Chapter Thirty Two
Anne sat quietly before the mirror at the dressing table while behind her Angelina was working diligently over her long dark hair, styling it into a fashion suitable for a bride.
Bride.
She had imagined this day for so long that it was difficult to accept that it had actually come true, that within the hour she would be D'Artagnan's wife. All those long, lonely years since the birth of her twin sons, she had longed for what had always eluded her: a happy, fulfilling marriage with the man she loved. Would she soon wake up and realize that it had been nothing more than a dream?
She blinked herself out of her reverie, focusing on the reflection in the mirror of the young woman who continued to struggle with her hair. Her expression was one of intense concentration, apparently determined to do a good job for the queen mother. No, this was real. Without the help of her usual attendants, who must remain ignorant of the changes that were occurring in their mistress's life, she was preparing for her wedding, while in another wing of Porthos's mansion, D'Artagnan was preparing to meet her at the alter.
A smile crept to Anne's lips. The past three weeks since the proposal had been hectic and rushed as preparations were made in secret. Angelina had told her that the chapel in which the wedding would take place had been scrubbed from top to bottom by Porthos's servants, and when the job was complete they had been dismissed for what he had referred to as some needed time off in appreciation for their loyalty during the rough time he had endured following the death of his wife. This was to guard the security and the privacy of the wedding. None of them questioned his motives; they were happy to be granted the time away from their chores for a few days.
Getting away from the palace without raising eyebrows was a bit more of a challenge, but all the pieces seemed to fall into place with surprising ease. During lunch two days ago, she and Philippe had engaged in the scripted conversation in front of the palace servants. As a dutiful son, he had expressed his concern for her reclusive nature, pointing out the fact that she had not left the palace in as long as he could remember. She had offered her excuses, and when the king suggested that she should take a brief holiday away from the palace, she had rejected the idea, the insisting that she had everything she needed at the palace. The conversation was revisited at supper, with him applying enough pressure for her to finally agree. It had been a convincing performance by both of them, and no one was suspicious when her carriage was brought to the door early this morning with Athos, Porthos, Aramis, and D'Artagnan in escort.
Lieutenant Andre had seemed a bit puzzled by the lack of a larger escort, since the king had ridden with her in the carriage on the pretence of getting her settled, but the trip was explained as spur of the moment. Since they had not publicly revealed the day on which she would be leaving, there should be minimal danger in getting her to her destination. A large escort would simply call attention to their journey. In the pre-dawn hour, they had boarded a plain black coach, and had slipped unnoticed into the countryside.
And now, she was only minutes away from being united forever with the man she loved.
Glancing into the mirror, Angelina noticed the smile that continued to play around the corner's of the queen mother's mouth, and she offered a tentative smile of her own, greatly intimidated by the older woman's prestige. "You look very happy, my lady."
"You have no idea how long I have waited for this day," Anne replied.
"I think it is wonderful. You and the captain deserve to find happiness after all the sacrifices you have made throughout your lives. I am not sure I could have been so brave in the same situation."
Anne gazed for a long moment at the other woman's reflection in the mirror, observing her as she worked. She appeared to be as skilled in hairdressing as she was reputed to be at preparing fine meals, for her hands were working with ease with none of the fumbling of someone who was performing an infrequent task. "You are very good at this," she commented.
"I have two sisters," she explained. "We always fixed each other's hair. I must say, though, there have been so many changes in my life the past few weeks I hardly know what has happened!"
They fell silent for a few moments, then Anne asked, curiously, "How did you find out? About Philippe, and about D'Artagnan and me. Did they tell you?"
"No. I was the cook while they were at the village, so I was in and out of the house a lot. I overheard many of their discussions, about training Philippe to take his brothers place on the throne, and acquiring new clothes for him that were like those of the king. I was not deliberately eavesdropping, but I heard enough to figure out what had happened, especially after I heard Philippe call the captain 'father'. I was surprised, but I never told anyone what I had heard. And I started coming alone to the house, leaving my sisters at home so they would not overhear as well."
