Chapter 4: The Proposal
She walked beside him at the Louvre, after a meeting with the King about Philippe's security. It had been a month since their last interview.
"Come to my office tonight after everyone had left," he instructed her, as if it was another casual order.
She clenched her fists and gritted her teeth. How convenient!
…..
A gentle knock on the door announced her presence. It was well after dark, a couple of hours before midnight. Everyone had left the premises but the Captain of the Musketeers usually slept in a chamber attached to his office.
Aramis closed the door behind her and stood right beside it. Being so close to the exit was comforting and she was already on edge. He called her here tonight because he wanted an answer. What if she gave him the wrong answer and he decided to end her career right then and there? But the newly fortified friendship she had found with Athos and Porthos after revealing her secret made her feel stronger. No, Aramis will not cower in the face of pressure. Aramis was a warrior, a soldier and above all, a woman of honor and integrity. If Treville couldn't see that, then she will have to teach him.
She struck an upright pose with her arms behind her back. Treville emerged from his antechamber dressed in a simple chemise, which was open at the top, revealing parts of his sculpted chest. She blushed deeply as she remarked his features with such… interest. His mere appearance was beginning to trouble her in ways she couldn't understand. But she understood one thing: trouble was never good.
He came out with two glasses and a bottle of brandy. He gestured to her to sit down but she firmly held her ground by the door. He casually remarked to her, "You can feel free to take off your doublet and be comfortable. There's no one here tonight and I ensured that…"
"CAPITAINE! Honestly!" she shot at him, grabbing the collar of her doublet tighter to her neck.
He scrutinized her, holding one glass in each hand, puzzled by her outrage. What has gotten into her? He thought his suggestion would relieve her. That this informal setting would make things easier, less awkward. He wanted to show her that, on this particular matter, he wasn't talking to her as her superior, as her Captain but rather as a… as a what? A lover? But they weren't lovers. As a suitor? He chuckled to himself at the idea. Jean-Armand de Treville, a suitor! It was the joke of the century. Even he was laughing.
"What's so funny?" she lashed at him once more.
He shook his head in dismissal at the idea and placed the glasses on the table. He sat on one of the chairs opposite his desk and poured himself a glass.
"Suit yourself. I only suggested it to make you more at ease," then, he added, "I would have suggested the same to any other musketeer." She squinted her eyes at him. Why was he being coy? It didn't matter, she will come right out with it.
"Look, Capitaine, I owe you a great debt. I will forever be grateful to you and everything you have done for me but I regret to inform you that I must refuse the proposition you had so kindly renewed the last time we spoke, even at the peril of losing my position in your regiment," she bluntly and sternly declared, through clenched teeth.
He took a sip of his brandy and swirled the glass in his hand. He swallowed and said, "Well, it looks like you have thought of one of the two things we had spoken about."
He sounded bitter and she knew she had injured his pride.
"What about the other thing?" he turned his head and their eyes met for the first time this evening. She felt electrified. Never had she felt so disturbed in her Captain's presence. Not even the first time she had met him; never. But there was something different in his gaze. Something… fiery. Something alluring in the way he eyed her up and down, as if sizing her up or looking straight through her clothes. She felt nude and exposed under his penetrating gaze. Astonishingly, she found her body strangely responding to that. She could leave right now. She could leave here, run away and never come back but something kept her in place. What was it? Courage? Curiosity? Perhaps her needing to prove that Aramis faces her adversaries and never runs away?
No, Aramis does not run away. If it's a duel he wants, it's one he shall get. She relaxed her pose. A bitter smile dessinated on her face.
"What do you want to know, Captain? That I feel emptier now that my mission is complete than I did before? That it's as if a void in me had expanded with nothing to fill it? That I am desperate for companionship and that the only way to save my soul is by taking a husband and having his children?"
He stood up, his face turning grave. He knew she was being sarcastic about the second part for certain. He walked towards her. She didn't move. They stood so close to one another, she could feel the warmth of his body. She had to admit to herself that she desperately wanted to place her palms on his chest, to feel his arms surround her, to… she stopped herself and looked down instead.
Where was all of this coming from? She had reconciled with Athos and Porthos. They had accepted her. They had embraced. One for all and all for one. Wasn't that enough? Wasn't their friendship and their camaraderie enough? Why was she longing for this? She shouldn't long for this. This was only for Francois and Francois was gone.
She felt his hand cupping her face, raising it to his eye level. It felt like time had stopped. The contact and the closeness were electrifying beyond anything she had ever felt. She could feel tingles up and down her spine.
"What you did was not easy. You had to make hard decisions and you paid a steep price," he softly told her.
"It was worth it," she murmured back, her eyes half closed. They stood so close she could feel his breath caressing her cheek. She thought he leaned in closer. He parted his lips slightly and she thought he was about to say something or… or…
But he moved away instead.
"But yes, that is exactly what I had wanted to know," he coolly said and resumed his seat. He gestured to the chair across from him again. This time, she accepted his invitation.
….
