Greetings, all! Thank you so much for all the great feedback on the last chapter. Firstly, I'm sitting here having uploaded this - and don't ask me what I have done or how I did it - but I seem to have succeeded in deleting the last 400 words of this chapter! They have ceased to be and will now constitute the opening of chapter 38 - when I have rewritten it! Just didn't want any of you to feel short-changed by this chapter which is, admittedly, shorter than usual but I'm hoping you'll forgive my ineptitude and take the view that any update is better than nothing.

So what is Milady planning to do?

CHAPTER 37

I

Milady was at the top of the stairs, a quick calculation running through her mind. Five men had escorted Aramis, Porthos and d'Artagnan into the reception room, followed by Desmarais. He did not appear to be armed but that could have been his intention – not to arouse suspicion too early whilst at breakfast, but that did not mean he did not have some sort of dagger concealed about his person or one or more firearms secreted in the room where they were now being held. That could have been a significant reason for the relocation.

She had heard the commotion that accompanied the arrival of the next group of men: Benoit, two Spanish-looking gentlemen and a further pair half-carrying an unconscious Athos. Her stab of concern was momentary. They would not be dragging him into the situation if he were no longer alive so he could be expected to regain consciousness at some point but, as she planned her next move, she knew that she could not count upon him being very effective when the time came to release the Inseparables.

Ann allowed herself a wry smile. She was talking of 'when' they were released; there was no allowance for 'if' in her vocabulary and only one person who could affect a rescue of the four men – her! At that point, the odds against them would be seriously reduced. Speed was of the essence for there was no knowing what Desmarais' plans were for the men and, although she did not want to dwell upon the thought, she had been too far away to ascertain just how badly injured Athos was. If he needed medical attention, that added another layer of urgency.

She looked at the array of weapons at her feet and frowned; perhaps it had not been the wisest decision on her part to lay them there, not if she were to put the next stage of her plan into action. There were several daggers but they were large and undoubtedly heavier than the one she favoured. Sighing, she raised her skirt and retrieved her own weapon from its strapping. It might be smaller and lighter but it was no less deadly. Holding it behind her back, she screwed up her eyes and feigned a few sobs as she stepped into view.

"Help me!" she cried out, making sure that she had the attention of the two men who were standing inside the main door.

"What's the matter?" one of them demanded rudely. His colleague slapped him on the upper arm.

"Show a bit o' respect. That's the Duchess staying with the Baron. You can't talk to 'er like that."

The other man muttered something inaudible but Milady could easily guess from his stance and expression that it was an unpleasant comment about the aristocracy.

The second man stepped forward and looked up at her. "What's the matter, Your Grace?"

"There is …. something … large running about my room. Get rid of it … please," she added as a plaintive afterthought, her hand gesticulating wildly in the direction of the men's rooms and hoping that the man to whom she spoke was not normally of the household and consequently unaware that her room was in the opposite direction.

He glanced at his colleague, unsure as to what to do. "Should I ….?"

"It's probably only a little mouse, Albert," the other said derisively.

"But the Baron wouldn't like to know she was in distress, asking for 'elp and we just ignored her," Albert reasoned.

"We're supposed to be guarding the door."

"An' you can do that for a little while; just as long as it takes me to catch whatever it is. Not as if we're goin' to be attacked now is it? They've got the four of 'em in there an' all tied up. Can't imagine an army turnin' up to rescue 'em in the next few minutes. Besides," and he paused to leer briefly in Milady's direction, "who knows 'ow thankful she might be when I've taken care of her little problem."

The first man laughed coarsely. "You're a bit out of your depth with that one but I'd like to see you try."

They were making no attempt to moderate their voices and Milady could hear every word. It was a genuine struggle to maintain her act of helplessness for long enough. "Just when I was beginning to feel sorry for what I was going to do to you," she whispered to herself. Then, as her gallant rescuer took to the stairs and came towards her, she retreated around the corner and spread her skirts out in a poorly disguised attempt to conceal the weapons.

"Now then, Duchess, where's this …?" he began as he came after her. He stopped dead when he saw the weapons on the ground. He frowned. "What the …?"

