A/N I am so sorry! Time is not my friend at the moment... I hope it was worth the (unforgiveable) wait. B x
Chapter 7
The conversation going on behind her was quiet, but just not quite quiet enough.
"I still think she's holding back," Aramis hissed.
"Of course she is, I'm just saying that she's not the one we need to be worried about," Porthos whispered back.
"I don't think so. I don't see that he'll be any worse than she will when she cracks."
"He's not necessarily going to be worse, Aramis, he's going to be different."
Riding ahead of her companions, d'Artagnan resisted the urge to turn round and roll her eyes at her friends. They had been having various versions of this conversation for the two weeks they had been on the road, and they still seemed to think that she hadn't heard almost every one. Aramis and Porthos had proved to be even tenser that she was, apparently waiting for her to burst into a rage, or into a sobbing mess of misery at being made to leave Athos behind. Perhaps she would have, if she wasn't still holding onto her anger at the king for making this happen. Still, as the anger was sure to fade, then her devastation at being pulled away from Athos for what could prove to be months would most surely take over. It was already trying to when she buried herself under her blankets at night.
Now, however, Porthos said something that made her stiffen slightly in the saddle.
"He's going to be alone, Aramis. He's bad enough dealing with things when we're there to keep an eye on him. What is he going to do without us?"
Porthos was right! She'd managed to not think too much about what Athos could revert to at the loss, however temporary, of all of them, not just her. She knew from their stories of the past just how difficult it had been to get Athos to open up to his brothers in the first place, and she knew exactly how bad he had got when at his worst.
"Treville knows," Aramis countered, although the tone of his voice betrayed his concern. "He'll keep an eye out for Athos. He'll keep him busy. Distracted."
"He better. All the same, we better get this dealt with quickly."
She heard the slow walk of the horses behind her quicken their pace, and suddenly Aramis and Porthos were beside her.
"Not long to go now, d'Artagnan," Aramis said easily. "We should be there by mid day."
"You still sure you want to do this?"
She nodded. "I don't think there's another way, do you?"
Porthos sighed. "No, still haven't thought of anything."
"Then that's what we're doing," she said firmly.
Not long into their journey Charline had decided that they needed to meet the potential awkwardness of this whole thing head on, and the first thing they would do was find her sister and explain everything to her. She just hoped that Adalene was receptive to the explanations.
True enough, the sun was approaching its highest point in the sky when they reached the path that marked the edge of Claude de Sauvettere's land. D'Artagnan paused for a moment before turning her horse towards the house, followed closely by Aramis and Porthos. The path led them through the wooded area that surrounded Claude's land until it opened before them into a huge space with the house standing in the middle of it. It wasn't an enormous house, nothing like Athos' house at la Fere, but it was impressive nonetheless. It stood at two storeys, washed white with plants growing up each corner of the building. The space of land in front was well maintained, with the farming buildings round the back hidden from sight.
"It's exactly as she described it," d'Artagnan murmured as Aramis and Porthos came to rest beside her where she'd stopped.
"You haven't been here before?" Porthos asked, surprised.
Charline shook her head. "No, we only saw them when they came to us. Papa wouldn't leave the farm at Lupiac very long, but Claude had men he could put in charge of his land while he was away. I think my sister insisted on visiting home once a year anyway."
"What about now? With your father gone?"
"She knows that Papa was sending me to Paris when he died, and that's where I've stayed, and she knows the Bertrand's family have been looking after it. She knows about the fire too."
"And she doesn't mind that you haven't returned home?" Aramis asked.
"Now that I do not know," d'Artagnan sighed. "But I suppose I should find out." She slid down from the saddle, passing the reins to Porthos before she walked up to the door of the house, knocking loudly. As she waited for sounds from inside the house she found herself unsure if she really wanted to hear any or not. Perhaps another day before she had to explain things to her sister would be a good thing.
It wasn't long before she heard footsteps approaching that told her it was now or never.
"Can I help you?" Adalene asked as she opened the door, looking quickly at d'Artagnan then glancing at the two mounted soldiers on her land. Charline took a moment to look her sister over. She was as beautiful as the last time she had seen her, which must be nearly two years before. Her black hair fell in curls down her back, and her large, dark eyes distracted from her slightly too-long nose. Her rosy mouth dropped open when her gaze returned to d'Artagnan. "Charline?"
"Adalene!" Charline laughed, unable to stop herself throwing her arms around her eldest sister and pulling her into a hug. After a moment Adalene's arms wrapped round d'Artagnan's torso, squeezing her into an even tighter hold.
"I can't believe it, why are you here?" Adalene asked before pushing her away and looking her up and down. "And why on earth are you dressed like that?"
"That, my dear sister is a very long story. Can we come in?"
