A/N: Thanks to all for your reviews, and to those I cannot thank personally.
oOo
CHAPTER EIGHT
d'Artagnan made his way from the Garrison to Constance's house.
Skirting the small square in front of her home, he knocked once and then let himself in. Constance was in the parlour, tidying her cupboards. Her husband, Jacques, was not there, fortunately and d'Artagnan stood awkwardly in the doorway.
"Are you going to stand there all morning, or is there something you want?" Constance said, without looking up.
"Do you have any clothes I can borrow?" he blurted out.
"That's good, even for you," she sighed, turning around and waving him into the room.
"Not for me," he said hurriedly, "For Athos."
"Athos?" she frowned. "What's wrong with his uniform?"
Her hand flew to her mouth then, her eyes wide.
"He's not …?"
"No! No. He has been restored by Serge's nourishing stews and porridge and the quiet of the room, but there has been a development," d'Artagnan replied, pulling out a chair.
"What sort of development?" she asked.
She knew of Athos's accident, of course, but not his present circumstance; a closely guarded secret. Not that d'Artagnan didn't trust Constance and he would have welcomed unburdening himself to her, but they had agreed to keep it between themselves and the Captain. Dr Lemay would say nothing, bound by his oath and the fewer people who knew, the better to protect Athos.
"You'd better sit down," he sighed.
Telling her was easier than he thought. She asked no questions, merely sat with a confused look on her face that he imagined mirrored his own when he had first heard the strange news.
"He improves by the day but he kept asking for Valois, his valet, so we had to tell him he'd gone ahead, back to Pinon. But now he's asking for his clothes. We thought we could tell him they were damaged in the attack."
"What attack?" she asked, only aware of the accident in the yard.
"We told him he had been attacked outside the Garrison and brought to us, as we were near and had an Infirmary."
"Good grief," she replied, "You Musketeers really know how to spin the truth," she muttered.
"Well, what alternative did we have?" d'Artagnan hissed.
Constance turned and looked at him, before folding her arms.
"Well, I suppose the truth is not palatable in these circumstances," she acquiesced.
"Precisely!" d'Artagnan replied, slapping the table top with his palm. "So, do you think you can help?"
"In the charade?" she mocked. "Oh, I don't see why not," she said. "After, all, I have nothing better to do!"
d'Artagnan put his palms together in thanks and relief, before jumping to his feet.
"I'm not promising," she forestalled him. "But I'll see what I can do," she added, standing and shooing him out of the way, before coming to a halt.
She looked nervous. "They may need altering. I may have to take his measurements. I may have to talk to him!"
"Don't worry, it's only Athos," d'Artagnan smiled.
"Is it?" she said, doubtfully.
"Well, no, not really," d'Artagnan conceded.
"I don't know if I have anything worthy of a Comte," Constance said, frowning. "Bonacieux has a chest of clothes upstairs. He and Athos are not that different in size. I could look?"
"We have told him he had an accident while travelling. He thinks he was with his valet, so travelling clothes would be sufficient," d'Artagnan replied, hopefully.
"I'll have a look then," she decided. "Come back tomorrow and you can help me carry them."
Before he left, she stood over him while he ate two bowls of her chicken stew. Then he buckled on his sword and gave her his thanks, promising to return early in the morning.
oOo
When he knocked and walked into the house the following morning, Constance was busy wrapping some clothes in a larger cloth. He helped her tie a length of cord around the parcel.
"I have a doublet and breeches. They are nearly new, certainly not worn. My husband has obviously forgotten half the clothes he has," she huffed. "I think some of them must be samples."
"When does he return?" d'Artagnan asked, tentatively. It had become a habit to try and avoid the man, whenever he could.
"Not for some weeks yet," she replied, placing the parcel on the table. "His business takes him to three regions."
d'Artagnan shifted his feet, looking at the floor.
"I'll be staying at the Garrison for a while," he said, cautiously. "If you are concerned about being here alone, I can stay?"
She huffed once more.
"d'Artagnan," she began, a little put out, "I am used to my husband's absences. And it could be worse," she added.
"Worse?" he queried.
"I thought for a moment he was going to ask me to accompany him," she replied, giving him a shy grin. He smiled back.
"Well, I'm glad he didn't," he replied quickly, before clamping his jaws shut, afraid he had gone too far.
"We should go," he said, hurriedly, taking the parcel from the table and tucking it under his arm.
"Don't forget the boots," she said, nodding to the new black leather boots standing by the door.
"They pinch, apparently," she said at his raised eyebrows.
"Perhaps Athos could wear them in," d'Artagnan smirked.
"That would be difficult to explain to Bonacieux," she huffed.
She locked the door behind them and they made their way to the Garrison.
"So, what is he like?" she asked as they dodged people milling around the trader's stalls in the covered market.
"Difficult to explain," d'Artagnan murmured. "He's been very quiet. I think he is a little confused by us all."
"Is he still as prickly?" she asked, mischievously, as they walked on.