He had no chance to finish what he was going to say as Milady's right hand thrust forward, embedding the small dagger into his heart. His eyes registered a brief look of surprise but there was no pain. He merely grunted softly and pitched forward so that she fought to support his weight as she lowered him as quietly as possible to the ground.

"Great conversationalist you are," she said scathingly as she rolled him onto his back, his glassy eyes staring at the ceiling. Pulling out the weapon, she wiped its bloodied blade on his clothing.

"What's that thumping? Everything under control up there?" a voice shouted to them.

She fixed a smile on her face and stepped out to the top of the stairs. "Oh yes," she simpered. "Your friend is so brave. As soon as he made the top step, he saw it and threw himself at it but he missed it. That must be what you heard. Now he's gone chasing it along the corridor and into the last room." She fanned herself dramatically with her left hand. "Thank goodness it is no longer in my chamber."

The man on the ground floor rolled his eyes. "Bloody nobility!"

"Bloody indeed," Milady said softly. "Your turn next!"

II

"What do you think you're doin' treatin' the Minister's secretary like this?" Porthos growled.

Desmarais rolled his eyes. "Oh come now, General. Stop playing games with me. You can drop the pretence." He nodded towards the unconscious man. "I believe I am correct in stating that he is no secretary of any sort. He is Olivier d'Athos, former Captain of the King's élite regiment of Musketeers. The four of you served together, gaining quite a reputation for yourselves and are known by the romantic name of the Inseparables."

The three men remained silent.

"But, of course he has been posing as a landowner west of here and meddling in the affairs of my tenants; spying on me, no less. I suggest, Minister, that it is time you started being honest with me and explain why you are really here."

"Honest!" Porthos exclaimed, his derision audible. "You wouldn't know honesty if it came up and hit you! Why don't you start by telling us what you think you've been doing?"

Desmarais rounded on Porthos and raised his hand as if to strike the big man but seemed to think better of it for his hand sank to his side. "You are in no position to give the orders here, General. You can begin by telling me why you and Captain d'Artagnan here saw fit to bother my tenants."

"Simple," Porthos said. "You've raised taxes twice and deliberately withheld the second lot from the French crown. You've squeezed your tenants until they're goin' hungry and when they've tried to make a quiet protest, your men 'ave overreacted an' gone in heavy, killin' some of 'em – innocent men, women an' children."

Desmarais' expression showed clearly how little he cared. "The Minister here and his so-called secretary have been through my accounts and found nothing amiss. You only have the word of some misbegotten peasants against mine. I think we all know here who would be believed." He looked around at his men and was satisfied with the nods of affirmation that resulted.

"So what have you done with the money?" Aramis demanded. "Given it as a gift to your Spanish guests here?" He was not yet prepared to let the Baron know that he and Athos had found the written evidence secreted in the hunting lodge.

"Do you really think I am going to answer that?" Desmarais asked.

Aramis shrugged. "Of course. You are a man of such unbounded arrogance that I am sure you would wish to tell us everything. Far be it for you to make a mere confession. I think you would want to boast about everything you have achieved before you kill us."

"Now there's a comforting thought," Porthos muttered.

"My dear Minister, you seem to have misunderstood. I have absolutely no intention of killing you," Desmarais insisted.

"I'm relieved to hear it," d'Artagnan added softly.

"No, the only one I shall have great delight in killing is him," and here he pointed at Athos. "He is of no use to me whatsoever and I hate him for his deception. I repeat, he has spied on me and we all know that death is the inevitable outcome for a spy!"

Aramis was not about to confirm or deny Athos' role as Janus.

"You, Minister, on the other hand, are going to be handed over to my Spanish colleagues here and taken to the Spanish held north where you will be encouraged to answer their questions. I will allow your two 'brothers' here to accompany you for I have no doubt that they are also a fount of much information."

"You're enjoyin' this," Porthos commented as the Baron looked very pleased with himself.

"But of course," Desmarais said, giving his prisoners a mock bow.

"They know in Paris where we have come. How are you going to explain our disappearance when people come here searching for us?" asked d'Artagnan.

