The sharp, winter breeze that blew through the streets of Paris made Constance shiver and pull her thick cloak around her. It was made of a fine material she would never have been able to afford and had been a present from the Queen while she'd been working for her. The detailing and richness of the fabric made it far too fancy for her walk across the city this morning, yet Paris was gripped by a particularly cold frost that clung to everything. The cloak was the warmest thing she owned so she really had no choice.
The gravel and dirt on the floor cracked as she stepped and her breath made tiny clouds in the air as she walked towards Elodie's home. In her gloved hands Constance held three small pastries, wrapped carefully in a napkin; one for her, one for Elodie, and one for Marie-Cessette. Together Elodie and Constance had been working on Bonacieux's house to ready it for her family's arrival. Though they weren't arriving for months it was work to keep her busy that was largely indoors, something she was grateful for during the colder weather.
Constance knocked sharply on the door, adjusting her hood while she waited to try and keep the cold out. It was still very early and the streets were still empty when she left d'Artagnan sleeping at the garrison but by now there was the stirrings of life in the city. As she looked around Constance could see stall owners setting up for the market, fishermen who had spent the night in the taverns staggering back towards the docks, and peasant children wandering around, looking for their breakfast. Constance had given a small, skinny boy a coin when she'd seen him, hear heart twisting with pity.
She turned back to the door when she heard the bolt sliding back on the other side. It swung back to reveal a smiling Elodie, still in her night things, her blonde hair loose and falling down her back.
"Good morning," Constance said, stepping over the threshold. Elodie shut the door and by way of a reply simply threw her arms around Constance and hugged her, causing the pastries to drop to the floor.
"Oh, Constance," Elodie said, joyfully. "I've had some amazing news!" She pulled away then looked down to see the pastries broken on the wooden floor. "I'm so sorry, were these for us?" she said, bending down to pick up the remains. Constance nodded. "I'll get us all some more later."
"Don't worry about it," Constance said. "Tell me, what is this news that has you so excited?" Elodie opened her mouth to speak but before she could a child's wail from upstairs got her attention.
"Follow me," Elodie said, turning to run up the stairs to where Marie-Cessette was. Constance had been into their home many times before. It was small but very homely and warm and the windows that let in plenty of light looked out over a pretty square. Constance ascended the stairs, slightly slower than Elodie as the baby was quite big now, and saw Elodie bouncing a sniffling Marie-Cessette on her hip, cooing to her to calm her down.
"So what is it?" Constance asked, eagerly. Elodie beamed at her.
"Porthos is coming home." She hugged her baby towards her and buried her face in her dark hair, looking elated.
"He is?" Constance said, moving forward to embrace her. "That's wonderful!"
"He was injured, but not badly – a musket ball to the thigh – and he needs to rest, so they're sending him back to us," she said. "Papa is coming home, my love," She whispered softly to Marie-Cessette as she rocked her.
When Constance had first heard Elodie refer to Porthos as "Papa" around Marie-Cessette it had caused her to raise her eye brows. She knew that actually the girl's father had died fighting for France before she was even born.
"He is dead," Elodie had said when Constance had questioned her about it. "Dead and not coming back. So why should I deny my child that relationship with Porthos? She will never meet her real father and that makes me unbelievably sad, yet she has a man willing to take on that role, something most people in our situation would never have. Why should I drive a wedge between them by reminding her every time she calls him Papa, or Father that he is not? It would be selfish of me to try and keep my dead husband's memory alive to her at the expense of her being able to call Porthos her father. I will always remember and love him, and I think that's enough." However Constance had felt about this reasoning she had decided that it was not her place to have opinions on other people's decision's regarding their families.
"When did you find out?" Constance asked.
"I got the letter last night," Elodie said, playing with Marie-Cessette's fingers. "It said he'd set off a week ago so he should be home within in the next ten days."
"That means he'll be back for Queen Anne's Christmas ball!" Constance exclaimed. "You're going to love the Palace." Elodie looked confused.
"But I wasn't invited?" she said in a matter of fact tone. "The only people I know who are going are you and d'Artagnan."
