Mr. Fitzwilliam Darcy and The Scarlet Pimpernel

by Denise O'Hara

  “Is that so?” asked the burly man suspiciously. “Did anyone get a potato from this old goat yesterday?” he asked those looking on.

  “Aye, I got one.” Answered one old woman.

  “And I,” said another. “Though mine might have had a rotten spot on it!”

  “Alright, alright, you old wench! Here take a replacement but let it be known this one has no rotten spot in it,” he said as he showed the spud to the crowd.

  “Still,” said the other man distrustfully. “I will just be checking that bag you got there, stranger.” He held out his hand for the bag in Fitzwilliam’s hands.

  Fitzwilliam looked indignant, but handed it over.

  The man opened the bag, then turned it over, letting the potatoes spill out onto the ground. Several in the crowd began to laugh at the show.

  “What am I supposed to do with them now? I paid good money for those, and now you have gone and bruised them all!” Fitzwilliam said with a raised voice.

  “Is our offerings too good for you, Englishman? What business have you got here anyway?”

  Fitzwilliam shook his head and said,” I owe you no explanation!”

  “Pardon, my son,” Mr. Collins interjected. “I am but a weary traveler who has come miles to perform what I believe to be a necessary task. I am a member, as you can see, of the most humble of God’s servants, and one in particular in Marseilles has requested my presence for the poor souls known as du Pont.”

  The burly man looked suspicious, “Aren’t the local cloth able to do the same?”

  Another man who had been standing nearby during the entire exchange joined in, “I thought you holy men were reserved for the night before?”

  “Quite right, ordinarily,” Collins conceded. “You are a credit to your species, and clearly God fearing men, to be so well informed as to the usual chain of events in these matters.”

  Though they looked on edge still, the men were clearly swayed by such flattery, and allowed him to continue.

  “However, if you must know,” he hesitated, lowered his voice as if to tell the men a secret, “my intentions are not entirely pure.”

  Collins swallowed nervously and composed himself a bit before meekly explaining, “Yes, gentlemen, it must be known in the interest of full disclosure, that I share a faint relation to one who wed into the du Pont family. My cousin, you see, is the sister of the newest member of the family. My cousin’s father being the brother of my father, I am in no small way related through marriage to the du Pont family, and a number of that family still resides in Marseilles.”

  “When the information became known to me, as my status would dictate, I had the unfortunate role of informing the du Ponts of Marseilles that these traitors had finally been caught, and thus were being sentenced to the current form of execution in the area. Though the family was in tears, they understand that traitors must be dealt with, and, of course, as a man of the cloth, I cannot conceive to condone murder. But if the new Republic sees the act as just, I am not a man who can argue such things. We shall leave that to the justice of this country, I think.”

  “And so, you see, it may be true that any in Paris could perform the duty at hand, but I would be loath to pass up my only opportunity to say my farewells to my family in person. You men have families, yes?”

  Both men nodded, first to Collins, then to each other.

  “So, I beg that you may allow a humble man to say goodbye to his family, while completing his duty?” Collins gushed timidly.

  “Go ahead then.” Looking at Fitzwilliam, he said dryly, “What about your potatoes? Do you want to take them with you?”

  “Let the old women take them,” Fitzwilliam said with a disgusted roll of his eyes. He led Collins away as the women were quickly on the ground, grabbing for the nourishing roots.

  As they made their way towards the stone building being used as a holding cell, Mr. Collin’s breathing gave evidence of his racing heart. He followed closely behind Fitzwilliam. As they left the town square, he became aware that the other two gentlemen in their party, Darcy and Bingley, were missing. He could not remember when he had last seen them, but the lump in his dry throat did not allow him to inquire.

  Fitzwilliam smiled to himself. He knew the most convincing ploys are those that can be grounded in the truth. Collins revealing himself as a distant relative of the du Ponts was in fact true through his cousin Elizabeth Darcy. He had convincingly portrayed a vicar who had been summoned, as a member of the family, to meet with his relatives, relay sympathy, and comfort them on their last days of life.

  Chapter Twenty-Four

  As Fitzwilliam and Collins approached the entrance of the stronghold where the du Ponts were being held, they saw Darcy and Bingley, with their backs to them, facing the building.

  As soon as they walked up to their friends, Darcy handed Fitzwilliam a dagger, and Bingley handed the same to an amazed Mr. Collins. They were standing directly in front of two guards who were in deep sleep and propped up against the building. Darcy and Bingley had used the sleeping powder from their signet rings. They had also already relieved the guards of their swords.

  Fitzwilliam remained calm and focused, and as he spoke, he looked at Collins and gave him a reassuring smile. “There is no harm in having these daggers with us. Hide them so no one can see them in case you get caught. In case you get captured, you can use your dagger to help you break free.

  Mr. Collins followed the other man’s lead and carefully tucked the dagger into his boot. Mr. Collins managed to get out, “Gentlemen, I think we might be about to have unwanted company,” as two more guards walked up to them.

