National Novel Writing Month - Day#18

The coach rumbled along the road behind its two horses through the dirt streets of rural France and toward that godforsaken hostelry in Mueng.  Inside the heavy coach, Milady de winter was seated on the dark red cushions, absently fingering one of her platinum blond curls.  Her unfocused gaze aimed on the cushions in front of her.   Every once in a while the carriage would jolt her out of her thoughts and she would turn her languishing blue eyes to the scenery but her introspection would soon claim her attention again. 

To the casual observer, she appeared to be about twenty two years in age with strikingly beautiful features almost too perfect to be real.  The blue satin overdress she wore brought out the hue in her eyes to great effect and the contrast of the white petticoat underneath her skirts could also be seen in the slashes of her virago sleeves.  The stomacher was heavily embroidered and decorated with glass beadwork that had been delicately stitched by hand. She lounged slightly against the back of the carriage though the stays in her corset would not allow for any real relaxation.  The lace collar with its supportasse was normally the largest hurdle to true comfort so she often left it behind on these long journeys or carefully packed away, if it was a formal occasion, until she reached her destination.  Thankfully, there was no real danger of being recognized this far out of the city, so the casualness of her dress could be overlooked.

Milady had been summoned outside of the city of Paris on a matter of great importance to his Eminence, the Cardinal.  One of Richelieu’s agents would be meeting her to deliver instructions on her next mission.  She had returned from England only a few days earlier and had yet to report in person to his Eminence.  This day’s trip out of the city for a clandestine meeting had not made debriefing any easier.  Of course, she had written a few lines before her departure and knew it would not bode well for her.  His displeasure at her failed mission, however, was not her real cause for melancholy.  She could easily handle the Cardinal as she could most other men.  Her real trouble was with the blasted Duke of Buckingham and his foolish loyalty to that twit, Queen Anne.  

For all of Milady's efforts, she was no closer to the Duke than she was right now in France.  Certainly, he had received her politely enough and she was always invited to his social gatherings, but he had rebuffed every one of her advances.  It was really unreasonable of him.  After all, the Queen was not nearly as powerful as Milady would have been in her place.  The insipid creature was always one emotional breakdown away from a nunnery and here she had somehow won over the Duke of Buckingham causing Milady to fail in her most recent mission.  

The carriage lurched and Milady was pulled once again to reality.  She stared daggers through the roof of the carriage in the direction of the driver but opted not to shout at the fool just yet.  Her real quarrel was with the Comte de Rochefort and his strange request to meet him at the Jolly Miller in Mueng.  The Comte de Rochefort, she knew, was under strict orders from his Eminence, Cardinal Richelieu, and had only just returned from Brussels himself after a two year sojourn from court.  Milady had not been privy to the details of the mission but she had heard snatches of the story in the rumors around Paris the last few days.  His own stepmother claimed he had been in debtor’s prison but that only served to protect his cover and he had made no attempt to correct her even though that was far from the truth.  The Comte had been posing as a capuchin monk of all things and those damned musketeers were already ferreting out the information before she had even had a chance to reacquaint herself with her contacts in Paris.  She hated being the last to know.

They were nearing the Jolly Miller and she could see the Comte de Rochefort on horseback, just at the back of the inn, awaiting her arrival – this was most unusual.  The Comte de Rochefort rounded his horse at the approach of her carriage – he was clearly waiting for her and she felt the hair at the back of her neck prickle.  It was an odd choice for a meeting spot in the first place and then the name of the establishment had already given Milady pause when she had received his summons; had he somehow discovered this hidden part of her history?  She had been born a miller’s daughter after all and had done her best to erase all connections to this past life.  It was always possible that it was coincidence, but there were few of those when Rochefort was concerned.  His network of informants was by far the largest contributor to the Cardinal’s success in espionage.  She never fully trusted the Comte, or any man she couldn’t control, and he was another of the minority who could somehow withstand her charms. 

"Comte de Rochefort, " Milady cooed, "how I do love you in purple." He was dressed from doublet to hose in the same aubergine color.  She waited for him to open the carriage door as decorum dictated, but instead when he dismounted his horse he climbed aboard the carriage step – firmly blocking her exit.  Now, she silently cursed the driver and his negligence that put the other carriage door too close to the garden wall for a quick escape.  She forced her appearance to remain neutral and willed her eyes to convey nothing but innocent surprise at the unexpected change in plan.  "But why do we not go to the Inn and talk over a nice bottle of Madeira."

"Milady," he touched the brim of his hat in a small gesture of respect, "we have been discovered!"

"What is this?!"  she sat up straight and her eyes searched the fields around them.  The Comte’s use of the plural left no doubt as to what had presently been discovered and temporarily relieved the anxiety she had previously felt about Rochefort’s impropriety and suspicious nature.  But the seed of doubt regarding her own secrets had been planted and was still hovering around the edges of her consciousness.

"A young Gascon with a letter from Monsieur de Treville in his pocket," he produced a letter from his own pocket and handed it over to Milady.  “He provoked a quarrel with me, no doubt to prevent us from our mission.  How Treville discovered it, I will never know.”

“And where is he now?” she demanded, her eyes focused on the crumbling hostelry.

"I have subdued him for the time being and he is laid out in the landlord's apartments.  We must make this quick before he regains consciousness."

"Indeed," she agreed. “His Eminence, then, orders me – "

"To return instantly to England, and to inform him as soon as the duke leaves London."

“And as to my other instructions?” she asked.  The message from the Cardinal had indicated there would be a more serious mission.

“They are contained in this box,” he tapped his breast pocket, “which you will not open until you are on the other side of the channel.” 

“But I have only just returned from that horrid country,” she protested.  “What reason could I possibly give for returning so soon?”

“You are a clever woman, I am sure you will figure something out.” Rochefort pulled the small box from his waistcoat and passed it to Milady with a slight of hand that had ceased to amaze her but would have been nearly imperceptible to those milling about "The slightest delay could ruin everything."

“Very well,” she sighed.  It was then that she noticed a disheveled youth emerging from the rear entrance of the hostelry.  He was without a doublet and looked to be no more dangerous than a farmer’s son playing hooky from his chores.  But even at this distance she could recognize that Gascon swagger and knew it could be none other than their foe. “And you – what will you do?”

“I – I return to Paris.” Rochefort retorted.  His tone suggested she should somehow have already known his next actions and was ridiculous for even asking the question.  It was his arrogance more than anything else that caused her to utter her next words.

“What,” she cooed at him again, “without chastising this insolent boy?”  The Comte de Rochefort gave her a quizzical look and opened his mouth as if to speak when the aforementioned boy rushed forward.

“This insolent boy chastises others,” the Gascon cried; “and I hope that this time he whom he ought to chastise will not escape him as before.”

"Oh, I though you took care of him?”  Milady chided Rochefort in a voice low enough so the boy couldn't hear her.  "Hurry, or you may not escape him a second time."

"Will not escape him?!" roared Rochefort. 

"No, before a woman you would not dare to fly, I presume?" the boy goaded him.

"Remember," Milady said in a mocking tone, "the least delay may ruin everything."  Rochefort sighed in exasperation at his own words.

"You are right," he cried, "be gone then, on your part, and I will depart as quickly on mine."  He bowed to Milady and raced back to his horse. 

Her taunting had not made his duty an easy burden to bear.  She could see the struggle on his face as he turned his horse to head towards Paris.  Thankfully, Rochefort followed the Cardinals instructions over his own impulses to pummel the boy.  Of course, it could also turn out to be an unfortunate thing, Milady mused to herself.   It may have been better to just kill the boy outright so he would pose no risk to their endeavors.   It was terribly difficult to know at this juncture.

“To Calais!” she shouted to the driver and her carriage lurched forward on the two days ride north to the seaport.  Thankfully, she had enough packed in her trunks to make the trip safely.  She had been unsure of the purpose of the meeting or how long she would be away from the city so she had prepared for the worst case scenario.  In this imagined worst case, it was that she would have to murder the Comte de Rochefort for discovering that which she had wished to remain unknown and find new patronage outside of France.  The Cardinal’s reach was far and wide, but she had confidence that she could find new employment with any of his enemies.

In retrospect, Milady pondered, it really had not been prudent of her to needle Rochefort about the boy.  The Comte de Rochefort was half of the reason the Cardinal had such an expansive reach.  With his network of Bohemians as far North as England and as far South as Spain there was very little he could not accomplish when he set his feet down a certain path.  In their brief association together he had proven himself to be formidable in battle and cunning in his profession.  She would have to make it up to him somehow.  If only so she could determine how much he really knew before she silenced him forever.  But she had learned in her long history of espionage that it was better not to jump to hasty conclusions without proper intel.

And speaking of intel, she should see what exactly was contained in this letter to Monsieur de Treville.  Milady broke the quaint seal on the back of the parchment and quickly unfolded it.  She quickly perused the contents and a smile spread across her face.  It quickly turned to laughter and her coachman called back to make sure Milady was not in distress.  She hollered back that she was indeed quite well and he should continue on to Calais without hesitation.  The cause for her mirth was the paranoia of her counterpart, the Comte de Rochefort.  For the letter that he had supposed was the undoing of all the Cardinal’s plans was merely a letter of introduction from a small country gentleman to Monsieur de Treville for his son, D’Artagnan.  The boy was after all, just a headstrong boy with something to prove to himself and the world.  Milady settled back into her seat and breathed deeply.

She had passed only a hour or possibly two in such a state of repose before she began to look around the carriage in search of amusement.  Milady finally turned her attention to the box that had been secreted to her at Meung.  It was not particularly large or overly ornate.  The box was made of Oak and was certainly something she would have passed over in a market.  It had been smoothed and rounded on the edges until it was nearly an oval shape.  The lid and base of it had been kept a natural color with a simple clear varnish and only the Cardinal’s seal had been painted on the top.  The box fit neatly in her hands and wasn’t large enough for a pistol or a dagger though the weight was heavier than a mere note with instructions would have been.  Milady moved the box closer to her ear and gently gave it a shake.  An item inside thudded softly against the sides of the box indicating that it took up nearly the entire space within.  She had been hoping for the sound of coins but realized the Cardinal was far cleverer than that.  If the box did contain any currency for the pains of her journey it would have been wrapped up tightly to avoid causing any temptation by would be thieves on the road to London.

With her curiosity satisfied as much as it could be until she was on the other side of the channel, as Rochefort had instructed as the time and place to finally open the mysterious item, she placed the box into a secret pocket in the folds of her dress.  Her thoughts then turned back to London and her recent failure to seduce Buckingham away from the Queen of France.

* * * * *

Scene in Calais (Flashback) – Milady meets Kitty

Kitty Moreau had not always served Milady Elizabeth de Winter but she had spent the last three years as her soubrette.  She had been hired by Milady’s late husband as a simple scullery maid roughly a year or two before the gentleman had married his second wife, the first having died in childbirth nearly ten years before.  Outwardly, the man had appeared a lonely widower whose friends and tenants often commented on how he should settle down and secure an heir for his half of his family’s great estate.  Once behind the closed doors of his villa, however, he had no want of women to occupy his bed. 

It was common knowledge in the servant’s quarters that Lord de Winter would demand the company of any of his female servants and if he was refused they could be dismissed without a reference.  Kitty had not been the least bit interested in de Winter, or any man for that matter, but it made little difference to his lordship.  Her initiation into his household at the tender age of fourteen had been unpleasant to say the least.  She was beaten for the smallest infractions in her duties and, eventually, when Lord de Winter commanded her to his bed her refusal to submit to him had only enflamed his desire so that he forcefully took that which he desired.  After that, Kitty was the requested servant for those nights when his lordship was feeling particularly cross and unsympathetic.

The marriage to Lady de Winter had, at first, been a godsend to the servants.  She treated them respectfully and would often ask after their families – remembering important details of their lives.  Beyond that, the mistress’ own appetites seemed to appease Lord de Winter and the servants were permitted to fulfill only their respectable duties within the household.  Milady de Winter took a particular interest in Kitty.  She would come to the kitchen regularly to talk with the girl or to bring her some small gift.  A look here, a slight touch of the hand here, all sent Kitty’s heart racing. 

It had been during her mistress’ lying in with de Winter’s child and then afterwards when he was refused connubial rights to his wife that his lordship’s old behaviors started returning though they were much more clandestine this time.  There had been something in Kitty’s demeanor one morning, something that had exposed the events of the previous evening. Milady de Winter had immediately confronted her husband and extricated the girl from his malicious attentions.  Kitty was brought under Milady’s special protection as her lady’s maid and together they had plotted her husband’s murder.

[DEVELOP MORE - I need this to be shown more – I want there to be a possible relationship between Kitty and Milady.  True love from Kitty, but not from Milady.  This will lay the seeds of betrayal later when Milady de Winter courts the Comte de Wardes.  Meaning, Kitty potentially gives the note to the wrong lackey on purpose??  And then is conspiring with D’Artagnan against Milady in an effort to exact her own brand of revenge?]

*****

Scene in England – Milady opens the box and receives her second instructions.  Possibly some kind of message with proof of goodwill to one of the dissidents in England – The Scottish, or the Irish perhaps?

Milady de Winter had been born  Madeleine de Caumont nearly a score over 22 years ago, but that name had long since vanished and no one but herself was left to remember those few years of her childhood.  She had taken pains to erase that part of her history and reinvent herself as Milady de Winter or Milady Clarick as she was known in England.  Those that thought they knew her best believed her Christian Name to be Elizabeth and so called her Bett when seeking to establish intimacy.  