"You'll know Aramis too," said Constance. "And if Porthos is back, as a General he'll be automatically invited. As his wife you'll have to come. We're going to have so much fun!" Elodie's face lit up in excitement and she threw an arm around Constance.
"I'm actually quite nervous," she said with a laugh. She stepped back and placed Marie-Cessette on the floor, where she proceeded to pick up a small wooden toy horse and trot it across the floor. Eloide stared adoringly at her and when she looked back at Constance there were tears glistening in her eyes. Constance smiled warmly at her.
"I'm so relieved he's not seriously hurt, and so happy we get him back," Elodie said, her voice breaking with emotion. "It's been hell, Constance." Constance nodded understandingly.
"It is," she said with a sad smile. "But you don't have to worry any more. He's coming home." They stood in silence for a while, contemplating the war, what it had done to their families, and just how lucky they were to still have their loved ones, before moving in to more positive discussions about the ball.
The days leading up to Porthos' return might have felt like an eternity for Elodie, but for Constance they passed in an instant. Her time was taken up doing jobs at the garrison and preparing Bonnacieux's house, as well as spending precious hours with d'Artagnan. When she'd told him of his friend's return he was the happiest he'd been since she told him she was having his baby and he'd immediately sent Durand to the Louvre to tell Aramis. She could tell he'd been missing his friends; besides her they were the only people he knew from his arrival in Paris and they shared a bond that only came from putting their lives on the line together – something she knew she'd never share with him, but she was okay with that.
When the day of Porthos's arrival came the winter fog hung low over the city and the dampness that came with it clung to everything in Paris. This didn't stop his welcome party from waiting outside in the courtyard of the garrison. Aramis had left his duties at the palace to greet his friend and was sat at the benches with Elodie chatting while one of the cadets introduced a squealing Marie-Cessette to the horses. Her laughter rang across the yard and Constance saw d'Artagnan smile at the sound as they descended the steps from his office.
"You look happy," she said, squeezing his arm playfully. He grinned back.
"It's just exciting, isn't it?" he replied. "We'll have that soon." Constance nodded, but her gaze was fixed on Elodie. She sighed heavily and turned to take both d'Artagnan's hands as they reached the bottom of the stairs.
"Do you think you'll go back?" she said, apprehension colouring her voice. "If they asked you, to go back, that is, to go back to the front, do you think – I mean… would you go?" d'Artagnan exhaled heavily and ran a hand through his hair.
"This has been on your mind for a while, hasn't it?" he asked. Constance nodded.
"I obviously don't want to… but I don't know that I'd have a choice," He saw the panic on her face and continued quickly. "It's my duty and what I do, but that doesn't mean I'd jump at the chance. Leaving you now is the last thing I want to do, I admire Porthos for his strength in doing his duty, but I know without even asking him that this last year will have been one of the toughest times he's ever faced. But don't worry too much, I'm sure that all it needs is a quiet word to the Queen from you and I wouldn't be going anywhere." He put an arm around her waist and pulled her close with a grin. Constance laughed.
"Well, if that's the case I guess I'll just tell her how hard life as a Musketeer is on you," she said, teasingly. "See if I can get you a nice safe job somewhere, doing something where fighting to the death isn't part of the job description." She kissed him softly and then hugged him tightly.
"No, I'd never do that to you," she said, resting her head on his shoulder. "I love you too much."
"Is that right?" d'Artagnan said, raising an eyebrow. She nodded, smiling at him. He leant down and kissed her again, this time pulling her into him and burying a hand in her hair. It was a shout from across the yard that caused them to break apart.
"As moving as that display is," Aramis called, amused. "There are children present." He smirked at d'Artagnan as he and Constance walked over.
"Don't mind him," d'Artagnan said under his breath to Constance, but making sure Aramis was in hearing distance. "He's just jealous because he has to keep his romantic escapades under wraps." Constance laughed loudly, Elodie looked scandalised, but Aramis looked impassive.
"Not true, my friend." He said, twisting his moustache into a more sophisticated shape. "I think you'll find that secrecy and mystery only… how can I put this… heighten emotion for all involved." D'Artagnan rolled his eyes at his friend while Constance swatted at Aramis' arm.
