Chapter Thirty One
Knowing that Aramis had spent the night at the Cathedral with the intention of returning to the house early in the morning, D'Artagnan sent a courier to him, requesting his presence as soon as possible on a matter of urgency. Apparently thinking the worst, the priest arrived within the hour, breathless from the hard ride to the palace.
"D'Artagnan, I came as soon as I got your message. What is wrong?" he said as he swiftly entered the Musketeer captain's room, then pulled up in surprise to find his old friend calmly going over paperwork at his desk.
D'Artagnan looked up and seemed equally surprised that the priest was out of breath and wore a worried expression. Turning to the guard who stood beside the desk, he said, "This is a private matter. Please close the door as you leave."
The guard immediately departed, closing the door behind him, and leaving the captain and the priest alone together.
Aramis stepped forward, holding up the letter as evidence. "You said to come immediately on a matter of urgency," he reminded him. "I came expecting to find that something had happened with the king."
"No, nothing like that. Forgive me. I should have better explained my need to see you. It is a matter of urgency, though, for Louis' sake. I have been studying these plans you provided yesterday, and I had an idea I wish to discuss with you."
He opened his desk and withdrew the plans and spread them on his desk. Aramis moved closer to look.
"All of these rooms at the rear of the house on the second floor will belong to Louis, correct?" D'Artagnan asked, to which Aramis nodded in agreement. "Your concerns are that the servants might look out the windows above and below and see him in the courtyard."
"If this is about the cloth mask, my friend, I see no way around it," the priest said, perceptively. "When he is in the courtyard, he must wear it to avoid being seen and possibly recognized. Only two of the servants will know his identity; Herve the groundskeeper and his wife Marie, who will be head housekeeper. The other servants, such as the cook, the scullery maid, and the other housekeepers must be prevented from seeing his face."
While Aramis was speaking, D'Artagnan had raised his hand as if to interrupt, and when the priest stopped speaking, he said, "The answer is this: We will seal the shutters above and below on that side of the house and forbid access to those rooms to anyone except Herve and Marie. That will prevent an accidental viewing of the courtyard while he is in it. Not only will he be able to go into the yard without the mask, he may go any time he desires."
Aramis looked startled that D'Artagnan would even suggest such a thing. "Any time he desires?"
"Why not? He cannot get over the wall, and the shutters will be sealed so he cannot get into the house on the lower level. The only way in or out will be via the stairs in his own chambers. There is no reason why he should not be permitted this freedom."
Aramis was quiet for a long moment as he struggled to find an objection. Finding none at the moment, he said, "Sealing those shutters will take some time."
"There are not that many windows, Aramis," D'Artagnan told him. "Even with only one man working on it, it should take no longer than a few days to nail the shutters closed. And the doors to all the upstairs rooms already have locks on them. Keep them locked as added protections, and give the keys to Herve for safekeeping. There are plenty of other rooms on the front side of the house for the servants to live and work."
The priest's eyes studied the plans and diagrams, counting the windows that would need to be sealed, and finally nodded his agreement. "Very well, then. It will require additional safeguards on the lower level than merely nailing the shutters, but I will get my engineers on it and see what we can come up with."
"Thank you, Aramis. Giving him as much freedom as possible means a great deal to me."
"It is only for your sake that I am agreeing to this."
D'Artagnan rolled up the plans and returned them to his desk. "Thank you for coming so quickly. The sooner we can get started on it, the sooner we can get him moved. Anne is most anxious about this. She asked about it last night. When is the soonest that we can expect to move him?"
"The work has been going very well over the past week, but there is still much to be done. We have to cut doors in the walls where none existed before, and permanently seal doors that previously provided access to the rooms that will be his. Athos, Porthos, and I have all been helping with the labor in an effort to move things forward more quickly, but at this point it is still difficult to predict a date when it will be completed. Because of the need for secrecy, we have very few workers, and I have to obtain lumber and stone and mortar. These things take time. I would say at least another four or five weeks, and that is being extremely optimistic."
