Nancy and Alaina stood before Derell, the candlelight was casting menacing shadows over his face making the devilment in his eyes leap out over the two women. The house which once held such allure and adventure had consumed her spirit and for the first time, in a long time, Nancy was scared. She stood solid and erect, determined not to let Derell see the affect he had over her. But if Nancy thought she was exerting herself to conceal her fear, Alaina deserved an award for her efforts. She held her hands tightly behind her back to hide the trembling. Her eyes fell on every part of the room that was not in the vicinity of Derell and her breathing was so ragged that she worried she might faint.
Derell was sat behind a desk, despite his menacing look he was laid back in his chair with his feet propped up in front of him, his hands were supporting his head and he exuded an air of superiority. These women were afraid of him and he enjoyed the power it gave him.
"What exactly are you trying to say?" his nonplussed attitude disconcerted the women.
"I don't know how much longer we can put these musketeers off." Nancy was trying to project confidence but her insides shook.
"You mean your powers of seduction have weakened? Because Nancy, I must say without them you are quite useless to me-"
"I mean, it's not enough. Not for these men."
He chuckled to himself and thought he had never met a man that could not be lured from their thoughts with the advances of a beautiful woman. These musketeers must be of a different breed than those he was used to dealing with. He swung his legs off the desk and rose from his seat.
"What do you want from me?" the humour he felt a moment ago had vanished, his eyes were darkened and Alaina physically recoiled from his glare.
"What's next?" she felt meek but her small voice spoke volumes in the silence of the room, it sounded almost intimate. He looked at her as if her presence had offended him; he silently leant forward and placed his hands on the desk balancing him as he bowed forward slightly.
"What's next?" he whispered almost inaudibly. "WHAT'S NEXT?!" he screamed at the women as he slammed his fists on the table making them jump. "What is next?...hm?" He moved to stand in front of them, he approached Nancy and she held her ground not moving from the erect stance she had adopted at the beginning of their conversation. "If you don't think of something my dear, they'll find out won't they? And what do you think your dear Porthos will do then?" He softly run a finger across Nancy's cheek and she fought had against the urge to slap it away. "What will you do then?" his hand reached the nape of her neck and he grabbed at her hair and repeated viciously directly into her ear, "what will you do then?"
"I could go to Aramis." Alaina exulted desperately and Derell's attention was snatched away from Nancy.
"Is that a threat?" he asked approaching her menacingly.
"No, I could go to Aramis and tell him things...wrong things. Give him a false lead? Distract them from us."
Derell had let go on Nancy and was approaching Alaina slowly, like a predator advancing on its prey. She took a leaf out of Nancy's book and tried to give an impression of confidence, she maintained eye contact and a challenging stance.
"False information? You think he would believe you?"
"I could persuade him." She was almost begging but trying her hardest not to appear desperate. She knew what Derell was capable off and did not want to be on the receiving end of one of his fists.
Evette was sat at the table she held her chin in her hands and again became a part of the Bonacieux furniture. The married couple were going about their usual day, Bonacieux was being overly affectionate but Constance was curiously repulsed- more so than usual.
"I can do that my love", he said taking a stack of fabrics from her and organising them himself. So she moved on to wiping down glasses that had recently been used, but was again told to cease with the task and relax. He attempted to caress her face and kiss her hands but was met with impatient withdrawals and brooding tempers.
She could sense the resentment bubbling inside herself and knew that if only she weren't married that happiness was within her grasp. It wasn't easy to get a Musketeer, but she managed to and knew they could never be together. Constance hadn't realised how bored she was, how much she craved adventure and longed for affection. But mostly she hadn't realised how incompatible her and Bonacieux were. His touch made her skin crawl and even though in her heart she knew that he meant well, she couldn't help but resent him for keeping her away from the life that she longed for. After resigning to giving up all activity, she sat next to the window and gazed out daydreaming whilst her husband hustled and bustled all around her.
Alaina made her way to the musketeer garrison. She fussed with her dress, smoothing out the creases and paused every so often to perfect what she would say to Aramis. She was mouthing the words she would say and the more she practiced the higher her nerves got.
When she walked into the garrison she scanned the faces of the men all around, she recognised a few as her customers. This kind of circumstance always amused her, there were the men who would acknowledge her happily- some would wave, some would wink, others would even approach her for a friendly conversation. But then there were the others. The hypocrites and usually the most depraved- they had no problem sharing her bed, kissing her lips and using her body; but in the light of day she couldn't pay them to give her the courtesy of a few seconds of eye contact. Sometimes men really sickened her.
She spotted Aramis cleaning his musket* as he sat at the table. He was flanked by two other Musketeers she'd never seen before and the nerves came flooding back to her. She took a few steadying breaths and approached the men. With each step she attempted to perfect the persona she kept solely for her work; if she was going to convince Aramis that she knew nothing, it was going to take some skill.
"Monsieur Aramis?"
As soon as he heard her voice, he stowed his musket, safely of course and removed his hat.