"Very funny," she said, chastising him. "Whatever your arrangement is with Anne she is still the Queen. You can't go talking like that out in public."
"Oh, only Elodie heard, and she already knows," Aramis laughed.
"Still," said Constance, with a mock disapproving look.
"Your secret, however improper it may be, is safe with me," Elodie said, shooting Aramis a playful look.
The conversation ended there as the sound of horses' hooves clattering on the road into the garrison reached the small group's ears. Elodie jumped up at the sound and clapped a hand to her mouth as she half ran to the entrance. Aramis placed a hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder with a grin and they too walked over to greet the new comers. Constance was about to follow them when she felt a tug on the skirts of her dress. She looked down to see Marrie-Cessette hiding behind her and tentatively peering round to see what was going on. She smiled down at her and stayed where she was, not wanting to upset her.
Seconds later three horses rode into the yard and pulled to a stop, kicking up the frozen dirt that covered the floor. Sat on the centre horse was Porthos, flanked by two, lower ranking soldiers who were carrying his belongings on the backs of their horses. He looked weary and battle worn, with a new scar on his cheek and a beard that was much longer than Constance had ever seen it before. Despite his physical appearance he still wore the biggest smile she'd ever seen.
"Nice to be back," he said, in his low, warm voice. He turned his head around to take in the new appearance of the garrison. "I like the look of the place. It doesn't look like it's going to fall down in a strong wind anymore." As he dismounted d'Artagnan and Aramis laughed and walked towards him, but before they could reach him Elodie ran at Porthos with the impact of a hurricane and threw her arms around his neck. Porthos himself stumbled and his left leg gave way slightly, but he regained his balance and lifted her off the ground with the force of his own hug. Elodie pushed his hair away from his face and held him, whispering words to him that Constance couldn't hear but that made Porthos' face soften with emotion before he kissed her with all the passion of a man who'd been fighting for his country and his life for the past year.
When they finally separated Porthos turned to his friends and embraced them both, laughing his booming laugh and clapping them on the shoulders.
"Keeping standards up here, d'Artagnan?" Porthos asked, jokingly.
"Just about," d'Artagnan said with a smirk. "I haven't found anyone to match any of you two yet though."
"I don't doubt it," said Aramis, adjusting his hat. "We were exceptional." Porthos turned his attention to Constance.
"Constance! Looking as perfect as usual," he said, grinning at her. "You've gotten so big, how are you?" However, before she could answer, Porthos noticed the little girl peering at him from around Constance's dress and he froze. He looked to Elodie unsure as what to do and she smiled at him reassuringly.
"Maman?" a small voice said. Marie-Cessette was pointing at Porthos but looking at her mother confused.
"You know who this is, darling," Elodie said softly. "He's come home." The little girl looked at Porthos silently and the whole group held their breath to see her reaction. She took an unsteady few steps to place herself in front of Constance, still holding on to the fabric of her skirts for balance. Porthos slid into a kneeling position and held out a hand towards her.
"Marie-Cessette," he said, gently, smiling at himself speaking the name. "Don't be scared." She walked slowly over to him, past his out stretched hand, until she was right in front of him. Porthos didn't move or say anything, only waited for Marie-Cessette to decide if she was happy with this new giant in her life. She glanced at her mother before reaching up and putting a tiny hand on Porthos' beard, then placing the other on his cheek, exploring his face. She patted him once and then stepped back, looking directly at him.
"Papa," she said, shortly, then let out a bell-like laugh and clambered up him to hug him. Porthos barked out his joyful laugh in return and scooped up the little girl then wrapped an arm around a beaming Elodie.
Christmas came around quickly after Porthos' return. Constance and d'Artagnan took on looking after Marie-Cessette for Elodie and Porthos for a few days while they took some time to have the honeymoon they never had. They'd accepted the job willingly enough, but it immediately opened their eyes as to how hard the next few years of their lives would be.
