Author's Note: This is what happens when you start your masters in a history-based field - you end up writing fanfiction about how the French government changed their view of French history in the decades following the Revolution, and their sudden inspiration to save architecture and monuments. I do not pretend to be an expert about this subject by any stretch of the imagination; I am merely playing with characters.

Disclaimer: I obviously do not own the Baroness's characters, nor the real life people mentioned in this story – including Jean Bailly, Alexandre Lenoir, François Guizot, or Prosper Mérimée. I mention the transfers of power in France between 1792 and 1835 so that the reader won't be terribly confused (maybe), but it was a bloody nightmare to investigate even for this story, so please note that I am NOT an expert on that subject, either. However, if I have messed up somewhere in recounting the horrifically muddied waters of early 19th century French politics, please feel free to drop me a nice note/review about it, and I will be happy to change any drastic screw ups.

Relics from the Past

September 1834

It was the sort of lazy autumn day in which the sun warms everything, but not quite enough, and Percy Blakeney found himself wishing for a lap blanket even as he sat in the parlor. Of course, this thought annoyed him greatly, for lap blankets were for old people, and he was certainly not...old.

Well, not terribly old.

He glanced at the book he had been reading. It was open in his hand, but for the past few minutes, he had been staring out of the window at the garden and the autumn leaves upon the wind. The leaves were a nice diversion, and he closed the book and tossed it upon the table beside him. Perhaps a stroll about the garden was in order, and to hell with the book.

However, to Percy's great delight, the ring of the bell announced a visitor, which was an even better distraction, and moments later, the parlor doors opened and the butler entered, announcing Lady Eliza Granville, come to visit Sir Percy Blakeney, Baronet.

Lady Eliza swept into the room in the popular fashion of the day, with her hair in tight, strawberry-blond sausage curls spilling from beneath her plumed hat and framing her face. Percy always found fashion interesting, but the most recent trends were strange indeed. The newest look for women was a vast reversal from only ten years ago. Instead of the straight, empire-waist gowns of the Regency, which mimicked the classical era, ladies were now wearing petticoats to give their skirts a more bell-like shape. But it was the sleeves that had taken a literal life of their own. They were monstrously bulbous, like great legs of mutton, and Percy had no earthly idea how ladies moved their arms with so much heavy fabric in the way.

"Ah, m'dear, that is a lovely color," he greeted her, smiling at the dark blue velvet fabric and black lace trim, despite the ridiculous sleeves. "The latest style, I presume?"

She laughed brightly and took his hands in hers. "From Paris, yes! I bought grand-mère several bolts back from the shops there; I know how she adores new clothes and fabric. She will be elated, I am sure!"

Percy laughed too, and gestured towards a seat. "Heavens, she'll be the talk of the town as usual, soon as she has a new dress made. What colors have you selected for her?"

"Three blues, of course, for they bring out mamie's eyes so nicely. But I also purchased a lovely bolt of silver, one of cream, and one a charming fox red."

He almost commented that red would clash horribly with his wife's hair, before he immediately remembered that her hair wasn't red any longer. His smile slipped slightly at the disconcerting realization. Growing old was quite tedious at times. Although, if he admitted it, silver really did become Margot as much as red had. His dear wife could make any color look splendid.

To hide his momentary lapse, he said, "I'm sure she will be delighted. And what of your travels, ma chéri? I trust Paris is not in the throws of another revolution? Wasn't there just another one?"

Eliza laughed once more; she always laughed around him, and he loved her for it. Never a dull moment with Eliza, with her eyes as blue as Margot's and her laugh infectious and lovely.

"No, papa. You know it is not. In fact, I learned something while I was there, and I desired to share it with you in person, rather than write about it. The Minister of the Interior created the post of Inspector Général des Monuments Historique, and Monsieur Prosper Mérimée has been selected for the position."

"Mérimée..." Percy frowned slightly. "Don't believe I know him."

He hated to admit it, but though he tried to keep up with the important people of the day, there seemed to be more now than ever, on both sides of the channel, and sometimes he just didn't know everyone anymore.

"He is in his thirties, papa, and he has been traveling about France to document all of the historic places in the country. I believe he was a novelist before taking this position. We had dinner several times with both Monsieur Guizot and Monsieur Mérimée. They are completing an inventory of historic buildings and monuments from all eras of France's history."

Percy smiled wryly. All eras? He rather doubted that. Wouldn't it be quite the reversal from only thirty years ago?

Eliza went on, oblivious to her grandfather's sarcastic, amused expression, "Apparently, Alexandre Lenoir set the stage for this change."

"And who is Monsieur Lenoir?" Percy lied, for this was one name he did know; yet he did not what Eliza to know how he knew the man.

"He was first the curator of Saint Petites-Augustine, and then the Musée des monuments français."

"Did you visit the museum?"

