of deportation for this he did not mention. He noted that the girl's mother stiffened at the talk of the actress.

"Any friend of Lord Tony's is a friend of this family," the comtesse said formally and ordered for tea to be brought for the guest. "And you, Lord Bathurst, what matter brings you to Paris?"

"Well, to tell the truth," which he certainly did not intend to do, "I came to visit those extraordinary tailors of yours. My dear friend, Sir Percy, along with his wife set the standard of fashion so high that one must risk one's life to keep up."

Suzanne blushed. She hadn't meant to ramble on and yet there she was, embarrassing herself in front of an English Lord... she would never conquer her poor social skills, that was certain.

Her heart sank. She had hoped that he might be able to bring some news of her bosom friend's plight and yet... no. Lord Bathurst was hardly in Paris on a heroic cause. Visiting for... frou frou?! Had he not heard her father was in PRISON!? Was he yet another one of these dandies who hadn't the slightest comprehension of the political turmoil in France these days? Or perhaps he was just turning that well-bred English nose of his in the other direction. Suzanne did not have much courage within her, but she admired the quality so much in others, especially males. It was often a disappointment for her when she discovered a man who did not posses that dear trait. She looked down, avoiding eye contact with Bathurst as she curtseyed and slipped out of the foyer.

Suzanne wished that he would go away. The apprehension of waiting for aid or the guards was far better than the disappointment of this visit. She resumed her seat and stared, half-hearted, out the window of the drawing room. There had to be a way for them to escape... but how? Suzanne knew some of these so-called unfortunates that resided near the Du Tournai's home. In fact, for almost three months, Suzanne had been sneaking from the house in the late afternoon to provide bread for a family who's children she had taken a great liking to. It had been two weeks since she had been able to slip away to perform that task. She sighed, tears threatening to fall down her snowy cheeks.

She turned to observe her mother holding polite conversation with Lord Bathurst before excusing herself to get them all tea. She quickly looked back to the street, praying that he had not seen her looking his way. The last thing she wanted was for him to find that an invitation to come over and speak with her, at length, about French tailors.

Bathurst watched Suzanne out of the corner of his eye as he chatted amiably with the Comtesse, he had managed get on friendly terms with the woman and listened keenly as she related a few important details amid the pleasantries. He directed the conversation to discover that she had no experience riding, to acquire a time table of the guard outside her door, information on her husband, and the essential features of the house.

He glanced up quickly and had the distinct impression that the lovely young woman had just looked away. Coy, modest � admirable traits in a woman. �Yes, I�ve always had an eye for architecture. My visits to Rome were most extraordinary! Now this place is classic, my must say, my dear comtesse!� Bathurst went on, hoping for an offer of a tour of the house and grounds. �Most of the houses I�ve seen here are of a more modern design. This place is extraordinary! I must I would fancy a look around, the structure is simply marvelous.�

The two started through the house. She couldn't believe her mother, entertaining that dandy while there were more important things to handle at the moment! She tugged on the lace at her sleeves as she waited for them to return. She looked up at the clock... half an hour...? Why on earth would they take so long to look around the house? Mamon had always been proud of their Paris home, but this was a little excessive!

Suzanne stood and paced the floor a bit. She walked to the bookshelf and pulled the small wooden box down from it. Inside was the small care package her father had given her if they ever needed to leave in a hurry. She opened the small purse to find several pounds and a note from her father. She quickly pulled the draw string closed and put the box and it's contents back on the shelf. This was not a time to get sentimental. She turned and paced again. It was then she saw her mother and Lord Bathurst returning. She went to the stairs to greet them. She wanted to say something that Marguerite would say... something biting and poignant, but the words would not come. Instead, she stood there silent, her head down, thinking of how she longed for Margot's courage.

The tour was extraordinary informative, if not excessively so. The comtesse, in addition to showing him the lay of the house, recounted its history � pointing out the portraits of illustrious ancestors and recalling their noteworthy tales. True to form, Bathurst was able to inspire the elder woman to speak at length and knew when to make the appropriate comments, all the while thinking of the lovely Suzanne. He would be curious to see how much the girl�s dowry was � surely du Tournai had foreign accounts open so that regardless of the state of his French accounts, he could still provide a decent dowry.

She met them at the stairs, looking anxious and modest � dare he hope that she was interested in him! The rescue would show him favorable in the eyes of her parents when he asked for her hand. �Mademoiselle,� he bowed in greeting. �Your mother is most witty and charming company. I invite you all to visit my home should ever you travel across the channel. I have an excellent stable if you ride.� The comtesse may not, but it would be go to know if Suzanne did.

�Ah, before I go, I was wondering if I could do you a service. I shall be returning to England in the next few days, if you wish I would be more than happy to convey a correspondence to your friend, Lady Blakeney. I happen to be a good friend of her husband�s and I�m sure she would find a message from you most agreeable.� A change from her correspondence with that rat, Chauvelin. Perhaps his offer would elevate him in the girl�s eyes...

Riding? She stared at him for a second. Her mind was not on activities of leisure, but she thought it best to answer his question anyway.

"Yes, Lord Bathurst. I do ride, not well, but I do ride. If my family were to travel to England, I would enjoy to do so. Thank you for your gracious invitation." She bowed her head. The English had always confused her so. Suzanne hadn't a moment to ponder this before he began speaking again. A correspondance?! To Margot!

She turned and went for the door to the study. "Oh yes! Thank you! Please, allow me five minutes, I will compose a short letter! ...That is, if you do not mind being a messenger for me?" She did not wait for his response but ran from the door to the desk and wrote her friend a quick letter.

She returned with the note sealed and addressed to Lady Blakeney and gave it to Lord Bathurst.

"Thank you so much. You do not know how much I appreciate your assistance."

Bathurst bowed to Suzanne as she retreated to the study, taking the opportunity to admire her retreating form. His offer seemed to have sparked some life into the girl... and perhaps some gratitude? The comtesse�s expression reminded him of her mother�s apparent dislike of the actress. When the girl had returned flushed with excitement, he graciously excepted the letter. �You�re servant, milady.� Then addressing them both, �Before I take my leave, if there is any other way that I may be of service you have but to ask.