And finally, the story is back. Thank you all for your patience and ongoing support. The exam season is brewing madly for me once more, but I have been able to write some more over the holidays. So there should be another update shortly. :)
x Nessa
Chapter 14 - Open Secrets
There was no telling what time it was. As Désirée sneaked along the upstairs hallway the first tender rays of dawn grazed the high walls. The day was trapped somewhere between daybreak and morning; as was she. After she had woken with a start, sleep had refused to return.
It had not been long until restlessness had driven her out of bed for good. Quietly she had slipped outside for a walk. Now here she was, aimlessly wandering through her new home. As she moved the old floorboards creaked under her bare feet, despite the lavish carpet that covered them. The sound brought back memories of the old mission house back in China. The further she walked the more it comforted her disquieted nerves.
Yesterday night Evangeline had returned to her, afraid and shaking all over. She had completed the task Désirée had given her with success. The cardinal would meet her in the morning, at the chapel of the old seminary. It was good news, but the price had been high. Looking at her maid, she knew that Richelieu had scared the life out of the girl, threatening her or even worse. The blank expression of fear in Evangeline's large, round eyes had chilled Désirée to the bone. It had not left her for the rest of the night, instilling her with a crippling sense of guilt. What had she done?
Suddenly, the nearby sound changed its pattern, returning her attention to the here and now. Startled Désirée held on. She was not alone anymore. But when she looked around, there was nobody else in sight. Intently, she listened to the foreign footfalls. They were very quiet, almost soundless. Yet, after years of training, her ears did not fail to make out their location.
Perhaps it was only a servant, going after the early morning's business. But Désirée's curiousity was piqued. She wanted to know who it was. As silently as she could, she changed direction. Very slowly, she crept around the nearest corner, headed straight for the sound. The second she stepped around the bend of the corridor, a loud gasp stopped her dead.
It had not been a servant after all. Instead, a little girl stood in front of her, gawping with her mouth open wide. She was slender and fair-skinned, wearing nothing but a long nightgown. Soft brown curls framed her heart-shaped face and tumbled gently over her bony shoulders. She could be no older than nine. Yet the young one's bearing instilled her with an air of authority, way beyond her years.
Her large corn blue eyes beheld Désirée with intense intrigue as though they were ogling a rare flower.
"Are you a fairy?" she inquired in a high, earnest voice. There was little doubt that she expected a prompt answer.
"I ... no," bemused Désirée shook her head. It was a most absurd question, like only a child could ask it. "Why would I be a fairy?"
The girl allowed herself a victorious smile, for successfully confusing her. "Everyone knows that fairies sneak around the house before dawn, seeking to frighten little children."
Désirée snorted in quiet amusement. The girl before her seemed absolutely serious about fairies being common knowledge. "Well, I am not everyone."
"Who are you then?" the little one demanded with an impatient frown.
"I am Désirée," she said, "and might I inquire your name as well?"
"My name is Anne de Bourbon, firstborn daughter of Prince Henri de Condé", the child responded, thoughtfully scrunching up her nose, "so I believe you should bow before me."
Désirée wanted to laugh out loud. She had never seen this much presumptuousness in a person so young before.
"Perhaps," she allowed with a thin smile. Now it was her turn to bewilder the little girl."But what if I am a noble Mademoiselle as well?"
The creases on Anne's forehead deepened. "Well, are you?"
Désirée shrugged. Suddenly she realized that she was not even sure of it herself. At yesterday's dinner, nothing much had been said about the issue. Neither by her mother, nor her uncle. "I do not really know."
"Then let's pretend that you are," the little one conceded at last. Unexpectedly, she curtsied. Next she looped her hand around Désirée's arm unasked. "Would Mademoiselle do me the honour of visiting the nursery, as my guest?"
After a moment's thought, Désirée nodded. She had no wish to upset the young lady; so it was her best bet. "I would, Mademoiselle." Silly as it felt to her, the invitation promised to be a much better distraction from her rampant thoughts than aimlessly wandering the halls.
With quick steps, Anne led her towards the rooms at the end of a short side corridor. Once inside, she stopped, allowing Désirée to have a glance around.
Désirée took a cursory look at her new surroundings. They stood in the middle of a large playroom with sizeable windows that would flood it with sunlight by day. But now only a faint, orange-grey light filtered inside, reinforced by a handful of candles flickering on the light blue plaster walls. She wondered who had lit them, for Anne was not yet tall enough to have done it.
In the corners of the vast room toys in all shapes and sizes lay gathered in neat piles and stacks. Not far from the front windows, a brightly painted rocking horse caught the pre-dawn light. For a split second, she felt tempted to sit on it. But, as the little one claimed the perch upon the wooden creature's back, Désirée settled for a nearby chair instead.