D'Artagnan was visibly disappointed. "Four or five more weeks that he must wear that cursed mask." He moved to the window, observing the servants who were working in the gardens outside. "It is so painful . . . " His voice trailed.
Aramis watched him for a moment. He and his friends had repeatedly offered comforting words, but as a man who had never been a parent, he had trouble comprehending the pain of seeing one's child suffer. "D'Artagnan, we must be given the time to do this right. We cannot afford any mistakes. There is too much to lose."
D'Artagnan turned to face him again. "You are right. You and your workers must take the time necessary to do the job correctly."
Aramis placed a hand on his shoulder and squeezed it affectionately. "We will do our best to finish as quickly as possible. You have my word on that."
"You word is good enough. Will you stay for lunch?"
"Thank you, but I must be going. We've so much work to do."
"Then I will see you out." He opened the door and the two men stepped into the corridor.
"Father Aramis!"
Both men turned around and saw Philippe walking toward them from his chamber with a serious expression on his face. Immediately, they bowed to their king.
"Might I have a word with you? In private," he added.
"Um, yes," Aramis replied. "I was just leaving, but I can postpone my plans for a few more minutes."
"Good. Come with me." Philippe turned on his heel and returned to his quarters, waiting at the door for the priest to catch up.
As he entered the king's chamber, Aramis paused to look down the corridor at D'Artagnan, both of them wondering what was on the young man's mind. Aramis gave a quick shrug, indicating that he had no idea what would be discussed, then stepped into the entryway.
"Please close the door behind you," Philippe commanded. "I do not wish to be disturbed."
Aramis closed the door and entered the sitting area of the room. "Is something wrong?" he asked.
"I need your help with something. A personal matter."
Aramis shrugged. "Anything, your majesty."
Philippe walked slowly to the window and gazed out at the garden, his mannerisms so much like D'Artagnan that Aramis could not help but smile at the similarities. For a long time, the young man did not speak.
Aramis cocked his head slightly, puzzled by the king's quiet contemplations. "Are you all right, Philippe?"
Philippe nodded. "I am fine. It is just . . . I was looking out my window late last night and saw my parents walking back from the garden. They must have met there in the middle of the night just so they could have a few minutes alone together. I don't know what they were talking about, but I could feel the love between them in the way they held hands and the way they looked at each other. Before we left the village, Father told me that I must not take on his problems, but the truth is that I want them to be together."
Aramis nodded his head slowly, understanding the young man's desires. "I know you want your parents to be together, but you know that is not possible, Philippe," he said. "They understand the consequences of bringing their relationship into the open. It would bring about questions that they cannot answer without exposing you."
"I am not talking about bringing it into the open. I have a plan, one that I think will work, but it involves you and the others. Especially you, being a priest."
"What did you have in mind?"
He turned away from the window and his eyes met those of the priest. "I want you to marry them."
A mildly amused smile spread across Aramis's face as he absorbed the king's words, thinking him very young and naïve. "Your majesty, I know you want them to be happy and to be together, but do you have any idea what you are suggesting? Even if I were to marry them, it would not solve any of the problems that currently exist for them. Married or not, they cannot truly be together and they cannot even be seen together in a manner that would be considered inappropriate for their ranks. That is why they met in the garden in the middle of the night, away from prying eyes."
"I know that." The young man smiled a mysterious smile. "Come; I want to show you something."
Philippe walked to the portrait of the old king, the king everyone believed was his father, and opened the secret passage. With a backward look at the priest, beckoning him to follow, he slipped behind the portrait into the shadowy corridor that was known but to a few.
Curious, Aramis followed.
"I have been doing some exploring," Philippe explained as they made their way along the dusky tunnel. "And I found something very interesting."
Aramis waited for him to continue, but Philippe remained silent for several moments. Finally, he paused beside a panel that appeared to have no significance. To his surprise, however, the young king pushed on the panel and it slid forward, revealing a room beyond and the bookcase that concealed it.