"Why doesn't she stay in one place?" d'Artagnan had said when he carried Marie-Cessette back into the yard after she'd nearly run out into the road for the third time that morning. "How can you watch her if she runs off the second you turn your back?" Constance had laughed but fear was beginning to grow; the idea that the two of they would become entirely responsible for another person was terrifying. This didn't necessarily dampen her excitement though, and when she had seen d'Artagnan carrying Marie-Cessette, asleep on his shoulder, up to their rooms to put her to bed her heart had almost burst.
Constance had also spent a lot of time up at the Palace having been summoned by Queen Anne to help with planning the Ball. On her last visit before the Ball the two women were walking through the gardens of the Louvre, wrapped up against the cold weather and discussing the guests that were invited.
"Of course, we have nobles and dignitaries arriving from across the whole of France," Anne said, stress causing her fair eyebrows to knit together. "Unfortunately that means the new Duke of Lorraine. He is a horrid little man who only stayed out of the revolt as he was ill. If he could have been he would have been marching against my son along with his father. Frankly he's lucky he kept his head, never mind the lands and his title I let him have."
"Why does he have to come?" Constance asked. She too had no time for the people who rose up against the Queen. D'Artagnan had been in danger and she herself had nearly died in the fire at the garrison. "Surely you don't have to invite him?"
"That would be nice," Anne said, with a rueful smile. "My ministers are saying I have to show mercy and willingness to forgive. Aramis is the only one who seems to see my side, but even he thinks that the crown should lead by example."
"Is anyone else interesting coming?"
"Well, we do have the Duke of Buckingham coming as he's in Paris at the moment." Anne had a look on her face when she mentioned his name that Constance couldn't place.
"What do you- oh. I see." Constance laughed. "He has a reputation for being quite charming, doesn't he?" Anne blushed and held her head in the most regal position she could.
"The Duke has always carried himself in a way fitting of a man of his position." She said, carefully. "I simply enjoy his company."
"I bet Aramis can't wait to meet him."
"He did say something along those lines," she said. "Although he's more preoccupied with security, he is insisting on being armed – something I'm not happy about." Constance shrugged.
"I know d'Artagnan and Porthos will be?" Constance said. Anne shook her head.
"That's different, Porthos is a general and d'Artagnan is the Captain of the Musketeers, it makes sense for them to be armed," she sighed heavily. "Aramis is a Minister now; I think he forgets he doesn't have to think like a Musketeer all the time anymore." Constance smiled supportively.
"I'm not sure that that's something they can just give up right away," she said, carefully. "It's who they are."
"I suppose," accepted, Anne.
The Ball itself was to take place on Christmas Eve and shortly before it was due to start Constance was sat at the mirror in hers and d'Artagnan's room, humming to herself whilst fixing her hair into an elaborate style, with braids and curls pinned up and tumbling down over her shoulders. She was wearing a dress she'd made herself. The neckline sat low off the shoulders, and the skirts, made of a light blue fabric that looked more expensive than it really was, cut an elegant figure, but also made her stomach less noticeable. She was perfectly happy for people to know she was pregnant, but for one night she wanted to have fun without various strangers coming up to her and touching her belly. The last thing she added was a simple necklace she'd been given to her by her mother when she left for Paris years ago. It held a single pearl that settled at the base of the throat and was one of her most prized possessions.
"Can you help me, please?"
Constance looked up in the mirror to see d'Artagnan looking sheepishly at her, trying to fix up the formal doublet he was wearing. She smiled and walked over to him, expertly managing the clasps.
"There," she said, patting him on the chest. He leant down and brushed his lips against hers.
"You look perfect," he said, twisting a curl between his fingers. He frowned and sighed heavily before speaking again. "We don't have to go if you don't want to. I don't want you to strain yourself." Constance rolled her eyes.
"There is no chance I'm missing tonight," she said firmly. "I haven't done anything fun in months, I need this – you need this! You've been working so hard, I want to spend some time with you outside the garrison. Also, when are we going to be invited to the Louvre for a Ball again?"
"That's a fair point," he said, grinning. "But you have to tell me if you get tired, or… or your feet start to hurt – or even if the music is annoying you. I want you to have a good night."