Her parents, God rest their souls, died believing they had outlived their only daughter having been told that she had died giving birth while under the care of the vestals in the convent they’d chosen for her confinement.  Though their memory of her was tainted with this first sin, they had been told she had repented prior to her death and had died wholeheartedly believing she awaited them in heaven.  It was a pretty lie told to good natured people and, for all else she had done in the meantime, Milady could not believe any god would fault her for it.

The two days to Calais and then the additional days at sea at left her feeling lethargic and she had lingered in her bedchamber longer than was prudent.   She had risen earlier in the morning but had opted not to get dressed until it was absolutely necessary.  The English spring air was wafting through her open windows and caressed her mussed curls.  In her hands she held the mysterious box from his Eminence, the Cardinal.  She rolled it over in her hands a few more times and examined all sides it.  There was nothing new that she had not thoroughly examined in her boredom during the journey to XXXXXX.   The late hour of her arrival the previous night had prevented Elizabeth from assuaging her curiosity as soon as she was behind her locked bedroom door.

Carefully, Milady pulled open the rounded lid of the box and peered inside.  The plainness of the outside belied the elegance of the interior which was lined in a sumptuous red velvet.  The fabric under the lid the Cardinal’s seal had been stitched in gold and had a thin padding sewn underneath.  The base of the box held a small drawstring bag, made of a similar velvet material, though it was more pliable to the touch.  Under the bag was a note sealed in wax with the Cardinals emblem – this she would read first – and a delicate white handkerchief that had been embroidered with the same emblem.

Milady, I desire that you should go to the Apothecarist on XXXXX and request a new vial of rose water. Present the enclosed handkerchief to the clerk behind the counter as a method of payment and he will provide you with an address.  At that address, the person whom answers with the appropriate hand signal should be given the drawstring bag I have enclosed.

          His Eminence, the Cardinal

Elizbath set aside Cardinal Richelieu’s missive and examined the velvet bag with which it had been enclosed.  The item contained within the bag was flat and rounded like a large coin.  She opened the drawstring and upturned the bag into her hand.  A gold medallion spilled out into her palm and it caught the light from the open window.  She ran her thumb over the raised image that had been stamped into it and then held it closer to examine the design.  It was the image of a phoenix in flight with the head pointed defiantly at the top of the coin and its massive wings spread to very edge before dissolving in flames at the bottom.  Her best guess, given the political climate in England at the moment, was that the phoenix was headed North to Scotland and would leave its Southern Oppressor, England, in flames.  She was not sure if the phoenix itself was a symbol for the barely contained rebellion or if the King of France was somehow providing assurances through the Cardinal’s network.  All would reveal itself in time, she knew, and she slipped the medallion back into its soft bag.

Perhaps she could glean more information from the Apothecarist or from the mysterious residence she was to visit later.  Milady knew that the hand signal in question would be in response to her own.  If she did not give the correct signal the inhabitants of the house would know she was a fraud and in return if she did not receive the correct answer to this signal, she would know the house had been compromised.  In England, the signal she would use to identify herself as an agent of the cardinal would be to hold the middle, ring, and pinky fingers straight while touching the tip of her index finger to her thumb using only her right hand and then sliding her whole hand to the right as if sliding the lock on a door.  In return, the gentleman or lady that responded would draw an x over their left breast with their right hand using crossed index and middle fingers.  It had been one of the ways she had first infiltrated the Cardinal’s ring of spies, though the signals themselves had changed many times over the years she had been in his service.  Her youthful complexion had first drawn her to the Cardinal’s attention, but it was her ability to outwit his enemies that had kept her in his service for so long.

Milady’s servant, Kitty, knocked on the door to her bedroom – three quick wraps and then a fourth one after a short pause.  It was the signal they had worked out to warn Milady when another servant would be entering with Kitty, otherwise it would have been five quick wraps of the girl’s knuckles against the door.  Elizabeth quickly tucked the note, handkerchief, and bag back into the Cardinal’s Box and shoved it behind her into the cushions of the chair on which she sat.

“Enter,” Milady called to her servants.  Kitty opened the door wide and stepped into the chamber.  Behind her, two of her male servants were carrying the large ceramic tub she used for bathing.  They set it down on its clawed feet and shuffled back down the stairs to fetch the buckets of water needed to fill the bath.

“I thought you could use a relaxing bath after your long journey, Madame.”

“How thoughtful you are, Kitty.  I believe that is just what I need to get this day off to a good start.”  Milady stretched in her seat but did not move from it.

“Will you be staying in today?” Kitty asked.  The girl crossed to the bed and began to straighten the sheets.

“No, unfortunately,” Milady sighed.  “I must go into town and make a few purchases.”

“Then I shall arrange your visiting dress for after your bath.”

“Very good, Kitty.” 

It took nearly three quarters of an hour to fill the tub satisfactorily and for the extraneous servants to leave.  By that time the boiling water had cooled into a cozy warmth that cradled Milady’s body as she slipped into it.  Kitty was the only servant that Elizabeth allowed to help her bathe and the girl recognized this act of trust for what it was.  They had murdered a man together and that builds an understanding between women regardless of their individual stations in life.  Still there were more than a few secrets between them.  Though Milady had not recently made any effort to hide the mark on her shoulder from Kitty it had never been fully explained either. 

“Milady,” Kitty began, “what is that mark on your shoulder?”

“It is a reminder.”  Instinctively, Elizabeth’s hand went to the brand on her left shoulder.  She could feel the scar no bigger than a coin under her fingers and she massaged it gently as she remembered the pain of its creation.  “It is a reminder of my own foolishness.”

“I beg your pardon, Mistress, I did not mean to impose –“

“Have you heard of the Fleur-de-lis?”

“No, madame.”

“It is the mark of a French executioner.” 

“But who would dare place such a mark on you, Milady?”  Kitty gasped.  She knew full well that their execution of Milady’s Husband, Lord de Winter, would be punishable should it be discovered.  But Kitty had assumed it was the first crime for Milady as it had been for herself. 

“No, Kitty,” Milady could tell that her servant was alarmed even though her face had remained neutral.  “I did not earn this for killing anyone.  In fact, I did not earn this one at all.”

“But how?”

“You and I are not so different, Kitty.”

“That is impossible, Milady.  I am just a common girl from XXXXX.”

“Have I ever told you about my parents, Kitty?”  The girl shook her head in the negative. 

“My father was a Miller in a small town in, well it does not matter where.  Let us just say a great distance away from here.  He was respectable by all means, but was not landed gentry or of a bloodline that would have allowed me to marry well.  But at fourteen, a young girl believes the world to be as she would like it to be instead of how it is.”

“Indeed,” Kitty nodded sagely, remembering her own innocence at that age.

“I was in love, you see, with a Lord’s son.  And I think that he may have been a little bit in love with me, too.”  Milady’s eyes started to sting and she could feel her throat tightened with the memory.  “But to his father, well, let us just say that he refused to let his son ask for my hand.”

“Oh, Madame,” Kitty’s eyes were glistening with unshed tears and she dabbed at her eyes with the corner of her apron.  “What did you do?”

“The only thing I could do at that point,” Milady shook off her melancholy and signaled for Kitty to bring her robe.  “I went to a convent.”

“But how then, did you receive this mark?”  Kitty slipped one sleeve and then another onto her mistress’ bare arms.  Milady pulled the silky robe around her and stepped from the tub.

“I met a young priest while I was there and he took pity on me.” 

“A priest?”

“He saw that I did not belong in a convent no matter what my parents wished and he gave me the only thing of value he possessed to start a new life.”

“Madame, please say that it was not what I fear it was.”

“Yes, Kitty, this kindly priest gave me the church’s candlesticks.  Of course, this did not sit well with the other clergy members and we were both condemned.”

“But, how did you escape?”

“That, dear Kitty, is a story for another time.  We have much to accomplish today.”

*****

She had found herself in Paris at the age of nineteen, though she had looked no older than fifteen, without a sous to her name.  She had been hungry and alone but determined to find a better life.

Milady’s Backstory – needs to be fleshed out some more.  Revealed through flashbacks and not told in a linear fashion as it is here.

Milady de Winter had been born Madeleine de Caumont nearly a score over 22 years ago to a Miller and his wife in the small town of Bearn, France.  Her father had been a respectable gentleman in their small town and had often been honored by the lord of community.  They were regularly invited to dine at the Lord’s estate and it was here that the young Madeleine  de Caumont received her taste for the finer things in life.  Everything in the Lord’s home sparkled, from the crystal on the chandeliers to the goblets that adorned their dining table.  It was true, she had to admit, that her parents also had many fine things in their home but they seemed dull and plain in contrast.

Madeleine was pleased beyond measure when the Lord’s son took an interest in her.  To her it seemed that all of her desires would be easily met with that advantageous union.   She could be mistress of the fine home on the hill and the delicate bone china that fascinated her at their monthly dinners could be brought out whenever she wished.  She would serve tea to the ladies of the province and everyone would say how charming she was.

They began to meet in secret and soon declared their mutual love for one another.  The boy promised that he would beg permission from his father to go to her own father and ask for her hand in marriage.    They were both so overwhelmed with the passion of their youth that well before the promise of marriage, she had given herself to him completely and felt that no union could ever be so perfect.  

Her joy soon turned to disappointment when first a week and then a month went by without a visit from the Lord’s son to her father.  She grew even more distressed when the boy was absent from the regular dinner with her family.  But none of this compared to when she first felt the child move inside her belly. The Lord’s son had indeed intended to marry her, at least there was consolation in that, but his father had sent him away for what he claimed was his own protection.  Her father dismissed her to a convent to hide the shame of her actions.  As soon as the child was born it was to be given up for adoption and she was to take orders.

But the child never survived to birth and Madeleine did not fulfill her vow to the sisters.

*****

Scene in England – Milady sends for her servant to bring provisions.

*****

*****

Scene in England – Milady has an interaction with the Comtes de Wardes (Antoine de Gramont) with witty banter and possible innuendo. – Possible flashback scene to a time in France where they interacted with one another.

* * * * *

Scene in England – Milady de Winter learns of Buckingham leaving England and writes a note to the Cardinal. – possibly it is delivered via comte de wardes?

*****

Scene in England – Kitty receives a note from the Cardinal delivered by the Comte de Wardes.  He is told that Milady cannot possibly see him at the moment and is sent away. 

* * * * *

Kitty arrived in Milady’s apartment early that morning with the usual breakfast tray laden with eggs, tea, and toast.  In addition to the typical jam pot and utensils a folded piece of paper was tucked under the breakfast plate with only a small corner of it visible.  It was well hidden, but would not have been Milady’s first choice of location had she been chosen to impart the crucial envelope. 

“Have we had a vistor, Kitty?”  Milady pulled the note from under her plate and waved it at her servant.  The mistress immediately recognized the Cardinal’s seal impressed upon the back and wondered if it was possible Comte des Wardes had brought this note. 

“Yes, madame”

“Was this sent with one of our,” Milady paused for effect, “friends?”

“No, Milady,” Kitty lied.  She had hoped it would be one of omission, but leave it to Milady to ask directly.  “And I have told this gentleman to await a messenger behind the city stables within three quarters of an hour.”

“Very good, Kitty,” Milady tried to keep the disappointment out of her voice.  “But the next time I receive such important correspondence I would suggest you do not leave it so exposed.” 

“But I thought –”    the girl started.

“What if you had fallen on your way to deliver the tray?  The tea would have completely destroyed whatever information was contained within.” Milady watched the color drain from the girl’s face.  “Or what if you had been called away on an errand and another servant had had to deliver it to my bedchamber?  Or, worse yet, what if one who is loyal to your enemy had witnessed you hiding the note on my tray?”

“I did not think those scenarios likely, Milady.” Kitty kept her eyes to the floor.

“Exactly! We can never be sure of our position when dealing in espionage, my dear girl.  This is why it is important to keep the note on your person until you are able to deliver it to its intended audience.”

“Yes, ma’am,” she said quietly.

“Now, if you were being pursued by your enemy or were in imminent danger of being discovered then it would be acceptable to find a secret location that could be easily accessible by and only by your allies.”  If the girl was going to be trusted with any future missions she would need to learn these little details.  But Milady could remember her early days and attempted to soften the harshness of her words by highlighting how the girl’s actions would have been acceptable under some circumstance.  

“Thank you, for the instruction.  I will endeavor to do better in the future.”

“Please see that you do.”  She dismissed her servant with a wave of the hand.  The girl immediately set about preparing Milady’s toilette for the task of dressing.   Elizabeth then returned her attention to the French missive, broke the seal on the Cardinal’s note, and read its contents.

Milady, Be at the first ball at which the Duke of Buckingham shall be present.  He will wear on his doublet twelve diamond studs; get as near to him as you can, and cut off two.

As soon as these studs shall be in your possession, inform me.

“We are in luck, Kitty.”  Milady motioned for her servant to come closer.  Kitty took the opportunity to take a seat on the bed next to Milady.  “His eminence has given us an opportunity to enter the game.”

“Madame?”  the girl took the note from her mistress’ hand and read over the few short lines for herself.  “Why, you are attending the masquerade ball at Windsor this very evening!”