Philippe stepped into it, followed by the inquisitive priest who found himself inside a room that was clearly not being utilized.
"My father has been living in a small room that serves as both his bedroom and his office. During the day, he keeps the curtain closed to conceal his bed. After all his years of service, I think he deserves better than that. I propose redecorating this room to serve as his bedroom. The secret passage will provide him with access to my mother's chamber. They can visit each other any time they wish. No one will ever know." He smiled with amusement at the priest's surprised face. "Your expression tells me that you were unaware that the passages included this room."
"It was not in Louis' original design. The passages were intended to connect the royal apartments and provide the king with a separate exit in time of emergency."
"An interesting mistake, don't you think?" Philippe asked with a smile. "Something like fate."
"I doubt if it was a mistake, Philippe. If it is here, then Louis must have designed it that way and kept its existence secret. Another secret exit for him to make use of if necessary."
"I have no need for this room, so it will be perfect as his bedroom. The other room will continue to be his office."
Aramis opened his mouth to object, an automatic reaction to what he had considered an impossible situation, but could not find an adequate argument to present against it. He moved slowly around the room, examining it. "What are your father's thoughts on this? Have you spoken to him of your plans?"
"Not yet. I wanted to talk to you first to get your opinion. There is no other priest who is privy to the secrets we share. If they are married, the service must be conducted by you, but if you see anything wrong with my plan, I need to know about it. The last thing I want to do is set them up for exposure."
Aramis's examination of the room took him back to Philippe's side, and he gazed at the younger man fondly. "You love them both a great deal, don't you?"
"With all my heart," came the immediate response. "They have suffered in silence all these years, loving one another but keeping it inside, content to live like this because of their son, the king. Well, this king wishes to unite them; to grant them the happiness they deserve." He clutched at Aramis's cassock with near desperation. "They have sacrificed so much for their king and their country. Porthos's estate has a private chapel. They could be married there."
"That chapel hasn't been used since his wife died. It is probably full of dust and cobwebs."
"Then we will clean it up!" Philippe retorted. "They have earned this, Aramis. Please, I need your help."
Aramis smiled, gently. "Your mind has been working very hard on this, I would think."
"I have thought of little else since yesterday."
He glanced around the room again, intrigued by its close proximity to the queen's chamber. "And it would seem to be a rather fateful location, wouldn't it? You realize, of course, that a marriage between them would also legitimize you."
"I had not thought of that," Philippe said.
"I didn't think you had," Aramis said, fondly. "It is not your way to think of yourself. I will give this some thought and see if I can find any problems that need to be dealt with. At this point, however, I can think of no reason why we cannot proceed with your plan. If your parents agree, of course."
"Why wouldn't they agree?" Philippe asked.
"There is still a bit of danger that goes with it. What if someone should come looking for him in this room while he is with the queen in hers? How would he explain his absence?"
Philippe sighed. "I had not thought of that, either."
"Well, we must think of that and anything else that might come up. They have accepted their position in life, Philippe. They may not wish to change it. The decision is theirs."
"Agreed."
"My advice is this: talk it over with your father and see if he is receptive to the idea. If he is, then we will proceed. But for now, I must take your leave. There is still much to do with the renovations on the house, and D'Artagnan has just altered my plans a bit, so I must relay the changes to my workers. Let me know what is decided. If they wish to be married, it would be my pleasure to conduct the service."
"Thank you, Aramis," Philippe said gratefully, reaching out to shake the priest's hand. "This means a lot to me."
"Speak to your father, and then we will talk again," Aramis said. Then, with a smile, he slipped into the secret corridor again and made his way back to the king's chamber, leaving Philippe in the room to consider the plans he wanted to implement to ready it for his father.
xxxxxxxxxxxxx
Less than an hour later, Philippe strolled into D'Artagnan's office, his hands clasped behind his back in a very kingly manner and wearing a serious expression. Pausing just inside the doorway, he silently observed his father at work at his desk. The captain was composing a written order of some kind, his quill scratching busily on the sheet of parchment, pausing only to dip the quill in the ink well.