"That's so sweet," Constance laughed. She reached to the sideboard for his hat and pushed back his hair to put it on him. "You look perfect."
"Almost perfect," said d'Artagnan. He strapped on his sword belt then nodded. "Let's go."
Down in the yard Elodie and Portos were waiting for them. Both had a cup of wine in their hand and Porthos was already on his way to being drunk.
"You're enjoying yourself," Constance teased.
"Hey," Porthos said, slinging an arm around a giggling Elodie. "There were two things I thought I'd never be able to do again when I was fighting in some god forsaken field. One was being able to see this beautiful woman again." He planted a clumsy kiss on Elodie's cheek before continuing. "The other was drink awful Parisian wine. I plan to enjoy both things tonight." He raised his cup into the air and buried his face in Elodie's neck while she laughed loudly. Constance snorted.
"Okay, as eloquent as that was, Porthos," d'Artagnan said with raised eyebrows, "I don't know that I needed that much information." Porthos shrugged, unconcerned.
A whinny from the horse that pulled up outside the garrison's entrance told them that their carriage had arrived.
Travelling through Paris in a carriage was something Constance loved but rarely got the chance to do. The last time she had had the chance had been when she'd been summoned to the Palace with Bonacieux to accept her place in Queen Anne's household. People looked up as the four of them passed, wondering who they might be, and a little boy ran alongside them, trying his best to keep up with the horses.
By the time they reached the palace stars were decorating the night's sky and important people were milling around the doors, waiting to be announced and go in. D'Artagnan helped her down from the carriage and the four of them made their way to the queue. Constance, though incredibly excited, felt oddly out of place. She studied the woman stood in front of her; she had jewels of every colour studded into her dress and her hair reached dizzying heights. This kind of extravagance was something she'd never be able to achieve. D'Artagnan slid his arm around her waist and squeezed gently when he saw her looking.
"She won't be able to move with hair as precarious as that," he whispered, incredulously. "And her dress will rattle like pebbles in a bucket with all those stones on it." Constance had to cover her mouth to hide her laughter and d'Artagnan smiled, seeing that he's cheered her up.
"Come on," Porthos said, putting a hand on d'Artagnan's shoulder. "You're next." They stepped up and were announced as "Captain d'Artagnan of the Musketeers and Madame d'Artagnan," while behind them Porthos and Elodie were introduced as "General du Vallon and Madame du Vallon." The room itself was full of people dancing and drinking. Candles lit a huge chandelier that hung over the guests and the gold of the candelabras and serving platters glimmered brightly. String instruments were being played on one side of the room, filling the space with a beautiful song that made d'Artagnan drag Constance to the centre to dance. Next to them Aramis was spinning Anne around outrageously, the two of them laughing, not caring about the looks and raised eyebrows from other guests. Half way through the evening the Queen disappeared then returned leading the little King in to make an appearance. His outfit was something to behold; golden fabric with tiny high heeled shoes and ringlets down to his shoulders. The image would have been adorable had he not looked up at his mother with a face that suggested that all he wanted to do was go to sleep.
After he left the dancing began again. Constance danced with Aramis, Porthos – who was slightly over enthusiastic due to the amount of wine he'd had – and various other people she knew, until she couldn't dance any longer. She found Anne sat on a sofa at the edge of the room and sat next to her.
"Having fun?" Anne asked, taking a sip from a glass that a servant handed to her. Constance held up a hand to refuse the one offered to her.
"Too much, I think," she said, taking a deep breath. "I can barely stand after all that." Constance saw Elodie looking slightly lost in a corner on her own. "Do you mind if I call her over?" Constance asked Anne with a nod towards Elodie.
"Of course not," Anne said, "I'd be delighted to finally meet her properly." Constance waved her over and Elodie approached, shyly.
"Your Majesty," she said, respectfully curtseying and keeping her eyes on the floor. Anne smiled and reached forward to take both Elodie's hands and pulled her to sit next to her on the sofa.
"We don't need to bother with all that nonsense," Anne said in a friendly voice. "If Constance likes you then you can guarantee that I will too." Elodie relaxed visibly at this and began chatting with Anne as if they had been friends for years.