"I appreciate your discretion." Anne continued to watch the younger woman in the mirror, wondering what thoughts lurked behind those opaque eyes. Her hands were clearly skilled, but there was a definite nervousness to her actions, and the queen mother knew that she was in awe of her. "As much as I love D'Artagnan, I am not proud of the betrayal to my husband and my king. You must think me a horrid person."
Angelina's eyes snapped up to gaze at the reflection of the other woman in the mirror. "On the contrary, my lady. I am not one to judge, for we have all done things of which we are not proud. I think you must have been very unhappy; that you were forced into a marriage with a man you did not love, and that your heart always belonged to someone else."
"All of that is true," Anne admitted. She knew she should not be discussing such personal things with a servant, but this was the first woman she could be truly open and honest with, a woman who already knew her deepest secrets, a woman she could confide in. "Still, what I did was more than just adultery. I have loved him for so long, but our love was forbidden. What we did was treason. I betrayed the king and the country, and I allowed him to think that another man's child was his. That was a difficult burden to bear."
"Is that why you became a recluse?" Angelina asked without thinking. "Penance for your sins?" Catching a glance from the queen mother, she quickly averted her eyes, realizing that she had overstepped her bounds. "Forgive me, my lady. I am just a servant, and should not have asked such a personal question."
"From what I hear, you are not just a servant," Anne smiled to show her that she was not offended. "My son tells me that you are soon to be a lady yourself."
Color rose in Angelina's cheeks. "Porthos has asked me to marry him, but . . . I am having doubts that a marriage between us would work."
"Why not? D'Artagnan tells me that Porthos loves you very much."
"I love him with all my heart, but I fear I am not worthy of him. Ever since coming here, I have watched him with his friends, all of them of high standing and reputation, and I am reminded that I come from a different place." Her eyes brimmed with tears. "I am a mere peasant girl, raised in a large family of farmers. I never had fine things. I do not even know how to read. He was a famous Musketeer, and was married to a baroness. I know nothing of running a household this size. All I know is how to serve."
Anne turned around in her chair and grasped the young woman by the hand. "Many people with humble beginnings have risen to great heights. My own"D'Artagnan is a good example. And he told me that he has never seen Porthos as happy as he is with you. Your humble beginnings are of no consequence to him; therefore they should not be to you either. Your past is what shaped you into the woman you are today, and you must be a wonderful young woman to have captured the heart of that feisty old codger."
Angelina bowed her head, reminded of her age. "That is another thing, my lady. He is much older than I am. What if he grows tired of me and wants someone more his own age to talk to?"
"He has three best friends to talk to. Angelina – may I call you that?"
Angelina looked up, startled. "Of course, my lady."
"If there is one thing I have learned from my experience, it is that we must never take for granted the love that exists for all of us. For most people, true love only comes once in a lifetime. A few others are blessed enough to find love again, and if you and Porthos love each other, then nothing else should matter. I lost so many years to an unhappy marriage and then to my penance. Yes, to answer your question, that is why I secluded myself away from the public. Yet it was more than that. Every time I saw D'Artagnan, I felt as if my heart would break from the longing. Even after my husband had passed away, the difference in our social status forbade us from enjoying the life we would have liked."
"And now your son has found a way for you to be together."
"I am grateful to him for that, yet it is not the way I would have preferred. My point is, Angelina, that you have no such restrictions. If a life with Porthos is what you truly want, then you must not lose this chance at happiness. You have an opportunity to share your life openly with the man you love. It may not be perfect, but if the love is there then you must seize it, and thank God every day for offering it to you."
"It will not be easy," Angelina said, worriedly. "The other servants will resent me for rising above them in rank."
"Few things that are worthwhile are easy. But they are worth the struggle, and you will be stronger for it. If the servants become a problem, simply dismiss them and find new ones who will treat you with respect. Trust me; Porthos will not allow them to treat you with insolence. But I believe that their loyalty to him with encourage them to accept you."
Angelina smiled, and it was clear to see that some of the load had been lifted from her heart. "Thank you, my lady." The queen mother turned to face the mirror again, and Angelina laid down the brush and picked up a long strand of pearls, which she began to weave into Anne's hair. "You have such beautiful hair, my lady. You are going to be a beautiful bride."