“Indeed, and the Duke will not want to waste an opportunity to wear his token from the Queen.”   They could be back in France by the end of the week and the Cardinal would be exceedingly pleased with her efforts. “Kitty, prepare for departure as quietly as you can.”

“And the messenger?” Kitty reminded Milady.

“Yes, do not trust this to anyone else.  You must go yourself to tell him to book passage to Calais as soon as possible.  Stay with him and see that it is done expediently and then report back to me as soon as it is resolved.”

“Yes, mistress.” The girl curtsied and ran out of the room.

Milady felt the thrill of a new assignment and the disappointment of the missed opportunity with the Comte de Wardes.  If only the Comte des Wardes had indeed been the messenger, she could look forward to a day or two at sea with him.  Milady shook her head and closed her eyes.  It was foolish to think of such a thing at a time like this, but she could not help but think of the potential held in that stolen kiss.

* * * * *

Scene in England – Kitty goes to meet the Comte de Wardes and arranges passage to France.  When she sees that there is a ship available to sail at midnight the next day and that de Wardes intends to return to France as well, she gets a different passage for Milady.  Her jealousy and lie result in the Diamond Stud Scheme failing.

*****

Scene at the ball of “Mademoiselle de guise” (this name is used later to recall their shared memory without giving away his mission details) – in which de wardes flirts with Milady and wins her affection before she leaves for England. 

The ball really was splendid for all the political maneuvering it attempted to conceal. The masquerade theme was exciting enough for the young courtiers and they giggled and flirted throughout the entire affair.  Mademoiselle de XXXXX has selected just the right food to please King Charles’ delicate digestion and supplied just enough wine to keep him cordial with his wife, Henrietta Maria.  The rumor around the court was that King had plans to expel the young queen’s attendants back to their homeland of France.  What had seemed a glorious union of two countries only a few years ago was quickly becoming a cause for concern.  King Louis had still to provide the naval forces promised in his younger sister’s marriage contract.  While all of this was entertaining Milady was here find the Duke of Buckingham and to attempt to recover from her previous failed missions.

Milady had entered the hall at Windsor adorned in her finest gown on this side of the channel.  It was a plush velvet in an elegant shade of burgundy.  She had had the hem of the gown lined in ermine and died to match.  The bodice was tight displaying her bosom to great effect and she had a small lace collar around her neck.  Milady additionally had two lines of black feathers running from the seam of her sleeves to the middle of her back.  In reality the feathers were a pair of delicate wings attached to her sleeves that remained hidden until she spread her arms.  Her mask appeared to be that of a hawk with a strong beak and more feathers that were brushed back from her forehead and mingled in her golden locks.  Her hands were covered in half gloves made of a fine black lace on the top and had a solid black leather pad in her palm. On her exposed fingers she wore rings that sat just above the second knuckle and had been shaped into claws that just reached the tips of her fingers.  It was these fingertips that would help her in her mission for hidden in the tips were blades that she would use to cut off the two diamond studs requested by the Cardinal.  She was incredibly striking in her ensemble and she caught the eye of several courtiers as she entered on her brother in law’s arm.

Having already exchanged pleasantries with the King, Milady made her excuses to her brother in law and went in search of her quarry.  She had seen him in the corner talking with the duchess of XXXXX.  His mask was that of a Mallard, with the bottom of it sweeping out into the top of the bill.  His doublet was a shade of green that would rival the leaves of the forest and his collar was a bright yellow.  The sleeves that appeared through the slashes in the doublet were also golden in color and his stockings were a muted shade of orange.  And there on his left shoulder were the diamond studs threaded in a white aiguillette that looped almost to the elbow.  The Countess de Winter sidled up next to Buckingham and placed her and on his left arm.

“My dear, Duke,” Milady began, “may I have a word with you?”

“Milady Clarick,” Buckingham moved her hand from his arm and bowed in response.  She was able to slice through part of the cord that help a diamond stud but didn’t completely liberate it.  When he arose there was a little distance between them.  Her anger, it appeared, had left an impression on him at their last meeting.  This might be a little more difficult than she had previously imagined.  Buckingham then turned to his companion and excused himself.   He motioned for Milady to walk with him and she obeyed.

“I am so pleased to see you,” she began, “and I thank you for your time.  I know that you are a busy man, sire.”

“Indeed, and what may I do for you this evening, Milady?”

“No, George,” she reached her right arm through his to link at the elbows and patted his arm with her other hand.  With the motion she was able to finish removing the first stud and slip it into her gloves “It is I who must do something for you.” 

“And what might that be?” Again the Duke of Buckingham removed Milady’s hand from his arm and pulled away from her once more.  This time however, she was able to remove the second stud in one fluid motion.

“I must give you my deepest apologies for my behavior the last time we spoke.” 

“Really, Milady, there is no need –”

“On the contrary, I was most horrid to you and it was completely uncalled for.  Please accept my apologies and let us part as friends once more.”  Milady reached out her diamondless hand to the Duke of Buckingham.  The Duke’s expression softened and he reached out to shake Milady’s hand in return.

“I would like nothing more, Elizabeth.”  

“Thank you, George,” she gave him her warmest smile.  “I must return to my brother in law, please excuse me.”

“Naturally,” he bowed again and they parted ways.   Milady palmed the second diamond and hid them in the pockets she had had sewn into the palms of her gloves.  Safely hidden she allowed a smile to brighten her face and give the appearance of enjoyment for the festivities.  

Now that she had completed her mission she would have to wait for the opportune moment to leave. She looked around the room and saw her dreaded brother in law laughing with the King and a few ladies.  He would not be willing to leave any time soon and anything under an hour at the party would seem suspicious.  Milady de Winter retired to the garden for a little respite from the glittering crowd, making sure to take a glass of wine with her.   The young lovers scrambled throughout the tall hedges and fine landscaping; so selfish in their joy that they hardly noticed her as she took up a silent reverie in a dark corner on the terrace and swirled the Spanish Wine in her glass.  She watched the legs of the draught ease down the sides and back into itself.   She was tired of kowtowing to these useless men, if they had half of her strength of will they would have already conquered the globe.  If she had half of their opportunities she would have been as great a Queen as Elizabeth had been.  Undoubtedly, greater. Milady swirled her drink again and then drained the cup.  

“It looks like I have arrived,” a familiar voice whispered in French near her ear, “just in time.” An arm snaked its way around her shoulder presenting a new goblet of deep red liquid.  Milady’s heart beat uncontrollably as she realized the Comte de Wardes was standing directly behind her, close enough that she could feel the slight warmth of his body but not daring to touch her or trap her against the terrace railing.  In one smooth motion, she pulled the proffered beverage from his hand and swung around to face him.  His dark brown eyes framed by his dark leather mask that gave the appearance of a raven with intelligence.  His doublet was equally as dark and white sleeves could be seen through the slashes.  If he had been an assailant, he would already have a dagger in his belly.  Her stance was not completely relaxed; in her surprise she had relied on her instincts and stood battle ready.  Had he been in England this whole time?  Was it possible that he had been the messenger from the Cardinal?  There were too many questions running rampant in Milady’s mind.

“You always happen to be in the right place at the right time, Comte.” She raised the glass to him and took a sip.  “How fortunate for me.”

“I assure you, Madame, fortune has nothing to do with it,” his dark eyes sparkled with mischief.  He took a step back, slightly bowed at the waist and, in turn, raised his glass to her. It put a comfortable distance between them and she felt herself breathing a little easier.   

“Pray, sir, what keeps you in England then?” 

 “Ask me questions I am permitted to answer, Milady.” 

“Very well, then, would you care to accompany me for a walk in the gardens?  I have often thought our English Gardens far superior to yours.”   In response, he offered his arm to her and she slid her hand through it.

“I would be delighted.  Please show me how the talents of your native land surpass my own.” In a few quick steps they were away from the light of the party and down one of the more secluded paths. 

 “How do you find the festivities, Comte?’ Milady asked in her sweetest voice.  

“The costumes are delightful,” he started in a mock tone, “and the music is divine.”

“Oh yes, delightful indeed.  Though I have still to puzzle out what the Duke of Normandy is supposed to be.”

“I believe he is some kind of bull,” 

“A bull?” Milady was surprised at his answer. 

“Indeed, did not you see the horns worn about his head.”  The Comte waggled his own fingers in mock horns at his crown. 

“Oh, I begin to understand your meaning, for I do believe I just saw his wife disappear over yonder in that hedgerow.” Milady laughed in spite of herself. “And the King is quite commanding, do not you think so?”

“Commanding of his cups, indeed, did not you see him with his servant?”  Now it was his turn to laugh.

“And his mistress is quite without equal, is she not?” he ventured.

“Madame Lucy is beautiful, is she?  Then why are you not here with her,” Milady’s tone was sharper than she had intended and she started to pull away from his arm.  It was a chink in her armor that she had not been willing to share with this fool.  He grabbed her by the elbow and pulled her closer to him.

“I never said she was beautiful,” he whispered into Milady’s ear.  The warmth of his breath against her inner ear made her knees twinge and she allowed herself to be pulled into the embrace.  She eagerly kissed him back, hungry for the human contact.  She could hear footsteps on the gravel on the opposite side of the hedgerows from them but wasn’t ready to relinquish her quarry just yet.  

Using all of her weight, she pulled on his doublet and rolled them into one of the alcoves hidden in the shrubbery.  They landed with her back pressed firmly up against the column and the Comte started kissing behind her ear and then trailed down her neck.  She moaned softly and pulled him tighter against her.  His free hand found its way to her skirts and started pulling the hem upwards.  When the fabric was past her knee Milady raised her leg to wrap it around his.  She could feel his hand hesitate on the naked part of her thigh between the top of her stockings and her pantaloons.   His fingers trailed along the top of the stocking and his thumb lingered at the button on her garter.  But the footsteps Milady had heard earlier were closer now to the corner of the hedges and Milady knew they would have to stop or be discovered.  

“We will be discovered,” she hissed and she pushed him away and smoothed her skirts back into place.  Thankfully, the Comte de Wardes understood the implications of being found in flagrante dilecto just as well as she did and backed away from her without protest.  

“Shall I escort you back to the party,” des Wardes offered.

“Do not be ridiculous, we cannot be seen together.  Not here!”

“Yes, well, then,” he said crisply, “until some other time perhaps.” She could sense she had committed some offense and regretted her own words immediately.

“Indeed, Comte.  I look forward to our next intercourse.” she offered up a coquettish smile but doubted it would be seen to full effect in this lighting.

“As do I, Milady.  Your conversation is always stimulating.”  He bowed again at the waist and took his leave of her.  wanted to run after him and pull him into another hidden spot, but she was being stupid.  The Comte de Wardes, though also an agent of the Cardinal, was too young and inconstant.  No doubt she would pay for this indiscretion.  Milady was angry with herself and hot tears started to form in the corners of her eyes.  She cursed her own weakness and willed herself to be stronger.  Her breathing was still too heavy and her corset was not making it any easier to calm herself.  The impending footsteps finally made their way to her hiding spot it would be too late to feign ignorance now.

“Milady de Winter?” her brother in law’s voice spoke tentatively into the darkness.  “Are you well?”

“No, brother, I am afraid I am not.” her voice came out shaky and she could see the surprise on the Lord de Winter’s face.   She reached for the only reasonable explanation, female frailty was always a popular one with her brother in law.   “I have been thinking on my son, dear brother.  I received a letter from him this morning and he sounded so unhappy at his new school.”

“I have assured you many times,” he came to sit beside her and patted her hand where it lay in her lap. “He is well cared for and if there is any cause for concern they will contact us immediately.”

“I know you are right, brother, but a mother worries.”  She pulled herself together and feigned concern for her absent son.  “Please, escort me back to the party so that I may take my leave of Mademoiselle de XXXXXX.”

Within moments they had regained the party and Milady had made her excuses to leave.  Back in her carriage alone she had time to think over the events of the evening.  One thing was certain, if she chose to pursue the Comte des Wardes it would be a dangerous game.

* * * * *

Scene in England – Milady attempts to leave for France and sees D’Artagnan aboard a ship

It had been nearly a full week since she had successfully removed the diamond studs from Buckingham’s costume at Windsor and the wait for the next ship to France had been nearly the longest in Milady’s memory.  Every day she wondered if Buckingham would realize the studs were missing and if he would guess that it was through her efforts that they had disappeared.   The Comte de Wardes had been able to return to France the same night as the ball on a ship called the Persephone.  Milady had sent Kitty to the port nearly every day since trying to find word on any ships that might be going out.

“Kitty,” Milady called to her returning servant, “were you able to get passage yet?

“Yes, madame,” Kitty rushed to her mistress’ side.  “There will be a ship leaving in three days and I’ve arranged for us to be on it.”

“Excellent.   We must prepare for our departure immediately.”

“Yes, madame,”

“And remember, we must prepare as if we intend to return at some point.”

“And if we are discovered?”

“We must hope that this does not happen until we are safely within the borders of France.”

Kitty left the room and went to the closets to start packing up their clothing.  Milady went to her writing desk and took out the rounded wooden box with the Cardinal’s seal impressed upon it.   She removed the diamond studs from her pocket and carefully placed them inside.  Once completed, she took the box upstairs to her room and removed the false bottom from one of her traveling trunks.  If they were caught between now and the scheduled departure she had to make sure that the studs were not discovered on her person.  She also needed to make sure that a quick search of her luggage would not reveal her sensitive cargo.