"What did you think you would do after you accomplished your vengeance?" he asked her, while pouring brandy into her glass. She only regarded him with apprehension. She didn't know what to answer him. She hadn't really thought about it. A big part of her believed she would never find the assassin or that she would likely die before she did.
"That's your problem, right there," he pointed out. She simply raised her eyebrows questioningly.
"You never think of the future. You only think one step ahead, when you should be thinking ten steps ahead."
"I am a soldier, Monsieur. I'm not supposed to think ten steps ahead."
"You weren't always a soldier, Captain Aramis," he chuckled and raised his glass to her in salute. She only glared at him in response.
"If you plan on succeeding me one day - ," he began, but she cut him off.
"I have no plans of the sort whatsoever! I did what I had to do to stop Manson," she defended herself.
"Very well, so you have no plans of succeeding me, hence no plans of advancing your career. No plans of marriage or children. Then, what? You will die in battle? Or perhaps you wanted to wait until you were discovered and then die a most humiliating death?"
She sniggered at him, "And you hope to rescue me from my reckless existence by giving me the security of marriage? I doubt you would do that to any other of your musketeers."
"Certainly not. But I don't have to watch any of my other musketeers wilt away from sadness or loneliness."
"Ah, so you mean to do the honorable thing and rescue me from a sorrowful existence?" She sneered, taking a sip of the brandy.
"I mean to give you options. To give you the freedom to choose; something you did not have six years ago. You don't have to live the rest of your days alone."
She regarded him in silence. Was she actually tempted by his offer? She felt her pride sink a notch.
"This is not an order. I'm not speaking to you as your Captain, but as someone who cares for your well-being. I won't force you," he went on, "My proposal remains the same as it was six years ago: a chaste marriage, unless you will it otherwise, that is."
She widened her eyes at the allusion. He only chuckled, "Spare me, Aramis. You're not the adolescent girl you were six years ago. I'm sure by now you have many more stories to recount to me of your comrades and their debauchery that would scandalize even me. I'm also sure that you might have ideas of your own. You may not be a man, but you're certainly not an inanimate rock."
She blushed a color darker than the brandy, confirming his statement. A wry smile tugged at the corner of his mouth. His curiosity was piqued. What did his beautiful musketeer dream of in her solitude? Alas, with her frigid and defensive reception of his proposal, he may never know. But he can certainly imagine…
"You may choose to live in my country estate in Gascony, or you may choose to seclude yourself in a convent," he continued, seeing as she was too scandalized to reply. "But my sentiment remains the same. I still prefer for you to remain in Paris and become acquainted with the court."
She nodded. In other words, he wanted her to become a spy. Would that be so bad, really? It was an intriguing possibility. A new adventure.
"That is all well and generous," she spoke, dryly, "But what do you gain out of it? Suppose I did want a chaste marriage. Is your intention to make me into your spy and take up mistresses on the side?" She crossed her leg on top of the other and uncrossed her arms. He was in. She was gearing up for a negotiation.
He smiled inwardly. Was she jealous?
"You offend me, Madame," he replied, addressing her as a woman for the first time in six years. She sat back in her chair, each arm on the armrest, swirling her drink in one hand, her teeth clenched at the feminine title he just addressed her with.
"I am a dedicated and an honest man. I have no business with mistresses, chaste marriage or not. A marriage is a marriage." She was testing him, he could tell. He regarded her discretely. Her face was turned to the side, staring out the window. Her profile was impeccable. She had a proportionate face worthy of a splendid work of art. Androgynous yes, but angelic and startlingly beautiful. He was no stranger to the rumours about the musketeer's reputation. Talks of his divine beauty were on every woman's lips in the court and beyond. Yet every time he heard someone talk of Aramis, his heart leapt with joy, knowing that only he knew the real Aramis and that somehow their little secret made her all the more exclusive to him.
The Captain was right: she was no visionary. She had never thought about it before, but what will happen to her with age? She might no longer be able to battle as she can now. What would happen if she had a change of heart? Who would take a femme musketeer as his wife? Would she have to hide this part of her past from any one she married after this? But how tired she was of lying!
His proposal was troubling but she had to admit, intriguing. However, there remained one thing she still needed to know.
"Would you still let me be a musketeer?"
There it was. He knew he had her now, and he had just the answer for her:
"For as long as you want, provided everything remains a secret."
She didn't know what to think. It all sounded so… strange. To be secretly married to her Captain? But a second ago, the mere thought of it was so off-putting. Now she was considering it? Why, out of fear?
Treville was getting frustrated. This was a lot more work than he had anticipated. But what did he expect, anyway? Besides, hadn't she warned him about her spousal potential six years ago? Perhaps she was right and this was altogether a terrible idea. He couldn't retract anything now even if he wanted to. No, Jean-Armand de Treville was a man of honor and as a man of honor, he kept his word.
He fell back in his chair, feeling defeated. Had he just demolished their relationship forever? How can they go back to soldier and Captain after this? If she refused him, where would that leave them? She would have to leave the regiment. She would have to leave him, which is exactly what he did not want.
He had to come up with something and quick.
"What say you to a trial period?"