"Ah but you are leaving here later today and the Duchess and I will stand on the steps to wave you goodbye. As far as I am concerned, you are heading towards Les Andelys, Minister. That is where you claimed to be heading next, was it not? If something were to happen to you beyond my estate and you were to be missing, I can hardly be held responsible. It must be a band of thieves, hell-bent upon mischief and a threat to the innocent traveller.

"In a few days, the sad discovery of a body along that main route will be discovered and I shall willingly put myself forward to identify the remains." He adopted a tone of exaggerated grief. "I will scarce be able to contain my emotion when I recognise the clothing worn by your friend here. It will, naturally, be the deceased Secretary to France's First Minister. Did the beasts have to treat the dead man with such disdain? Such injuries! Were they really necessary? How he must have suffered in his final moments!"

"How touchin'," Porthos said scathingly, anything to hide his concern about Athos being totally expendable.

"You've thought about this," Aramis began. "So what do you hope to gain?" He watched Desmarais carefully. His current intense dislike of the man was reaching new heights.

"Isn't it obvious? With such activity to the north, I want to ensure that my estate is unharmed when the Spanish invade," Desmarais explained.

"And if they don't?" Porthos demanded. "We've already beaten them back decisively once; we can do it again."

"They retreated because they were short of funds -"

"So you thought you'd help them out," d'Artagnan interrupted. "Maybe I'm missing something here but I doubt the money you could raise from your impoverished tenants would be enough to fund a Spanish army for more than …" His voice trailed off as he thought for a suitable number. "A day or two at most? I'm not sure what you expect to achieve, other than bribing the enemy to leave you alone. Strange way to go about things!"

"The tenants are immaterial now. There is the widowed Duchess and her fortune ….."

Aramis threw back his head and laughed. "So that's why the courtship has been so hurried. I thought there had to be a reason behind it." Should he tell the Baron that there was nothing from the 'bogus' marriage and that what she had accrued from other previous arrangements had long gone? He decided that was another gem of information he would hold back for the time being.

"But even she pales into insignificance when compared with handing you over to the Spanish, Minister. You three must be privy to all the strategy and defence plans for northern France, if not the whole country."

"You assume wrongly if you think we will co-operate with the enemy," Aramis said grimly as he stared at the two Spaniards who had stood silently to one side throughout the conversation.

Desmarais shrugged. "That is not my concern. I will have handed you over and it is up to the Spanish to encourage you to impart the information you have. How they do that is entirely up to them but I have heard that their methods are often ingenious and very painful."

Porthos growled and strained at his bindings, a lengthy rope wound twice about him and the chair back. It was interesting that their captors had used different methods in restraining them. Aramis' hands were secured individually to the back legs of his chair whilst D'Artagnan's hands were tied behind him. He had spent the entire time flexing and relaxing his fists and generally wriggling, having quickly realised that the binding felt loose, the knot far from secure. Athos was tied in the same manner as Porthos, but that was more to prevent him from collapsing to the floor than anything else.

"Aren't you at least going to introduce us to your Spanish friends?" Aramis asked, his smile as he gazed at the two black-clad men never reaching his eyes.

"I wasn't going to for it matters little to you but they certainly know who you are," Desmarais said.

"I just like to know who my captors are," Aramis pressed.

"Allow me to introduce myself, Minister." One of the Spaniards stepped forward and spoke in heavily accented French. "I am Agustin Lopez de Rivera and my colleague is Rodrigo Garcia Contador." Ironically, given the situation, both men respectfully bowed simultaneously and, without thinking, Aramis dipped his head.

"Well, now we have dispensed with the pleasantries, my guests and I will retire to the Library to discuss plans for your removal from my chateau," Desmarais turned towards the door.

"Do stay, I'd love to hear the arrangements," Aramis insisted.

The Baron paused. "Oh, you will hear soon enough; I can assure you of that. In the meantime, don't go anywhere, gentlemen. Benoit, join us!" he ordered.

"Do we all have to stay here?" one of the other men dared to ask.

Desmarais glowered at him. "Where are you thinking of going?"

"Only as far as the kitchens; we haven't eaten yet today," the man continued.

The Baron seemed apoplectic at the effrontery of the request but then thought about it, calling over his shoulder as he left the room, "Not all of you at the same time. Leave at least three here guarding them."