What Love Is Worth, Ch. 4
They slept apart that night; Aramis' tumultuous mind just couldn't bring him to the blue door on rue St. Germain. He returned to his own apartments for the first time in what felt like ages and lay on his back stared at the ceiling and missed her. He missed the way her body curled perfectly into his as they slept. He missed the smell of her hair, the touch of her smooth skin and the feeling of her breath on his neck as she lay dreaming.
His brow furrowed as he thought about the day – of seeing Marcello next to her, and how easy it would be for the Duke to provide for her. The words of Valentina continuously echoed through his mind. A hollow feeling had settled in his stomach and an overpowering sense of doubt took up a residence in his heart.
oOo
Across the city, Christine sat by the fire reading from a book of poetry.
Not reading, really.
She had stared at the page for hours, her mind racing, but she hadn't absorbed a word. Something was different, something was wrong and when Aramis did not arrive at her home that evening, worry took hold. She retreated to her room without eating and had sat for hours struggling to finish a stanza.
When she closed her eyes all Christine could see was the way the Duchess had pressed herself up against him. It seemed familiar. Almost too familiar, and for the first time, Christine had doubts.
She had heard the rumours about Aramis as a libertine. She was not naïve. They had spoken honestly and openly about their former lovers. She was sure of his love, but she was also familiar with the ways of men – and determined women.
Could it be possible that Christine was simply another lovesick lady of court that had fallen for the marksman's charms? Her heart said no, but a new small voice in her mind that couldn't be silenced asked the words "Are you sure?"
As the bells of Notre Dame tolled the late hour she closed her book and went to her bed. How cold and empty it felt without him there; how cold and empty could her life be without him? He was the one who brought her warmth. She prayed that she would not be relegated to a lifetime of winters without him, because having felt the sun, who could be satisfied with the cold?
She closed her eyes as her head hit the pillow and she breathed deeply, imagining his smell as he lay beside her – like leather and smoke and something that was distinctly Aramis. She clutched his pillow to her chest and lay awake imagining him in her arms.
oOo
Their meeting at court the next day was strained. She missed the freedom of her life at the garrison, but while his cousins were visiting, the King was insistent on her attendance; the duties of the musketeers had been primarily reduced to guard and parade duty while the King was distracted.
They approached each other awkwardly, both pairs of eyes, brown and grey, were full of confusion and love – most of all love. They longed to take hold of each other and kiss away all the doubts and fears that were clawing at them. A boisterous group of courtiers reminded them of their presence at court. Christine dropped her eyes to the ground.
"Christine – " Aramis began, but was interrupted by the arrival of Valentina.
"Aramis," she said warmly as she inserted herself into the gap between the two lovers. Handing him a pair of gloves she said, "You left these in my bedchamber yesterday. I found the left one under my bed this morning. Good morning Christine," she said as she walked away, a delighted, cruel smile on her mouth.
"I don't know how these got there," he muttered confusedly. True, he had noticed that his gloves had been missing, but he had assumed that he had simply left them at the garrison. He had no recollection of having them as he escorted the Duchess to her suite, and he was adamant that he had not so much as glanced at the door of her bedchamber, let alone entered it, despite the Duchess's not so subtle suggestions.
He looked up from the gloves to the wide, hurt eyes of Christine. Pain and confusion was written across her face and Aramis' heart plummeted as he registered it. He could tell she had not slept the night before, and he hoped that was the cause of her sudden paleness. She brushed a quick tear from her eye. She couldn't fight the hurt and jealousy that she felt in that moment.
"Christine," Aramis began again in an urgent whisper, "I swear to you that I –"
"Ah! Comtesse! Are you prepared for today's hunt?" asked the King. "I've heard you are quite the shot!"
"Are you alright?" asked the Queen as she took in the pale complexion of the woman and the dark circles under her eyes. Christine glanced quickly at Aramis before shaking her head.
"I'm sorry your Majesties, I am suddenly under the weather. I think it best if I excuse myself from the entertainment for today and return home to rest," she said.
"Of course," said the Queen as the King pouted. The Queen had grown quite fond of the Comtesse since she had arrived in Paris. The Queen had found a confidant in the woman, and appreciated her candour, keen wit, and kind heart, so it was with great concern that she looked upon her friend in her miserable state. "I will have my carriage deliver you home," the Queen said, placing a kind hand on the woman's arm.
"Do feel better," said the King. "I expect to see you in attendance at the biennale we have planned for tomorrow evening. Come, Aramis," the King said turning to the marksman who bowed. "Treville says that you are my best with a musket. Let's see if I can show you a thing or two about how gentlemen hunt!"
Aramis bowed again as the King and Queen went to mount their horses. He stood rooted to the spot wanting only to kiss the hurt and exhaustion from Christine's face where they stood, but as the King called out his name once more, he was forced to follow.
oOo
He arrived at St. Germain just as dusk was settling in. The early May evening was unusually cool. He stood awkwardly in the foyer as Marie went to fetch her mistress. Distractedly, Aramis leaned against the sideboard. A number of pieces of parchment lay upon its surface. He picked one up and examined it. His blood ran cold.
"Aramis," Christine said breathlessly as she entered the room. "I didn't know if you'd be coming," she said, the hopeful smile on her lips vanishing as she looked at the marksman's expression.
"Am I interrupting something?" he asked stiffly.
"No," she said confusedly. He dropped the papers he had been examining onto the table.
"Marie, can you excuse us please," Christine said softly to her maid as she saw what had upset the marksman. The girl exited the hall.
"Aramis," she said quietly, "It's just a drawing." She looked at the papers to see the image of herself captured in charcoal. Marcello had sent them over that afternoon. Unbeknownst to her, he had been sketching her as she watched the opera and had captured a very detailed likeness of her.
"It's quite good," Aramis said coldly. "Very intimate."
Her eyes flashed at him. "It is a gift. I did not know he was doing this. I am as surprised by it as you are," she said defensively.
"I'm not surprised, I'm just glad that someone is able to pay you attention when I'm not available," he said. He wasn't sure where this anger was coming from, but the drawing on the table staring up at him seemed only to spur him on.
But Christine was not having any of that.
"Do you really want to start discussing whose attention is focused where? Marcello is a friend Aramis, and though I cannot speak to his intentions, my interest in him does not extend beyond that. Your particular interest in the Duchess, however, may be cause for discussion. Mine and Marcello's friendship has never extended to his bedchamber!" she snapped at him.
They both stood there red-faced as their mutual pain and doubt settled in.
Taking a calming breath, Christine stepped towards him. "I'm sorry," she said. "I shouldn't have said that. Please, Aramis, love, we can't let them do this."
"What?" he asked her miserably.
"This!" she cried, taking his face in her hands. "We can't let the nastiness of the court and the lies and the rumours that infest it come between us."
He closed his eyes and put his hands to her waist. Try as he might to deny it, the weight of his fears, his doubt and Valentina's word suddenly bore down on him.
"This can't work," he said slowly, feeling his heart breaking.
"Aramis…" she said, as he pulled her hands from his neck.
"I'm sorry," he said. "I need to think. You need to think about your people. What's best for you and for them," he said as he backed away towards the door.
"My people? Aramis, wait –" she said and made to follow him.
"Please," he said, "I need to think." He left the courtyard taking his horse from Victor. Christine lowered herself to her front stair and as she leaned against the doorframe, as she felt the coldness of night wash over her.
oOo