* * * * *

Scene in France – Milady returns the diamond studs to the Cardinal  

* * * * *

Scene in France – Milady has an interaction with Comte de Rochefort

* * * * *

Scene in France – Milady learns of the failure of the Diamond Scheme.

* * * * *

Scene in France – Milady attends a social gathering and muses on the failure of the diamond scheme and her injured would be lover.

She had quietly accepted the blame for the Cardinal’s failure to catch the Queen in her infidelity and she bore his constant reproaches while he licked his own wounds and worked on devising a new plan.  Without the Cardinal’s protection, she could not guarantee her own safety and so she took his abuses without complaint.

She had been smart up to this point, but eventually someone of consequence would discover the secret branded on her shoulder; someone that she could not easily manipulate or kill and it would be then that she would need the Cardinal to intervene.   So she accepted his mistreatment for now but even that was starting to chafe on her patience.  Without the ability to go out on a mission and hunt down a target she was restless in this city; play acting the part of a devoted sister in law to her late husband’s brother.  

* * * * *

Scene in France

* * * * *

Scene in which Milady received instructions to go to the church of st. leu- possibly from the Cardinal, possibly to hear of her intended lover des wardes.

“Leave us,” his eminence ordered.

* * * * *

Scene in the Church with Porthos – what she thinks about Porthos playing his mistress for a fool, etc.

Milady has just knelt upon her red cushion at the front of the church of St. Leu and raised her head heavenward in the imitation of piety when her servant leaned over to whisper in her ear.

“Madame, he is not here.”

“Is there any news, Kitty?” Milady could feel the disappointment creep into her chest.

“I have heard it from Marie – “

“And who is this Marie?” she demanded

“She is a servant in the Comte’s household, Madame.”

“Very well, Kitty, go on.”

“Marie has reported that the Comte has been gravely injured.  Perhaps his wounds –”

“Temporarily detain him from attending services,” she hissed. “Yes, Kitty, thank you!”  The girl resumed her post behind her mistress having been sufficiently dismissed.  Milady had feared this might be the case.  The Cardinal had warned her of the duel in Calais and how her love had been found by the Governor of that port tied to a tree.  Whenever she found the villain who had left the Comte de Wardes for dead he would regret the day he had ever crossed swords with such a man. 

Milady had hoped to arrange a meeting with des Wardes but with that impossibility, it now made the whole morning seem like a wasted trip.  The small church was very crowed on this particular day and Milady could only guess that there was some particular priest the masses were clamoring to hear in the pulpit.  She was personally surprised every time she crossed onto holy ground that she did not erupt into flames right then and there.  But then this was a religion for the superstitious and she had no cause to fear anything but a knife thrust in the dark.  She glanced around the room and spotted a tall, handsome soldier.  She guessed him a soldier by his bearing for he could be nothing else with that posture and haughty countenance. 

He was leaning against a pillar near the back of the church and he kept sneaking glances at a woman seated on a bench just beside him.  The woman was somewhat past her prime and her beauty was fading a little around the edges.  Milady well knew that soldiers were nearly always more concerned with a woman’s wealth, or should one say her husband’s wealth, than with her individual age or beauty.  Still the woman was not undesirable and the black hood that adorned her head was of a decent quality. Both of these undoubtedly made her a fine target for this gentleman’s particular needs. 

The lady’s complexion was a suddenly a little flushed, presumably from the recognition of the man in her proximity, but when she attempted to catch his eye he would avert his gaze to another woman in the room.  On the third attempt, Milady noticed that the soldier’s gaze landed on herself and the effect on the targeted lady was beyond measure.   Milady was flattered that her presence had produced such an affect and she silently applauded the gentleman’s cunning.

Of course, there was by no means any reasonable chance that this gentleman would catch Milady’s eye even in her most desperate days.  Undoubtedly, he was well awre of this fact and, yet, the soldier’s mission had been achieved – his mistress was significantly jealous. It made Milady chuckle inwardly to herself and a slight smile found its way to her lips.  If nothing else, the amusement of watching this cat and mouse game had seen Milady through the length of the Sermon and she only had to go through the motions at the holy water font.

Milady stood from her cushion and willed her knees to regain feeling.  Her servants immediately set about their work collecting her things and preparing for departure.  As Milady approached the font she observed the tall soldier rush past his lady love to dip his hand in the water on her behalf.  The act was too much for Milady’s tastes and she was about to knock him down in her assessment of his game when, to her astonishment he presented his hand to her.  It was an ingenious move for one at this level of manipulation.  There was nothing else to do at that point but to accept the holy water and move on with her day. She had to admit that the whole scene had been masterfully played and she sincerely wished this gentleman good luck in his quest

“Madame,” Kitty whispered in her ear again, “I have word that the Comte des Wardes is recuperating in his apartments.”

“So he is in residence?”

“Indeed, Madame.”

“Quick, go after the girl and tell her to leave a servant outside for the next quarter of an hour.”

“Right away, Madame.”  Kitty was off in a flash and soon returned to Milady’s carriage just as the mistress herself was climbing aboard. “All is arranged.”

“Excellent work, Kitty.” Milady was starting to feel better about her day, it may not be a wasted trip after all.  “Pierre, take me to St. Germain.”

* * * * *

Scene in which Milady sends Kitty to give a message to des Wardes lackey and it is mistakenly given to Planchet.  Milady is thinking of training Kitty to be a spy as well.  She will be disappointed when Kitty falls victim to D’Artagnan.

* * * * *

Fight with Milady’s Brother in Law – Lord de Winter, Baron Sheffield: Perhaps he is encouraging her to leave Paris due to the war with England and she is refusing, or maybe he is accusing her of mistreating her step-son.  OR maybe he saw her servant give the note to des Wardes supposed lackey and is chastising her for courting another so soon after his brother’s death. OR possibly he wants her to remarry and relinquish her widow’s third.

* * * * *

She has lost all patience with her brother-in-law at this remark and proceeded to beat him with her closed fan.  He cowered under her fury as her abused accessory fell to pieces in her hand.  This only enraged her more and she would have done far worse had a strange voice from the opposite side of the coach not interrupted the remonstrations.

“Madame, will you permit me to offer you my services?” the stranger said in French.  She whipped around at the first sound and was surprised to see a young musketeer on horseback beside her carriage.  She was so surprised, in fact, by the intrusion itself that she lost all sense of her anger and waited agape for the young man to finish.  “It appears to me that this cavalier has made you very angry.  Speak one word, madame, and I take upon myslf to punish him for his want of courtesy.” 

“Monsieur,” Milady replied in French lest he think her initial vacant stare was one of ignorance, “I should with great confidence place myself under your protection if the person with whom I quarrel were not my brother.” It suddenly occurred to her how this scene must look to an outsider.  Two foreigners, English to say the least, fighting openly in the streets.  Thankfully, it appeared that this young gentleman did not understand a word of their argument.

“Ah, excuse me, then,” said the stranger.  There was something familiar about this man and Milady couldn’t quite put her finger on what. “You must be aware that I was ignorant of that, madame.””

“What is that stupid fellow troubling himself about?” cried her brother in law in French as he stooped down to the height of the coach window.  He was looking for a fight, otherwise he would have continued in his native tongue.  “Why does not he go about his business?

“Stupid fellow yourself!” said d’Artagnan stooping in his turn on the neck of his horse and answering on his side through the carriage window.  “I do not go on because it pleases me to stop here.”

There it was; that insolent tone to his voice!  She knew where she had seen this gentleman before, though he had not been so well established on their first meeting.  It was the Gascon boy from Mueng; the one that had caused all that trouble for a mere letter of introduction.   She wondered if Rochefort had found him out yet or if he had been keeping an eye on him all along.

“You should go on ahead sister,” her brother in law said in English, “it will not take me but a minute to teach this infant a lesson.”  This was all really ridiculous in Milady’s opinion; having a contest of machismo in the middle of the street and through her carriage windows no less.  But the young musketeer could be of some use if he was that eager to prove himself, as most of these soldiers were, and as he had shown himself to be in Meung.

“I speak to you in French,” said the stranger; “be kind enough, then, to reply to me in the same language.  You are Madame’s brother I learn – be it so; but fortunately you are not mine.”

Milady could barely contain her glee at the gentleman’s statement.  No doubt he would challenge the present Lord de Winter to a duel and seeing as the challenger was now a musketeer, he would bring along worthy seconds.  So, even if Lord de Winter was successful in the duel her brother in law would surely perish at the hands of another.  This could easily solve all of her problems and give her a bonus to hand the Cardinal. When she reported that her brother in laws death was not only at the hands of the King’s Musketeers but that she had managed to wrap up their loose end in Mueng his Eminence would surely reward her for her efforts.  She threw herself back in the carriage to keep her joy from being seen.

“Go on – home!” she shouted to her driver with as much fury as she could muster under these pleasant conditions.  If those fools wanted to destroy themselves, she would be the last person to stand in their way.  She did not even cast a glance backwards to see the surprised expression on de Winter’s face as the last impediment to the duel sped away.

          * * * * *

Milady descended from her carriage with a feeling of satisfaction she had not experienced in quite some time.  All of her disappointments with the Duke of Buckingham and that ill-fated scheme with the Queen’s diamond aiguillette were temporarily lifted from her alabaster shoulders in anticipation of her son becoming the sole heir to the de Winter fortune.  Three hundred thousand livres!  Not only had she secured the future for her son, and consequently her own, but she was sure to receive a favorable response from the Comte des Wardes regarding her note.  She could not be mistaken in his behavior at the masquerade ball held at Windsor so many weeks ago.  She had played this game for far too long to become someone’s pawn.  

Her residence was in the more fashionable Marais district of Paris in the recently constructed Place Royale.  It has been completed a little over a decade ago to replace the gaping hole left by the Hotel des Tournelles after Catherine de Medicis had had it pulled to the ground in her grief.  Milady could still remember the first time she saw the square and the uniform brick houses outlining it.  It had been at the celebration the Place Royale had hosted to commemorate both its own completion as well as the marriage of King Louis XIII to his Queen Anne of Austria.  

The entrances into the square were slightly taller than the other buildings and were aptly named the King and Queen Pavilion in honor of the then recent nuptials.  In her youth, she had passed through those arches with a wonder she thought had been lost to her in childhood.  The buildings themselves had been unlike anything she had ever seen.  The contrast of the red brick with the white stone quoins had given the appearance of elegance but the vaulted arcades atop the square pillars and the steep blue slate rooves confirmed it was a place of quality.  It was at the Carrousel that she had caught the eye of Cardinal Richelieu for the first time and it was then that she knew this would be her residence when she had finally established herself in Paris.  

And now she was installed at No. 6 Place Royale just as she had dreamed all those years ago but it lacked the independence that she had imagined.  She was beholden to her idiot brother in law, Lord de Winter Barron of Sheffield until he saw fit to marry and produce an heir that would diminish her own son’s fortune.  She would only be left with the meager portion of her late husband’s estate as it was, her so called Widow’s Third that was expected to sustain her until she remarried.  No doubt this was foremost in his mind when he had suggested she find a suitable prospect.

It was a little less than quarter of an hour before her ill favored brother in law returned to her apartments.  He was still red in the face over his encounter with the young Gascon.  He upbraided her for leaving him alone on the street and for not intervening as most gentlewomen should in such an instance.  He admitted, however, that it was for the best as the young man had recognized him from XXXXX and accused him of a great many things that were naturally untrue and defamatory to his character. 

This was all the confirmation she needed as to the identity of the boy, though there was no doubt in her mind that this was the very same fellow who had dogged her steps since Meung.  It was no matter though for Lord de Winter had arranged to meet the upstart behind the Luxembourg that very evening and if he was not successful in killing the boy, Milady would be.

          * * * * *

Milady was in her sitting room at the appointed time of six o’clock wringing her handkerchief in her hands.  To the household servants, she appeared to be in a state of anxiety over the fate of her brother in law during his absence at the duel.  Only her loyal servant, Kitty, had any inkling of the true nature of Milady’s anxiety and even then she was only half correct.  

“Kitty,” Milady called from her place.  The girl could not have been far for she appeared almost immediately in the doorway to the sitting room.  “Please take this note and deliver it to Mademoiselle de XXXXX.”

“Shall I await a reply?” the girl asked rushing forward to take the small envelope from her mistress’ hands. 

“Yes, please, Kitty.  I will need to know an appropriate time to call on the lady on the morrow.”  Indeed, her mistress had written a note to Mademoiselle de XXXXX – the niece of his Eminence the Cardinal.  Unknown to the pretty servant, however, was that it was the code used to arrange an interview with the Cardinal at his niece’s resident rather than the Palais du Cardinal or at Court.  Milady had not had anything of interest to report since she returned from England with the diamond studs and had indeed lost favor with his Eminence.  It would have been impossible to meet with him any other way and she needed to win back his approval.

The girl had only been gone for only a quarter of an hour when one of her other servants carried in a note that had just been brought to the lady’s front door.  Milady’s heart soared, certain that this was the answer she had been anticipating from the Comte des Wardes but alas, all of Milady’s hopes had been silently dashed when she glanced upon the signature at the bottom. 

My dearest sister, I intend to call upon you at 8 o’clock this evening and will bring along my savior who spared my life for your sake. 

Regards, Lord de Winter

He could only mean that brat from Meung.  Not only did the boy continued to draw air into his body but he had absolutely failed to kill her brother in law.  All of the blood was drawn from Milady’s face.  The change in her countenance had occurred so quickly that her servant was concerned for the life of Lord de Winter and inquired after his health.