"You have done a lovely job. Thank you, Angelina."
When the strand of pearls was in place, Angelina stood back. "You are ready."
Anne felt her heart step up a notch, and she placed her hand over her bosom in an attempt to calm it. "Oh, my! I am so nervous!"
"Stand up, and I will make sure you are not wrinkled."
Anne rose off the small stool on which she had sat. Her skirt had been carefully arranged to avoid putting wrinkles in it, but occasionally a wrinkle or two would materialize. Angeline circled her, straightening the light gray skirt and smoothing it down her hand.
"You look perfect." She picked up the bouquet of flowers that she had picked from the garden, and placed it in the bride's hands. "Wait here and I will tell the others."
The two women exchanged a smile, then Angelina opened the door and went down the long corridor to inform the men that the bride was ready.
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"Are you about ready?" Athos asked as he stepped unannounced through the open door of the room in which D'Artagnan was getting ready.
His back to the door, the captain recoiled at the abruptness of his friend's voice and dropped his dress sword onto the floor with a clatter that startled them both.
Athos could not contain his laughter at the startled expression on D'Artagnan's face. "My, you are jumpy today!" he teased.
"I feel like a frightened novice going into battle for the first time," he confessed as he bent to retrieve the fallen sword. It was inserted into the sheath, and the baldric was draped over his right shoulder so that the polished weapon hung against his left hip. "I have never been married before!"
Athos nodded his understanding. "I had always wondered about that, why you never found a good woman and settled down. I had no idea of the truth behind why you remained a bachelor all these years."
"For more than twenty years, I have dreamed of marrying Anne, of taking her away from Paris where we might live our lives together, but always we were tied to this place by our son. We could not leave him. And now that I have within my grasp the chance to take her as my wife, I am so nervous that I can barely keep a thought in my head or accomplish even the simplest of tasks. I nicked myself three times while shaving this morning," he added, pressing his fingertip gingerly to a spot on his chin that had only just stopped bleeding moments earlier.
"I was the same way before my wedding," Athos confessed. "So awkward and clumsy."
"Were you?" D'Artagnan asked, encouraged.
"When a man takes a wife, he is stepping into unknown territory, and taking on responsibilities that he never had before. But I knew I had found the right woman for me, and that I would never regret it. However, your situation is a bit more complicated than mine."
D'Artagnan turned to face the mirror and fumbled with his lacy white cravat. "This is the happiest day of my life, yet also the most frightening. Your analogy of unknown territory is a good one. This is a totally new experience for me. When I return to the palace, I will be a married man who must room separate from my wife."
"That is not unusual," Athos pointed out as he stepped forward to help his friend with the cravat. D'Artagnan lowered his hands, content to allow him full control over the task. "Many married couples occupy separate chambers, especially in the noble classes. The husband goes to the wife whenever he wants her, and but it makes it more convenient for him to keep a mistress or two if the wife if unaware of his comings and goings."
"Well, that will not be the case with me. I have no desire to share my time with a mistress, nor am I a member of the noble classes. I am but a humble Musketeer who is, at this moment, terrified of finally, after all this time, achieving the one thing I have wanted above everything else."
"I must admit to being surprised by the room that you will be moving into. I have seen the room before, but I don't think any of us knew that it opened into the secret corridor."
"No one was more surprised than I!"
"That in itself will be a new experience, for you have lived in the old room for many years. Philippe told me the other Musketeers were pleased with the announcement that your service to the king was finally being rewarded. Everyone believes it was a long time in coming."
"I never needed anything better than that," D'Artagnan replied, modestly. "The truth is, being so near my son was reward enough, even though Louis was unaware of it. I haven't many belongings, and the simplicity of the other room suited me."
"Your old furniture will be lost in that big room!"
"Philippe is acquiring all new furniture for the room, but he will not tell me much about it, only that it will be ready when I return to the palace. I am quite unaccustomed to so much attention."
Athos winked, teasingly. "I am sure you will find it to your liking."