Thoughtfully she gazed at Anne. It seemed odd that a young girl of her standing should be left here, all on her own. Désirée had taken about a day to realize that it was nearly impossible to avoid attendance in this house. Yet here they were, completely alone.
"You have a governess, do you not?" she inquired with a frown.
Anne responded with a mischievous grin. "Of course, but she is quite useless at this hour... still fast asleep." She twisted a strand of her thick curly hair around a finger. "But my little brother is just as useless. He's still a baby and all he ever does is sleep, cry or be sick."
Désirée chuckled quietly at Anne's views. "I think that is what babies do."
"Yes," Anne huffed, "Still, I am bored, alone with him. I wished Louis was here. But he is away to school..."
"Is he your brother, too?" Désirée inquired quite needlessly.
And the little one rolled her eyes at the daftness of her question. "Of course he is. And he used to wake me at this hour, to play." The girl paused to study her intently, a little scowl forming on her face. "You seem to know nothing at all. Have you not been educated?"
"I have been," Désirée merely sighed at so much impertinence. "When I still lived in China..."
Her revelation made Anne gape open-mouthed. When she had regained her wits, she was wrinkling her nose. "You are making that up . . . "
"Hardly," she replied with a half-smile. "There are also monks and priests in China and they have taught me all I ever needed to know: Latin, Greek, sword fighting and the like."
"Fine, I believe you," Anne regarded her with her bony arms folded in front of her chest. "For a moment I thought that you were, in fact, an uneducated peasant."
Désirée's mouth fell open. There had been no venom in this childish remark; yet it left her dumbfounded. This young lady's airs were definitely not something she had seen before. At this age she herself had been brought up to honour and respect every living being without condition. Now she found herself groping for a kind response. But she never got to utter a single word.
"Anne, your cousin is hardly a peasant."
Désirée winced. The booming male voice sounded very familiar: It was Prince Henri. Within a split second, she slipped into a deep curtsey. Something about him made her feel as though she had been caught red-handed, doing things she was not supposed to do.
From the corner of her eye, she saw Anne blanch. Very obviously, she felt the same. "Papa," she murmured. "I..."
"You were not thinking, I know," the prince retorted. Suddenly, Désirée noticed that he was holding out a hand to her. "Stop doing that", he whispered under his breath.
Perplexed at the prince's reaction, she grasped it and allowed him to pull her to her feet.
"You should apologize," he went on with a shrewd look at his daughter.
"Of course, Papa." Anne's cheeks were flushed a deep shade of scarlet. She knew very well that she had done wrong. Without further need of an invitation, she bowed her curly head at Désirée. "Forgive me, Mademoiselle."
Désirée acknowledged the gesture with a warm smile. She could not help but pity her little cousin. "There is nothing to forgive."
Now Henri was content as well. "That is better. However, I have to wonder why you are up at this ungodly hour. We should put you back into bed."
Her father's suggestion did not sit well with Anne. The disgruntled look on her face spoke volumes. Yet she knew she had to admit defeat. Without protest, she allowed him to scoop her up into his arms.
Before he carried off his daughter, Henri turned to Désirée. "Wait here. I will be back shortly."
She merely gave him a meek nod certain to receive a thorough scolding upon his return. After all, she had no business skulking about the nursery.
Though the feared reprimand never came. When the prince reappeared he regarded her with a thin-lipped smile. "Why does it not surprise me to find you awake at four in the morning?"
"I would not know," Désirée muttered. Deep down, she was still weary of him.
"It seems to be the curse of our family," he went on gesturing for her to sit back down. "Please. We are not at court."
He had a point. Now that she had a chance to study her uncle more closely, she realized that he was still in his dressing gown as well.
"Or it might be guilt," Désirée admitted, staring at her hands. They were trembling.
Henri made no immediate reply. Instead he pulled up a chair for himself. "You may be right." Unexpectedly, his palm came to rest on top of her hands. "The burden of illegitimacy is a wicked thing."
Désirée gasped. Wide-eyed she stared at him. "What would a prince know of it?"
To her great bewilderment he laughed out loud. "You really do not know, do you?"
"Know what?" she questioned. His wry expression confused her even more.
"That we share the same fate. It is an open secret," Henri sighed. "You most certainly have more Bourbon blood in you than I ever did. I can understand that your mother has held back about it; but I am surprised that the Musketeers have not told you."
Désirée felt her jaw drop in shock. "They know...?"
