National Novel Writing Month - Day#5

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 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.  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 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, 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 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 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?”

“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 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 has an interaction with the Comtes de Wardes (Antoine de Gramont) with witty banter and possible innuendo.

* * * * *

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.  Milady was here to keep an eye on the Duke of Buckingham and to attempt to recover from her previous failed missions.

Having already exchanged pleasantries with the Duke and spoken to her informants in his household Milady de Winter retired to the garden.   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.  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 rigid but she was definitely battle ready.

“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 the 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 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 de Winter learns of Buckingham leaving England and writes a note to the Cardinal.

* * * * *

Scene in England – Milady receives a note back from the cardinal regarding the diamond necklace.

* * * * *

Scene in England – Milady de Winter cuts off the diamond studs

* * * * *

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

* * * * *

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.    

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 abuse 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.

* * * * *

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 ball thrown by Madame de Guise.  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 talked with her servant while D’Artagan overhears it.

*****

Scene in France:  Milady is concerned she hasn’t heard from des wardes.