"I suppose you may remember me? Alaina...from the other night." She looked playfully at the two men behind him and said, "Perhaps we could go somewhere a little more...private?"
He smiled at her new attitude and led her to his room. Once she was inside, she remained quiet.
"Alaina? That's a beautiful name."
She resisted his eye contact as the nerves overcame her.
"What can I do for you..Alaina?" He had adopted his seductive tone but she wasn't susceptible to it.
"You asked me about that girl, the one you found in the market-"
"Joy. Yes?"
"I remembered something..."
"So you did know her?"
"We weren't exactly friends if that's what you mean."
"That's not what I asked now is it."
"I knew her." She paused to gather her thoughts and tried to create the allusion of being contrite. "I didn't tell you before because she wasn't the kind of girl you would want to be associated with. She had a reputation."
"I didn't think status and repute were things that concerned-"
"Whores?" She interrupted him. "I did not come here to be judged Monsieur, you asked me for information-" she was hastily making her way toward the door glad of the excuse to leave, but he blocked her way and held her arms keeping her in place.
"I'm sorry Mademoiselle, I forgot myself. I'm grateful for anything you can tell me."
She relaxed again and tried to recall the story she had invented. He motioned to a chair and asked her to sit.
"Please, continue."
"Like I said, she wasn't the kind of person you would want to be associated with. She spoke out of turn, she would leave the house for days without telling anyone, she gambled-"
"Gambled?"
"The money she made in Pascal, wouldn't last her more than a day. She spent and owed money all over the city to god knows whom. Truthfully, I'm surprised it didn't happen sooner."
Aramis considered her words but wasn't convinced.
"Do you know of anyone else she was associated with? Who she would go to when not in the house?"
"Like I said, I tried not to be associated with her."
Aramis sighed and frustrated with the lack of viable information, thanked Alaina for coming in to see him and evidently she thought she had done enough to assuage their interest in Pascal House. She left Aramis' room and made her way back through the garrison. Aramis escorted her as far as the exit then turned back to the table he was at when she had approached him. Still sat there was Athos and D'artagnan, he sat opposite them shaking his head.
"She's covering for someone" He answered to their inquisitive looks. "Her hearts not in it though," he looked back to where she had left the building, "she didn't try very hard to convince me."
Bonacieux had just left the women for a moment of rare peace. He had an errand to run and after much persuasion from his wife, he agreed to go after he had locked them indoors.
Constance had spent much of the day staring contemplative out of the window and although Evette wasn't overly fond of the woman who was breaking her brother's heart, seeing anyone looking so woeful was depressing.
"Forgive me Madame, but I can't help but notice...you're not...yourself today." She was approaching her carefully hoping not to ignite the temper she knew her landlord possessed.
"You're very observant." Constance didn't even move her eyes away from the window, "Have you ever felt, that your life was out of your control?" Evette was shocked that she had continued the conversation, she pulled a chair from the table and joined her at the window. "Like, no matter what you do things will happen. You will end up in the same place, with the same people and not even know how you got there."
Honestly, Evette was confused by this question but decided to listen on hoping to decipher a meaning from it. "I never thought that when I married Bonacieux. I thought that I loved him."
"You could leave him."
"And be destitute?"
"D'artagnan would look after you, you know that."
"A musketeer is a man of honour. I couldn't let him walk through that garrison knowing he has destroyed a marriage."
"He already does." Constance looked at her and realised for the first time, that regardless of whether she stays with Bonacieux or not, their marriage was over.
"I don't know if I can do it" she was whispering and tears were forming in her eyes, "I'm not strong enough."
"I beg to differ, I know we've not been intimately acquainted since my arrival but from what I have observed, you are strong. Not many women can hold their own in a roomful of Musketeers and be considered their equal."
"You could."
"I didn't say it was unique, I said rare." She smiled and was glad that Constance's cold facade was melting. "I am not one to conform to the rules, things have happened and I try to live my life in a way that benefits me. And in all honesty, I am happier for it. I may be judged for my brazen behaviour or when I speak before I think but it's worth it."
She left Constance to her thoughts and decided to pay the garrison a visit. It was high time her and her brother cleared the air.
Walking up to the garrison always reminded her of the night she arrived. Rage pulsated through her body and she wanted nothing more than to hurt her brother. She wouldn't have killed him but she just wanted revenge for abandoning her. She resented him for his freedom and hated that he judged her for not choosing the life he wanted for her.
Caught up in her own contemplations she was inside the barracks before she realised, it was mostly empty and she had to search around for a familiar face. She walked under the archways and behind the beams hoping to recognise her brother amongst the few faces that were there, but she was disappointed. She crossed to the other side and caught a glimpse of a uniform she recognised. Athos stood in outside of a door, presumably his room but was not alone. Standing with him was a very beautiful woman. They were close together and whispering intensely, Evette stayed back and was paralysed on the spot. Athos eventually turned and opened the door and guided the woman into his room with his hand of the small of her back. Evette, who had been holding her breath remembered to breathe and felt winded. She turned and fled from the garrison, hoping never to see that musketeer again.