When he finished with the cravat, D'Artagnan reached for the tunic of his uniform. For the first time, Athos realized that his friend intended to wear the old black uniform instead of the new blue dress uniform. "You decided to wear the old uniform?"
"Anne has told me several times that she prefers the old uniforms to the new ones, so I thought it would please her." He gestured toward his old friend. "And I see that you are wearing your old uniform, as well."
Athos smiled as he glanced down at the long black tunic with the gold fleur-de-lis on the chest and the back. "I think we all prefer the old ones. Besides, I retired before the uniforms changed color, so it is all I have." He watched as D'Artagnan put on the tunic and arranged it so that the long fabric hung evenly on all sides.
Both were silent for a few moments, than Athos commented, "It seems quite fateful, doesn't it? First, Philippe assumes the throne with more ease than any of us thought possible, and then while exploring the passages he finds a room strategically located beside that of the queen mother, a room which solves many of the problems that kept the two of you apart all these years. And Porthos has a chapel on his estate so that you can be married in secret. It all seems as though it has the approval of a higher power than any of us."
"Indeed," D'Artagnan agreed. "Perhaps the wrongs of my old sin are being righted. My grandest dreams would have involved loving her and marrying her openly, but since that can never be, this is the next best thing."
"Well, the reason I came here was to inform you that the queen mother is ready. Aramis and Porthos are in the chapel. Angelina is on her way there now, and Philippe is ready to escort his mother to the service. Everyone seems to be ready except you."
D'Artagnan turned to face the mirror again to peruse his appearance once last time. His hands were a bit unsteady as his deft fingers made a few minor adjustments, and inside he was all butterflies and nerves. "All right," he announced. "I am ready."
Athos swatted him affectionately on the upper arm with his open hand, then the two men made their way down the stairs to the rear entrance, and walked through the formal gardens toward the chapel.
It was a perfect day for a wedding. The sun was shining brightly, but the weather had graced them with a cool day with no wind to disturb carefully styled hair and clothing. The lawn had been carefully manicured, and the flowers were in full bloom along the paths.
When they stepped out of the bright sunlight into the darker interior of the chapel, the two men paused briefly to allow their eyes to adjust to the lower light. Candles burned in gold candelabras on either side of the altar, where Aramis stood waiting with an open Bible in his hand. He was dressed in his floor length cassock, and his hair was carefully brushed for the occasion. Beside him, Porthos stood waiting in his black Musketeers uniform. Like Aramis, he was carefully shaved and his long, rather wild hair was brushed, and his mustache suitably trimmed. A large bouquet of red roses stood on a marble pedestal beside the altar.
Athos walked with D'Artagnan proceeded down the aisle to await the arrival of the queen mother. Angelina was already waiting on the other side of the pulpit, facing Porthos. No one failed to notice the smiles that passed between the two of them, or the sly wink that Porthos gave her.
"I do believe we will see another wedding soon!" Athos whispered in D'Artagnan's ear.
"I was beginning to think you had backed out," Porthos teased as they came to a halt beside him.
Aramis looked up from his Bible, and bowed slightly at the waist. The others turned to look.
The queen mother stood regally just inside the doorway. Her posture was erect and dignified, her arm linked with that of her son, who had placed his other hand over hers in a gesture of great affection. In her other hand was the bouquet of white flowers that Angelina had picked for her and bound with a white ribbon. Directing her attention toward the dais, her eyes met those of her betrothed from across the length of the small private chapel.
D'Artagnan felt his breath catch in his chest, and his heart swelled with adoration. She was simply the most beautiful woman he had ever beheld, and her smile alone was enough to reassure him that legitimizing their relationship was the right thing to do. "There is nothing on this earth that could make me back out of this wedding," he whispered to Porthos, never taking his eyes off the woman who, within minutes, would be his wife.
Seeing that they had the attention of the others, Anne and Philippe made their way down the center of the chapel toward the pulpit, where Anne's hand was transferred to D'Artagnan.
Taking her hand in his, he smiled at her warmly, and they turned to face the priest. At Aramis's instruction, the pair knelt down on the kneeling bench, and the wedding ceremony commenced.