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It took three hours to get through the entire story, not helped by Aramis and Porthos chiming in with little comments from time to time, or insisting that she include things that she had planned to miss out, like their time escorting the queen during her summer tour and the little midnight swim she had taken before falling asleep over a tree. She blushed furiously when Adalene laughed, and replied with stories from childhood of finding little Charline asleep in the most random of places, from the chicken pen to lying over the back of her father's, thankfully patient, old horse, Buttercup.
When at last they had finished, thankfully without any mention of Milady de Winter or her personal encounter with Labarge, Adalene asked that Aramis and Porthos took care of her afternoon feeding chores on the farm while she took a few moments alone with her little sister. Recognising the look on her face as one that Charline herself had used on them many times, they gallantly agreed and headed outdoors, leaving the two women for some honest conversation.
"I can't quite believe all of this, Charline," Adalene said, shaking her head as she stood to clear the remnants from the quick meal she had put down in front of them.
"I know, it's all a bit strange, I get that," Charline agreed, moving quickly to help. "But it's my life now."
Adalene put down the dishes she was carrying and walked over to d'Artagnan, placing her hands firmly on the younger girl's shoulders and looking her carefully in the eyes. "And are you happy with this life, little sister?"
Charline nodded eagerly. "I am, so happy Adalene."
"Then how can I object?" she sighed with a shrug. "Although I cannot say whether Claude will be as accepting."
"He must be, Adalene. If he gives me away then everything is lost, perhaps even my life."
"I know that!" Adalene snapped. "Please don't remind me of the danger you put yourself in every day with this charade."
"I'm sorry, I know," Charline said, pushing her sister back down into a seat at the kitchen table. "I had no wish to bring this to your door, you must believe me. I am only here because the king wished to punish me."
"By sending you away from this Athos?"
"No," d'Artagnan laughed. "I believe he thinks he is punishing me by sending me away from my friend, Constance. I told you about her. It suits both of us to let people at the palace think there is something between us. Athos staying behind is added punishment in that he is the leader of our little group. I also think he wasn't quite brave enough to send all of us away for so long. He knows that Athos is the best of us, and would rather not do without his protection."
Adalene said nothing and just stared at Charline for a few moments, clearly trying to read something in her face. D'Artagnan sat back and let her look.
Eventually she spoke, reaching out to stroke Charline's cheek with affection. "Perhaps it is as well that Claude is away to the markets for a few days. Some time to work out what exactly to tell him could be the best thing."
Charline grinned. "Thank you, Adalene."
"Well..." her sister shrugged. "Now, before they come back, tell me everything about you and Athos. I want the full story this time!"
Laughing, d'Artagnan launched into the story of everything she could share, from the moment she had watched him speaking with Ninon and realised that he had become everything to her.
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Two days later, d'Artagnan rose early, taking herself out onto the farm to do what jobs she could before her sister awoke. She, Aramis and Porthos had taken on a lot of Adalene's work, in exchange for the bed and board she had insisted they take. Once again, d'Artagnan found herself loving being in the country, and working the land around her.
This morning she was enjoying the peace, as it may or may not be the last she would enjoy, with Claude due home later that day. They were well prepared for the conversation they would have later, and Adalene was confident that he would be just as accepting as she had been, but d'Artagnan couldn't help but worry about her previously antagonistic relationship with him, and about the consequences of the meeting going badly.
It was late morning when she returned to the farmhouse, and Adalene was busy at work in the kitchen. She turned when d'Artagnan deposited a basket of eggs next to her.
"Oh, there you are," she reached out, gesturing to the table with the wooden spoon in her hand. "Aramis and Porthos have gone to the village for me. There's a letter there that I assume is for you."
D'Artagnan's heart quickened as she stepped quickly to the table, snatching up the letter that lay there, addressed to Madame de Sauvettere in Athos' slightly messy hand. Flashing a quick smile at her sister, she ran up the stairs to her room, throwing herself on her bed and ripping open the seal.
D'Artagnan,
As promised, I have found a way to write to you. I hope your sister hasn't read this and been confused, but hopefully I have given you enough time to explain the situation to her, and she will have realised that she wasn't expecting any correspondence from the dressmaker Bonacieux in Paris. I didn't think that there would be any reason for anyone to intercept and read any letters regarding clothing either. I have arranged with Constance that you can write to her at the palace and she will pass your letters to me. It appears that your supposed relationship with her has found itself another use.
I waited two weeks to the day from your leaving to write to you, to give you the time required, but it has been difficult. Not that I have been pining my days away, but so many times I have wanted to talk to you, to look at you, to seek your comfort and company. I believe the last two weeks have demonstrated just how difficult this time is going to be.