"Everybody knows. Yet nobody understands. I assume people kept telling you that you were not to blame as well?" he asked seemingly certain of her answer.
"Constantly," she admitted. "But they always made me feel as though the opposite was true." Oftentimes, some of her father's brethren had been very cruel to her, intent to make her pay for the unspeakable sin running in her blood. Her father had fought them, for her suffering had broken his heart. But he had not always been there to save her. Even though years had passed these memories still stung... Suddenly a single tear dropped into her lap. Full of embarrassment, she rubbed her eye.
Henri, however, had already noticed. "I did not mean to upset you."
"I am not upset... just angry," Désirée faced away, struggling to calm herself.
"I understand," he said at last. "But at least they were honest with you. In my case, the present king's father simply decreed it did not happen. Yet, the court has never stopped talking behind my back."
When she looked back at him, his face had changed. Cold, seething anger had clenched his jaw. Carefully Désirée reached for his balled fist. "What happened to your father?" she asked quietly before she got a chance to stop herself.
"Hanged shortly after I was born with my mother nearly sharing his fate," Henri muttered without looking up. "I hope your father had a better death."
"It was slow and painful," Désirée sighed. "And it was I who took the punishment."
Alarmed the prince looked up. "What do you mean?"
Before she knew what she was doing, Désirée grasped his hand and slipped it beneath the back of her smock. "They caned me, not a week later. I was accused of dishonouring him by claiming my rightful place as his daughter."
"Who did this?" Henri snapped. "I will make them pay."
"They are already paying," she stated breathlessly. His sudden outburst had startled her. She had not expected her uncle to sympathize, let alone show any feelings at all.
"Good", he withdrew his hand and stood. Carefully he raised Désirée to her feet as well. "And you can rest assured that it will not happen again."
The determination in his voice left little doubt about that. Yet she wondered whether he would still protect her with such fervour when he found out about the foolish act she had chosen to commit yesterday. Still it felt wrong not to tell him, after her uncle had shown so much honesty.
"I am afraid to tell you this, but illegitimacy is not my only transgression," she confessed in a low voice, biting her lip.
The statement sparked his interest, but not in a good way. He beheld her with an intense frown. "What have you done? Do not tell me you have murdered someone."
"No, of course not," Désirée observed. He was not the first to assume as much and she was becoming fed up with that preposterous notion. Apparently, bastards were also murderers... She bit her lip. Although she had no murder to confess, it made the act no easier. "I have arranged a clandestine meeting with the cardinal."
"And why on earth would you do that?" Henri questioned, more intrigued than upset. Although the warmness had vanished from his voice. It had seeped away within but one sentence. Désirée sensed that one wrong word could endanger everything now.
She sighed struggling to offer a sensible explanation. "I want to know who desired my death. And the man who hired the assassins will not give up the secret. If I do not find out who told him off, I shall live in fear forever."
Her uncle's features had become unreadable now. "This matter should be up to the Musketeers. It is not your place to concern yourself with it."
His thoughtful stare unsettled her. It reduced her to an idiotic child. She could not help but disagree: "If this were about capturing an ordinary criminal, it would indeed not be up to me. But matters are different. The man who tried to kill me was not supposed to know about my return, let alone my mere existence. The cardinal made sure of that once yet, apparently, his little conspiracy has failed..."
"Do you assume that Richelieu already knows?" Henri frowned.
"I hope so, yes," Désirée replied, beholding the prince full of anticipation for his reaction. He seemed to disapprove of her plan and it was not her intention to incur his anger.
"For a moment, I took you for a fool. But this plan is not entirely insensible after all", he conceded after a brief but heavy silence. His stern glare, however, had not disappeared. "Although, next time, you will speak to me first. I cannot afford to endanger my position only because my niece engages my political enemies on a whim."
It was not a request. Désirée sensed that contradicting would be a most dangerous affair now. "As your highness wishes," she murmured with a slight bow of her head. "It is a comfort that he is not only my enemy."
"And, most likely, that is your only safety from his schemes," Henri added. "As long as you have powerful protectors, the cardinal will not dare touch you."
Full of surprise she glanced at him. She had not expected such an expression of favour from her princely uncle. "So I can count you among that number?"
"Of course." Obviously her obtuse question had amused him. "We cannot leave the entire burden to God and Father Martin now, can we?"
"You know him?" Désirée inquired, raising her brows. This was yet another unexpected piece of news. Prince Henri seemed to guard his secrets well, in spite of stating the opposite.
He merely smirked at her enigmatically. "He was one of my tutors. And, through him, I also knew your father. Fleetingly at least..."