As he watched his father work, his mind drifted back to the night before, when he had seen him and his mother together in the rose garden, stealing a few private moments together. In his youth and inexperience, it was difficult to understand the history of tradition and the separation of rank that kept his parents apart, but their love and the hopelessness of their situation had been obvious. Why should two people who loved each other so deeply be denied happiness simply because one was royalty and the other was not?
A strong sense of pride stirred in his heart, appreciating the sacrifices that the Musketeer captain had made throughout his life and which he continued to make to assure his place on the throne in addition to the wellbeing of the former king. The sins they had committed by engaging in an affair had been wrong, but they had made their atonement. It was now time to set things right.
Standing near the desk, Lieutenant Andre suddenly snapped to attention, attracting D'Artagnan's notice. Looking up, he saw his son and rose to his feet to acknowledge the king's presence.
"D'Artagnan, would you join me in my chamber for a few minutes?" he asked. Addressing his father by name still felt uncomfortable to him, but he was growing accustomed to the need for it. "I would like to have a private word with you."
"Certainly, your majesty." Turning to Andre, he said, "I will complete the order later."
"Of course, Captain."
Wondering what it was that his son wished to discuss, D'Artagnan followed the young king down the corridor and into his private chambers.
When they were both inside with the twin sets of doors securely closed, Philippe turned to face his father.
"I wanted to speak with you about a private matter," he repeated, then fell silent. This was more difficult than he had imagined. He had expected it to be a simple matter of revealing what he believed was good news, but it had suddenly occurred to him that his father might disapprove of his interference, and as unlikely as it seemed he might even reject the idea. Turning, he walked to the window, the one where he had seen his parents the night before, and stood gazing out across the lawn, trying to decide how he should word his plan.
Observing his son's discomfort, D'Artagnan felt his heart constrict with dread. Was Philippe having second thoughts about being king? Recalling that he had insisted on speaking privately to Aramis earlier, it was apparent that something serious was on Philippe's mind. He moved toward him and placed a hand on his shoulder, which coaxed him to face him once again. "Is something wrong, Philippe?"
Philippe nodded. "Yes. Something is terribly, unfairly, wrong."
D'Artagnan cocked his head slightly at the puzzling comment. "Is it something I can help you with?"
"No. It is something I can help you with . . . if you will let me."
"Philippe, you are speaking in riddles. I am in no need of help at this time. Everything is under control. The palace and the grounds are secure, and the work is progressing on the renovations to the house. All is well."
"Yes, all is well with me, the palace, and the renovations to the house. I am not speaking of those. As I see it, all is not well with you."
D'Artagnan's eyebrows lifted. "Me?"
"You and Mother. I saw you from my window last night. I did not intend to spy," he added quickly, catching a sharp glance from D'Artagnan before the captain broke eye contact with his son in favor of the floor. "I was unable to sleep, so I got up and was looking out my window when I saw the two of you walking together from the gardens. You were holding hands."
At the revelation that Philippe had seen them together, D'Artagnan instantly felt uncomfortable as he studied the pattern on the floor and listened while his son offered his explanation for watching them. He was all too aware of the fact that it could just as easily have been someone else who had seen them, someone less friendly toward their relationship, someone who could betray them. Not only would that be dire for them, it would also place Philippe in a difficult situation. "I have grown careless," he concluded, quietly. "I saw her from my window last night as she entered the gardens, and I went to join her. I must resist such a temptation from now on."
Philippe felt his heart sink. Was his father proposing the notion of backing away from their relationship again? "While we were at the village, you told me that your love for her was eternal."
"That does not excuse my carelessness. At that hour, I thought we were safe, but if you saw us, then anyone else in this palace could have seen us also."
