Chapter Twenty-Two: Courtier.
Louisa awoke easily from her fretful slumber at the sudden clatter and clink of the lock. She was on her feet in an instant, her back against the wall opposite the door, the candle within easy reach of her still bound hands. She wagered that the small source of cloying light wouldn't inflict much harm, but a well-placed strike with it might surprise an attacker just long enough for her to gain the upper hand. That was, of course, until the gaoler heard and came to her reprimand.
In truth, she hadn't expected an attacker at all, half-hoping that Porthos might return to her. She had thought about his return, wondered at the news he would bring. Perhaps he might tell her she had been freed or, at the very least, that the Musketeers had agreed to protect Gaspard. Perhaps it wouldn't be Porthos, but rather one of his friends. Perhaps the well-spoken musketeer, coming to her in a gesture of duty. Or maybe the young farm hand, wishing to prove himself and keen to appear competent. If it was the handsome musketeer, with all his charm and kindness, she would ask him unashamedly for her dagger back. She would express no interest in what he had come to tell her, so long as she could feel the silver and black stone knife pressed in her palm again.
The actuality surprised her. In place of the Musketeers she had expected, a man of considerable years stood before her and, despite his age, she took him to be cunning and quick. His attentive eyes and his poised but guarded stance told her that he was neither dim-witted nor infirm. He entered the cell with an air of purpose, instructing the warden to close the door behind him.
He half-quirked a smile at her bemusement, studied her from his spot by the door. She took the moment to do the same.
He possessed a stately and lean frame and was bedecked all in black leather. He even wore a small skullcap fashioned from the same material. His cloak appeared heavy and sweeping, it's burgundy lining the only example of colour in the entire ensemble. Though not an overly tall man, she took him to hold some position of power by the way he bore himself and the gilded cross, hanging from a long chain around his neck, suggested a religious affinity.
'Bonjour Mademoiselle. Please, allow me to introduce myself…Cardinal Armande Richelieu, at your service.'
His tone was civil, but his last three words grated with Louisa. It somehow seemed wrong that they should have come from him and there was no gesture to reinforce them; no sweeping bow nor dip of the chin. The Cardinal remained still, his attentive gaze searching her for any clues as to what she might do next.
Louisa gave a dubious nod of her head, but made no effort to speak. After a few seconds of patient expectancy, Richelieu gave short laugh.
'I can see you are not the talkative type.'
At this, the Cardinal cocked his head to the side slightly. Louisa instinctively called the action 'bird-like', the comparison coming easily to her mind in view of the man's piercing eyes and hooked nose.
'Luckily, I am in no need of an introduction from yourself, Mademoiselle Beauforte.'
Louisa was careful not to react at the surprise that the Cardinal apparently knew who she was. She thought back on the rumours, on Gaspard's avowed intention to quicker conclude her business in Paris. Given that the Red Guard were, in effect, the Cardinal's personal guard it seemed completely plausible for Gaspard to have spoken to Richelieu on the matter.
'Or do you prefer I call you Elle?'
Louisa responded with a slight shake of her head, replying in a somewhat guarded tone, 'I take it then, that you have spoken with Gaspard?'
'I have…'
The Cardinal allowed his voice to trail off as he regarded the cell around them with amusement, 'Although, this isn't exactly what I expected, when he said that you were safe.'
Louisa gave something of a scoff, raised bounds hands to gesture around her.
'Well this…this is a recent development.' She felt her brow furrow then and hastily added, 'So recent, in fact, that Gaspard does not know I am here...'
The Cardinal raised an eyebrow, a devious grin twitching at his thin lips, 'He assured me you were an intelligent woman…Was I misled?'
This question grated and all-at-once summoned unbidden conspiracies to her mind. These encircled her thoughts as she tried to fathom how much danger she was actually in. The question had been too close for comfort, too similar to what she had asked of Etienne. Had Levesque spoken to Richelieu and told him of their conversation? If so, why? Surely his disdain for all things redguard would have prevented such an action. A coincidence then? Or perhaps news learned from the musketeers whilst in their company at the palace?