D'Artagnan and Anne followed the priest's instructions and repeated the wedding vows that Aramis recited for them. When it was over, they stood up and sealed their vows with a kiss.
As they broke the kiss, D'Artagnan turned to shake hands with his friends, and was surprised to discover that Athos and Porthos were gone, having slipped quietly outside while he was preoccupied. Aramis still stood before them, smiling. With his hand, he gestured toward the door, urging them to go outside.
Linking Anne's arm with his, he guided her toward the door, and as they stepped through it, he discovered that Athos and Porthos were standing at formal attention, one on each side of it, their sword tips touching above their heads to form the honorary bridal arch.
In a proper military wedding, an entire squad of Musketeers would be lined up shoulder to shoulder on each side of the walkway, providing the customary arch for the newlywed couple to walk beneath, but in lieu of the squad, his good friends were offering him their tribute.
Moved beyond words, D'Artagnan escorted his wife beneath the arch of swords, then turned back to face the chapel. Aramis and Philippe stood smiling in the doorway as Athos and Porthos returned their swords to their scabbards. A moment later, everyone was shaking hands and kissing the bride on the cheek.
"Come back up to the parlor," Angelina urged. "I made some pastries to celebrate, and Porthos has brought out his best wine for the occasion."
Anne grasped the younger woman by the hand. "You are so thoughtful. But when did you find the time? You have been busy with me most of the morning!"
Porthos draped an arm over the shoulders of his intended. "She spent nearly the entire night in the kitchen baking."
"Then we mustn't let them go to waste!" Philippe exclaimed. "Mother, you are going to love her pastries. No one can cook like Angelina!"
As a group, the men and women returned to the house and gathered in the parlor, where Angelina served her pastries and Porthos's best wine.
With a longing gaze at the wine bottle as Angelina poured it into the waiting goblets, he said, "As much as I would like to, I no longer partake. The effect it was having on me was less pleasant than the thought of no longer drinking it, so I would appreciate it if everyone would enjoy it on my behalf, and then when it is gone, the temptation will also be removed, as it is my last bottle. I will not be replenishing my stock."
Aramis slapped his old friend affectionately on the shoulder, giving it a meaningful squeeze. "I am humbled by your sacrifice, Porthos. You are truly an inspiration."
Angelina watched anxiously as the queen mother selected a pastry from the platter and sampled it. "Are they to your liking, my lady?" she asked, hopefully.
"Simply the best I have ever tasted," Anne replied. "Philippe was right; you do have a talent for creating culinary wonders."
The young cook beamed with pleasure. "He said that?"
"I did indeed," Philippe said. "The chef at the palace is truly a wonder to behold, but his masterpieces pale in comparison to yours."
She blushed with delight. "You are too kind, your majesty."
"I only speak the truth. I envy Porthos, who gets to indulge in your creations every day!"
Porthos patted his stomach. "And it is beginning to show, I fear!"
Everyone laughed, happily.
Angelina put away the wine bottle, and at Anne's urging, joined her guests. It felt very foreign to sit among men and women of such high rank instead of simply serving them and moving back out of the way, but Porthos had assured her that they were all equals during the festivities, and that it was right and proper that she should join them. She felt very self-conscious as she sat down in a chair near Porthos.
"I believe this is the happiest day of my life," Philippe said. "We are all here together as a family." He looked at his father's best friends and added, "And I include all of you in my family."
D'Artagnan raised his goblet. "To family."
"To family!" they chimed, then drank their toast.
"So tell me," Porthos said as he placed his goblet of cider on a side table. "How did you manage to get away from the palace without an entourage of servants?"
"It was not that difficult, actually," Philippe explained. "I merely informed them that the queen mother would be staying with friends for a few days, and that the house she would be staying at was fully staffed." He glanced around at those in attendance with an amused smile. "Of course, that was a lie, since all of the servants have been temporarily sent away, but they need not know the facts. As for the entourage of Musketeers, I am guarded by the four finest Musketeers in history, and everyone knows that."