Philippe nodded, slowly. "Yes, this is true. That is why we must do something about this problem. I believe I have the answer, if you will agree to it. I have already spoken to Aramis about my plan this morning and he was agreeable, but he said it was your decision. Yours and Mothers."
This brought D'Artagnan's attention back to his son, and he pulled his eyes up from the floor. "What are you talking about? What answer could there be to this situation, except to exercise self-restraint? To go back to avoiding one another. I see no possible way that it can be altered."
"Oh, but there is! Come, I will show you."
With a mysterious little smile, Philippe walked past his curious father, and approached the portrait-door to the secret passages. He turned back, realizing that D'Artagnan had not moved, but continued to stand where he was. Still smiling, he gestured for him to follow, and then he opened the secret door and entered the space behind it.
After a moment, puzzled by his son's curious behavior, the captain followed. When he caught up to him, Philippe was standing near the shallow alcove that he knew opened up to Anne's private chamber. When the younger man was certain he had his full attention, he pushed on the wall panel opposite the queen mother's door, and to D'Artagnan's surprise, it opened up to reveal a room behind it.
"I found this room yesterday while exploring the passages. Aramis was unaware of it, and I can see that you were as well."
"I thought I knew all the secret entrances and exits," D'Artagnan admitted as they stepped from behind the bookcase into the room. He looked around, curiously, recognizing the seldom used area. "I know this room, though. Your brother intended to convert it to a private parlor. That explains the secret door. But I fail to see –"
"I propose making this your private bedchamber," Philippe interrupted, then when his father failed to answer immediately, he gestured to the closed door across the hall and continued, "As you can see, you will have unlimited access to Mother's chamber; it is just across the secret corridor. You could even be legally married. Aramis has agreed to marry the two of you, if that is your wish. No one else would even need to know."
D'Artagnan's gaze was steady, his expression never changing as he looked at his son for a long moment.
Compelled by his father's silence to explain himself, Philippe said, "I know you told me not to take on your problems, but when I found this room, I knew it was the answer to everything! We can put your bed in this little recess; we'll get you a larger bed than that bunk you sleep in now. There is room over there for a table where you can take your meals or catch up on private paperwork. We'll get you a new wardrobe and place it against that wall over there. And you can put your favorite books in this bookcase," he added, indicating the bookcase-door behind him. Turning back to his father, he asked, "Well? What do you think?"
D'Artagnan turned away from his son without acknowledging the proposal, and he maintained a quiet dignity as he moved slowly around the room, to examine it without comment, a surprising reaction in Philippe's opinion, who had eagerly hoped his father would respond with unbridled enthusiasm.
The Musketeer would never have admitted it to anyone, but his pulse had quickened at the very thought that it might be possible for him and Anne to be united, even covertly, but his natural caution was preventing the response that his son had anticipated. It was too simple; there must be a flaw somewhere. In his typically cautious way, he walked slowly around the room, examining the details while attempting to think of any defects in Philippe's plan.
Philippe watched as his father inspected the room, and his youthful buoyancy began to sink a bit. The strength of a love that had survived more than twenty years of separation should have demanded a more positive reaction, in the younger man's mind. How could they not seize this opportunity? Thinking that encouragement would be helpful, he said, "You have done so much for me; let me do this for you!"
"It is a very large room," he said, quietly, at a loss for words to adequately describe his feelings at that moment. "I have never had need for a room this large."
"Father, the size of the room is not what is important here," Philippe said, somewhat impatiently, unable to understand his hesitation. "It is the location and its proximity to Mother's room! And your other room is just down the hall. You could retain it as your office." After another long pause, during which D'Artagnan said nothing, Philippe prompted, "Do you not want to marry Mother?"
The captain's eyes darted back to his son, and one look at Philippe's disappointed face told him that he had failed to offer the response that the young man had expected. "Of course I do. I want nothing more than to spend the rest of my life with her. But we must think this out very carefully before we proceed. And your mother must agree to it. If she is not interested or is fearful of discovery, then there is no point in pursuing it any farther."