"Not yet," d'Artagnan smiled.
"Give him time," she said, confidently, overtaking him and striding ahead.
As they walked through the archway, though, she faltered. d'Artagnan gave her a comforting smile and she took a deep breath.
Entering the Infirmary room behind d'Artagnan, Constance was not prepared for her first sight of Athos in another guise. Apart from the fact that his arm was in a sling and there was a dark bruise at his temple and the fact that he looked exhausted, she was looking at the man she had known for several years. There was no recognition from him though, when he looked up and it threw her for a moment, her smile dropping away.
"Monsieur," she said, drawing herself up, before d'Artagnan could introduce her. "I have brought you some fresh clothes. I understand your valet has returned to your estate."
"It would seem so," he murmured, watching her.
"I'll leave you to it," d'Artagnan said from the doorway, shooting her an apologetic look. She smiled at him and he left the room a little happier.
She walked briskly in then, confident of her business, though worried that Athos was still watching her.
"My thanks, Madame …?"
"Bonacieux," she replied. "Constance Bonacieux," she finished, aware that she should have allowed d'Artagnan to introduce her.
"Madame Bonacieux," Athos repeated, the sound of it strange to her ears.
She undid the parcel and took out the doublet, shaking it out.
"Not what you are used to perhaps, but at short notice ..."
"Please, do not concern yourself," Athos said. "It looks very serviceable."
It did indeed. The doublet was a soft material in dove grey, with a slight sheen and silver buttons. Next, came the breeches, in navy, with black trim at the pocket edges.
d'Artagnan had placed the boots next to the table.
"There are two shirts, as well," Constance said, talking a little faster than normal. "One in cream linen and a black one. I hope they are to your taste. And, there are under garments in here too, she said, her back to him now.
"If you try the doublet on, I can complete any alterations you may need and return it to you tomorrow."
"I doubt I can do that yet, Madame," he said. "I am afraid my arm will not allow it at present."
Constance was flustered.
"Oh! Of course, I am sorry. Perhaps one of the shirts?"
"Yes," he smiled. "I believe I can manage a shirt. If you would be kind enough to help me."
"Of course," she said, glad of something to do.
Picking up the black shirt, she walked over to the bed. She carefully untied the sling and lifted the hem of the shirt he wore. Between them, they managed to divest him of it, though she bit her lip at the pain it caused. The black shirt slipped over his head easily enough and she very slowly manoeuvred his hand into the sleeve, before replacing the sling.
"I am somewhat overwhelmed by the goodwill I am being shown by everyone," he gasped.
"You are in good hands here ... Monsieur le Comte," she said, with some difficulty, for here was Athos, vulnerable and a little lost.
"Yes, I believe I am," he replied.
"Well, I will leave the clothes here," she said, brightly.
"It is a handsome garment," he said, looking at the doublet, now resting on the back of the chair.
He must have been well used to wearing fine clothes, but he genuinely looked quite pleased with the garment.
"They are a little subdued. Though not too different from the colour you normally wear," she said, without thinking. Catching herself, she turned and saw he had not picked up on it, thankfully.
"I would imagine," she added quietly.
"Well, I must be going," she said. "It was a pleasure to meet you," she added, biting her lip as she watched him lean back exhausted on the pillows, done in by his brief exertion.
"It will be easier to wear than leather," she added, before realising again what she had said.
"No doubt," he replied, looking at her, as d'Artagnan returned.
Catching the tail end of the conversation, d'Artagnan leaned in toward her;
"We cannot expect the Comte to wear one of our uniforms," he said, quietly. "Though we have boots," he added, holding them aloft.
"No, of course not," she added, side-glancing him as she hurried behind him.
d'Artagnan watched her go as she hurried out, before he closed the door quietly.
"Well that was strange," she said to Porthos and Aramis who awaited her return in the next room.
"I said all the wrong things," she sighed. "I got away as quickly as I could, before I could put my foot any further into my mouth."
Inside Athos's room, the Comte had watched as d'Artagnan had not taken his eyes from Madame Bonacieux.
"She is a handsome woman," he said, quietly, as d'Artagnan tidied up the room, putting the garments on the top of a chest in the corner.
d'Artagnan looked up, ready to answer the swordsman, but he did not see Athos, only the Comte, making an observation; albeit an astute one.
"She's a married woman," he said, softly.
"Ah," the Comte replied, tilting his head and studying the young man. "I see your dilemma," he added, softly.
"I should go," d'Artagnan said, after a few moments; shifting his feet and looking away.
"Thank you, d'Artagnan," the Comte replied.
"You are welcome," d'Artagnan said, aware that the Comte continued to look at him. "Do you need anything else?"
"No," his mentor replied. "Rest assured. Thanks to you and Madame Bonacieux, I have all I need."
d'Artagnan looked up and nodded.
"I'll see you later, then," he managed.
If the Comte replied, he did not hear it, as he opened the door and quickly left.
To be continued ...