"No, I did not have the opportunity," Eliza admitted. "I certainly wish I had, but m'lord was quite busy with business matters this trip, and I mostly stayed in Paris, visiting with friends..."

The doors opened again at that moment, and Eliza cried out happily as her grandmother swept into the room, resplendent in a gown of rich green. "Grand-mère!"

"Ma chèri!" Margot hugged Eliza tightly and then held her at arm's length. "My, but you do look well, dearest. I was visiting Lady Ffoulkes and only just returned but a moment ago! I'm sure you have been having a delightful conversation with your grandfather, but you will stay for dinner, yes? I simply must hear of your trip to Paris!"

Eliza laughed brightly and said she would stay for dinner, and Percy decided that any further conversation at the moment was pointless.

But it didn't mean he pushed it out of his mind.

oOo

Late that evening, when he finally went into the bedchamber for the night, he discovered Margot already in bed, reading a small book by candlelight. She glanced up at his entrance and smiled.

"It sounds as though Eliza had a lovely time in Paris," she remarked. "I am glad it is slightly safer to visit these days."

Percy stirred the fire, his brow furrowed in thought. "Yes, I am glad for it, too." Then, after a moment's hesitation, he added, "She mentioned a name today, before you came into the parlor, which I have not heard in years."

"Oh?" Margot frowned. "Don't tell me she somehow stumbled into your dear friend Monsieur Chambertin. I thought he died a couple of years ago. If it was just a ruse, I shall be highly vexed."

Percy smiled slightly. "No, no. He is quite dead. No, she mentioned Monsieur Alexandre Lenoir, actually."

"Alexandre Lenoir? Goodness, I have not thought of him in years! What is the archéologue doing these days?"

"She did not say. She mentioned the Musée des monuments français, though she did not visit it or meet Alexandre."

As he came to the bed, Margot turned those narrowed blue eyes upon him. "What are you thinking, Percy? For I can see you are thinking of something and you have not told me what it is, yet."

"Nothing more than that I should like to visit him. It has been a long time since I have seen him, and I should like to have a chat with him. He was always quite interesting. I remember him in your salon all those years ago...such fascinating stories he told of his work in archeology. Eliza spoke of François Guizot and Prosper Mérimée, but I confess I am not familiar with them. Besides, I suspect they are younger than I, and are of the new empire in their thought."

"A good thing," Margot said shortly. "For I will not have you visit and be arrested, Percy. Even if you are of no interest to the new government."

"Well then, what say you, m'dear? Are you up for a journey to Paris? I will play the fool whenever is needed, I promise. Though I must agree - the new government could care less who I am."

She sighed and put her book on the night table, and blew out her candle, so that only the fire lit the room. "Very well. Eliza's prattle this evening has me longing to visit, though I hardly dare to believe I wish to!"

"It isn't quite as dangerous to visit France these days. There are still problems, yes, but there is no guillotine, which is a definite improvement."

"If there was a guillotine, we should not be having this discussion at all," she replied dryly.

oOo

It was October when they arrived in Paris, with its bustling streets and new government. Percy was growing weary of trying to keep up with the French, who could not seem to settle on anything these days, but most particularly not a government. First, it had been the royal monarchy, overthrown by the Revolution, in which Percy had saved innocent aristocrats from murder under the guise of the Scarlet Pimpernel. But the First Republic, which those blood-thirsty dogs of the Revolution had so desired, was quickly followed by the First Empire, under the fiend Napoleon – and never mind Percy's opinion of that! Those were long, unpleasant years for Percy to watch, but once Napoleon had been dealt with in the War of the Sixth Coalition, King Louis XVIII (brother to Louis XVI, who had been executed during the Revolution) came to power, and for a brief moment, Percy had hoped that the French were returning to sense. But then, in the spring of 1815, Napoleon returned (really, was the man secretly taking lessons from Chauvelin? Percy longed to know, but Margot refused to let him investigate...!). Thank God he was soundly defeated by the Seventh Coalition, which restored Louis XVIII to the throne once more. But Louis had died ten years ago – and upon his death, the final living Capet brother, Charles X inherited the throne.

Charles' policies were not remotely popular, which was discouraging to say the least. By the summer of 1830, it was evident that Charles was going to do as he damned well pleased, as though he had learned nothing from Louis XVI! And of course, in France, the only way the people knew to deal with annoying Capet kings was to start up a new revolution. Though admittedly, the July Revolution was tame compared to the one in 1792. Charles and his son were not killed, but allowed to flee to Britain, and now Louis Philippe d'Orléans had been placed upon the throne in something called a "constitutional monarchy", whatever the hell that was. Probably a puppet monarch, and perhaps the confounded Americans had something to do with it, Percy thought wryly. Heavens, but the past thirty years had been enough to make one's head spin. If he had to guess, it would only be a matter of time before France grew tired of Louis and threw him out, too.

