Chapter XXXI...in which Athos longs for Charlotte, and Milady puts her plan into motion...
CHAPTER XXXVI
As the night wore on, Athos' mood became darker. He found it hard to believe that just hours ago, he had awoken with Charlotte lying next to him, pressed against his body. She had blinked at him sleepily, then given him a smile so sweet that he had had to fight to hold back the tears of relief that had threatened to overwhelm him.
When he had realized that she could not recall the hours that she had been separated from him, his heart had twisted to think how close she had come to dying. It troubled him that those memories were hovering at the edges of her brain. He had seen men he had fought with recall incidents that had once been lost to them, only to battle against those demons for the rest of their lives. If only I had talked her through everything this morning. I got caught up in the thrill of feeling her skin against mine, of teasing her…and knowing she was safe. If she awakens with nightmares, I will have only myself to blame.
He stared at the bottle in front of him, judging that a little less than a third was left to drink. Perhaps after that, he would walk the streets of Paris and try to clear his mind in the relative silence of the night.
"Trouble in paradise?" The voice was breathy and sultry, and so akin to Anne's that his heart stopped for a minute. Looking up, however, he saw that it belonged to a petite blonde in a midnight blue, low-cut dress. She sat on the edge of his table, regarding him with a practiced eye.
"Hardly," he responded bitterly.
"In hell then?" she inquired with a smile. "Trouble with a woman, I'm guessing? I can make you forget her, handsome. At least for the night." Her small, light fingers ran along the side of his face, hoping to provoke a reaction.
He filled his goblet, then drank deeply, avoiding her eyes. "I'm not interested." His voice was flat and lifeless.
"That's what they all say at first," she murmured, circling behind him to lower her mouth to his neck, skimming her lips along his skin. "You haven't even asked what the price is, or what I'm willing to do for you in order to help you forget the woman who has made you miserable."
"I don't want to forget," Athos replied, jerking away, his body restless. "In fact, I want to remember so much that-" he stopped, pushed back from the table, and stood up, swaying almost imperceptively. Pushing past her, he emerged into the cold air and gazed up at the night sky, noting the thick fog that was beginning to descend onto the city. Coming to a decision, he set off at a quick pace in the direction from whence he had come.
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Charlotte lay in bed, unable to sleep. Every muscle in her body seemed to hurt, and she supposed it was as a result of the time she had spent exposed to the elements the night before. The walk back to the shop earlier that day had seemed to be the longest journey of her life, although she knew rationally that it had been only a ten minute walk. Her father's pace had slowed after a bit, and he had stopped at a corner, leaning against the wall to try to catch his breath. Charlotte had stared at him, anger coursing through her body.
As his wheezing had slowed, he had looked up and spoke to her gruffly. "Charlotte, give me your arm. The sooner we get back home, the sooner we can put all this mess behind us."
"Is that what you think?" she had asked, her voice incredulous. "You think that I'm just going to go back to the shop and carry on as if I had never met Athos?"
"We've already discussed this. The matter is closed," came the curt reply.
"Not for me it isn't!" Charlotte flared back at him. "You cannot control me. I'm a grown woman now. I will not be told who I can and cannot see. I have always done everything you've asked of me, and more. Have I ever caused you trouble or heartache?"
Her father stared at her stonily. "That is not the point."
"Yes, it is," she cried out in frustration. "The point is that you do not trust my judgement, despite the fact that I have been level-headed and obedient my entire life."
"Athos is an experienced man of the world," replied her father in a weary voice. "He has probably bedded dozens of women in his time. You are young, and you have no concept of how easily you could be manipulated by such a man. His uniform, his looks, and his words capture your imagination, because he is so different from your everyday existence. But what does he have to offer you? Assuming, that is, that you are more than this week's passing fancy?"
Charlotte gave him an icy look. "I am not stupid, Papa. Athos is not a womanizer, no matter what you may think. I am sure of it. In fact, it was he who insisted that we not become too—intimate."
Bertrand scoffed. "He did not seem as if he was discouraging you when we walked into his quarters. However, even if he was an honest man, the hard fact is that musketeers die frequently, and they die young, Charlotte. What would happen to you then? The King does not indefinitely support the widows of his men. You need stability, and a man who can provide for you. Michel may not fit the picture of your foolishly romantic imagination, but he is hardworking, and he will provide for you. I have made my decision, and the marriage contract will be signed by the end of the week."
Reliving that conversation now, Charlotte felt as if she was suffocating. Something about the inky darkness of the room was terrifying to her. She could not possibly imagine why, as she had never been afraid of the dark, even as a small child. Now, however, her nerves were on edge. She lit the candle she had smuggled up to her chamber earlier, realizing that her father would be furious if he knew she was burning it merely for the comfort of the light.
Leaning against the headboard and hugging her knees, she closed her eyes and took in a deep breath, trying to remember the warmth and security she had felt earlier that day when she had awoken to find herself secure in Athos' arms. The contentment she had experienced when she had opened her eyes to see him smiling at her had been indescribable.
How could I marry Michel after having loved a man like Athos? For Charlotte was coming to realize that in the short time she had spent with the musketeer, he had captured her heart. The thought of never being with him again was unbearable—as was the thought of having to spend the rest of her life with Michel.
