The True Story - The Scarlet Pimpernel Fan Fiction

The True Story - A Pimpernel Fan Fiction
Prologue

Recently a new document has been found revealing facts and truth of a long told story in literature. This document has come about by this:
In his adventures as a young boy, Luc would explore his house. The house was a very old one and had been in his family since before the French Revolution. Situated in Paris, France, the house held many unknown secrets of its past. In this case, it was another rainy day in the city of love and so our young adventurer began to go about the house at the time when his parents had left for a business party. In his searching, he would go into rooms he was not normally aloud in. This day he began in his parent’s room and worked his way to a door he had never seen before. Opening it, he discovered a long staircase that seemed very old and likely to fall if stepped upon. Luc cared not for this possibility and continued his search. He walked up the rickety stairs and reached the top of them very quickly where he found another door. This door, however, was not in its proper place. Luc could only imagine some high-risk attack taking place there, the soldiers knocked down the door with force and pushing it aside as they walk inside to bash things about inside and search for some secret thing that is hidden there. With these thoughts in his mind, he looked into the dark room. It was very dusty and there were papers all over the floor. What little light there was came from a small window that was almost exactly straight across from him. Between Luc and the window was an old desk and two chairs, one on each side of the desk. In another corner was a very old couch that appeared to have once been a leather couch, but it was now scratched up, dirty, and turned upside down on the floor. Across from that, there was at one time a fireplace. There were a little bit if ashes inside it, some on the floor. He could see where the wood would be placed and the fire lit. In the midst of all this, he saw a paper in the ashes, half burned. Luc picked it up read it aloud.
"My dear Marge, Marie, beauty of my days, I must confide in you a great secret which I trust to you because of my great love I have always had for you, even after your marriage. You must believe me in this. I will need to get this to you before they..." and it ended there, the rest of it could not be read because it had been burned.
Luc laid it on the desk and began to search the other papers among the room. Eventually he began to look through the drawers of the desk. It was then that he found the document I have told you about. This document was a handwritten journal – like account of facts and events that somewhat resemble the events in the classic book, The Scarlet Pimpernel. The boy hid the document for some time until he had read the entire thing. By this time, adventures had become boring to his mind and had grown into a seventeen-year-old teenager. He never forgot the papers that he his in a secret area underneath a broken piece of wood (Under which was a compartment where he could put things) hidden under his bed. Questions soon entered his head and he, being a mature and smart young man, decided to tell his parents about it.
When Luc gave it to his mother, she had shouted for his father and shown it to him; they both seemed very excited about this new discovery. From there the document was shown to the local authorities and the documents of it were told to historians as well as authors and students of literature. A new story evolved, the papers were the talk of all the highest universities and smartest professors and historians.
Luc never saw the document again. He noticed that the attic was not being searched for more secrets, and knew that there must have been more to the story. He, however, would not have a chance to find out more, for soon after all this had occurred it was announced that the family would be moving to the country, away from the city. This news was sad to him, and so Luc took a crazy idea into his head. He took all of his savings and college money out and bought the house from his parents, refusing to move to the country with them.
With great regret and being ashamed, his parents left for the country and would not talk to him. He only saw them again years later. After they left, Luc began searching again, adventures filling his head. He was a detective and his mission was to find out the entire story. He interviewed historians, friends, family, and the police, making a living by writing articles for the local newspaper, which were hardly ever published. In his determination, he found what he wanted and began to write a story, the true story. This story. I am Luc, and I am about to tell you my great grandpa’s story, the one that is very similar to the story of The Scarlet Pimpernel
Chapter 1
The First Meeting Which Will Result in Much to Come
In a country called America, a city called New York stands. It so happened that on one chanceful day, in the year 1939 during World War II, two people happened to be walking on the same street, on the same sidewalk; both were carrying a book with the same name along with other things.