  But to his surprise, without a word, one of the newly arrived guards quickly handed a sword to Fitzwilliam and nodded. Bayard’s “guards” then took up their places as lookouts in front of their sleeping counterparts.

  Fitzwilliam looked briefly into the eyes of Darcy, Bingley, and Collins. “Quickly, my gentlemen, we must not waste time! Our success is hidden in acting fast and thinking sharply.”

  They entered the makeshift prison and carefully looked around.

  “Darcy, I believe you have the map Bayard gave us?”

  “Yes. We should be going straight forward until we find a turn to the left. We turn there, and the family should be held in one of the rooms off that hallway.”

  As they approach the turn, Fitzwilliam raised his hand to stop the others, before he carefully looked around the corner.

  “I think it is the room on the left. At least that is where two additional guards are stationed,” he whispers to his friends. “I am afraid there will not be much element of surprise on our side. We will go down the hall as if it is normal behavior, but on my mark we must rush them with swords ready. Collins, stand lookout, and alert us in the event anyone approaches from either direction.”

  The three men began walking down the hall with swords hidden but at the ready in their hands down at their sides.

  They had gotten about a quarter of the way when they caught the attention of the guards laughing and rolling dice near the end of the corridor. “Hey! What business do you have here? No one is allowed in these quarters!” shouted the closer of the two guards.

  Fitzwilliam continued to approach and replied, “We were sent to relieve you.”

  “Stop right where you are!”

  “Not going to happen,” Fitzwilliam replied as he began to run toward them, bringing his sword up. Darcy and Bingley took his cue and did the same, getting their swords into position.

  The guards fumbled to draw out their swords, with only one managing to do so before the three friends were upon them. Fitzwilliam engaged the one he came to first. Darcy quickly had his sword pointed at the other, while Bingley relieved the man of his sword and the keys hanging from his belt.

  Bingley first unlocked the door the guards had been standing in front of. Finding it empty, Darcy directed his captive into the room. Bingley next opened the door across the hall, and found the du Pont family there.


  “They are here!” Bingley said excitedly to Darcy.

  “Get your man towards this cell, Fitzwilliam!” Darcy urged his cousin. Fitzwilliam accelerated his advance toward his unequal opponent and quickly had him dropping his sword. He pushed the man into the first cell to join his waiting companion. Bingley locked the door behind them.

  “Fitzwilliam, I am so glad to see you! How did you…?” began the senior Mr. du Pont.

  “We do not have time for that if we are planning on saving your heads, and that is exactly our plan,” interrupted Fitzwilliam as he instructed the family to follow them. “Here, take these,” Fitzwilliam handed the freed gentlemen the swords recently taken from the newly imprisoned guards. “You might find it necessary. I hope there will not be the need to use it, but you may. Keep your wits about you.”

  As the five members of the family quickly followed, Mr. du Pont continued, “Thank you, immensely! I owe you…”

  “I feel the worst is yet to come, du Pont, sir. Let us focus on the task at hand and exchange pleasantries later, my friend. We have to move hurriedly. We still need to escape the clutches of the guards waiting in the town square near the guillotine.”

  “Ah, they were preparing the guillotine…How close death lurks!” said the senior du Pont.

  With a feeling of exhilaration unlike anything he had ever experienced before, Bingley could not resist saying, “Well, not today! Death can run behind us, but we will escape it.”

  “Nicely said, Mr. Bingley,” Fitzwilliam said. “Come on now. Keep the ladies in the center of the group. We do not want them to come to any harm should we encounter unexpected resistance.”

  Mr. Collins joined them when they reached where he stood as lookout. He smiled with great relief on seeing the du Ponts accompanying the others. They were all soon walking past the slumbering guards, with the decoy guards still standing in their positions.

  As they left the stronghold and they rounded a corner, Mr. Collins suddenly gave a startled jerk and gasped. Standing behind a cluster of trees was the haggard old man with the wooden potato cart

  The man was occupied with emptying the cart of several bags of potatoes and some unsightly clothes, revealing a hidden compartment.

  Much to Mr. Collin’s surprise the colonel walked directly to the cart and gesturing towards it, instructed the du Ponts, “Our suggestion is for the ladies to get in there. It will be cramped but desperate times require desperate measures. The gentlemen will change into these clothes. We have no choice but to make our way through the square encompassing the guillotine. It is the only way out of here. Collins and I have made ourselves known already and will distract the local spectators. The two younger gentlemen will accompany Darcy and the senior Mr. Du Pont will follow Bingley with the goal of trying to blend into the crowd. The senior Mr. du Pont is the most well-known and will require additional disguise.”