"I hated lying to Lieutenant Andre, though," D'Artagnan said, regretfully. "He has stood by us steadfastly since the exchange. I told him that the queen mother was being taken to one of the royal retreats, and that he is to be in charge while I am away. I think it satisfied him."
"The most difficult part was convincing my attendant, Madeleine, to visit her sister for a few days. We allowed her to think that it was the king's idea, that he was just beginning to understand the importance of family, and that it was his wish that she should take a brief holiday to visit the only relative she has left."
"Even then, she was worried about leaving Mother without her assistance during that time," Philippe added. "She is very devoted."
"I assured her that it would be all right, that I would manage without her, and that we would see each other in a week. After being reassured, she was so eager to see her sister that she wept with joy when she bade farewell to me, and promised to rejoin me in a week's time to resume her duties." She glanced fondly at her son. "And she believes the king is the most kind and generous ruler in all of Europe!"
"To the king!" Porthos said, raising his cider again.
"To the king!" they repeated.
As Athos lowered his goblet again, he asked, curiously, "Philippe, have you heard anything of your brother's valet, Francois? It has been more than four weeks now since he broke his leg the day of the hunt, but you have mentioned nothing of him returning to the palace."
"I send someone to LaCroix's estate to check on him a couple of times a week to see if there is anything he needs," Philippe replied. "Curiously, his broken leg seems to be healing very slowly."
Athos frowned, a puzzled expression on his face. "Even so, he should have been well enough to return to the palace by now. Have you sent your physician to have a look at him?"
"Yes. He can provide no explanation of why Francois is recovering so slowly, and claims that outwardly the leg appears to be quite healthy. He has felt the break and it seems to be knitting properly, but says there may be some imperfection in the bone that is causing this problem. There has been some progress, and he is moving about with crutches, but he insists that he can only remain up for a few minutes at a time before the leg causes him so much pain that he must return to his bed. He fears the trip to the palace would cause unbearable pain. We will have to wait a while longer to see how it progresses."
"That is most curious, but I suppose different people heal in different ways."
"That is what the doctor assures me. This does not automatically preclude his ability to return to the service of the king. LaCroix is very upset," Philippe added with a smile. "I think he is afraid the king will blame him for the slow healing. I occasionally receive a message from him assuring me that Francois is receiving the most attentive care possible by his family and servants."
"The delay is very beneficial," D'Artagnan said. "Certain physical characteristics between you and Louis will fade in his mind as time goes by, and become less noticeable. I must say, this is a most remarkable turn of events, isn't it?"
"It certainly works on our behalf," Aramis agreed.
"As if it was fate," Anne added. "I do feel sorry for poor Francois, though. He has always been so devoted to the king, and must be suffering terribly."
"Perhaps I should stop and visit him while I am so near," Philippe mused.
"I would discourage that," D'Artagnan said. "You are not supposed to be in this area, remember. We told your staff that you were going to one of the royal retreats, and there are none in this location. Better that you continue to allow your staff to request updates on his condition."
Philippe sighed. "You are right, of course. After four weeks, I should have thought this through properly."
"You have a kind heart, Philippe," Athos said approvingly, a statement he had made frequently, but it pleased him to know that the young man was so caring of others. "It is natural that it should cross your mind to check up on him while you are so near. But as your father said, you are not supposed to be in this area."
"Aramis, what about the Jesuits?" D'Artagnan asked, curiously. "What are their intentions toward the king now that 'Louis' has been showing mercy to the people?"
"They have noticed the changes that Philippe has made so far, and are quite pleased with it. They are watching with a bit of skepticism, but they are settling down to see if he continues to make progress."
"So I am out of danger?" Philippe asked, hopefully.
"From the Jesuits, yes," Aramis explained. "There are still potential assassins out there, people who were wronged by Louis and seek revenge, and possibly political assassins from other countries, so you must continue to be cautious."
"Please, may we talk of something else?" Anne asked, distressed by the reminder that her son was in constant danger whenever he stepped outside the palace.
Philippe bent to kiss her cheek. "Do not worry, Mother. I will be careful, and the Musketeers will protect me. And now, I would like to raise one last toast: To my mother and my father. May they enjoy many years of happiness."