Treville has been doing his bit and has kept me busy, helped by the arrival in Paris of a Moroccan, wielding some rather explosive powder. His daughter had been kidnapped by the Spanish who waited for the powder, but he sought our help for her safe return, and promised our king the powder in return. I cannot help but feel that had I had you, Porthos and Aramis by my side things would have been different, but in the end the mission was bungled, and after losing a musketeer to the Spanish for several days, we managed to get him and the daughter back, but we lost the Moroccan and the powder. To say the king was displeased would be an understatement, but he has no other method of punishing me. You are already leagues from Paris, and I am already alone.
I do have to tell you of the latest developments at the palace, d'Artagnan, and I must ask you not to worry for now. Constance got herself into some trouble when the dauphin became ill. She took it upon herself to take him from the palace to be treated, and almost got herself executed. (Our king did not have a good week.) Thankfully, her brave yet foolish actions paid off and the baby survived, but I do not like to think of the consequence if he had not. When next at the palace I sought her out to ask her if she would receive letters from you, and I spoke to her about the incident while I was there. It appears that she does need reminding from time to time what her position is at the palace, and I fear her impetuous nature may get her into trouble. Perhaps, however, she will take heed of the young doctor Lemay who is in regular contact with the palace. He visited during our talk, and I believe I noticed something between them.
The other development, I am afraid, is Milady. Her presence has been noted regularly at the palace, and it appears that she is, or soon will be, the king's new mistress. I do not know what this means for us, or what it means in terms of her intentions, but I will do what I can to find out, and Constance is already keeping an eye open for her, and an ear for anything untoward. Rochefort has also been busy integrating himself further at the palace and spends a great deal of time with the queen. While I would rather avoid Milady, I am doing what I can to watch him any time I am at the palace.
I must go, I'm afraid. We have had reports of a 'heretic' claiming she can speak to God, and we are beginning an investigation today, so I must get to the barracks. Spaniard are being targeted by the girl's associates, and I fear it will become a more troublesome situation than it should. As always I do not know where this will take me, so I will post the letter on my way.
It has occurred to me that in all the time I have known you I have never had the opportunity to write to you, so I will take this opportunity to treat letters as they should be, and tell you what I could not say so easily to your face. I miss you, more than I can possibly say, and I presume it is only going to get worse. I have comfort in knowing that the job you are doing is not a dangerous one, and that you will be returned to me safely. I thought I knew before this how much your presence in my life had become all-encompassing, and vital to my survival. It appears that I was wrong. Two weeks without you is harder than I had imagined it ever being, and the thought of this continuing for the next two months is almost impossible. I will do it though, and I will be fine. Do not worry about me, and do not worry that I am going to be at my worst when you return. I swear to you that I will do everything I can to avoid sinking into melancholy; I will be this man when you return.
Tell Porthos and Aramis that I wish them to hurry back also, but that I will hear if they do not do everything in their power to look after you while you are not with me (please, ignore the little stab of anger that last request shot to your stubborn heart, I will not set eyes on you for at least another two months, so let me have that one, please?).
Above everything, remember that I love you. When you return to Paris we shall take some leave, and we will go somewhere that we can be alone for at least a week. Until then, stay safe and know that I will think of you every day, and no minute will go by that I will not wish that you were with me.
Athos.
And there it was. The little bubble of grief that she had been avoiding since leaving Paris was finally ready to burst. Her hands lightly traced the words on the paper, enjoying the love that so clearly exuded from them. She laughed as she traced his request for her not to be angry; he knew her far too well for her to get away with her stubborn independence very often any more. She had thought this moment would bring her to a flood of sobbing, a complete indulgence in that feminine side that she fought against so much, but instead she found herself laughing through her tears, and reaching for paper and ink so that she could write back to him immediately.
"Charline?"
"What is it?" she called back down to her sister, hand poised to start writing.
"Aramis and Porthos have just arrived back. They passed a horse and cart a few miles away. Claude will be here soon."
With a sigh d'Artagnan dropped the pen in her hand, putting the lid back on the ink. She dashed away the tears on her face and quickly folded up Athos' letter, placing it snugly within her shirt.
"I'll be right there."
Taking a quick glance in the looking glass that stood on the dressing table in her room, she decided that the dried tears could stay. Anything that could garner sympathy from her brother-in-law could be an asset in this upcoming conversation. Squaring her shoulders, she lifted her chin and left the room. Reaching the top of the stairs, she heard Claude's booming voice as he arrive in the kitchen, and the quiet reply of his wife. Seconds later, he was standing at the bottom of the stairs, his eyes bulging as he took in the sight of 'Charles' in front of him.
"Hello, brother," d'Artagnan said.
"What the hell are you doing here?" he demanded incredulously.
D'Artagnan's heart sank at the anger in his voice. Somehow, she didn't think this was going to be as easy as Adalene has been hoping.
