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 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.
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 to
receive 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. That was not her
real cause for melancholy though, she could easily handle the Cardinal as she
could most other men. Her real trouble was 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 sudden 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. 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. 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.
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 and
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? 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 with her
own information but was always eager to listen in on his debriefings.
"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
cursed the driver and his negligence that put the other carriage door too close
to the garden wall. 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. But the
lingering doubt regarding her own secrets 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.
“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?”
“Very well,” she sighed. It was then that she noticed a disheveled youth emerging from the rear entrance of the hostelry. 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 was 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 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.
In retrospect, Milady pondered, it really was not prudent of her to needle Rochefort about the boy. 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.
Milady then 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 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 gently 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 England – Milady sends
word to the Cardinal when Buckingham leaves England.
* * * * *
Scene in the Church with Porthos – what she thinks about Porthos playing his mistress for a fool, etc.
* * * * *
Scene at the ball of Madame de
guise – in which de wardes flirts with Milady and wins her affection
* * * * *
Scene in which Milady sends Kitty to give a message to des Wardes lackey and it is mistakenly given to Planchet.
* * * * *
Fight with Milady’s Brother in
Law – Lord de Winter, Baron Sheffield“Madame, will you permit me to offer you my services? 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, I should with great confidence place myself under your protection if the person with whom I quarrel were not my brother.” Milady explained to the stranger.
“Ah, excuse me, then,” said d’Artagnan. “You must be aware that I was ignorant of that, madame.””
“What is that stupid fellow troubling himself about?”cried her brother in law stooping down to the height of the coach window. “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.”