D'Artagnan approached after a while, a glass of wine in each hand.
"Want one?" he asked Constance with a grin. She stood to meet him but shook her head.
"No thanks, but I could do with some water?" He nodded and kissed her forehead before going to get her drink.
"He's so sweet to you," Anne said, watching him go. Constance placed her hands on her stomach and laughed.
"He should be; I'm carrying his child after all."
"Excuse me, ladies," said a masculine voice in an English accent. All three of them looked up to see a gentleman sweeping a feathered hat off his head and bowing in front of Anne. Constance looked to her to introduce the stranger, but Anne had shot to her feet and was allowing the man to kiss her hand, grinning from ear to ear.
"My Lord Buckingham!" she said graciously. "How lovely it is to see you!"
"The pleasure is all mine, your Majesty," he said, rising from his bow. "It pains me that it has been so long since I have last set eyes on you." Anne blushed, much to Constance's amazement. She studied the Duke, trying to understand Anne's behaviour. He wasn't unattractive, perhaps a little old for her, but he looked strong and had a pleasant face. However, as she watched the pair converse, she could see that it was very much the Duke's character that Anne found so charming.
"You have to introduce me to your beautiful companions," Buckingham said.
"Of course," smiled Anne. "This here is Elodie du Vallon, wife of General du Vallon – who I'm sure you will meet at some time tonight."
"I'm sure I will," he said, taking Elodie's hand and bowing his head. "I'm honoured to meet you, Madame du Vallon."
"Pleasure to meet you too, my Lord," Elodie said, grinning at being addressed thus.
"And this is Constance d'Artagnan, her husband is Captain d'Artagnan of the Musketeers," Anne said, placing a delicate hand on Constance's arm. Buckingham went to repeat the same action he had just performed to Elodie when suddenly there was a loud noise from across the room that Constance recognised as a shot from a pistol.
Screaming erupted around them and the movement of guests shifted from the careful, deliberate steps of the dances into the panicked, frantic running of people trying to escape from an unknown threat.
"What on earth-?" Buckingham said, turning to see where the commotion was coming from. There was another shot - Constance couldn't work out where from - then, abruptly, Buckingham was falling. He was dead before he hit the floor. Anne was screaming, Elodie was calling for Porthos, but Constance couldn't think, she was still staring at the wide, unmoving eyes of Buckingham as the rest of the guests were streaming around her. Something was pulling her back, away from the crowd, when she saw them; men, dressed in Spanish clothing, converging on the people in the hall, shooting indiscriminately. D'Artagnan was nowhere to be seen, even when Constance yelled his name. Anne was still pulling on her arm, crying that she had to get to her son.
"Elodie," Constance whispered under her breath as they left for the door. She spun round and raised her voice in desperation. "Where's Elodie?" As she said her name she found her, still clinging to the sofa they had been by moments earlier. They locked eyes, Elodie looking terrified, and then she disappeared under the surging multitude of people.
"Constance, we have to go, please!" Anne pleaded with her, pulling, ever more desperately towards the door, tears falling down her face. Then, suddenly, her expression dropped away and her she silently mouthed "Aramis," while staring over Constance's shoulder. She turned to see what she was looking at and saw him fighting two of the intruders. One pulled his pistol, aimed, and Aramis hit the polished floor.
Anne was screaming again and Constance, though unable to process what had just happened and fear for d'Artagnan filling her body, pulled Anne out of the hall and up a staircase, away from the carnage that was taking place. They ran along the corridor towards the King's rooms, holding up their skirts to keep from falling, until something collided with Constance. For what felt like a second, the world went dark, then, dazed and on the floor, she could hear Anne shouting. She cried out and someone was dragging her by her hair into a room. When she was released Constance sobbed and crawled into a corner, trying to hide herself behind the ornate chair that was all she could see.
Footsteps and gentle hands told her that Anne had run over to her and her face swam into view as she checked Constance was okay.
"Stay exactly where you are," an erratic voice said. Constance looked up and saw a man, one of the attackers, pointing a pistol at them, his hands shaking and his eyes wide. "Make one move and I'll kill you both."