Finally giving up on the idea of sleep, she kneeled at the foot of her bed and opened up the small chest. Gently folding the baptismal gown and moving it to the side, she picked up the black velvet bag, now weightless without her mother's sapphires. The finality of having lost the last tangible link to her mother hit her, and she carefully placed it back in the chest and closed the lid, a feeling of emptiness flooding her body.
Restless, she moved over to the window and peered out. Foot traffic along the street had thinned as the hour had become late. Denise and Madeleine were already asleep, curled up on the couch in the sitting room, and her father had long since retired. Michel had been out for several hours, so all was quiet. She looked down the street and visualized the route she would need to take to get to the garrison. An overwhelming longing came upon her, and she was tempted to walk out the door and never look back.
A man moving slowly down the street came into her field of vision. He walked along somewhat aimlessly, a hat pulled low over his face. She frowned, seeing something familiar in the way he carried himself, despite the slight unsteadiness that bespoke a long night of drinking. When he stopped in front of the apothecary and glanced up for just an instant, she caught her breath. Athos.
Seizing the candle, she made her way down the stairs as quickly as possible, trying to avoid the creaky boards. Reaching the comparative safety of the stone floor in the shop, she flew across the room and wrenched the door open just as he had begun to walk away.
"Athos!" she called, her voice breaking. He halted and looked back, his eyes confused before he realized that she was indeed in front of him. In an instant, he crossed the yards separating them and took her in his arms, stepping into the relative warmth of the apothecary. He held her tightly, muttering somewhat incoherently in her ear as he wound a hand through her hair, which flowed loose around her shoulders.
Drawing back and grasping the lapels of his leather doublet, she gave him a teasing smile and said lightly, "I suspect that you are very drunk." He gazed down at her affectionately, eyes slightly unfocused. "And I know that you are very beautiful." His mouth sought hers, and the kiss he gave her was urgent and passionate. Every muscle in his body seemed tightly coiled, and when he finally released her, he leaned his forehead against hers and said firmly, "It will not happen. I give you my word that you will not be forced to marry Michel."
Putting his hat on the table, he pulled out a silver chain from underneath his shirt and took it off, holding it in his palm. His fingers ran over a delicate signet ring suspended on the chain.
"This ring is a sign of my commitment to you," he said quietly, taking her hand. "It was my mother's, and carries the seal of our family. There are two symbols on it that have been imprinted on my mind since I was a boy—the castle, which represents home and security—and the falcon, which represents someone who doggedly pursues a goal and does not rest until it is achieved. Likewise, I will not rest until I have made sure your future is secure—and that it is with me, if you so desire."
Her heart full, she stood mutely as he slipped the chain over her neck. "You remember the inn where we had dinner—the Spotted Calf?"
As she nodded, he took her hands. "Listen carefully. If there is a crisis and you need a means of escape, go to the inn and ask for Annette, the barmaid who served us that night. She will shelter you and make arrangements for you to be transported out of Paris to a chateau in the country. When you arrive, all you need to do is show the staff the ring and tell them that Olivier entrusts you to their keeping."
"Olivier?" she echoed, looking at him with curiosity.
"My name in another life," he murmured softly, looking at her with intensity in his magnetic blue eyes. "If only I had met you first," he whispered, then gathered her to him once again, holding her close and inhaling the scent of her hair.
After several minutes, he drew back, then said with regret, "I must go. We cannot risk being discovered. Wear that ring close to your heart, and know that I am with you always." Taking her face in his hands, he gave her one last, bittersweet kiss, then picked up his hat and slipped out the door, closing it soundlessly behind him.
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Some time later, Milady and Michel returned, and made their way to Michel's room. As they prepared for bed, Milady produced a small silver vial from the folds of her dress.
"I have something for you," she said, her voice playful.
"Show me later," muttered Michel, beginning to unlace her dress in anticipation of enjoying her body.
Smoothly escaping his grasp, she murmured, "I think you'll be interested to see it now." Uncapping the vial, she showed him the contents. "White arsenic. The poison dreams-or should I say nightmares?—are made of. Completely tasteless and odourless. When mixed into a liquid, it is undetectable."
"It sounds-very effective," responded Michel, his attention riveted on the powder.
"I think the sooner you strike, the better. Emotions are still high after today." She thought for a moment, then spoke carefully, the thrill of anticipation clear in her voice. "Suggest to Gaillard that he request Athos' presence at the apothecary tomorrow afternoon. The purpose of the meeting will be to announce his intentions regarding your betrothal to Charlotte, and to make it clear that Athos is to cease all contact with her, once and for all. I would include Treville in the meeting—all the better to have someone in Athos' camp who can be called upon as a witness later. Mix the arsenic into a drink, then be sure Athos brings it to Gaillard. The key to the whole scheme, however, is that you must slip this vial into Athos' doublet. When it is found on him, the evidence will be damning."
Michel looked at her in appreciation. "It is a brilliant plan, and the best part, my love, is that you are as excited as I am to put it in motion."
"Oh, you have no idea how happy I am to help you," murmured Milady, closing the vial and pressing it into his hand. "No idea."
I'm back in the land of the living...and glad to be back to writing!
Next time...Aramis brings Gabriel to the garrison for a visit, and the presence of Athos and Treville is requested at the Apothecary Gaillard for a meeting...