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They celebrated well into the evening, emptying the last bottle of Porthos's wine and eating the fine meal that Angelina prepared for them. The moon had risen over the landscape when Anne, unaccustomed to lengthy festivities, rose from her chair. "I will retire now."
The men instantly stood up, and each of them bade her goodnight.
They watched as she walked gracefully from the room, then Athos turned to D'Artagnan and said, "You are a lucky man, my friend. She is a beautiful bride."
"That she is. Thank you, all of you, for everything you have done to make this possible for us. I had despaired of ever getting together with her."
"It is your son you should thank," Aramis reminded him. "None of this would have been possible without him. I must admit to being more than a bit skeptical when he first revealed his plan to me. I kept looking for flaws that apparently were not there."
"As did I," D'Artagnan agreed.
The clock chimed ten o'clock, drawing their attention to the time.
"I think we should be getting Philippe back to the palace," Athos said.
"I worry about you traveling after dark," D'Artagnan said. "There may be highwaymen about."
"Do not fear," Aramis said. "Sometimes the night provides the best cover. We will be cutting across country and traveling in the shadows, and as you said earlier, D'Artagnan, no one knows he is in this area. Anyone seeking to do harm to the king will be looking elsewhere."
D'Artagnan drew his son into his arms for an embrace, slapping him heartily on the back. "I cannot thank you enough for this, Philippe. I have always thought that a union between your mother and me was permanently out of our grasp. You have achieved things that I never thought possible."
"It was my pleasure, Father."
D'Artagnan walked them to the door, and watched as Athos, Aramis, and Philippe went to the paddock to get their horses. A few minutes later, they were riding into the darkness toward Paris.
Closing the door, he returned to the parlor, where Porthos and Angelina waited. Placing his arm around her, Porthos said, "I think it is time that Angelina and I retired as well. Goodnight, D'Artagnan. Will we see you at breakfast?" he added with a teasing smile.
"Maybe," D'Artagnan replied with a sly smile.
With a hearty laugh, Porthos took one of the candles, and he and Angelina climbed the steps, turning to the right to go to their room in the east wing of the mansion.
Blowing out the remaining candles except one, D'Artagnan followed his friend up the steps, then turned toward the west wing and walked down the long corridor to the room he and Anne had been given.
He paused nervously outside the bedroom door. His stomach was fluttering with butterflies, and his heart was beating faster than it had when he had fumbled his way into his first intimate relationship with the more experienced Constance so many years ago. As he reached for the door knob, he discovered that his hands were sweating. Calming himself, he rubbed them against his breeches to dry them, then grasped the knob and opened the door.
Dressed in a floor length nightgown and robe, Anne was standing at the window gazing out into the night, and she turned to face him when she heard him enter. For several moments, all he could do was stand there and gaze at her, so beautiful and regal in the muted light from the single candle she had lit. Her long thick hair tumbled loosely about her shoulders, falling to her waist. The faint scent of her soft perfume reached his nostrils, and he knew that she had prepared herself for him, for the night they would share together.
She watched silently as he closed the door behind him and placed his candle on the small table beside it. He leaned against the door for a moment, as if reluctant to approach her, but in reality, he was so nervous that he was having trouble coaxing his legs to move.
"I saw riders leaving," she said softly, breaking the silence.
"Yes. Athos and Aramis are escorting Philippe back to the palace. Porthos and Angelina have retired to the east wing. I dare say, they will keep one another entertained throughout the night," he added in an attempt at humor that seemed to fall flat.
"It feels strange," she admitted. "I have never, in my entire life, been inside a house with so few people before. Always, there have been servants, advisors and guards."
Gaining control over his legs again, he moved closer to her and drew her into his arms. He was unprepared for the surprise of discovering that she was shivering uncontrollably.
"You're trembling," he said in alarm, drawing back to search her face for indications that she had taken a chill. He pressed his hand to her forehead in concern. "Are you ill?"
"No, I'm all right. It's just that . . . It's been a long time since . . . . since . . . " Her voice trailed, and she looked away.
