Miss Charlotte Blakeney
Title: Miss Charlotte Blakeney
Author: capt_facepalm
Rating: PG
Fandoms: A Tale of Two Cities (yeah, right)
Characters: Mary Sue
Summary: Challenge 205 at great_tales
Warnings: (Now where's the fun in that?)
Apologies: To the original author(s) and to litlover12 (who has prompted me to read A Tale of Two Cities for the first time, but is otherwise blameless)
Word Count: 405
The servant entered the sun-dappled conservatory with a message for his mistress and stopped in his tracks, stupefied and drooling at her undeniable beauty.
‘The grammar in this thing is atrocious’, the young woman exclaimed as she circled another affront to her intellect and slammed the Bible shut. ‘What was King James thinking when he authorised this mess?’ she wondered as she retrieved the missive.
The dispatch was from that nice Mr Lorry, who was still in Paris. Having authored several treatises on secret codes, she translated his complex cypher in the blink of an eye and pursed her lovely lips. Her brother Percy had been detained by the new French Republic on the suspicion of trying to engineer the escape of M Charles Evrémonde (called Darnay) and Mr Sydney Carton.
‘Not again!’ she sighed, rolling her eyes, and burying her face in her palms. There was something about Paris that attracted these men like flies to a honey-coated spider’s web.
She would have to act quickly. Fortunately most of her travelling accessories were already prepared: the spring-loaded poison parasol (and discreetly hidden sword), flea repellent (Ugh, slums!), and knitting needles, so deadly lethal in her expert hands. Not to mention her various brilliant disguises. And should her bewitching good looks fail to lull her foes into a slack-jawed stupor, she could always entrance them by using the special disk secreted in her heart-shaped locket. Or poison. Her dainty fingernails were highly toxic, and she was prepared to use them in a pinch.
Mentally, she checked off the things she would need to do: feed the cat, water the plants, lock the doors, and what was that other thing? Oh yes, before venturing out she must not forget to arm her booby traps. (The snap-jaw bodice was her particular favourite!)
Pausing on her way out the door, she regarded a covered easel.
‘Why not,’ she pondered, lifting the sheet. ‘After all, I’m going to Paris anyhow.’
After liberating the small painting from the art smugglers, she had then taken the liberty of correcting the smile on The Mona Lisa. The paint would now be dry enough to travel. She would slip it back into the Louvre on her way to sabotage the guillotine.
.oOOo.
They seek her here, they seek her there
Those Frenchies seek her everywhere
Is she from heaven, or is she from hell?
That elusive Charlotte Pimpernel
.oOOo.
Guestbook? Yes, please sign...
Author: capt_facepalm
Rating: PG
Fandoms: A Tale of Two Cities (yeah, right)
Characters: Mary Sue
Summary: Challenge 205 at great_tales
Warnings: (Now where's the fun in that?)
Apologies: To the original author(s) and to litlover12 (who has prompted me to read A Tale of Two Cities for the first time, but is otherwise blameless)
Word Count: 405
The servant entered the sun-dappled conservatory with a message for his mistress and stopped in his tracks, stupefied and drooling at her undeniable beauty.
‘The grammar in this thing is atrocious’, the young woman exclaimed as she circled another affront to her intellect and slammed the Bible shut. ‘What was King James thinking when he authorised this mess?’ she wondered as she retrieved the missive.
The dispatch was from that nice Mr Lorry, who was still in Paris. Having authored several treatises on secret codes, she translated his complex cypher in the blink of an eye and pursed her lovely lips. Her brother Percy had been detained by the new French Republic on the suspicion of trying to engineer the escape of M Charles Evrémonde (called Darnay) and Mr Sydney Carton.
‘Not again!’ she sighed, rolling her eyes, and burying her face in her palms. There was something about Paris that attracted these men like flies to a honey-coated spider’s web.
She would have to act quickly. Fortunately most of her travelling accessories were already prepared: the spring-loaded poison parasol (and discreetly hidden sword), flea repellent (Ugh, slums!), and knitting needles, so deadly lethal in her expert hands. Not to mention her various brilliant disguises. And should her bewitching good looks fail to lull her foes into a slack-jawed stupor, she could always entrance them by using the special disk secreted in her heart-shaped locket. Or poison. Her dainty fingernails were highly toxic, and she was prepared to use them in a pinch.
Mentally, she checked off the things she would need to do: feed the cat, water the plants, lock the doors, and what was that other thing? Oh yes, before venturing out she must not forget to arm her booby traps. (The snap-jaw bodice was her particular favourite!)
Pausing on her way out the door, she regarded a covered easel.
‘Why not,’ she pondered, lifting the sheet. ‘After all, I’m going to Paris anyhow.’
After liberating the small painting from the art smugglers, she had then taken the liberty of correcting the smile on The Mona Lisa. The paint would now be dry enough to travel. She would slip it back into the Louvre on her way to sabotage the guillotine.
.oOOo.
They seek her here, they seek her there
Those Frenchies seek her everywhere
Is she from heaven, or is she from hell?
That elusive Charlotte Pimpernel
.oOOo.
Guestbook? Yes, please sign...