Chapter 22
Milady considered returning to her room, but by royal standards it was far too early to retire – in fact, it was probably not much past sunset. In addition, her absence would be noted if she departed before the Queen, and she had much to do. Sighing dramatically, she changed direction and made her way back toward the royal apartments. Somehow, she was supposed to ensure she sat with the Queen on the morrow, and even she was not sure just how she was supposed to accomplish such a task.
She slipped inside the room, hoping nobody had noticed her absence, even though that was unlikely with Suzanne d'Angou watching her every move. Milady had never been one to make friends with women; beauty was avoided by those who did not have it themselves, and considered open warfare between those who did. Still, there were females whom she could at least admit a grudging respect for, the Queen being one. Louis' wife was nobody's fool, though how she maintained such a stoic figure when she was surrounded by the King's immaturity, and the Cardinal's constant machinations, Milady had no idea.
However, Lady d'Angou was as far from being her friend as it was possible to get; she would even prefer to wrangle with Richelieu than swap barbs with the odious woman. Milady had convinced herself it had nothing to do with Athos, or the way the woman flaunted herself at him whenever the opportunity presented itself. She simply loathed the woman's every fibre, and the possibility that they may be alike was inconceivable.
Crossing the floor, she made her way toward a small table beside the window. The Queen was playing cards with two of the more sedate ladies-in-waiting, but Suzanne was nowhere to be seen. Good, she did not need the distraction. Of the six women who had set out to accompany the Queen, poor Angeline was dead, and that left four, apart from her, so how was she going to make herself the only sensible option? She could not in all sanity eliminate three women in one night – not that she found the notion disagreeable, it would simply not be sensible.
Suddenly the noise of a glass breaking caught her attention. One of the ladies playing cards was holding her hand to her head and the Queen had stood and was moving to her side.
'My dear Marie, are you unwell?' the Queen asked, kneeling beside the stricken woman.
'No, no, Your Majesty, just a sudden twinge. I ate fish at luncheon, and I must admit it is not a particular favourite. Luckily, I did not eat much. The discomfort will pass in a short while. Please do not concern yourself.' Despite her protestations, the girl had turned as white as snow.
'Nonsense, my dear, you must go and rest. Tomorrow will be difficult enough without you feeling ill. Go and get some sleep, Antonia will accompany you to your room.' The Queen continued to insist, despite the girl's claim that she would be recovered shortly. Eventually, the Queen had her way, and a grateful Marie left on the supporting arm of her friend Antonia.
Milady smiled her feline smile and began to see the formation of an idea. She rose slowly from her table and walked over to the Queen, who was now seated alone and looking somewhat lost.
'Would you like a glass of wine Your Majesty? You look a little pale, I do hope you are not feeling ill also?' Milady feigned concern and looked at the Queen in earnest.
'No, Anne, I am quite well. I am afraid I was simply considering how ill-fated our party appears to be. I am beginning to wonder if we should not simply return to Paris.' Milady was not sure if this was something Richelieu wanted her to encourage, as he had not made his plans clear to her, though personally she thought it an excellent idea.
'His Majesty does seem to have his heart set on completing the journey, does he not?' Milady asked as she handed the Queen a glass of wine, the dark red liquid glinting like blood in the light of the fire.
'Yes, I am afraid he does. Still, Marie seems to believe she will be well on the morrow, so all will be fine.' The Queen smiled, though Milady could still see the shadow of doubt in her eyes. She was just about to suggest the ladies may wish to stay behind, when a cold draught caused the candle between them to stutter. As a figure moved to stand by the table, Milady recognised the sickly smell of vanilla and knew who it was. Of course, her timing was impeccable.
'Ah, Suzanne my dear, I wondered where you were. You are not ill are you?' Suzanne appeared somewhat surprised.
'Ill? No, Your Majesty. Why, is someone ill?' She cast her gaze around the room, then looked at Milady with a hopeful expression upon her face. Her disappointment was evident when the Queen explained that it was Marie, not Milady, who had fallen ill. Just then, the door was flung open and the King strode in, followed by a rather flustered Richelieu. Milady would have enjoyed the spectacle had not been for the instructions he had given her.