He smiled, comprehending the source of her anxiety. Leaning forward, he kissed her forehead and gently stroked her cheek with the back of his curled fingers. "For me also," he confessed.
She misinterpreted his meaning, and she reached for the strings that tied the neck of her robe beneath her chin, willing to give herself to him, even though she was not yet mentally prepared, for it was the duty of a wife to do her husband's bidding.
He grasped her hand, stopping her. "No. I will not rush you," he told her. "We will wait until you are ready."
She looked up, her eyes seeking his. "When I am with you, I am not the queen mother," she insisted. "I am only your wife, who wants very much to please you."
"You have always pleased me, my love," he told her. "The night is young, and we will go slowly. I want to savor every moment of our lives together, beginning with tonight."
Her gaze lingered on his face, her eyes shining with love. Reaching up, she gently caressed his cheek with her fingertips, igniting a fire deep inside him. He felt his body shudder from the want of her, but he kept that fire contained. He would allow her to lead, and he would respond to her when she was ready.
"You are a wonderful husband, D'Artagnan," she said, softly. "Even now, I cannot believe that after all these years, our love has finally been sanctified and our children have been legitimized."
He took her hand in his, turned it over, and lovingly kissed her fingers. "In becoming your husband, it is I who has been blessed. And if you must know, I am nervous, too," he confessed with a smile.
A smile formed on her lips. "Truly?" she asked.
"Truly," he replied. "The last time we were together, it was spontaneous. We did not have time to think about it. We simply acted. When I was coming up the stairs a few minutes ago, my knees were so weak I was unsure that I would be able to make it the rest of the way!"
She smiled, happily, grateful that he understood.
He leaned forward to kiss her. Then, still holding her hand, he blew out each of the candles, and darkness descended on the bedchamber.
"Come," he said.
She followed willingly, but instead of leading her to the bed, he led her to the small lounge near the window overlooking the lawn.
He sat down on the cushioned seat, and encouraged her to sit down beside him. "We will sit and talk for a while," he explained.
Marveling at his patience, she sat down and leaned against him, resting her head on his chest, listening to the rhythm of his heartbeat. His arm was draped lightly around her shoulders, and for a long time, neither of them spoke, content in their closeness.
"I feel so foolish, acting like a first-time newlywed," she said at last, embarrassed by her insecurity. "We have two sons together! Why should I feel so shy?"
He chuckled softly. "I, too, feel like an insecure lad hoping desperately to impress the woman I love, and so afraid that I will fail."
"There has never been a time when you did not impress me," she told him. "I noticed you almost from the very beginning. I watched you from my window as you came and went in your daily activities. Seeing you was the highlight of my day, and I would imagine that you would ride up on your stallion to rescue me from my prison." She paused briefly, smiling at the memory. "It was the vivid imagination of a foolish young girl, but my daydreams were the only things that kept me sane. Even then, I think I was in love with you." She snuggled closer and slipped one arm behind him and draped the other across his abdomen so that she could clasp her hands together in an embrace around his waist. "Oh, you were so handsome in that black uniform! Thank you for wearing it today."
"I hoped it would please you." He rested his cheek against the top of her head. "I saw you at your window many times."
"You did?" she asked, surprised.
"Mm-hmm. You pulled at my heart like no one else could have. I thought you looked like a captive, held against your will, longing for freedom."
"A very astute observation, I am afraid, for that is exactly how I felt. At the time, I never thought that I would ever know happiness. I never wanted to marry Louis. I was forced into it by my parents, who felt that an alliance with the French Royals would be beneficial to them. They condemned me to a life of loneliness."
"Shh," he said, softly against her hair. "That is all in the past. We will look to the future."
Lifting her head from his chest, she shifted position so that her mouth found his in an eager kiss that grew in intensity until he stood up and lifted her into his arms to carry her toward the bed in a romantic act. Unfortunately, he stepped on her nightgown that draped over his arm and trailed on the floor, and the two of them fell quite ungracefully onto the bed together.
His voice came to her through the dark, "That is not how that was supposed to happen."
She laughed happily as she took him into her arms.