Here's yet another chapter for you all to peruse! Hopefully you all find that this is moving along at a decent pace, and I'm sure you're still wondering when things are going to become a little clearer between the characters. Please keep reading if you want to find out! And for anyone who does read this, I would love to hear your feedback!
Chapter X
"From Her Majesty, Queen Anne."
The servant who appeared before her knelt down on the carpet of her bedroom floor as he offered out the box he carried in his hands to her. She had only newly returned after stoking the fire in D'Artagnan's room to keep him warm when he awoke to find someone knocking on her door with a letter from the Queen in his hand. Before she could speak, he had set the box down before her and risen to offer out the letter, which she took gingerly from his grasp. The servant then gave her a low bow and retreated from the room, leaving Katherine alone to ponder the contents of the box and the reason behind yet another gift from Queen Anne in such a short span of time. With quivering fingers she broke the royal seal that kept the edges of the letter shut together and approached the window, using the coming sunshine to read the carefully written words that were clearly from the Queen's own hand.
Again I find that words fail when I wish to express my thanks for the part you have played in recent events. I pray that you accept these as a gift from me for my gratitude, and I am sure that you shall be able to find a use for them in the near future. It would bring me great pride to see you wear them, as I feel the colour would compliment your beautiful eyes rather well.
Anne
Lowering the letter from her sight, Katherine turned her eyes back to the box she had left sitting on the floor and slowly made her way back toward it. The Queen had signed her letter with simply her first name, disregarding the fact that she had been born far above the position in life that Katherine occupied. She had addressed her so easily the night before, with a gentle ease that one would expect a Queen to possess...and yet without the formalities and courtly restrictions she would have thought to hear. She folded the letter and lay it on the edge of the bed before she knelt down on the floor, moving her skirt to surround her a little as she did. With a moment of hesitation, Katherine finally reached forward and pushed the top of the box out of the way. What she saw inside took her breath away and caused the girl to freeze momentarily where she sat before a hand gently reached forward to stroke the soft damask material on the front of the gown. Subtle accents of silver could be seen to decorate the dark blue colour that the Queen had chosen, for reasons that she still did not understand. Yet Katherine had never seen anything so beautiful in her life, nothing that she had owned anyway. There was no need for such finery back at the monastery.
So why would the Queen send her such a thing? What possible reason could she have for giving Katherine a piece of such elaborate clothing without having a reason to wear it? Between the shock of seeing something so strange to her eyes and the confusion she felt at having received such a gift, Katherine couldn't bring herself to do anything more than close the top of the box and move herself away from it. Oh God, forgive me, she thought with a glance upward. She lead a simple life and had never needed such things in her life, which she had always thought to be the tools of vanity and outrageous spending. And yet upon seeing it she had felt butterflies appear in the pit of her stomach because she could do nothing be envision how stunning it may look upon her body. That alone was enough of a sin to prompt Katherine to go to her father and ask him to absolve her of her sin...but that could wait until later. What she needed to do now was distance herself from the box and carry on with whatever else required her attention for the day, starting with her own body.
Nobody aside from herself had looked at the wound on her side since Athos had dressed it back in the monastery, and with D'Artagnan being in far worse shape than herself, she wasn't eager to remind people of its existence. Having such attention right now would be of no benefit at all, she thought as she slowly pulled at the shirt she wore until she managed to peel it away from her body. It was an exhausting movement as she stretched her side in order to pull the material away, looking down at the bandage that Athos had tied around her almost three days previous. All of her supplies were back in the other room where she had used them to tend to D'Artagnan, and so the girl had simply removed the bandage and attempted to clean it as best as she could before she shifted the bandage around to a cleaner section and retied it. The flesh around the outside was beginning to look red in colour, and it burned violently every time she placed the bandage back against it to bind it tightly. And every time she removed it, there were fresh stains to tell that it was not yet healing the way it should. Katherine had quickly dismissed this as being because of the amount of moving and travelling she had done over the past several days, noting that her body was in far better condition to move about than that of her uncle. That was all it was, she told her firmly as she laboured to pull the shirt back onto her body and held her side gingerly. It was just from the moving.