"I had no idea," she gasped quietly. Now she was truly baffled. "Then how could the cardinal keep all knowledge about me from you?"
Henri merely shook his head. "I would not know; but, certainly, it happened through a great act of cunning."
"It would seem so." Without her noticing its approach, a shudder crept up her back.
If Richelieu was capable of deceiving a royal prince there was no telling what he could do to her, whenever he chose. And, by meeting him, she had chosen to expose herself to his destructive powers. Never before had Désirée looked at her plan this way. At once, she felt unspeakably stupid. In a struggle to suppress the rising anger at herself, she balled her hands into tight fists, clenching the fabric of her bed gown.
Of course, her sinking heart did not go unnoticed. At once, Henri's finger brushed against her wrist. "It seems as though you need a lesson in choosing the right adversaries," he commented with a lopsided smile. "It is not too late to pull back."
Désirée rolled her eyes. She would not stand down now. "Do I look as though I am a coward?"
"No. And neither would I expect it of you," he replied, carefully unclenching her fist. "You are a Condé after all. No matter how foolhardy our choices, we stand with them until the end."
"Standing is better than running," she replied with quiet relief. At once, she felt very tired. She had made her final choice now. And, with the newfound certainty, sleep had returned to her. "If your highness does not mind, I would like to retire now."
As the prince acknowledged her wish with a nod, she awarded him the smallest of curtsies and turned away.
She had not walked two steps when his deep voice stopped her again. "Désirée."
"Yes, your highness?" When she looked back over her shoulder, there was a slight quiver in her voice she could not control.
For a moment she feared that he had changed his mind. But he had not. "Do not tell your mother. Her mood gets quite unbearable when she is upset."
Désirée had to smile a little without knowing why. "I would not dream of it."
Henri nodded at her. The sparkle in his eye told her that they had an understanding. It connected them both in a conspiracy of unknown proportion. A moment ago, Désirée would have blanched at the mere idea of it. And now, she was simply too tired to care anymore, knowing that her secret plan would be safe, no matter what happened.
xx
Dawn had barely broken over Paris when the Musketeers walked their horses towards the Palais de Condé. Their mood was solemn and nobody was very inclined for a chat. The news of Désirée's secret plans had shocked them all. Now all they could hope to do was to contain the damage she was about to cause. If it was not already too late...
"Do you think we will get to her in time?" D'Artagnan inquired in the speechless silence. Deep concern creased his brow. If they were not, the consequences of her actions could prove fatal.
"I think so," Athos replied, rather glumly, even for his usual standard of untainted realism. As they reached the downtown palace he led them around the back to a side gate that opened into the stable yard. If they were to catch the young woman, here would be their best chance. Certainly, Désirée would not sneak out of the palace's front door. In spite of her grave misjudgment, even she had too much sense for that.
And, indeed, they did not have to wait long. Not ten minutes after their arrival, a shrouded figure appeared in the yard. Porthos was the first to recognize that it was her. As he did, he breathed a ragged sigh of relief: They had not come too late after all.
As Désirée led her saddled horse through the postern gate, she was startled to see them waiting for her. Even though the hood of her coarse woolen cloak hid most of her face, the way her fist clenched around the bridle told them everything they needed to know. She was very nervous, as if she knew exactly that she was about to go wrong.
"Gentlemen," the young woman murmured with a fleeting smile. "What brings you here so early in the day?"
Her feeble attempt at joviality did not fool Athos. "We could ask you the same question," he retorted coolly as he fixed her with a shrewd glare.
After Aramis and D'Artagnan had told him about their chance encounter of yesterday evening he had felt betrayed. At first, he had hoped that Désirée had nothing to do with the dealings his two comrades had witnessed. But now her involvement became unmistakable: She had indeed sent the maid to solicit a meeting with Richelieu, just when the cardinal was most desperate for any chance to destroy her.
"It looks as though you already know," she replied with a deadpan glance right at him. Her innocent pretense at ignorance had evaporated from one second to the next. Now the ice in her defensive tone made even Porthos cringe.
For brief moment Athos felt the urge to scold her. But it was pointless: she was in a state of self-defense. One wrong word would suffice to spark her explosive temper. And then, any chance to talk sensibly would be forfeit for good.
Aramis seemed to sense exactly how he felt. After a brief pause he took matters into his own hands. "We know a few things. And they have worried us," he stated with a frown full of genuine concern. Of them all, her clandestine plans had upset him the most. Now he made no effort to hide his concerns for her wellbeing.
"You need not worry", she replied more gently, in a tone softened by his worried look. "Still, you better stay out of this. It is on my head alone." Quickly, she moved forward, trying to outmaneuver Aramis. But he simply leaped from the saddle and stepped into her way. Before she knew it he seized her horse by the bridle and placed his free hand on her arm.