“He is quite well,” Milady clipped each syllable.  “I, however, am not!”

“Does madame require anything?”

“I am going to my room to rest. When Kitty returns please send her up to me immediately.  She will see to my needs.”  Milady rose from the couch and made her way up to her room.  When she was quite alone she threw herself on the bed and screamed into the closest pillow.  Then she shot up and proceeded to rip at the seams of the pillow, tearing it asunder with her bare hands as if it were the neck of an adversary. Once this had been completed and she’d gained access to the delicate feather stuffing inside, she began to pull at it until it was completely hallowed out.   Soon followed another pillow and then another until, in the midst of this chaos, Kitty arrived.

“Milady de Winter,” the girl gasped.  To the servant the scene was quite distressing.  Her mistress’ fair complexion had become ruined with red splotches and the small, fluffy feathers that hadn’t caught in her hair were gently wafting to the floorboards at Milady’s feet.  If a wild dog had broken into the apartment it could not have produced more damage in such a short space of time. And her mistresses’ golden hair no longer held the smooth curl which took nearly three quarters of an hour every morning to complete.

“I am to have quests promptly at eight o’clock,” is all Milady could think to say in response.   Within a few moments, Milady had related to Kitty the events that had occurred in her absence. Kitty immediately raced to Milady’s closets and busied herself with the clothing in Milady’s wardrobe.  She was searching through the items for the perfect article of clothing for a visit with Milady’s brother in law. 

“And now,” she continued to rant to her servant, “I have received this note declaring that de Winter’s life was saved in thought of me!  Can you imagine such a thing?!”

“No, indeed Madame,” the girl replied.  Her mistress continued to pace the length of her bedroom.  The dress, finally chosen, was then carefully laid out on the bed.  It was made of a fine dark velvet almost the shade of port with gold embroidery all over the skirt.  The chemise Milady had worn previously in the day would appear well through the sleeves and the plunging neckline would help her assets to appear at their best. Kitty indicated for her mistress to sit so she could begin correcting the damage done to her hairstyle.

“This is ridiculous!”  Milady threw herself down on the designated chair and affected a pout.  “And now I am to entertain this impertinent youth to reward him for his lack of boldness.”

“This is naturally, very distressing mistress.” Kitty consoled her mistress.  Her deft fingers plucked small brown and white feathers from the remaining curls without causing any further disorder.  Then she pulled the curling tongs from the fireplace and began to reform the ringlets that framed Milady’s face.

“If it had truly been in thought of me,” Milady continued while Kitty carefully coaxed her mistress’ tresses back into place. “Lord de Winter, the wretch, would have been eviscerated at the very moment when that boy had gained the upper hand over him.” 

“Perhaps you can somehow turn this to your advantage, Milady.”  Kitty pulled her mistress to a standing position and proceeded to put on the undergarments necessary to support her dress.  

“That is an excellent idea.  Kitty, you should never believe me when I tell you that you’re stupid.”

“I rarely do, madame.”

*****

Through no small effort on Kitty’s part, Milady de Winter was dressed and ready to greet her guests promptly at eight o’clock though they did not arrive until nearly a quarter of an hour later.  The Lord de Winter, Baron of Sheffield swept into the sitting room as if these were his own apartments and bowed low before his sister in law.

“Brother!  How pleased I am to see you!” Milady greeted her brother in law.  She put all of the enthusiasm she had felt at the thought of receiving a reply from the Comte des Wardes into her voice.  She could feel that the very thought of des Wardes brought the color rushing to her face and she checked herself lest she give the wrong impression.

“May I present to you, dear sister, Monsieur D’Artagnan.” The young Gascon had entered the room behind de Winter but had taken care to wait for Milady’s invitation before entering further. 

“Please, Monsieur, won’t you sit?” Milady indicated the chair opposite her own.  Then she rang the bell for the servants “I understand I have much for which to thank you.”

“You see,” continued de Winter, “a young gentleman who has held my life in his hands, and who has not abused his advantage, although we have been twice enemies, although it was I who insulted him, and although I am an Englishman.  Thank him, then, madame, if you have any affection for me.”

Milady could feel her smile falter slight at this mention of affection from her brother in law.  Thankfully, her brother in law had turned to play with the mechanical monkey that would present you with a fresh wine glass when the gears were wound.  It had been a great party favor and always surprised her guests when she entertained. It was one of her best performance pieces when hosting and she loved to see the looks on people’s faces when they tried to figure out how it worked.  But now de Winter had gone and cocked it up again.  It was then that she noticed the musketeer had been studying her own face.

“You are welcome, Monsieur,” said Milady putting her happy face on again.  “You have today acquired eternal rights to my gratitude.”

“Milady, you should have seen the duel,” de Winter turned away from the contraption and began to act out the battle for her.  “I thought I nearly had him two or three times, but he always parried away my thrusts.  I have never seen such a masterful defense.”

“Indeed, brother?”

“It wasn’t until I was very near fatigued that D’Artagnan here gained the upper hand.  He sent such a vigorous side thrust that he disarmed me completely.” de Winter was very animated now, imitating the side thrust that should have sealed his doom.  All the while, Milady noted that their guest watched her movements.  Was it possible that he recognized her as easily as she had recognized him?  “And then, without my sword in hand, I had no choice but to take a step back.  This, sister, was my fatal mistake.”

“How so? For you stand before me now, unless we converse with a specter,” she gave a small laugh at her own joke and D’Artagnan politely laughed as well. It occurred to her that the young Gascon had not spoken a word since he had entered the house.  Had de Winter simply not given him the opportunity to speak or was D’Artagnan sussing out the situation?  

“And well you might be for I cannot believe myself what D’Artagnan said to me then.”

“What did he say, brother?”

“Hold and I will tell you,” de Winter was only slightly irritated at the interruption.  “With his sword to my throat, mind you, he said ‘I could kill you, my Lord, you are completely in my hands; but I spare your life for the sake of your sister.” Lord de Winter having finished his epic tale had gone to the table in the next room where the servants had laid out the wine.  

“For my sake?” Milady turned to the young man, “how very gallant of you, Monsieur D’Artagnan.”   She gave him a smoldering smile and the boy was just about to say something in return when her brother in law motioned for him to come join him at the table for a glass of wine.  D’Artagnan did as he was bidden and walked behind her to join de Winter.

Her brother in law was infuriating, she bit her handkerchief to keep control of her anger. How was she to know exactly what this musketeer had in mind if he was never allowed to speak in her presence.  If she could only get him talking he would certainly let something slip.  All young men were incredibly vain and stupid.  In fact, most men believed women to be incapable of being duplicitous by nature and not nearly as capable when it came to espionage.  It was the coin on which she had built her trade, she was so often underestimated that she had achieved her objective long before her target was even aware.  Just then, Kitty entered the room with a message for Lord de Winter.  

“My Lord, She told him in English so as not to alert D’Artagnan as to the nature of the message. “your servant is waiting for you, he says it is a matter of great importance.” Milady made a mental note to remember to thank the girl for her service.  Undoubtedly she had detected her mistress’s annoyance and had come up with a ruse to get rid of de Winter.

“Thank you, Kitty,” de Winter replied in English and then in French he said to his guest, “Please do excuse me, D’Artagnan.  Something important has come up and I must attend to it immediately.” He put out his hand and the boy dutifully shook it.

“My dear sister,” de Winter turned to her,“please obtain his pardon for me as I cannot remain a moment longer.”  And with that, he swept out of the sitting room in the same grand manner as when he had entered.  D’Artagnan returned to his designated seat across from Milady.

“He seems to have a penchant for the dramatic,” he offered.  

“Indeed he does and rarely lets one get a word in edgewise.”   

“So I had noticed.”  They both laughed at this and it seemed that an awkwardness neither one had realized even existed had been broken.  “I am glad that he was called away though, I have been anxious to talk with you ever since we met.””

“Ever since this morning, monsieur?” she was going to play it close.  

“Yes,” he laughed slightly, “I am surprised Milady that you and your brother do no closely resemble one another.”

“Well you may be, for he is not my brother but my brother-in-law.” It would be better for now to let him feel like he had control.  She would allow him to feel like he had won some information from her and then on their next visit she could extract what she needed from him.

“So you are married then?” she saw him glance at her ring finger.

“I was,” Milady affected disappointment, “to his younger brother.  Unfortunately, he died two years ago when my Philippe was but an infant.”

“I did not realize you were a mother.  Is your son with you?” 

“Sadly, he is not.” Milady did not have to pretend this time.  She truly did miss her son but realized that it was necessary for him to remain at the Academy where he would be safe from her enemies.  But she could use this to her advantage, if D’Artagnan saved her brother in law in what he thought were her interests perhaps she could convince him otherwise.  If she could win him over to a mother’s plight, he might kill him to save her.  “My brother in law feels that it would be best for his potential heir to be schooled in England.”

“So far from his mother? Why do you not return home to be closer to him?”

“Oh, that would be impossible.”

“Surely not, my lady.  A son should not be without his mother at so tender an age.”

“It would have been more accurate of me to say that Lord de Winter wishes my son to be away from me,” with this, Milady allowed her voice to clench slightly and then she hid her face in her handkerchief.  D’Artagnan moved from his seat and came to sit beside her on the couch.  Tentatively he placed his hand over her free one in her lap.

“I cannot imagine that Lord de Winter thinks so ill of you.  He could never think poorly on a lady as kind and as gentle as yourself.”

“Oh, he does not on a personal level, I am sure.” Milady gave him a watery smile.  This was all the young Gascon needed to hear for the time being.  “I thank you for listening to me and my women’s troubles.  Shall we talk of something a little more important?”

“I cannot imagine anything more important than you, Milady.” He lifted her hand to kiss it.

He immediately pledged his devotion to her and vowed to help her with her son in any way possible.  Before he left for the evening, he promised to visit her the following evening if she would allow him the honor.  Naturally, she agreed and they set the time for eight o’clock.

Milady made her way up to her room and called for Kitty to come attend her.  The girl quickly entered and began to help her mistress out of her clothes.

“Kitty,” Milady began, “did you receive a response from Mademoiselle de XXXXX?

“Yes, Milady.  She says that she will be at home at the ten o’clock hour tomorrow and that you should arrange to visit her then.”

“Very good,” Milady made as if to dismiss the girl but called her back at the last minute.  “One more thing, Kitty, was there really a message for Lord de Winter?”

“Indeed, madame.”

“Pity, I thought that perhaps you had done me a service and I wanted to reward you.”

“Then you should reward me still, Milady.”

“And what service have you provided to me this day?”

“I have stolen the heart of your brother’s lackey and, in doing so, facilitated the Lord’s quick exit this evening.”

“Very well done, Kitty,” Milady smiled.  With this added avenue of destruction, she might be rid of her brother in law sooner than she had hoped.  The girl looked at her hopefully but did not ask the question that was on the tip of her tongue.  “And as for your reward, I have a mission for you.”

*****

Scene In France: With cardinal Richelieu, discussing the adventures of D’Artagnan 

*****

Scene in France:  Milady de Winter Entertains for the second time

*****

Scene in France: Milady is concerned she has not heard from de Wardes and writes a second note.

*****

Scene in France:  Milady talked with her servant while D’Artagan overhears it.

Milady climbed the stairs to her bed chamber, it had been a disappointing day.  In the first place, she waited every hour for some kind of note from the Comte des Wardes and she felt her self confidence erode a little at the end of every hour that one did not arrive.  And then, when she was at her lowest, that damned Musketeer had not even bothered to pay her court.  What was happening in the world that she should suffer three disappointments so quickly in the last few months.   Once she was safely ensconced inside her room, she called for Kitty.  No doubt the girl was nearby, but Milady realized that even her servant had been suspiciously absent from the evening.

In fact, not soon after she called, she could hear a scuffling on the other side of the wainscot with muffled voices.  Kitty must have been entertaining that lackey, XXXXX.  Overall, Milady had felt very positive about her protégé’s achievements in this arena. But then she heard her servant stifling a sob and realized there must be some kind of heartbreak involved.  The distress in the girl’s voice brought Milady to high alert, perhaps all was not well and they would lose this avenue to de Winter.   She would have to talk to her about keeping her heart in check and above all else appropriate locations for such activities.  If she waited for the girl to calm her emotions, she might be here all night.  It was really best to shock her out of it and get her focused on work again.

“Well, “she cried, in a sharp voice. “Are you asleep, that you don’t answer when I ring?”    Milady ripped open the doorway between their rooms but didn’t see a trace of the young man anywhere.  

“Here am I, Milady, here am I!” cried Kitty.  She appeared all innocence as did the room behind her.  The girl earned mental bonus points with her mistress.  If Kitty had had a lover in her quarters there was no sign of him to be found and his exit had been extremely clean.

“Come help me out of this dress, you wretched girl!” she motioned for Kitty to follow her.  Her servant obediently followed her but made sure to leave the door open between them.  Milady thought it curious that she had not heard the lackey’s steps descending the staircase but trusted that Kitty’s room had been abandoned by any foreign persons.   They did have, after all, a strict code between them and if there was anyone she could trust it was Kitty.

“I beg your pardon, Milady, I was indeed abed,” Kitty paused, “when you rang.” 

“That is no excuse, you should not have been abed in your chamber without having first seen to my needs.”  Milady could see that Kitty understood her meaning but decided to wait until a later time to discuss the matter further.