'I am telling you, Cardinal, I will not return to Paris like a kicked puppy.' The fact he looked exactly like a sulking puppy was not lost on Milady, and she sipped her wine to hide her amusement. 'This entire trip was about making a show of strength. How will it look if I run home at the first sign of upset?' The King grabbed the goblet of wine the footman held out to him and drank deeply.
'I would hardly call the murder of a young woman and an attempted assassination an upset; not to mention the attacks on your Musketeers. I am simply suggesting that you may be safer in Paris. We might consider making the journey again when the weather is more stable, and perhaps with less of an entourage.' Richelieu knew he had little chance of persuading the King to return home, but he had at least tried.
'All of that is very trying, and I am very sorry for the tragic loss, of course, but I am King, and I will not be distracted from my goal.' He gave the First Minister a grin, as though he had made a very important stand and should be applauded.
'Very heroic, Your Majesty.' Richelieu played along, hoping at least to get some of the concessions he needed. 'Might I then suggest a way in which your personage, and of course that of the Queen, may be better protected?' The King turned to his First Minister and nodded for him to continue.
'If we could reduce the amount of people in the coach travelling with your royal persons, then it would make it much easier to defend you should we be waylaid by further adversaries. Of course, perhaps one lady should travel with the Queen, as well as myself and Your Majesty.' The King drank his wine then held out his glass to be refilled, and when the footman had once more withdrawn, the King gave Richelieu his full attention.
'I cannot find fault with that suggestion, Cardinal. Make it so. Now I think it is time my wife and I retired. I can feel a headache approaching, and I know Treville will expect us to set out at some ungodly hour on the morrow. Come, my dear, let us prepare for another arduous journey.'
The royal couple left, but not before the Queen spoke to Suzanne. 'Perhaps you will join me tomorrow, my dear? I am not sure Marie will be well enough.' She smiled at Milady but, once again, she showed that slight element of mistrust in her eyes that Milady had seen before.
'Of course, Your Majesty, it would be a privilege.' Suzanne bowed her head as the couple turned and left the room. A look passed between Milady and the Cardinal and the man turned and departed through a different doorway; no doubt off to spy or stir up more intrigue.
Milady's head spun. This was an impending disaster, and she had to think quickly – once everyone retired her choices would be limited.
'Would you care for a glass of wine?' Milady asked a rather surprised Suzanne. 'I believe we may need it in readiness for the morrow.' She smiled and took the woman's glass as she held it out to her. With her back to the woman, she pulled a small vial out from beneath her skirts – always handy to have a Plan B. She let the crystals fall into the velvet liquid and swirled the glass around until they had disappeared.
'Here, let us hope our journey is quiet and uneventful.' Milady smiled as she passed the unsuspecting woman her glass. Suzanne smiled back though, like Milady, there was no warmth in her response. The two women sipped their wine, each observing the other, waiting to see who would make the first move.
'So, what is amiss with dear Marie?' The way she pronounced the woman's name indicated she cared as little as Milady did for the ill courtier.
'She believes her luncheon disagreed with her,' Milady replied, her tone as interested as the expression upon her face, though the green eyes concentrated on Suzanne's every move. When the woman winced slightly, she could hardly contain her glee. 'What is wrong, do you feel ill also? How terrible, I do hope it is not some form of epidemic.'
Suzanne sat upright and tossed her curls over her pale shoulders. 'I am sure it is nothing. I am a little tired, that is all.' She tried to give her opponent a telling smile, but a sudden wince overtook her features once more. 'Still, it cannot hurt to retire early. After all, tomorrow may be rather taxing.' She did not look Milady in the eye, deliberately avoiding her intense scrutiny.
'Goodnight, sleep well,' Milady crooned, her lips adopting a sardonic smile as she watched the woman leave the room with a rather unsteady gait.
ooOoo
The lodge had become almost silent now the staff had ceased their hurried comings and goings, and as an owl outside hooted its melancholic cry, Milady opened her door quietly and slipped along the passage. She did not doubt she would avoid Athos, as it was clear his two bodyguards would not let her near him. Still, there was plenty of time.