  The haggard potato vendor winked at the opened mouthed Mr. Collins before he pulled out an unkempt, shaggy brown wig, one from Bayard’s own collection, to cover du Pont’s gray hair. He then applied something to blacken out a couple of the older man’s teeth. The two decoy guards now joined them and lifted the ladies into the cart. One of the guards then removed padding from under his shirt and it was soon tied around Mr. du Pont, finishing his disguise.

  The family said their goodbyes and hastily followed orders. The lid to the cart was closed and the potatoes placed on top. The haggard peasant immediately and effortlessly, began pushing the cart in the direction of the town square. He had become a regular fixture there for the last couple of weeks in preparation for this day.

  ‘Let us act according to the plan, and remember to act as naturally as possible,” encouraged Fitzwilliam. “Darcy, you should converse with the two young men about your failing crops as you make your way through the square. And speak your broken French! All swords must now be left behind so as not to attract attention, but move your daggers to the side of your belt so we may have them at the ready. Try to be discreet. We were only able to obtain the necessary papers for two. Here Bingley, take them. You and the senior du Pont will go first, and the rest will go after. Collins and I will stop to converse with the locals as Darcy and the others pass through the crowd. It is nearing dusk and that affords some of you an opportunity to get to the waterfront just before darkness overtakes them and gives the rest of us about an hour before the changing of the guards to make our way there. Let us hope the sleeping men are not discovered before that time. In any event, there will be more of Bayard’s men awaiting your arrival and they have their instructions. If all goes as planned, we will meet up tonight. Be brave!”

  The peasant potato seller maneuvered through the crowd without garnering a second look. Having been going back and forth through the gates for a fortnight, the guards just nodded to him and let him pass. He stopped on a dusty street a little ways from the gates, and offered two men standing near a wagon a bag of potatoes to take with them. One of those men walked around the cart and started inspecting the offered produce. As he and the peasant discussed the quality of the spuds, they removed the remaining bags and effectively blocked the view of the cart from anyone who might come down the lane.

  The other was the burly man who had played a role in drawing attention to Fitzwilliam and Collins when they had first met the potato seller in the square. That diversion had effectively allowed Darcy and Bingley to pass through unnoticed. This man now looked around and confirmed that they were unobserved. He quickly opened the hatch in the potato cart and in one swift movement, reached down, lifted out a lady and set her into the false bottom of the wagon. He then repeated the action with the other woman. After closing the hatch, he joined the other men and the three carried the bags of potatoes to set on top of the false bottom of the wagon.

  Bingley and his charge went quietly through the crowd, stopping for a moment to look at the guillotine as all spectators did, before making their way safely to the gate. They were asked for their papers, which Bingley produced and acted as spokesman for himself and his “hard-of-hearing Papa”. Once outside of the town gates, they were soon offered a ride on the back of a wagon, which happened to be going their way. They readily accepted and pushed the bags of potatoes to the back so that they had a place to sit, as they continued on to the waterfront.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  When Fitzwilliam and Collins came to the old women who had taken the potatoes earlier, Mr. Collins did as the Colonel had coached him and forced himself to make eye contact with the women. He smiled sheepishly as was his way and waved at them.

  “Well, did you get your deed done, parson?” asked the old woman. “Are those du Pont’s ready for their appointment with Madame Guillotine?”

  “We were not able to get an audience with the family today, but we will return tomorrow and renew our efforts,” answered Mr. Collins as he smiled and nodded to the woman.

  “Well now, I might be having a relative in the guards that could arrange it for you. You got any more coins in your pocket, Englishman?” she said while looking at Fitzwilliam.

  “You have my potatoes already, old woman. You will not get anything more from me. They are not my relations, and I do not care if they say their goodbyes properly or not.”

  Looking at him with contempt, the woman turned her attention to his companion. “Maybe you will be thinking different about it, parson? How about sparing a few coins in exchange for some help?”

  This took Mr. Collins completely by surprise and he fumbled over his words, not knowing how he should act or what he should say. He looked at Fitzwilliam who gave him a disgusted look and said, “Do what you want, but just be careful you are not throwing the proverbial pearls before swine.”

  Mr. Collin’s face showed his shock at this lack of compassion from his friend. The poverty he had seen around him was something he had never witnessed before in his homeland, and he felt pity for the poor, though misguided people. “Well, I think I might have a little to spare,” he
said as he reached into his coin pouch and handed the lady a few coins. “I thank you, madam, but I believe we will be successful on our next visit. If, however, we are not, I will ask for your assistance. Will you be found here on the morrow?”

  “Right here in this very spot, every day,” she answered.

  “Good day to you, ladies,” Collins said kindly, as he followed after Fitzwilliam, who had already begun to walk away.

  As they approached the gates, they saw that Darcy and the two young men with him were in line to have their papers examined. Fitzwilliam, with Collins following close behind, went to the head of the line and spoke to one of the guards. “We are late for our transport, my good man. Might we speed up the process?” he said with irritation.

  “Wait your turn!” Darcy shouted after him in his broken French accent. “We all is late for something!”