Breathing slowly so as to keep herself from getting dizzy, Katherine began tucking her shirt unto the top of her skirt and moved over toward the small mirror and brush that had been set on the chest of drawers for her use. Her hair had fallen into a state of disarray since last she had tended to it, with random strands falling out while others looked closer to standing on end. Sighing at the spectacle that she was, she began to pull her hair out of the customary braid that she wore it in and untangled a few pieces with her fingers, letting her dark locks run their course down to the middle of her back. It had grown quite long since the last time she had cut part of it away, perhaps it was almost time to do so again, she thought as she tilted her head to examine it in the mirror. Letting it grow too long would not be healthy for her hair, not that anyone would notice. Unlike some people, Katherine wore it out of her face and in a practical fashion so that she could proceed with her everyday life, choosing not to put it into some kind of fashion that might attract attention from other people. Her father surely wouldn't approve of that at all. She picked up the brush with delicate fingers, noting its heavy weight as she began to run it through her hair to remove any knots that had formed in her sleep. Each stroke was slow and gentle to prevent any unwanted tugging, beginning near the ends of her hair and gradually moving upward. And while she worked, Katherine began to hum absent mindedly.
Another knock on the door startled the girl a little as her humming came to an abrupt end, glancing over her shoulder for a moment. It wasn't likely to be another servant, since the last one had arrived so unexpectedly, but her father or one of her other uncles coming to check on her. "Come in," she called lightly, turning her eyes back to the mirror for a brief moment in order to finish. "Have you been in to see him at all today?" she asked, tossing her hair over her shoulder as she set the brush down again. "He was looking-" The girl gasped, eyes wide for a moment before she dropped down to her knees again and lowered her head, her hair brushing the floor and her teeth gritting a little against the pain that erupted in her side from the sudden movement. "Your Majesty."
For the second time, she found herself turning around to face a member of the royal family, but not the Queen as she had seen the night before. Instead it was Philippe who stood there, alone and in clothing far simpler than what he had worn when he greeted them yesterday. He smiled down at her for a moment before he moved forward and gently touched her chin with his hand.
"I much prefer Philippe, if you please." That same hand dropped down to wrap around her fingers and bring her slowly to her feet once more, leaving the girl with a rather startled look upon her face as she remembered how inappropriately dressed she was to receive him.
"Your Majesty, I pray you forgive my appearance," she stammered quickly, dropping her eyes again. "I was not expecting...well..."
"You were not expecting me," he finished softly, letting his fingers fall away from her own. "I understand. Though I do wish you would look at me."
The way in which she had been brought up had taught Katherine never to make eye contact with the King, not that she had ever imagined she would have the chance to do so. And yet, when he asked her in such a gentle tone of voice, without command or harsh order, she couldn't help but allow her blue eyes to slowly look up into his face, really seeing him for the first time since his mask had been removed back in the Bastille. His smile widened ever so slightly as she did so, which did not escape her notice.
"With all of the commotion my brother caused, we wanted to cover it up with something that would throw all suspicion off of D'Artagnan and the others," he began. "I would like to discuss it with you, if you'll permit me." Katherine couldn't hardly believe her ears. The King of France had come to ask for her opinion on something? While she had also been included in the summons to court initially, she did not think she had made a very good impression upon Philippe or his mother when they had gathered together to begin discussing what was to be done with his brother. And yet here he was, dressed as if he were not King at all.
"I am but a humble servant to Your Majesty," she replied slowly, watching him with wary eyes.
"But I do not wish for you to see yourself as such," Philippe replied earnestly, leaning toward her a little. The closeness to her King was an uncomfortable one for Katherine, who took a small step backward in response and earned herself a small sigh from his lips for her trouble. "Would you walk with me in the garden?"
Now Katherine was incredibly unsure. "If you wish, Your Majesty."
Philippe slowly offered his arm to her, noting the hesitant look upon her face before he offered her yet another gentle smile, much like the one that Queen Anne had given her before. "You need not worry about your appearance," he said smoothly. "It is only you and I."
She wasn't thoroughly convinced that she liked the idea of being seen in such a state while on the arm of the King, but she dared not refuse him. Stepping beside him Katherine took the arm that Philippe offered as lightly as possible and allowed him to escort her from the room and down the corridor, rounding a corner which lead them to a short flight of stairs at the very end. There was nobody else about, no sign of her father, her uncles...nothing. It was if that entire part of the palace had been reserved strictly for their use and nothing further. Tapestries hung on almost every wall with suits of armour from older times on display to decorate each of the corridors that they strolled down together until at last Philippe managed to lead them toward the garden.