“It will not happen again mistress.”

“Very well, be at peace, I will not quarrel over such trifle details.”  Kitty began to undo the laces at the back of milady’s corset.  In the silence that fell between them, Milady began to think again on the Comte de Wardes and even that foolish D’Artagnan.  Milady looked at her reflection in the looking glass over her dressing table.  She was still the attractive young woman she felt herself to be and could not see any reason for being so abandoned by these men as vain as she knew them to be.   “Well,” she began simply to drown out the doubts in her own head, “I have not seen our Gascon this evening.”

“What, Milady! Has he not come?” said Kitty.  “Can he be inconstant before being happy?”

“Oh, no,” Milady felt the need to correct her maid.  With someone at her level of inexperience she would assume that the way to hold a man’s interest would be between her legs.  But Milady was a master of her craft and well knew that it was the anticipation of the act was always a finer bait than once it had been acquired.  Even then, once a man was on Milady’s hooks he rarely made it off of his own volition. “He must have been prevented by Monsieur de Treville or Monsieur Dessessart.  I understand my game, Kitty; I have this one safe.”

“What will you do with him, madame?”

“What will I do with him?” Milady was surprised at the concern in the girl’s voice.  “Be easy, Kitty, there is something between that man and me that he is quite ignorant of: he nearly made me lose my credit with his Eminence you recall.  Oh, I will be revenged!”

“I believed that Madame loved him.”

“I love him?” Milady looked at Kitty for a long moment in the looking glass.  She was disappointed in her servant, had she learned nothing at all from her during this entire campaign?  “I detest him!  An idiot, who held the life of Lord de Winter in his hands and did not kill him, by which I missed three hundred thousand livres’ income.” 

“That’s true,” said Kitty, “I had forgotten that your son was the only heir of his uncle, and until his majority you would have had the enjoyment of his fortune.”

“Yes, Kitty.  Are you well?”  The girl nodded in the affirmative.  Milady was genuinely concerned for the girl. Kitty seemed to be distracted and unfocused on the task at hand.  Milady’s corset was still holding to her slender frame rather firmly.  She might have to order her to avoid XXXXX for a while as she appeared to be falling victim to her own game.  Milady looked the girl in the eye and seemed to be placated.  “For all this I should long ago have revenged myself on him if, and I don’t know why, the cardinal had not requested me to conciliate him.”

“Oh yes,” the girl remembered, “but Madame has not conciliated that little woman he was so fond of.”

“What, the mercer’s wife of the Rue des Fossoyeurs?  Has he not already forgotten she ever existed?  Fine vengeance that, on my faith!” Milady could see some of the old Kitty shining back through the girl’s eyes.  Perhaps she really merely ill and not heartbroken.  Milady sincerely hoped for the former and figured Kitty needed to have a lie in on the morrow.  It would not do to have her one confidant weakened when she needed her most.  The laces were finally undone and Milady could expand her lungs fully again.  Kitty began to help with unlacing her mistress’ other undergarments, but Milady stopped her with a hand on her shoulder.

“That will do,” said Milady in a gentler tone.  “Go into your own room, and rest.”  The girl nodded in recognition.  “And tomorrow, if you are better, endeavor again to get me an answer to the letter I gave you.”

“For Monsieur de Wardes?” asked Kitty.

“To be sure; for Monsieur de Wardes.”

“Now there is one,” said Kitty, “who appears to be quite a different sort of a man from that poor Monsieur d’Artagnan.”

“Go to bed, Mademoiselle,” said Milady.  She was taken aback, this was quite unlike her pliant little servant, “I do not like comments.”

The girl obeyed the command and slipped back into her room.  Milady followed her and turned the locks on her side of the door.  In turn, she heard Kitty turn the lock in her side.  Milady respected the girl’s privacy at that point.  She had been far too distracted of late.  Perhaps she had experienced a disappointment with her lackey and needed some time to work through the complicated emotions of such a rejection.  So much of Kitty reminded Milady of herself that she could not help but feel sorry for the girl.  If she didn’t grow a thicker skin she would never make it in this world, espionage or not.

*****

Scene in France:  Milady receives a note from de Wardes.

*****

Scene in France:  D’Artagnan rapes Milady

Milady commanded Kitty to put out all of the lights in her room and to exit into her own space.  Once her servant was gone into the next room, she set about fluffing up her pillows and using an atomizer of scent on the sheets.  It felt like ages since the moment in the Windsor Gardens and she wondered if there would be any awkwardness when at last they were in the same room together.  She was almost lost in her own thoughts when she heard commotion in Kitty’s Chamber.  Milady glanced at her clock it wasn’t nearly time for the Comte de Wardes arrival.

“What is that noise?” Milady demanded.  If that fool girl had arranged a tryst of her own for this very same night she would have her head on a stick.

“It is I,” said a man in subdued voice, “I the Comte de Wardes.”

“Well,” said Milady, in a trembling voice, “why do you not enter?”  This was definitely a good sign.  If he could not even wait for the hour that he himself had appointed, he must be eager indeed to rekindle their stalled romance.  “Count, Count,” added she, “You know that I wait for you.”

Milady heard the click of the latch between the rooms and then the door swung open into the chamber.  The tall figure of the Comte de Wardes moved silently into the room and bowed slightly in her direction.  Milady stayed standing in the middle of the room observing the Comte’s movements – curious as to how he would proceed with their interaction. He carefully picked his way across the darkened room until he met her at her spot.  Hesitantly, he reached for her hand and brought it to his lips to kiss.  She imagined the sparkle in his blue eyes as she had last scene it in England.

“Yes Count,” said Milady, in her softest voice, and pressing his hand in her own, “I am happy in the love which your look and your words have expressed to me every time we have met.  I also,” now she hesitated, “– I love you.  Oh, tomorrow, tomorrow, I must have some pledge from you which will prove that you think of me; and that you may not forget me, take this!” and she slipped a ring from her finger on to the Comte’s and he made to return it to her almost immediately.

“No, no! Keep the ring for love of me.  Besides, in accepting it,” she added in a voice full of emotion.  “You render me a much greater service than you imagine,” she folded his hands around it.  The Comte de Wardes was not his usual self with her, perhaps too much time had passed between their last meeting and this one. Well, she would have to remind him of that fire they had found in the same darkness in Windor.  Milady raised her hand to his face and caressed his cheek, “Poor angel, whom that monster of a Gascon barely failed to kill.” 

Milady pulled him close to her and met his lips with her own.  She heard him moan slightly and took that as a cue to begin leading him to the bed.  They were nearly there when de Wardes stumbled in the darkness.  Milady used the motion from the fall to land them both firmly on the feather filled mattress, naturally with her astride the young cavalier.  He let out a squeak of alarm and began to squirm uncomfortably underneath of her.

“Oh,”continued Milady relieving some of her weight from his body, “do your wounds still make you suffer?”

“Yes, Much,” he replied.  Milady had managed to undo his doublet and was in the process of unlacing his tunic, kissing each new exposed area in turn.  The Comte de Wardes winced and moved her hands away from his chest.  Naturally, she understood that this must be the placement of his wounds and she would have to take control of this situation.  

“Be tranquil,” murmured Milady; “I will avenge you – and cruelly!”  Have made this vow to her lover, she traced the outline of his chin with her finger and drew his face up for a kiss.  He met her hungry mouth with a need of his own until Milady had to pull back for air.  She was eager to begin but wanted to savor every moment of their time together.

“I want you to touch me,” she whispered in his ear.  He reached to massage her breast but Milady grabbed his hand and redirected it to wetness between her legs.  “Here,” she said.

He began to stroke her and tentatively placed two of his fingers inside of her.  She gave a little gasp to encourage him to probe further.  After a few minutes he rolled her onto the bed and started to untie his pants.  Milady stopped him.

“Not yet,” she could hear the breathiness in her own voice. He took her cue and kissed through the chemise down the length of her body until he was level with her hips.  She inhaled sharply as he pulled up her skirt and opened her legs.  He lightly kissed the inside of her thigh and chills ran down her spine. Then she felt the warmth of his tongue as licked over those sensitive areas.  She felt something low inside tighten as he worked his way back and forth.   He forced a moan from her and she could feel her body tensing.  Again he used his fingers inside of her to accompany the motions his tongue was making on her clit.  The pressure built inside of her until at last she cried out in ecstasy.  He only gave her a moment’s respite before he started the cycle over again.  This time it was quicker, Milady buried her fingers into his hair and let it wash over her. 

She was left panting as he crawled up to bed to lie at her side.  He held her to him and his other hand began to circle her left breast. In turn, she began to caress that sensitive part of his anatomy.  She was not surprised to find that he was hard and ready for her.   He moaned under her touch and started to pull her toward him.  “Be tranquil, I said.”

Milady pushed the Comte back onto the mattress and then pulled up her own skirts as she settled her hips firmly against him.  She moved herself over him but did not yet grant him full access.  She felt his body tense with the movement and his hands found their way under her skirts again; his fingers gripping her hips this time and pulling her to the tip of his cock.  She relented and slid down over him.  The movement brought another moan from her lover.  He freed one of his hands and pulled at the front of her chemise to expose her breasts.  His mouth found its way to her nipples and began to nibble the sensitive area.  As she continued to ride him, he reached his other thumb around and started to massage her clit again.  Now it was her turn to moan as he pushed her ecstasy higher and she ground faster against him.  She was coming closer to the moment of full release and felt that the Comte was just barely holding on himself.  His grip on her had tightened and there was intensity to his movements.  And then there it was, she spasmed around him and heard him groan in response.

They lay very still in each other’s arms for a while, neither one of them willing to break the comfortable silence that had fallen around them.  It had been exactly as Milady had imagined so many times since there last meeting and though she was anxious to hear her thoughts echoed in the Comte’s own statements she felt relaxed.  There would be plenty of time to discuss the future tomorrow.  As the clock began to strike one o’clock, it was necessary for them to part.  The Comte slid his arm out from under Milady and kissed her tenderly one final time.

 “Tomorrow, my lord, “she started, “promise me that we shall see each other again tomorrow.”

“Yes, tomorrow,” he whispered and made his way to the door between the rooms.  He quietly slipped outside and gave one last look into the room before making his final exit.

Milady sighed, in spite of herself.  She only had a small twinge anxiety regarding her emotions for the Comte.  She knew he would not easily betray her, not after all that had passed between them.  Still, she felt her own words of warning to Kitty invading her thoughts and threatening to wreck her entire happiness.  Revenge, she must focus on the beating down that Gascon but for now, sleep was what she desperately needed.  In the morning, she would have a better sense of herself and what to do next.

*****

Scene in France – Milady gets a letter from the fake de Wardes

Elizabeth awoke early the next morning and smiled in spite of herself.  She recalled to her memory the tender affections of the previous evening and anticipated another rendezvous if not that very evening at least very soon.  Milady reveled in the softness of her pillows and pulled her blankets up around her tighter.  The scent of lavender surrounded her and she sighed in pleasure.  She lay still for a moment and then rose suddenly from her bed and crossed to her writing table.  She picked up her quill, dipped it in the inkwell, and then paused for a moment with the feather against her lip as she sought for the best words.  Finally she placed the nib to the sheet and wrote out the following:

My dearest Comte de Wardes, 

The warmth of your caress is yet still fresh upon my skin and I desire to know when this temporary exile from my beloved shall end.  Please say that you will come to me again this evening at eleven o’clock.  The servant who brings this shall wait for a reply.

Your Servant, Milady de Winter

Her missive complete she dropped the pen back into its cradle and applied powder to the fresh ink.   Her thin fingers carefully creased the edges until it was folded into a perfect rectangle.  This completed she dabbed her purple wax onto the back and sealed it with her emblem.  

“ Kitty,” Milady called out.  She skipped over to her dressing table and began to comb through her own hair.  When Kitty entered a few minutes later, Milady was too excited to note the girl’s harrowed features.  Had Milady turned from the looking glass, she would have seen that  her servant was pale and her face was drawn.   “Kitty, please see that that letter is delivered to the Comte de Wardes as quickly as possible.”

“You wish me to go now?”

“Yes, you silly thing.  And you must wait for a reply – do not come back without one.”  

“But should not we dress you first?”

“I will manage without you for one morning.  Now go, quickly!” The girl took up the letter from the desk and then trudged back through the door to her own room.  In a few moments Milady heard the girl’s footsteps on the stairs and her heart fluttered in anticipation.  

*****

In less than three quarters of an hour, Kitty returned to Milady’s chamber.  In her absence, her mistress had indeed readied herself for the day.  Kitty trembled as she handed over the response to her mistress’ letter.  Eagerly Milady ripped the envelope from the girl’s hands and devoured the words written there.  Milady’s expression quickly changed into one of confusion as she read through the following:

Do not depend upon me, madame, for the next meeting.  Since my convalescence I have so many affairs of this kind on my hands that I am forced to regulate them a little.  When your turn comes, I shall have the honor to inform you of it.  I kiss your hands.

Comte de Wardes

“What is this letter?” Milady demanded.  She crushed the paper in her hands and stalked towards her servant.

“The answer to Madame’s,” replied Kitty, all in a tremble.