But there was no longer a guillotine, and Percy could move about freely and fairly unnoticed: an elderly British gentleman with gold to spare, who was likely visiting France on business matters, was hardly glanced at these days.

Margot remained more on edge than he, despite the fact that she was French. He assured her more than once that they were not going to have to flee ragged guards, but she would merely glare at him and tell him to keep quiet about such things if he was in jest.

Two days after arriving, he found himself on a quiet street alone, gazing up at a masterpiece of architecture, and when he knocked upon the door, he was admitted to a small, elegant parlor. He wondered if he would be received or even remembered, but moments later, an old man entered and smiled at him.

"Monsieur Blakeney, it is you! I could scare believe it when you were announced." He took Blakeney's hands in his own and kissed his cheek. "To what do I owe such a honor of a visit?"

Percy smiled wanly at Alexandre Lenoir, the renowned archeologist who had saved so many treasures from the past. As they sat down, he said, "Just a social visit, I assure you. My granddaughter recently visited Paris and mentioned you, though of course she has no idea that I once knew you. But she set me thinking, and I wondered if you were still alive. I was glad to learn you were! How is France these days?"

Alexandre Lenoir also smiled, though wearily. "She cannot make her mind up on a government, it seems. You and I were both born in the 1760's, and we have seen her go through a monarchy, a revolution, a republic, an empire, another monarchy, a brief return to the empire, back to the monarchy, and into yet another revolution. Now, we are on her third monarchy. I am too old for this, Monsieur Blakeney. Too old."

"Old or not, you were quite brilliant, saving so much that you did in those wretched days," Percy admitted. "It never ceased to amaze me what you were able to accomplish, despite the Revolution and the Republic. I worried so much back then that you would be executed for wanting to save France's treasures, and that the Republic would destroy everything of the past to legitimize the Revolution."

"I worried about execution back then, too." Lenoir sighed. "And yet, thanks to Jean Bailly (may he rest in peace), I survived, as did my efforts to save the past."

"Ah yes, Monsieur Bailly. I remember him. A sad affair, and proof that a revolution can turn upon those who begin such things."

"Those were often dark days. I wondered, many times, why you bothered on occasion to help me save artwork and such, Blakeney. Didn't you ever worry I would turn you in?"

Percy chuckled. "Once or twice, but not as worried as I was about other things. And I knew, based on your work, that you were more worried about other issues, without the added worry of reporting a rogue Englishman. What of your work these days? Who carries on the torch?"

"François Guizot appointed Prosper Mérimée to the office of Inspector Général, and he has big plans in the works. Surprisingly, the current government recognizes the value of monuments and buildings in France – not just those belonging to the Revolution and Republic, but before that era, as well. Guizot made a full inventory of buildings on French soil from all periods. Mérimée wishes to assess them for restoration and plans to hire an architect for just the purpose. I believe they have separated the monuments and buildings in several categories...Celtic and Gallic ruins, Roman ruins, artwork..."

"And are these young men, or old?"

Lenoir smiled at the question, but only because he knew where Percy was coming from. "Mérimée is in his thirties. Guizot has moved on to other things within the government, but is a bit older than Mérimée. I suspect whoever Mérimée hires as an architect will also be young. We, Blakeney, are a dying generation."

"A sad thing, but true. Yet I do not feel old."

"Perhaps you do not feel old, but I certainly do. I can only hope that they will continue our work to save the past. I am a relic, and there is little use for me in this new France."

Percy said nothing to that, though it nettled him. Otherwise, he had a pleasant visit. They discussed many things – changes in Paris, Marguerite (for Lenoir well remembered her), England, and more. Only after a couple of hours did Percy finally take his leave, thanking Lenoir for welcoming him so warmly. Lenoir invited him and Marguerite to dinner, and Percy accepted.

But as he made his way back through Paris, Percy sighed heavily. Perhaps he was part of a dying generation, but by God, he wasn't dead yet, and he still felt that he had much life in him. Lenoir may have felt old and worn, a relic in an era of new intellects who would not be listened to by younger men, but Percy was not so sure he was a relic. Seventy was old, but not that old.

FIN

Additional Notes: Prosper Mérimée was the General Inspector of Historical Monuments, appointed in 1830 by François Guizot, Minister of the Interior. Mérimée held the position for more than 20 years, during which time he hired architect Viollet-le-Duc to restore some of France's buildings.

Alexandre Lenoir was an archeologist and museum curator, who saved many treasures of France from the Revolution. While never mentioned in the Scarlet Pimpernel books, I think Percy would have probably approved of Lenoir's work. Jean Bailly was mayor of Paris and a major politician in the first part of the Revolution, but was eventually accused of treason and executed in 1793. He supported Lenoir's work.