Reassured that his father was interested, Philippe's excitement returned. "Then let's ask her!" Philippe said, returning to the secret door behind the bookcase.
D'Artagnan felt his heart leap inside his chest with sudden anxiety. "You mean now?"
Philippe paused in the doorway, his body half concealed by the bookcase. "Why not?"
With a broad grin on his youthful face, Philippe slipped through the exit, and a moment later, D'Artagnan heard him pounding on Anne's secret door.
"Philippe!" D'Artagnan hissed, rushing into the corridor to stop him. "What if someone is in there with her? The passages would be exposed!"
He looked over his shoulder at his father. "I asked yesterday, and she said that no one ever comes into her chamber without being invited."
"That does not change the fact that her attendant could be in there, or one of the chamber maids –"
The door opened, and light flooded into the corridor from the queen mother's bedchamber. Backlit from the window behind her, she formed a silhouette in the doorway as she observed the son who stood before her. "Philippe," she scolded, gently. "I told you yesterday that it is not necessary for you to use the passages when you want to visit with me. You may –" She spotted the other man over Philippe's shoulder and stopped. "D'Artagnan?"
"Are you alone?" he asked, worriedly, still concerned that the passages might be exposed.
"Yes. I was just reading by the window."
Philippe stepped back to allow room for his father to move toward her. "He has something he wants to ask, don't you?" he prodded.
"Well," he began, hesitating in the shadows. A moment later, he felt Philippe's hands on his back, pushing him forward. "Philippe!" he protested, reaching around to swat the hands away. "Stop pushing!"
Philippe pulled his hands back, his expression a picture of innocence. "It looked like you needed some help."
"I do not need that kind of help!"
Anne watched the exchange with an amused smile, thinking it a very pleasant interaction between father and son. "Perhaps you should just say it, D'Artagnan," she suggested.
He took a step forward, this time on his own. "Well," he began again. "Well . . . ."
"Perhaps you would be more comfortable if I left you alone," Philippe offered. With a wide grin, he backed away, then made his way back down the corridor to his room.
"What is he up to?" Anne asked, greatly amused.
D'Artagnan turned back to face her, but she was quick to notice that his expression had become serious. "Our son saw us in the garden last night."
Her smile faded, replaced by instant concern. "If he saw us, then anyone could have seen us."
"Yes. He is very worried that if we continue to meet like that, we will one day be discovered. You know what that means. Our relationship would be dragged into the public, and people may wonder how long it went on. Some may even raise questions about the king's paternity."
She lowered her gaze, her expression one of disappointment that it might be necessary to revert back to their forced distance, where they might never again share a private moment together. "Yes, you are right," she said, softly. Nodding her acceptance, she added, "So, we must return to the way things were between us."
Recognizing her sorrow, he stepped closer to her and placed a comforting hand on her shoulder. "Not necessarily. He has come up with a plan to unite us, and is most eager than I explain it to you."
She looked up again, her eyes searching his. "A plan? What kind of plan?"
He paused, struggling with the words to explain Philippe's plan. He had never proposed marriage to a woman before, and found it to be more difficult than he had imagined. The circumstances were too complicated for a simple Will you marry me?
Anne offered a slight smile in response to his difficulty in relating the plan. "I do not believe I have ever seen you so at a loss for words before!"
"This is not easy to explain," he admitted. "Philippe has expressed a desire that you and I should be married, and he has already spoken with Aramis about it."
He saw her swallow hard, and her eyes seemed larger than usual. Finding her voice again, she asked, "How – how could it be managed?"
He gestured toward the bookcase-door behind him. "He has suggested that I move into the room across the passage, where we would have access to one another without risk of being spotted by others."
Realization dawned. "That is why he was questioning me about that room!" she said, then explained, "He came to my room yesterday for a visit, and he must have just discovered it because he kept asking questions about it."