“Impossible!” cried Milady.  “It is impossible a gentleman could have written such a letter to a woman.”   My God! she thought, can he have seen the brand on my shoulder.  It was equally as impossible, she had ensured there was no light in her chamber for just such a purpose.  Milady began to grind her teeth and then her complexion turned the color of ashes.  She started to open the window, but as soon as she pulled up the sash, her legs buckled beneath her and it was all she could manage to maneuver herself into the nearest chair.  Kitty rushed to her mistress and began to open her dress, fearing that whomever had laced up the corset had done it too tightly.

 “What do you want of me?” said Milady,  as she beat the girl’s hands away from her, “and why do you place your hand on me?”

“I thought that Madame was ill, and I wished to bring her help,” responded Kitty.

“I faint?  I? I? Do you take me for half a woman?   When I am insulted I do not faint; I avenge myself!”

*****

Scene in France – Milady waits for D’Artagnan three times

*****

Scene in France – Milady waits for D’Artagnan a final time and when he does not come she resolves to write him a letter.

Dear M. d’Artagnan, It is wrong thus to neglect your friends, particularly at the moment you are about to leave them for so long a time.  My brother-in-law and myself expect you yesterday and the day before, but in vain.  Will it be the same this evening?

Your Very Grateful,

Milady Clarik

*****

Scene in France – Milady has on last interview with D’Artagnan

 “Show him in,” said Milady, in a quick tone, but so piercing that D’Artagnan heard her in the antechamber.  D’Artagnan was quickly let into the room and Kitty stood patiently at the door to the parlor.

“I am at home to nobody,” said Milady; “observe, to nobody.”

“Then,” replied he, “my visit is ill timed; you, no doubt, stand in need of repose, and I will withdraw.”

“No, No!,”said Milady. “On the contrary, stay, Monsieur d’Artagnan; your agreeable company will divert me. “ Milady took the Gascon by the arm and led him to the couch.  She indicated for him to sit and then sat close beside him. “Do you have a mistress?”

“Alas! Can you be cruel enough to put such a question to me -  to me, who, from the moment I saw you, have only breathed and sighed through you and for you?”  Milady smiled at this answer and glanced up at D’Artagnan through her eyelashes.

“Then you love me?”

“Have I any need to tell you so?  Have you not perceived it?”

“It may be; but you know the more hearts are worth the capture, the more difficult they are to be won.”

“Oh, difficulties do not affright me I shrink before nothing but impossibilities.”

“nothing is impossible,” she replied, “to true love.”

“Nothing, Madame?”

“nothing – well now,” Milady mused, “let us see what you would do to prove this love of which you speak.”

“All that could be required of me.” D’Artagnan raised her hands to his lips. “Order, I am ready.”

“For everything?”

“For everything.”

“Well not, let us talk a little seriously.” said Milady in her turn

“I am all attention, Madame.”

“I have an enemy.”

“you Madame! – is that possible, My god? – good and beautiful as you are!”  Again, D’Artagnan kissed her hands.

“A mortal enemy”

“Indeed!”  The boys eyes grew wide.

“An enemy who has insulted me so cruelly that between him and me it is war to the death.  May I reckon on you as an auxiliary?”

“You may madame.  My arm and my life belong to you, like my love.”

“Then,” said Milady, “since you are as generous as you are loving – “

“Well?”

“Well, from the present time, cease to talk of impossibilities.”

“Do not overwhelm me with happiness.”

“Avenge me of that infamous de Wardes.” And aside to herself  “And I shall soon know how to get rid of you – you double idiot, you animated sword blade!”

“I am ready,” said he.

“You have understood me, then, dear monsieur d’Artagnan”

“I could interpret one of your looks.”

“Then you would employ for me your arm which has already acquired so much renown?”

“Instantly”

“But on my part, how should I repay such a service?  I know these lovers.  They are men who do nothing for nothing.”

“You know the only reply that I desire, the only one worthier of you and of me!”

“Interested man!”

“Ah,”cried d’Artagnan, “that is because my happiness appears so impossible to me; and I have such fear that it should fly away from me like a dream that I pant to make a reality of it.”

“well, merit this pretended happiness, then!”

“I am at your orders”

“Quite certain?”

“Only name to me the base man that has brought tears into your beautiful eyes!”

“Who told you that I had been weeping – “

“It appeared to me – “

“Such women as I never weep.”

“so much the better! Come tell me his name!”

“Rememebr that his name is all my secret.”

“Yet I must know his name”

“Yes you must; see what confidence I have in you!”

“You overwhelm me with joy.  What is his name?

“You know him.”

“Indeed,”

“Yes.”

“It is surely not one of my friends!”

If it were one of your friends would you hesistate, then?

“not if it were my own brother!”

“I love your devoteness”

“Alas, do you love nothing else in me?

“I love you also, you!”

“You love me, you! Oh if that were so, I should lose my reason!”

“his name is – “

“de wardes, I know it”

“And how do you know it?  Tell me, tell me, tell me I say.  How do you know it?”

“How do I know it?”

“Yes”

“I know it because yesterday monsieur de wardes, in a saloon where I was, showed a ring which he said he had received from you.”

“wretch!  Well?”

“well, I will avenge you of this wretch”

“Thanks, my brave friend!” And when shall I be avenged?”

“Tomorrow – immediately – when you please! Tomorrow, you will be avenged or I shall be dead.”

“no,” she said, “you will avenge me; but you will not be dead.  He is a coward.”

“With women, perhaps; but not with men.  I know something of him.”

“But it seems you had not much reason to complain of your fortune in your contest with him.”

“Fortune is a courtesan; favorable yesterday, she may turn her back tomorrow.”

“which means that you now hesitate?”

“no, I do not hesitate; God forbid! But would it be just to allow me to go to a possible death without having given me at least something more than hope?”

“Is that all? – speak. Then.”- that is but too just”

“oh you are an angel”

“then all is agree?”

“Except that which I ask of you, dear love.”

“But when I assure you that you may rely on my tenderness?”

“I cannot wait till tomorrow.”

“Silence! I hear my brother.  It will be useless for him to find you here.”

“Go out this way, and come back at eleven o’clock; we will then terminate this conversation.  Kitty will conduct you to my chamber.”

“well mademoiselle, what are you thinking about, standing there like a statue?  Do as I bid you; show the chevalier out; and this evening at eleven oçlock  - you have heard what I said.”

*****

“Come in,” Milady said as she opened the door to her own room.  The Gason stood there next to her servant with a blank look on his face.  He was attired in the same clothing from earlier in the evening and she could tell from the dust on his boots that he must have paced the entire city of Paris since their last meeting.  For herself, Milady had changed into her best chemise and stood before the country boy as a goddess might.

She took his hand and led him into her room.  As they moved through the darkness, Milady felt an echo of her happiness the previous night and it turned to ash in her mouth with the remembrance of this afternoon’s letter.  She had gone to bed the previous evening with a heart bursting with hope only to find that the world had somehow changed while she slept and her daring cavalier had become a tyrant.  Her thoughts were so consumed with the bitter disappointment of lost love that she did not notice the hesitation from D’Artagnan as they drew closer to the bed.

“Please come,” she patted the mattress, “and have a seat”

The boy did as he was told and she began to undress him.  First she discarded his doublet onto the floor behind them and then began to unlace his tunic.  The gascon pulled her into his lap and gave his own breadth of affection in a kiss.  She willed all of her tenderness into the action and for a brief moment believed herself that it was still the Comte de Wardes when he loved her.  But after that moment, she remembered that this was not the man she truly desired but one that still would suit her purposes. 

She slid to her knees and began to untie the lacing at his pants - the musketeer was eager for her and she took him into her mouth.   This skin was smooth under her tongue as she made circles around the head of his penis.  He moaned and began to thrust with his hips.  Milady brought him nearly to completion before she pulled away for air.  D’Artagnan immediately reached for her to keep her from moving too far away but she evaded his grasp.  She moved to stand and he pulled her next to him on the bed.

His hands were pulling at her chemise, nearly tearing it as he tried to slip it over her head.  She stopped him from removing it completely and settled it back down over her breasts leaving her hips fully exposed.  Then he moved her legs apart and settled himself in between them.  She could feel the pulse from his cock against her skin and she had barely moved her hips against his to signal that she was ready when he plunged deep inside of her.  She could tell from the slight pain that she had not been wet enough but with each thrust into her she could feel her body adapting.   His thrusting was in short powerful bursts forcing Milady to brace herself against the headboard.  

She met his movements with her own and forced herself to moan at irregular intervals or when the Gascon had given a particularly violent thrust.   In turn she pulled at his hair or dug her nails deep into his back until he pulled back slightly to pin her hands above her head.  He continued to hold her down but was moving faster inside of her.    The weight of his body was heavy on her chest and she was beginning to feel a soreness from the Gascon’s efforts so she escalated her moaning and tightened what muscles she could around his cock.   She thought of de Wardes and how her vengeance would soon be complete.  The musketeer gave one final thrust and then collapsed on top of her.

They were both breathing heavily and he still held her hands hostage above her head.  D’Artagnan leaned in to kiss her and she met him with equal force.  Finally he released her and fell beside her on the bed.  She could feel the tightness in her chest ease and breathed deeply.  His breathing started to take on a regular pattern and his body was relaxed beside her.

“D’Artagnan,” she shook his shoulder and he jerked awake, “are the means to bring on the encounter between yourself and De Wardes arranged in your mind.”

“Oh,” he yawned, “it is much too late to think about duels and sword thrusts such as those.”  With his last words he tightened his grip on her hips and pulled her slightly against him.  She resisted and placed a hand on his chest to give her distance.

“How will you challenge him?”

“My dearest, is our love not enough?  If not for De Wardes we might never have confessed our deepest secrets to each other and found ourselves in this happiness.” D’Artagnan leaned in and placed a passionate kiss on her lips.  Milady only parted her lips slightly and pulled away quickly.  “You should pardon De Wardes his transgression as a reqard.”

“Pardon him?!”  Milady started.  “What of my honor?  Are you afraid, dear Monsieur d’Artagnan?”

“You cannot think so, dear love!” replied D’Artagnan; “but now, suppose this poor Comte de Wardes were less guilty than you think him?”

“At all events,” said Milady, seriously, “he has deceived me and from the moment he deceived me, he merited death.”

“He shall die, then, since you condemn him!” said D’Artagnan, in so firm a tone that it appeared to Milady an undoubted proof of devotion.  This reassured her.  She resolved to let the young gentleman sleep and let her thoughts wonder over how the duel with De Wardes would unfold.   D’Artagnan had to be a fairly decent swordsmen if he was able to beat her brother in law, Lord de Winter.  But that would not make him the best by any means and the Cardinal would not employ a man who was not an excellent soldier.  It was possible that de Wardes could defeat D’Artagnan.  But Musketeers were not as ill trained as the Cardinal would have one believe.  Perhaps Milady would get incredibly lucky and they would kill each other.  Oh, yes, they could mortally wound one another in her name.  Each would die with her name on their lips and they would regret the day that they had crossed her.  

The sun was rising in the east and creeping through the closed blinds on her windows.  D’Artagnan had already slinked out of bed and was tiptoeing to the secret door out of her chamber.  He had assumed Milady was asleep, but she was not about to let him leave so easily.

“D’Artagnan, do not forget your promise to avenge me on the Comte de Wardes,” she called after him.

“I am quite ready,” said D’Artagnan as he turned back to her.  “But in the first place, I should like to be certain of one thing.”

“And what is that?” asked Milady.

“That is,” the Gascon crossed the room and took up her hand in both of his, “whether you really love me?”

“I have given you proof of that, it seems to me.”

“And I am yours, body and soul!” he kissed up her arm.

“Thanks, my brave lover,” Milady extricated her arm from his grasp.  “but as you are satisfied of my love, you must, in your turn, satisfy me of yours.  Is it not so?”

“Certainly; but if you love me as much as you say,” replied D’Artagnan, “do you not entertain a little fear on my account?”

“What have I to fear?”

“Why, that I may be dangerously wounded – killed even.”

“Impossible!” cried Milady, “you are such a valiant man, and such an expert swordsman.”

“You would not, then, prefer a method,” resumed D’Artagnan, “which would equally avenge you while rendering the combat useless?”

“Really,” said Milady slowly, “I believe you now begin to hesitate.”

“No, I do not hesitate; but I really pity this poor Comte de Wardes, since you have ceased to love him.  I think that a man must be so severely punished by the loss of your love that he stands in need of no other chastisement.”

“Who told you that I loved him?” Milady spat.

“At least, I am now at liberty to believe, without too much fatuity, that you love another,” said the young man.  “And I repeat that I am really interested for the count.”

“You?” asked Milady

“Yes, I.”

“And why you?”

“Because I alone  know – “

“What?”

“That he is far from being, or rather having been, so guilty toward you as he appears.”

“Indeed!” Milady was anxious.  “Explain yourself, for I really cannot tell what you mean.”

“Yes, I am a man of honor,” said D’Artagnan.  He embraced Milady tenderly and then pulled back to look deeply into her eyes.  Then he sighed a deep sigh.  “and since your love is mine, and I am satisfied I possess it – for I do posses it, do I not?”

“Entirely; Go on.”

“Well, I feel as if transformed – a confession weighs on my mind.”

“A confession!”  Milady pulled away from D’Artagnan and scrutinized his features.

“If I had the least doubt of your love I have rendered myself culpable toward you, you will pardon me?”