And what a beautiful garden it was, she thought as she looked around in awe. Roses, violets, daffodils...almost any flower that Katherine could name turned the green space before them into a modern version of Eden, with trees and fountains placed in the shrubbery to add delicate accents to the endless colour wheel. She looked around with a bright smile as her skin soaked up the rays of sunshine, immediately feeling a little warm beneath her skirt and shirt as her eyes roamed around eagerly to drink in the sight.
"It's absolutely beautiful," she whispered, pausing a moment to lean over and smell a growing rose. "Our gardens back at the monasterydo not even compare." Blue eyes lifted to look around her at the perfectly manicured pathways that lead between the sections of flora, trees standing every so often to provide shade for the benches that also sat nearby. White, red, yellow, blue and purple all swirled together as if a painter had put the whole thing together on his canvas...and Katherine was absolutely entranced.
"I thought you might like it out here," Philippe said gently as they began their casual stroll again. "It's not as stuffy as some of the rooms in the palace." Katherine turned her head to look at him with a bright smile, flattered that he had chosen to share such a moment with her.
"Your Majesty is very kind."
"Please," he said. "Philippe."
Katherine nodded. "Philippe," she repeated.
The two strolled for a while longer as he watched her face light up with each new flower that they encountered, noting just how interested she genuinely was in the beauty of the place he was to call home. She never once seemed to notice how closely he watched her, simply continuing to look around her with a gentle ease that he had not seen in her at all since her arrival at the palace. There was no more tension in her body, no sign at all that she was uneasy around him now that she was aware of who he was and what role he was to play in life. And while he couldn't fully place the feeling, there was something about her that made Philippe feel just a little more confident in what was to come. Even though the others insisted that France would be in far better hands while he was on the throne in place of his brother, he still had an image that he needed to maintain and a job that needed to be accomplished. His people would look to him for a brighter future, where they no longer had to worry about starving or becoming sick from rotten food, where they could flourish under the light of the sun without fear of their king stamping out the light of their lives all together. It was a great undertaking for a young man who had spent nearly twenty-two years of his life without knowing who he truly was. And now was the ultimate test, as he prepared to lie to people for the first time in his life in order to keep safe the people who meant the most to him.
"Katherine, I-"
"Kate," she said quickly as she turned to look back at him and laugh gently at the stunned look upon his face. "If you insist that I call you Philippe privately, then I insist that you call me Kate."
His face relaxed a little when he met the gaze from her bright blue eyes, gesturing down for her to take a place on the small bench beneath the shade of a tree, which she did as elegantly as possible. "Kate, I know that you and I do not know much about one another," he began, allowing himself to occupy the space beside her. "But I wanted to speak with you about the story we are using to cover up what happened that night at the Bastille."
The very mention of that dreadful place brought a shiver to her spine as she remembered the horrible images of the people who she had had to leave behind in their cells. It still made her stomach churn to think that anyone could permit anyone to live in such a state, though she had to remind herself that none of what she had seen was Philippe's fault.
"Have you invented something?" she asked him, folding her hands in her lap and twisting her fingers slightly.
He nodded to her. "We have. We want to tell the public that a plot was uncovered to remove me from my throne using an imposter with an uncanny resemblance to me."
Katherine nodded, tucking part of her hair behind her ear with a fidgety hand. That much made sense to her, as anyone who might have heard or seen anything at all that night could easily be persuaded to believing that as the truth. After all, she had seen the twins herself and had been rather surprised by just how similar they really were in appearance.
"We would then say that it was Athos, Porthos, Aramis and D'Artagnan who uncovered the plot and removed the imposter before he could establish himself as King...and that D'Artagnan was stabbed when the imposter tried to flee from custody." Katherine closed her eyes tightly and bowed her head, trying to block out the images of that night as she watched D'Artagnan's body fall from his injury. It was still there in her mind, a vivid picture of what she had nearly lost that night when a father had prepared to sacrifice himself for his son.
"What is it you wish me to say?" She understood how they had taken the truth of the matter and turned it into something else, but why was he consulting her on it when it seemed that the entire plan was set in motion already? She didn't understand, nor did she see why it was that he would ask for the opinion of a girl who was barely involved when the three men who had hatched the initial plot had already given him their thoughts.
"I wish to know what you think...will it pass?"