"Yes. I should not be surprised that he would be trying to resolve our problems. He questioned me about them back at the village, but I instructed him not to involve himself; that things could not be changed. Now, he has come up with a plan that seems very simple." He paused to see if she would offer comment. When she did not, he inquired curiously, "What are your feelings about this?"
"I was going to ask you the same thing," she replied, reluctant to take the initiative.
He hesitated. He had placed the question squarely in her lap, and she had promptly handed it back to him. "Well, it will not be a conventional marriage in that it must be kept secret, so there is still some risk involved, but provided there are no flaws to his plan, I think it might work. If you are willing to take the chance, that is."
"How dangerous would it be?" she asked.
"There are a few problems that we will need to discuss, but from what I've seen and heard initially, it will be simply a matter of watching what we say and how we act in public. No different than what we are doing now."
She glanced over her shoulder as if to verify that her attendant had not entered, even though she never entered the room without knocking and waiting for a response. "After all this time, could the answer really be so simple?"
He reached out and took her hand. "Come, I will show you the room."
She followed him through the bookcase-door and into the center of the room. For several moments, she stood quietly looking at the room, but her heart was beating rapidly with anticipation of spending the rest of her life with the man she loved. Not openly as she would have preferred, but after twenty years consisting of no more than longing glances and stolen looks through her window, she would gladly accept such an offer.
"It is much larger than my old room, which Philippe insists will remain my office, to keep my private and public accommodations separate. He has even been thinking how he wants me to furnish it!" He grasped her hands and looked into her face, gently combing back an errant lock of her hair with his fingers. "Anne, you know my feelings for you. All these years, I have loved no one but you. If you will have me, I would very much like to marry you."
Always poised and very refined in her movements and actions, for once in her life the queen mother threw dignity to the wind. "Oh, D'Artagnan! Yes!" she exclaimed, throwing her arms around his neck for an enthusiastic embrace, feeling like they were young lovers again. "Yes, I will have you! I never thought – I never imagined that something like this could ever happen for us!"
"Nor did I, but I underestimated our son's determination to make us a family." He drew back and cradled her face in his hands. "I wish it could be openly, but I am grateful for whatever God permits us to enjoy."
He pulled her into his arms for a kiss, then drew back again.
"Come, we must tell Philippe."
Clasping hands, the couple made their way back through the passage after securely closing the bookcase door behind them, and emerged into Philippe's chamber. He had been waiting for them, eagerly anticipating a positive response, and knew immediately that he would not be disappointed. His mother's shining face and the smiles on the faces of both his parents provided the answer before they even spoke.
D'Artagnan closed the portrait behind him, then gestured for all of them to be seated at the small table so that they might discuss their decision and its ramifications.
"As you might have guessed, Philippe, your mother was agreeable. However, I do have some concerns, and they must be resolved before we proceed any farther. First, how would we announce my move from the old chamber to the new one? I have lived there for so long that people would wonder at the sudden change."
"That is simple," Anne replied promptly. "The king will make a formal announcement that due to your many years of dedication and service to him and to the country, he is offering you the gift of accommodations more suited to your status. You are captain of the Musketeers. Recognition of your service is long overdue."
"Excellent idea, Mother!" Philippe approved.
"Where could a marriage between us take place?" she asked. "Obviously, we cannot use the palace chapel, nor could we use any of the area cathedrals."
D'Artagnan indicated the room in which they were now sitting. "We could be married in a brief ceremony right here, with only Philippe and my friends in attendance," he suggested.
"I've a better idea," Philippe said. "I know Mother would prefer to be married in a chapel, and there is a chapel at Porthos's estate. We can use that."
D'Artagnan could not help but smile. "It appears you have been thinking of this for some time. However, there is a problem with that. There is the matter of your mother's reclusive nature that must be addressed. She has not been seen outside the palace grounds in many years, and even here she ventures from her apartments only on occasion to walk to the chapel or to the dining hall."
"Or a midnight stroll in the garden with her lover!" Philippe teased.