"I am sorry. This is not how things work. If something happened to you, we would never forgive ourselves," he stated with an unmistakable note of exasperation. Like they all, he was hard-pressed to find out her true intentions. By the looks of it, she was putting herself into a very dangerous position. "Be honest: You are meeting the cardinal, are you not?"
His knowledge hardly fazed Désirée. Although it did make her groan. She nodded slowly, chewing her lower lip. "I have to do it..."
"But why?" D'Artagnan inquired impatiently. A moment ago, Athos had seen him roll his eyes, visibly channelling his annoyance with Désirée's plans. Athos had an inkling of what she sought to find out. And his darkest suspicion proved right.
"Because he is the only one who might know anything about de Courtenay's informer," she replied.
Her idea did not pacify D'Artagnan's sentiment. "And you simply go and ask him? That's stupid, even for your standards."
"It is no news you take me for stupid." There was a dangerous sparkle in Désirée's eyes now, daring D'Artagnan to speak another word, so that he might regret it. But the young man did not even blink at her provocation. "Otherwise you would not have kept the truth from me."
Her accusation sparked an exchange of confused glances. Athos realized that his friends' gazes had come to rest upon him as though he knew what she was talking about. And, in fact, he did not have to think hard to figure it out. This was about her uncle.
"Has he told you then?" he questioned with a frown. So much openness was unlike Henri de Condé, but definitely not beyond him. The prince had always been a man of many surprises. To Athos, it would not even be very surprising if the prince had turned his niece against them, just for the joy of the game.
"He has indeed," Désirée replied flatly, regarding him with an intense glare. "And he was surprised you had not mentioned it to me already."
Next to Désirée Aramis groaned meaningfully. "Yet I doubt that he has told you the whole story. Or did you know that his mother killed your grandfather to hide her act of infidelity?"
"Aramis..." Athos shook his head. Much as this revelation was true it would not help resolve the situation. If his friend was hoping to startle Désirée into silence, his plan was bound to fail.
For now, the young woman appeared calm. But a tremor had come over her body. Any second now, she would fly at him. "Is it true?" she questioned sharply. Her eyes darted around, like those of a caged beast, ready to pounce.
Realizing what he had done Aramis tried to contain the damage he had caused. With cautious gentleness, he grasped her hand. "It is. But please, forgive me for speaking out of turn."
Instead of a reply she snatched away her hand. It happened so quickly that it seemed as though she was about to strike him to the face. "Was it so hard to tell me this before?" she snapped callously.
Now, for the first time, Porthos spoke up. And it was for the better. Another word from Aramis was likely to end in serious injury. "We did not want to upset you. So yes, it was," he admitted with a trace of ruefulness in his voice.
"Well, you have upset me now," Désirée sighed. His words had eased her temper a little, although her glare into Aramis's direction remained unchanged. "And I have upset you."
"Disappointed is more like it," Athos stated. Even though the young woman was beginning to realize her mistake, he would not let her off without voicing his opinion.
Promptly, Désirée's turned to look at him again. She seemed intent on getting the last word. "Whichever. Shall we call it even?"
"If you wish," he replied. "Just see that it does not happen again."
With a nod, she snatched her horse's reins from Aramis's hand and climbed into the saddle without even waiting for his help. Before she spurred it into a walk, she glanced back at them. "Are you coming then?"
They needed no second invitation to mount up. Only Aramis stayed right where he stood. His disinclination to stay in Désirée's presence was more than obvious. "I think I shall check on Evangeline and see that the cardinal has not frightened her too much."
His concern appeared to surprise Désirée. But then, her chamber maid was a pretty woman. After bearing her mistress's anger, she might provide him with some distraction. "I would appreciate that. But, should you lose a single word of my whereabouts to my mother I will punch you hard."
Her threat brought an ironical smirk to his lips. "And what of your lord uncle?"
"Oh, he knows," she stated nonchalantly, surprising them all. The next second, she kicked her horse into motion.
This news left D'Artagnan speechless for a very long moment. As he finally closed up to Athos, he was scowling. "One day with the nobility and she is already conspiring with them..." he observed darkly.
"Give her time", Athos replied calmly. "Eventually, she will realize that it is not the way." He knew that Désirée was smarter than this and he had faith that she would learn her lesson soon enough. Yet, perhaps, she would not learn it without suffering. If she indulged in Henri de Condé's games for too long, getting hurt was inevitable. It was an open secret.
xx
To be continued very soon. ;)