Either way, the phrasing jarred, but still she maintained her composure, only grimacing inwardly before fixing Richelieu with a smile to rival his own.
'I'll warn you to be careful, your eminence; insulting me will get you no further in this transaction.'
At this, the cardinal's smile faded and his eyes turned sharp and serious. He outstretched a hand, pointed it at her and responded with no small amount of venom.
'And defying me will get you no further.'
The retort was neither loud nor long-lived, but it sent a shiver down Louisa's spine. This man was powerful and something in her gut told her to tread carefully. She found herself calculating, thinking, supposing; instinct advised her that she did not want to know what it felt like to be at his mercy.
The Cardinal seized the silence, gloating bitter, 'Oh, I'm sorry...did you think you had the upper hand here?'
He paused a moment, fixing her with a certain and steadfast gaze before finally affording her only a few words, 'You were mistaken.'
She found herself tensing at the darkness in the Cardinal's features, the malice in his voice.
Her fingers itched for the candle.
A few seconds passed, before Richelieu started again, his demeanour changing slightly, the darkness withdrawing yet kept at the edge of his tone.
'Now...I came here to talk to you, to give Gaspard the benefit of the doubt in the interest of camaraderie. I would rather we continue with some small degree of civility, but there are other ways in which we might proceed; bearing in mind, of course that you are newly arrived in Paris with very few people who know you are here...You are not likely to be missed…'
Louisa maintained her composure, fixed Richelieu with knowing eyes, 'Gaspard would never-'
'Well, as much as he would like to think himself a clever man, he is easily fooled.' Richelieu interrupted, 'There are a great many things I might tell him that would explain away your disappearance.'
For a moment, she was taken aback at his answer certain that, despite the Cardinal's avowals to the contrary, Gaspard would indeed come looking for her should she fail to return to him. She would like to think he loved her enough that he wouldn't just take the Cardinal's word on the matter. But at the same time, he knew her, truly understood her. He knew that she would not be happy in Paris for any length of time. He may think her cruel for leaving without saying goodbye, but he wouldn't think it particularly out of sorts...
Another face came to mind then and she clutched desperately at the small ember of hope.
'The Musketeers.' She stated triumphantly, watching as the Cardinal tilted his head to one side in a silent query, 'They know where I am and why I am in Paris. They'll come looking for me.'
'No, they won't. They'll come looking for the plans. They don't care about you, Mademoiselle; they were, no doubt, assigned to track the plans down as soon as the rumours reached the Garrison. A well placed comment in the presence of his majesty and Treville would assail any concerns for your absence.'
Louisa's gaze found the floor subconsciously. She could see the truth in Richelieu's words and, as much as they stung, she was not so foolish as to believe there was much more than duty guiding Porthos and his friends. Yes, Porthos might think on her, knowing what he now knew. He might seek her out to verify her wellbeing, but would think on her no more if he found her disappeared. She was nothing to him and she could expect no more than that.
She relented with a sigh, her shoulders sinking in defeat.
'So how do you suggest we proceed?' she asked finally, the question setting Richelieu's façade aglow in victory.
'I was told you wanted payment for these plans….'
Louisa gave a nod, ignoring the twinge of onus in her gut.
'Very well. In that case, I propose to have you freed at once. You will then deliver the plans to me by tomorrow evening at th-'
'Can't be done.' She interrupted matter-of-factly. She took a moment to watch a cloud of fury descend on Richelieu before elaborating.
'The plans are not in Paris. They are at least two day's ride from here.' Louisa allowed herself a small moment of smugness, before remembering her company and adding quickly, 'I will bring them to you, in exchange for my freedom and payment, but I will need more time to do so.'
The Cardinal deliberated for a few seconds, scrutinising the woman at the wall. He wondered of her audacity, whether she would indeed betray their arrangement given half the chance. The transaction seemed well enough; the woman wanted money and he had money to give. She might think to take the plans to another interested party, but no one but himself could give her the amount of coin he could. It stood to reason then, that she would be best off in honouring their agreement.
But even at this conclusion, he could not help but to regard her with unease. Eventually, he gave a nod.
'Very well, you may have your extra time…on one condition…'