In their walking they happened to have been in a hurry, and by this, did not see each other coming, thus resulting in a meeting that would bring about, in the future, many things, including myself being brought into the world. The two ran into each other, causing them to drop their things and fall to the ground, luckily catching themselves.
They both scrambled about to pick their things up, the woman apologizing as she did this. In their confusion, they took little notice to their having the same book and each took the other’s.
Once he had his things, the man straightened up, and turned to look at the woman he had run into.
“Funny things can happen when two are in a hurry and happen to be on the same sidewalk,” he said with a strong French accent.
“Oh, forgive me, monsieur, I did not see you,” she also had a French accent, “What you have said is true, I was on my way to a history club meeting that started,” she looked at her watch, “five minutes ago.”
“You sound French, and yet most French women would have glared at me and walked away,” the man said with a bit of a glare himself, “I hope that you have not moved here on reason that Germany is moving to take over France, because that would be betraying your country when they most need you.”
“Well I have never been ‘most’, and would never ‘betray’ my country. I once cared for it... but...” she hesitated.
“As I am glad that you are not ‘most’, however I must tell you...,” he retorted, but was interrupted by the woman.
“Good day then,” she said.
“Yes, good day,” he returned.
They were going their separate ways again, expecting to never see each other again.
The woman continued until she reached a small, corner bookstore. There she entered the store and walked towards the back until she reached an area where a group of women were sitting, one chair being unoccupied.
“Ahh, Marge, you have finally arrived,” said one of the women sitting there.
“Yes, I have. Sorry for my being late, I had a bit of trouble on my way here,” Marge replied.
“What kind of trouble Marge?” another woman by the name of Kate asked.
“It was nothing, just fell down, tripped on my way,” Marge replied.
“Just as well,” said another, “we are discussing the French Revolution today. I assume that this topic might offend you because you are French.”
“Renee, she may be French, but she is also American. You are the only one here who has a thing against them. Marge has done no wrong. And you know that her country is going through hard times just like us, you have no reason to hate them. With this war growing the way it ism it will not be long before Hitler tries to get France,” remarked Kate.
“Thank you, Kate. I can defend myself. Actually, the reason for my falling was running into another French man with quite rude manners. I suppose that is the reason for my moving here anyways,” Marge told them.
“Oh, tell us more,” Renee encouraged, anxious to make a point.
“She does not have to if she does not want to,” another said.
“Please, please, can we just continue with our discussion about the French Revolution?” questioned another woman by the name of Melody.
“Thank you, Melody,” said Marge as she took her seat.
“We were about to start talking about the day they charged the Bastille,” said Melody.
“Yes, so can we all open our book, The History of the Bastille During the French Revolution, and begin talking about it?” asked the woman at the head of the circle, who was the leader of the club, her name being Sara.
Marge took out the book by that title and opened it to the inside cover. There she saw, in the upper right corner of that page, something handwritten that she has never seen before on this book. It read, “Chavelier Carel, French man of the Regime, Currently at the Building of business on Main Street, New York, Floor five, Office 572.” This was not her book, it belonged to the man she had run into on the sidewalk on her way there, he had the same book as her and they had picked up each other’s book without noticing. She now realized this.
“Marge, won’t you tell us what you thought of turning the day the French people charged the Bastille into a holiday?” Renee asked.
Marge quickly realized she had been spending the last few minutes reading this address over and had not been paying any attention at all.
“Marge?” Kate motioned for her to answer.
“I am sorry, but I must be going,” Marge said fast and before anyone could object she had stood up, grabbed her things and left the store.

Description:
This is unfinished and will remain unfinished. Disclaimer: This is based on the story THE SCARLET PIMPERNEL. There will soon be more chapters to follow. It is about the descendants of Baroness Orczy (although not truly, this is completely fiction) and their story during World War II that resembles the story of the Scarlet Pimpernel. Anyway, Full credit for the idea of the story goes to whoever owns the copyright to the original Scarlet Pimpernel. Still, I claim all copyright to this story seeing as the characters and story are a bit different from Baroness’ Orczy’s story. Well, enjoy.