Anne's cheeks colored slightly, but the only indication that D'Artagnan had heard was a slight pause before continuing. "For her to leave the palace would cause much speculation."
"Then we must think of a reason for her to leave the palace grounds," Philippe insisted. "One that everyone would accept without question."
She was shaking her head, totally at a loss for any reason she would have for leaving the grounds. "I can think of nothing. I have everything I need right here."
"You were not always a recluse," D'Artagnan pondered. "In the early days, before the king died, you occasionally would go to stay at one of the other royal estates."
"To get away from Louis," she reminded him. "He and I were not good friends, nor did we have a good marriage. Since his death, I have had no reason to use any of the other accommodations."
They were silent for several moments, then D'Artagnan suggest, "Perhaps your son, worried about your reclusiveness, could propose a change of scenery to you one day; I would suggest at the dining table where servants would be sure to overhear. Naturally, you would object, but he would persist until you agreed. With suitable reluctance, of course."
Philippe sat up straighter with enthusiasm. "Yes! That would work! We could rehearse what we would say to make it more believable. One thing that Aramis brought up that I am uncertain how to handle would be if one of the men came looking for you in an emergency situation during the night, if you were . . . " His voice trailed and he felt his cheeks growing warm. "If you weren't there."
D'Artagnan smiled with amusement at his son's embarrassment. "That would only happen in the event of an extreme emergency, and it would be a simple matter to leave the doors between our rooms cracked open. They are right across the corridor from one another, and I should be able to hear if someone came looking for me."
They looked at one another for several moments, then Philippe asked, "Is there anything else to discuss?"
"My attendant," Anne said. "Obviously, she cannot go with us to the estate and she will wonder why."
"Give her a vacation," Philippe suggested.
"It is not as simple as that."
"Why not?"
"She has been at my side for many years. She would wonder about it if I suddenly ordered her to take some time away from me."
"She may be a major obstacle," D'Artagnan said.
"Perhaps not," Philippe said, refusing to concede defeat. "She seems very loyal to you, Mother. Can she be trusted if we take her into our confidence?"
D'Artagnan was shaking his head, negatively. "Too many people know already. We cannot keep inviting others to share our secrets, no matter how loyal we think they are."
"Your father is right, Philippe," Anne agreed. "It is too dangerous. She is very loyal, and I do believe she would never intentionally betray us, but it is too easy for an accidental slip of the tongue."
"What can we do, then? We cannot just give up on this! Does she have any relatives that she could visit?"
After another pause, Anne said, "She has a sister in Rouen that she has not seen in many years, but convincing her to go might be difficult."
"Then I will insist," Philippe said. "After all her years of dedicated service to my mother, I believe she is deserving of a short vacation. I am getting very good at persuasion."
Anne exchanged a knowing glance with D'Artagnan, both of them smiling. "That you are," D'Artagnan agreed. Rising from his chair, he took Anne's hand to assist her to her feet. "Come, I will walk you back to you chamber."
With a look in Philippe's direction that plainly said they wanted to be alone for a few minutes, they slipped behind the portrait door and made their way back to the queen mother's chamber. He did not enter her room, but stood in the doorway.
"There is one last thing that I wanted to discuss, but I wanted to do so privately," he said. "Regarding your attendant, there is the possibility that she might discover my presence in your chamber. She might overhear us talking or even walk in on us."
"No, she would never enter my chamber with waiting for me to admit her. The door leading from my bedchamber to my parlor is solid, and I do not think she would hear us talking even if she were standing right outside it, which is unlikely, since she respects my privacy. As a safeguard, though, I can always lock my door."
He smiled, pleased. "Everything seems to be coming together. How long will it take you to be ready?"
"For the wedding? Since it will not be a large formal wedding, I will not require much time to prepare. My dressmakers are working on a new gown that should be ready in a week or so, so I will wear that. I can probably be ready before the chapel is!"
He drew her into his arms. "Soon, after all these years of hopelessness, you and I will be husband and wife."