“Perhaps.”  D’Artagnan leaned in to kiss Milady but she pulled back.  She refused to break eye contact with him.  There was a feeling in the pit of her stomach that roiled there.  Her pulse was thudding in her ears and she was anxious for the stupid boy to stop drawing this out.  “This confession, what is this confession?”

“You gave De Wardes a meeting on Thursday last in this very room, did you not?”

“No, No!  It is not true,” said Milady.  How could he possibly know this?  She willed her face to remain neutral and firm.

“Do not lie, my angel,” D’Artagnan spoke to her as if she were a child caught up after her bedtime.  “That would be useless.”

“What do you mean?” inside Milady was furious.  She was not some dairy maid fresh off the farm. “Speak!  You kill me.” 

“Be satisfied; you are not guilty toward me, and I have already pardoned you.” 

“What next?  What next?” she had no clue where this was leading and it was deeply unsettling to her.  How could she not know what was in his small mind?

“De Wardes cannot boast of anything.”

“How is that?  You told me yourself that the ring – “ the volume of her voice was rising  without her consent.

“That ring I have! The Comte de Wardes of Thursday and the D’Artagnan of today are the same person.” He kissed her nose and leaned back to take in her surprise.  His eyes were soft and he held her loosely about the shoulders.  Milady felt her blood run cold.  He widened his arms as if ready to accept her inevitable embrace and she threw all of her might into a blow to his chest.  

She used the impact to propel herself backwards off of the bed and started to run for the poniard she kept hidden in her writing desk.  But she felt her nightdress pull around her abdomen and saw that the Gascon had caught the edge of the fine India linen to fold her back into his embrace.  She pulled with all her might at the fabric and prepared, again, to run.  She heard the rip of the delicate material and felt it loosen around her shoulders.  Milady reached up to hide her left shoulder but realized it was too late.

“Great God!” the boy screamed and released her entirely.  He stood there in silence with wide eyes and his mouth agape.  He had seen all and he knew her secret.  Milady felt the uneasiness in her stomach harden into a solid knot.  She felt the solidness of it rise up and spread into her veins.  She sensed the strength returning to her limbs and she sprang to her writing table.  Her deft fingers immediately found the small box given to her by the Cardinal before her last trip across the English Chanel.  She ripped the cover from the box and pulled out the small poniard hidden insde.

“Ah, wretch!” Milady cried.  “You have basely betrayed me, and still more, you have my secret! You shall die.”   She lunged at the Gascon.  He recoiled from her and slipped back to the other side of the room.  His hand found his sword and he drew it instinctively in defense.  In Milady’s fever, she didn’t register the weapon that had been drawn against her and continued forward towards her victim.  He could not be allowed to leave here alive.  She easily made it past his defensive stance and almost had the knife to his throat when she felt the point of his sword in hers.

Milady swatted at it with her hands but he parried and drove the point lightly into her shoulder.  Red blossomed on her nightdress and she backed up. 

“Well, beautiful lady, very well.” he growled at her, “but pardieu, if you don’t calm yourself I will design a second fleur de lis upon one of those pretty cheeks!”  She lunged at him again and this time managed a swipe across his chest.  A thin line of blood appeared above the nipple and he took a step back.    They continued in this manner, D’Artagnan taunting her with the point of his blade and her lunging and swingling wildly with her poniard, as they danced across the floor.    He managed to maneuver her behind the bedstead and raced towards Kitty’s door.

“Scoundrel, infamous scoundrel!” howled Milady in turn.  But the boy had disappeared behind the wooden barrier.  She ran to it and pulled at the handle but the door would not come free.  She began to  pound at the door with her free hand to try and awaken Kitty.  The girl would manage to slow him down or open the door.  Either way he would be hers.  But she heard Kitty’s voice as plain as day on the other side.  She had been awake all this time and she was helping the boy to escape.

Milady then started stabbing at the door with her poniard.  She would tear down this door and every stone in France until she was able to give that Gascon what he properly deserved.  She would find his family and destroy them before his very eyes and then she would tear him slowly limb from limb while he begged for mercy.    She had pierced through enough to see that the boy was running down the back stairs.  Tears of anger sprang to Milady’s eyes and she knew that the girl had betrayed her.

Milady pushed away from the door and sprinted to the servant’s bell to sound the alarm.  Then she rushed to her window and threw up the blinds.  She had just managed to unlatch the windows in time to see him escape through the gates into the streets of Paris.  The arrogant Gascon had enough gall to send one last look in her direction as he made his escape.

*****

Scene in France – Milady has a confrontation with Kitty

*****

Scene in France – Milady sends poison wine to the musketeers

*****

*****

Scene in France – The Trial of Milady

Milady was seated by the fireplace watching the embers in the fire flicker and grow cold.  She was unsure of her next move until she heard back from the Cardinal.  Suddenly she heard a horse neigh outside and she whipped her head around towards the sounds.  There in the window she saw the face that she often saw in her nightmares and she had to pinch herself to convince her that the deathly pale spectre was real.  She drew back in horror and turned to make her escape from the room.  Behind her she heard the window shatter and the glass scatter across the room.  She reached with shaking hands for the doorknob and yanked it open.  Her nightmare deepened and she nearly sunk to the floor as her knees buckled.  There behind the door, stood D’Artagnan, her brother in law Lord de Winter, and three men she did not recognize.  One of them was in a red cloak so that his face was obscured.  Instinctively, Milady backed away from the door until the back of her legs hit the chair. 

“What do you want?” she screamed as she sank down into it.

“We want,” said the spectre, “Charlotte Backson, who first was called Comtesse de la Fere, and afterwards Milady de Winter, Baroness of Sheffield.”

“That is I!  That is i!” she murmured in terror.  The spectre was none other than her first husband, the Comte de la Fere.  She had been told he was dead and she had been glad of that.  Milady rubbed at her throat.  “What do you want?”

“We wish to judge you according to your crime,” said the Comte.  “You shall be free to defend yourself.  Justify yourself I fyou can.  Monsieur D’Artagnan, it is for you to accuse her first.”

“”Before God and before men,” D’Artagnan started, “I accuse this women of having poisoned Contance Bonacieux, who died yesterday evening.”

“We bear witness to this,” said two of the men behind him.  The one in the cloak was still deathly silent and it unnerved Milady.

“Before God and before men, I accuse this woman of having attempted to poison me, in wine, which she sent me from Villerou, with a forged letter, as if that wine came from my friends.  God preserved me, but a man named Brisemont died in my place.”

“We bear witness to this,” the men said again.

“Before God and before men, I accuse this woman of having urged me to the murder of Baron de Wardes; but as no one else can attest the truth of this accusation, I attest it myself.  I have done.” He lowered his head and moved to the opposite side of the room with his two cronies. 

How dare he?!  Milady thought.  I cannot be accused of this!  HE is the one I wanted murdered.  My poor de Wardes was innocent in all of this villain’s machinations.  And he stands before these men and declares that I am the one at fault for this?

“Before God and before me,” this time her brother in law spoke, “I accuse this woman of having caused the assassination of the Duke of Buckingham.”

“The Duke of Buckingham assassinated!” the men seemed to cry in one voice.  So this was truly about that wilting flower Bonacieux.

“Yes,” confirmed her brother in law, “Assasinated.   On receiving the warning letter you wrote to me, I had this woman arrested, and gave her in charge to a loyal servant.  She corrupted this man she placed the poniard in his hand; she made him kill the duke.  And at this moment, perhaps, Felton is paying with his head for the crime of this fury!”

She could not be blamed for the final actions of Felton.  She had not forced his hand in that final moment, only given him the tools to see his religious fanaticism to its final conclusion.  She sniffed at this charge and tried to ignore the men in the room.

“That is not all,” resumed her brother in law, “My brother, who made you his heir, died in three hours of a strange disorder which left livid traces all over the body.  My sister, how did your husband die?”

Not slowly enough for her liking.  The man had been a monster in his own right and deserved every last agonizing breath he had drawn before her poison had taken his life.

“Assassin of Buckingham, assassin of Felton, assassin of my brother, I demand justice upon you, and I swear that if it be not granted to me, I will execute it myself.”  With this final diatribe against her, her brother in law went to join D’Artagnan on the other side of the room.

“My turn,” said the Comte de la Fere.  Milady shuddered at this and let her head rest between her hands.  “My turn.  I married that woman when she was a young girl; I married her in opposition to the wishes of all my family; I gave her my wealth, I gave her my name; and one day I discovered that this woman was branded – this woman was marked with a fleur de lis on her left shoulder.”

“Oh,” said Milady rising from her chair.  Her hands and forearms were trembling with fury.  “I defy you to find any tribunal which pronounced that infamous sentence against me.  I defy you to find him who executed it.”

“Silence!” came a hollow voice from the red cloak.  “It is for me to reply to that!”

“What man is that?  What man is that?” cried Milady.  There could be only one man who would answer this charge and she was not prepared to meet him again in his unholy of places.  The man removed the hood of his cloak and took off his mask.  “Oh no, no!  it is an infernal apparition!  It is not he! Help, help!”

“Who are you then?” the men’s voices chorused at the red cloaked man.  Milady was backing up against the fireplace as far as she could go.

“Ask that woman,” he said and crooked his finger in her direction.  “For you may plainly see she knows me.”

“The executioner of Lille, the executioner of Lille!” Milady cried.  Her voice was near a scream at this point.  She fell to her knees on the spot, “Oh grace, grace, pardon!”

“I told you well that she would know me,” the executioner said after a pause.  “Yes, I am the executioner of Lille, and this is my history.  That woman was once a young girl, as beautiful as she is today.  She was a nun in the convent of the Benedictines of Templemar.  A young priest, with a simple and trustful heart, performed the duties of the church of that convent.  She undertook his seduction, and succeeded; she would have seduced a saint.”

“The vows were sacred and irrevocable.  Their connection could not last long without ruining both.  She prevailed upon him to leave the country; but to leave the country, to fly together, to reach another part of France, where they might live at ease because unknown, money was necessary.  Neither had any.  The priest stole the sacred vases, and sold them; but as they were preparing to escape together, they were both arrested.”

“ Eight days later she had seduced the son of the jailer, and escaped.  The young priest was condemned to ten years of imprisonment, and to be branded.  I was executioner of the city of Lille, as this woman has said.  I was obliged to brand the guilty one; and he, gentlemen, was my brother!”

“I then swore that this woman who had ruined him, who was more than his accomplice, since she had urged him to the crime, should at least share his punishment.  I suspected where she was concealed.  I followed her, I caught her, I bound her; and I imprinted the same disgraceful mark upon her that I had imprinted upon my poor brother.”

“The day after my return to Lille, my brother in his turn succeeded in making his escape; I was accused of complicity, and was condemned to remain in his place till he should be again a prisoner.  My poor brother was ignorant of this sentence.  He rejoined this woman; they fled together into Berry, and there he obtained a little curacy.  This woman passed for his sister.

“The Lord of the estate on which the chapel of the curacy was situated saw this pretended sister, and became enamoured of her – amourous to such a degree that he proposed to marry her.  Then she quitted him she had ruined for him she was destined to ruin, and became the Comtesse de la Fere – “

“Then, mad, desperate to get rid of an existence from which she had stolen everything, honor and happiness, my poor brother returned to Lille, and learning the sentence which had condemned me in his place, surrendered himself, and hanged himself that same night from the iron bar of the loophole of his prison.”

“To do justice to them who had condemned me, they kept their word.  As soon as the identity of my brother was proved, I was set at liberty.”

“That is the crime of which I accuse her; that is the cause for which she was branded.”

The room was silent for a moment and Milady looked from one face to the other.  They all wore hard expressions and were staring back at her.  These men had ruined just as many women in their turn, but they were men and therefore not accountable for their actions.  D’Artagnan alone had been guilty of so much more when he came to her room under the guise of the Comte de Wardes.

“Monsieur D’Artagnan,” the Comte de la Fere asked, as if he could read her mind, “what is the penalty you demand against this woman?”

“The punishment of death,” was his reply.  But in saying so, the Gascon could not hold Milady’s gaze.

“My Lord de Winter,” continued the Comte de la Fere.  “What is the penalty you demand against this woman?”

“The punishment of death,” replied Lord de Winter.  This was perhaps the only man who could request such a punishment having not been guilty of a greater crime than hers.  From this man, she would accept the condemnation but she did not have to like it.

“Messieurs Porthos and Aramis,” repeated the Comte de la Fere, “you who are her judges, what is the sentence you pronounce upon this woman?”

“The punishment of death,” they replied in unison.  How could they possibly be her peers?  They had no right to act as her judge in these matters.

“Charlotte Backson,” said the Comte de la Fere, “Comtesse de la Fere, Milady de Winter, your crimes have wearied men on earth and God in heaven.  If you know a prayer, say it – for you are condemned and shall die.”

There was no God in heaven.  She had learned that long ago and would not resort to asking an invisible man for any help when his likeness here on earth had been so prejudiced.  Even if there had been some being to hear her pleas, they would not have granted her that which she desired any more than the beings on this planet had.  Milady opened her mouth to speak but then thought better of it; she refused to beg any more or give them the satisfaction of superiority over her.

Milady pulled herself up from the floor and to her full height.  She caught each man’s gaze in turn; forcing them to look her in the eye as they passed their judgement.  None of them could hold their gaze very long and D’Artagnan almost immediately returned his eyes to the floorboards beneath his feet when it was his turn.  Once this was completed, she turned and marched through the door.  Her executioners had no other choice but to follow her.