She bit down on her lip a little as she considered it, wondering how perhaps she might feel if she were not now integrated into the scheme. There were a considerable number of things that needed to be thought about before they proceeded, but none as critical as what they were going to do with Louis. It had already been made clear that neither Anne nor Philippe wished to leave him in the Bastille to rot, though Katherine would have been perfectly happy with that suggestion. And yet, to allow him to live freely in the manner that Philippe had before his imprisonment still made him a threat to the future of France because he was aware of who he was...mostly.
"If your people are to hear about this, they will want to know who it was that tried to displace you, and who the imposter was," she thought aloud, staring straight ahead of her. "The people do not love Louis, and I doubt that they will if you were to say that the men responsible for this plot were executed." He could almost swear he saw her mind working as he watched her eyes, for they were so focused on what she was saying now that he too found himself considering the scenarios she painted. "But," she said, shifting her body to angle in his direction. "If you were to publicly announce the plot and how it was stopped...then say that you set the would-be imposter free, they might be impressed by your show of mercy."
Philippe nodded, slowly beginning to understand what it was that she was going after as her thoughts continued to progress forward. "And what about those who would were responsible for the plot in the first place?"
She opened her mouth as if to speak, but hesitated as she reconsidered her words and turned her head a little in thought. "Showing mercy to the imposter might be all you need to gain favour from the people. But for a crime of treason such as this, any king would put them to death. The issue then becomes that the execution would be public, to set an example to anyone else who might think to try such a thing." She chewed on the inside of her lip. That wasn't going to work if they were to cover up the way in which her father and uncles had actually been involved in this plot. And it would be far too dangerous to stage anything else, even with criminals who had committed other crimes. It would not be fair to condemn any man to death for a crime of which he was completely innocent, D'Artagnan would not stand for that. "Death would almost be kinder...but you could tell them that you chose to throw them into the Bastille. There can be no other form of mercy for them." It seemed so cruel, banishing those non-existent people into that place, but the story had to be strong enough to hold and that was the only way it could happen. They all had to be kept safe.
"It may very well work," said Philippe as he thought about it a little more. "I am to meet with Aramis and my mother in a short while to discuss the details of the story." Katherine turned her head to look over at him, tilting it slightly as she took him into her own consideration. In the days since his rescue from the Bastille she had come to know absolutely nothing about the young man, except that he was the twin brother of the King and in fact royal only through his mother. Aside from those facts, she had distanced herself from him as much as possible out of hatred and respect, knowing that he was now the man who lead her country.
"Was there anything else?"
The King lifted his head a little and gave it a small shake, obviously reminding himself of the main reason he had wished to speak with her. "Part of the cover involves a ceremony in which I honour your father and the others for saving my life, with a ball to be held afterward," he said, shifting uncomfortably on the bench beside her. "I know this may seem forward of me...but I was hoping that you would be present for all of it." Her heart seemed to stop for a moment as she watched his sheepish expression, questioning whether or not she had heard him correctly. That must have been why Queen Anne had sent that box to her earlier, knowing that her own wardrobe would not serve at such an event. "I cannot be with D'Artagnan to make sure that he is alright, and I do not trust anyone else to be near him."
So that was it, she thought as the annoyance began to bubble in the pit of her stomach once more. He asked her to come only so that she could supervise and make sure that her uncle did not collapse during the ceremony itself. There was no other reason for her to be there, for seldom few people knew that Aramis had adopted her as a child. In the eyes of the court, she did not exist. And now, despite the way he had initially made her feel as if she could contribute to the cover they were formulating, Philippe had made it incredibly clear that she was merely a pawn in a game of chess. Her thoughts meant absolutely nothing to him at all.
"With all he has been through, I would never allow anyone else to care for him."
There was an edge to her words, but Philippe was so relieved that she had agreed that he either did not notice or did not care. Instead he reached out and gently took hold of her hand, finding that it was warmer than he thought it would be. "Thank you," he said softly, giving it a small squeeze.
Not trusting herself to speak again for fear of what she might say in anger, Katherine slowly rose to her feet and gave Philippe a silent curtsey, bowing her head and dropping her eyes. She held her position there for but a moment before she moved backward the required number of steps and turned away, moving along one of the green pathways and back into the palace. He did not move to follow her, she noticed as she rounded the corner and headed back to her room. He didn't have to. His task of getting her to go to the ceremony had been accomplished, his request for her to watch over D'Artagnan had been granted. There was no further reason for him to keep her in his presence, and she knew it. But if he thought that this was over between them and that her resentment toward him had vanished, then Philippe had thought wrong.