She stood outside Suzanne's door and placed her ear to the wood. It was quiet outside, no wind or rain, just a gentle breeze ruffling the leaves, meaning it was quite easy to hear the woman's pained whimpers from within. Milady tried the handle and was relieved to find it was unlocked; she could easily have picked it, but she did not wish to be exposed should anyone still be abroad. She slid silently into the darkened room, the stale odour of vomit and sweat pervading her senses, and she wrinkled her nose in distaste.
'Are you alright, my dear? I thought it my duty to come and check.' She moved slowly toward the bed where Suzanne lay splayed on her stomach, her head hung over the edge, hovering above the chamber pot. What was held within said vessel, Milady really did not wish to know. A gentle groaning came from the figure prostrate upon the rumpled sheets.
Milady sat on the clean side of the bed and gently brushed the ill woman's hair away from her forehead. 'Would you care for some water, my dear?' She reached for the glass, but the figure on the bed only moaned and motioned it away with a pathetic wave of her hand.
'Oh dear, it appears you will have to stay behind tomorrow with Marie. It would not be a good idea to try and rise in the morning after such a night. After all, what if the King and Queen were to catch such a terrible illness? Never mind, I am sure I can take your place with the Queen. I can easily fulfil whatever duties she had in mind for you – as well as any other plans you had. Ultimately, we would not want Monsieur Athos to go unsatisfied, would we? I am sure a man such as that needs a woman who knows her way around the bedroom. In fact, I know he does. Truth be told, I know far more than that.' She bent closer to the sick woman and whispered in her ear. 'I know just what he likes, and where he likes it. I know what it is to kiss those ever-so-clever lips. I know what it is like to have them kiss every inch of my body.' She straightened slowly and traced her collar bone with her finger, as if to emphasise her point.
Suzanne's red-rimmed eyes grew round, and her lips formed a silent O in surprise. Milady gently stroked the woman's hair as she continued her torment, warming to her topic nicely. 'Normally so cold, so in control. Do you know what it is like when a man like that cannot control that haughty disinterest any longer? No? Well let me tell you. It is amazing, like nothing you could imagine. He takes with a power and desperation that is all-consuming, overpowering in its heat and need. Yet still he manages to give in return, though it is almost torture, as he provokes and teases every responsive spot on your body, until you cannot endure any more, until you beg and plead for him to stop, but not to stop, to take it further – to take you completely.'
She smiled and placed a cold cloth on the woman's brow as Suzanne watched with wide, astounded eyes.
'Then, when you think you are sated, that you cannot possibly take any more, he looks at you with those green eyes, brooding and devouring, so hot you feel they will burn right through your very soul. Next, he strokes your feverish skin, and you are lost, a slave to his desires until you are both beyond rational thought, transported to a state you have never lived through before, but where you long to be once more – over and over again.' She smiled down at Suzanne and began to rise.
'So, my dear Suzanne, do not worry, our handsome Musketeer knows exactly where to come… should he feel the need…' With a sultry smile and swish of her skirts, Milady swept from the room, catching the water jug as she went. 'Oops,' was her only comment, as she quietly shut the door behind her. Leaning on the cool wood, she could not help but let a chuckle escape her lips. The look on the woman's face had been a picture. For an instant she closed her eyes and enjoyed the moment. Then the words she had used to torment the ill woman played through her mind once more – only this time it was she that experienced the torment. She had meant every word, she had not needed to exaggerate, not needed to pretend, but Athos had said it was the last time. Had he meant it? She had no doubt he believed he did, but she knew what they shared. Just like her, she knew he could not move on. Hate and lust: two of the most powerful emotions to experience. Still, if she had to choose one right now, she suspected she knew which one would win.
With her breath still ragged, and her body thrumming with emotion, Milady contemplated the head of the stairs. Voices rose from the hallway below – Porthos' booming laugh, followed by that of Aramis, teasing and happy. She waited, waited for the third voice, the only one she wanted to hear, needed to hear.
There it was – a deep, slow rumble. Even from where she stood, she could hear the sarcasm dripping from his lips as the other two laughed at whatever he had said. A soft moan escaped her, and in burning desperation she ran back to her room, to pretend just once more that those green eyes were only for her.