The closer we get to the end, the more bittersweet this becomes... Thank you all again!

Chapter 5

"Madame!" Ida yelled as she ran through the chateau. With one hand clutching the fabrics of her skirts, the other supported her bosoms as she ran up the steps. "Madame!" She shouted once more and paused on the second landing to catch her breath. She wiped her brow and the gray hairs that clung to the cheeks of her face. Ida took a deep breath and rushed up the steps again. "Madame!"

"Good heavens, Ida," Macée, the housemistress, said as she stepped from the hall. "What is the meaning of this?"

Ida rolled her eyes, brushed past her, and walked hastily down the hall. "Madame?"

"In here, Ida," Alice called. She looked to the door as Ida entered with a look of exhaustion. Alice stood on a crate while a seamstress carefully measured the length of the hem of a new dress. She looked elegant, graceful, and like a woman of nobility. She had pulled her hair away from her face and into a clustered bun that was pinned into place with pins adorned with swallows. "What is it, Ida? You look exhausted."

Ida took another deep breath and pressed her hand to her side as she regained her breath. She ignored Macée, who stood in the doorway with her hand on her hips. "I was gathering ingredients for supper…" She inhaled, smiled, and said, "Monsieur Oris at the bread stand said the Musketeers have returned."

Alice' eyes grew twice their normal size, and she shifted her feet as the seamstress worked. "When? When did they arrive? Is Porthos with them?" She gripped the fabric of the dress near her thighs.

"Madame, please," the seamstress scolded after pulling the pins from between her teeth. "You must remain still." She looked up from her knees. "The dress."

"I didn't ask him, Madame," Ida said. "But he said someone had told him that the regiment was back and had ridden in behind the garrison."

Alice bounced on the balls of her feet in excitement.

"Madame, the dress."

"Get me out of this," Alice said, and stepped off the crate. "Please," she said with more urgency. "Help me get out of this!" She giggled in excitement and frantically pulled at the fabrics.

Ida rushed toward her, grabbed the button hook from the seamstress, and immediately worked to unbutton the back of the gown. Alice unhooked the buttons near her wrists and continued to fret as time slowed.

"Madame, careful. The dress," the seamstress said again, and quickly tried to pull the pins from the hem.

"Macée, my day dress," Alice said and pulled her arms from the sleeves. She heard a seam pop, the seamstress groan, and Ida hitch her breath. "Don't worry about the dress!" She snapped. "I'll pay you to repair it!" Alice shuffled her hips as the skirt fell to the floor in a heap. She turned suddenly as Ida and Macée slipped her dress over her head. "Hurry… please." Alice said, and adjusted the cuffs at her wrist.

Ida quickly buttoned the back, adjusted the overskirt, and said, "Shoes?"

Alice bent at the waist and pulled her skirts upward to expose her underclothes and stocking feet. She ran to the side of the bed and stepped into her slippers. She grabbed her shawl, tossed it over her shoulders, and then ran from the room. Her skirts billowed behind her as she ran down the hall, down the stairs, and said, "Thank you," to her house servant, who opened the door.

"A carriage, Madame?" He shouted after her.

"No time!"

The man raised an eyebrow and turned toward the top of the stairs, where Ida and Macee stood out of breath. Ida leaned against the banister railing, and Macee against the wall.

The old man chuckled, watched his mistress run down the street, and then frowned at the women, who gawked and pointed at her.

Alice ran. She held her skirts, looked down each street as she headed toward the garrison, stopping only once to allow a cart to pass. Her respectability was suddenly pushed aside. She ignored the piles of horse manure that she stepped in, the exposing of her ankles in public, the look of despair on her face as she ran. It had been weeks since she had received any word from Porthos. Long weeks of dread and doubt. She knew the risks. She had compromised a part of herself because of her love for him. It terrified her to think she would never see him again. To think that she would lose him right after they reconnected. The thoughts flooded her mind, and she hated herself for it.

She wanted to believe he was still alive, unharmed, and yearning for her as much as she yearned for him.

Alice stopped, and she squinted against the sun, the way the light shined off the grounds that still glistened from heavy rains and puddles of horse piss. She looked past the people who moved throughout their day as though it were any other. She peered past the marketeers, who sold their goods and counted change.

Then she saw him.

Porthos jogged through the crowd, ignored the barking dogs, the children playing, and women beating rugs and sheets with wire beaters. He ignored his usual haunts for drink or food.

Alice grabbed her skirts once more and moved through the crowd. Tears fell from her face despite her excitement and because of it.

He was home.

He was unhurt.

And he was looking for her.

When a crowd of Red Guards on patrol moved through the streets, Alice stopped her progression and desperately tried to recapture a glimpse of Porthos. She craned her neck, squinted, and clutched at the fabric of her skirts. One moment he was there, the next he was gone. Alice swallowed, and then stood aside as a team of horses pulling a heavy wagon walked past her. Her heart raced, her head swam, and every nerve of her body was on fire. She wanted the power to clear the street, to force everyone aside, to part the Red Sea.

Paris was busy, it was always busy. With new businesses, new residents, and new opportunities, the chaos at times became too much to bear. Alice jumped and turned suddenly to her left when she felt someone gently grasp her hand. She looked at the hand and then slowly moved her eyes toward Porthos' face. She stood stunned for a moment as she looked at him. So tall, so broad, and so strong. He was just as handsome as the day she met him. She smiled, and without saying a word, she wrapped her arms around his neck when he leaned toward her. She kissed his cheek several times and whispered in his ear.

Porthos slipped his arm around her and picked her off her feet and held her. She was small in his embrace, almost fragile, yet determined. She smelled like freshly cut flowers and he pressed his cheek against hers. "I missed you," he said and looked her in the eyes when she looked at him.

"I missed you too," Alice said, and kissed him.