What's in a Name?

Chapter 3

The Letter

A week had come and gone and D'Artagnan had heard nothing more about his name from Jacqueline. It was as though she had never asked him. Their conversations were once again centered on their duties and friends. Even their practices, a time when they would joke and banter with each other, were the same as before. Everything was back to normal.

Then why had he woken up early again? It seemed to be becoming common place. Since patrol that night, he found it harder to sleep without seeing visions of Jacqueline sitting in the Café laughing, or remembering their conversation as they rode patrol. He had thought he could just bury his feelings and look at her as nothing more than just another Musketeer. During the day it was easy enough, as Duval kept them busy. But when he slept, he couldn't stop her from sneaking into his dreams, haunting him, because he knew he could not have her.

D'Artagnan decided what he needed to do. Getting up, he got dressed, ready for the day. Then he walked over to his desk and sat down, pulled out a sheet of paper and started to write. Quickly he was filling the page with his words. He jumped when he heard a knock on the door.

"Come in."

Jacqueline opened his door and poked her head in. "You didn't come for breakfast. I thought maybe there was something wrong."

He looked up from his desk at the sound of her voice. "Hey Jacques, come on in." This was it. He knew it. She'd just been waiting for a good time to bring it up again.

She walked in, closed the door behind her and went over to the desk, afraid that she may have interrupted him doing something important. "I just wanted to…….What are you doing?"

" Just writing a letter. I want to get it into the post today."

Then perhaps she was interrupting him. Trying to peek over his shoulder without being obvious, she said, with a little sarcasm in her voice, "Oh? A love letter to one of your many admirers?"

Noting her tone, D'Artagnan answered, "Yes, right, a love letter."

"Hmm, to whom? Charlotte maybe?"

"If it was a love letter, why would I have to post it?"

Not expecting this reply, Jacqueline's mind was racing. "Because you're...too afraid to give it to her in person."

D'Artagnan resumed his writing, a small grin coming to his lips. Could this be a touch of jealousy, even after all she'd said the other night? "It's NOT a love letter."

Jacqueline was surprised to find that she was actually relieved by this. "Then what is it?"

"Just a letter." He always enjoyed her childlike curiosity. "Didn't you say you wanted something?"

"To your father perhaps?"

"No, not to my father."

"Then to whom?"

D'Artagnan grinned. "You're a bit nosy, aren't you?"

Taken aback, she stammered, "Sorry, just curious." She walked over and sat down on the bed, deciding that she must have interrupted something he definitely did not want her to know about.

"Actually, it's a letter to Aramis."

Jacqueline looked up in surprise. "THE Aramis?"

He turned to look at her. "What is it with you and the THE all the time? Of course I know THE Aramis."

She replied, the awe very apparent in her voice, "You are SO lucky."

As he continued to look at her, he wasn't aware of the longing that had come into his eyes. With a little sadness in his voice he said, "Right." Lucky was the last thing that D'Artagnan felt right now.

To know the original Musketeers! She couldn't help but be envious, wishing that she had had a life like his. How could he act as though it was something not to be proud of? Anyone would love to be in his shoes. "So what are you writing to him about?"

He turned back to his letter. There was no way he could tell her what he was writing about. Every time he had tried to tell her how he felt, she had gotten angry. She would never understand him telling someone else that he planned to marry her. "Just asking him for a little advice."

"About what? If I may ask."

D'Artagnan wondered if Aramis could give him the advice he needed to confess his love for his compadre, especially when she clearly didn't share his feelings. But he knew that she at least cared for him. Had he not detected a touch of jealousy in her voice earlier? Or had he only imagined it? Could Aramis also advise him on how to go on with his life as it is, if she were not able to love him in return? He came out of his thoughts, remembering that Jacqueline was there in his room. Trying to resume an air of just friendship, he answered, "About how to get my friend to quit asking so many questions."

Jacqueline laughed. "Ok, ok."

He finished his letter, sealed it, and wrote upon it the address that would take it to the man that had been like a second father to him. Standing up and turning to face her, he said, "There, I'm done." Then he remembered the reason he felt she had really come in for. "Wasn't there something you wanted?"

She had forgotten that she had in fact come in with a purpose. "Oh yeah. Captain Duval wanted me to tell you that he wanted a meeting with you."

"Oh." He found that he was disappointed by this. Perhaps she had actually given up on wanting to know his name. He should be glad. He really had no intention of telling her, unless she agreed to share her life with him. Then why was this thought bothering him?

Jacqueline stood, watching him. It seemed as though she had seen a hundred different emotions in his eyes in the past few minutes. What was he thinking? Was he worried that she had come in with the intentions of asking about his name again? She had been concerned about broaching the subject at all during the past week; afraid that once again he would start talking of marriage and a life together. Plus their duties and practices always seemed to coincide with Ramon's and Siroc's. What if they overheard? Her secret would be known; her life as she had worked so hard to build up would be over. She wasn't sure when she could find another opportunity to ask him, or to try to find a way to get him to tell her.

They both seemed to realize at the same time that they were staring at each other. Embarrassed, Jacqueline lowered her eyes, trying not to blush. D'Artagnan looked down at the letter he held in his hand.

"We better go," he said, trying to keep his voice casual.

Jacqueline nodded and started for the door.

"Any idea what Duval wants to see me about?"

"He didn't say," she answered, then added, "Would you like me to grab you some breakfast before everything is put away?"

"Thanks, but I'm not hungry. I'll get something later at the Café." He followed her out the door and headed for Duval's office. He couldn't imagine what Duval would want a meeting with him for. After that, he'd have to go post his letter. He had no idea what kind of response he would get from Aramis; perhaps just advice that he would be better off to forget love and become an abbot. Laughing to himself, D'Artagnan wondered if that would be such bad advice.