What Love Is Worth, Ch. 8

Christine showed Aramis around her home and introduced him to the members of the staff including Thomas' father John, the groundskeeper, and Cladine's mother Celine, the laundress.

"Through there is the west wing," she said, pausing at the top of the large staircase they had just climbed. "I never go in there anymore. That's where my parents' room was..." she said sadly as they moved away. They entered a large study lined with bookshelves. A table and chairs were placed by a large window, a couch and a comfortable looking chair stood by the large hearth where a fire crackled. The window faced east where Aramis could make out the structure of the stables in the distance. A heavy desk stood against the wall. A door on the left of the room was slightly ajar, the foot of a bed just visible. The door on the right was closed, and Christine made her way towards it.

"When we returned here, my father took up residence in this room here so we could spend what little time he had left together. I hope it's to your liking," she said as she opened the door.

Aramis gazed into the room. Like everything else about this home, and much like Christine herself, the items were simple in taste, but exceptionally made and of the highest quality. This was apparent from the thick carpet on the floor, the rich mahogany chair by the fireplace, and the heavy duvet that lay across the bed.

"Thank you," Aramis said. "It's perfect," he said taking her hand and staring into her troubled grey eyes.

"Thank you," he repeated. She bit her lip and dropping his gaze and hand, she made her way back across the study toward the door on the left.

"I can have some food sent up for you. You must be hungry. It's a long ride from Paris," she said, "I often take my meals with the staff in the kitchens."

"That would be fantastic, thank you," he replied. She stood against the doorframe as he looked at her.

"I think I will retire for the evening," she said, though it was barely 4:00.

Aramis looked at her and raised an eyebrow. "You never showed me where you'd be sleeping…" he said teasing warily.

Her eyes flashed as she smirked. "I will be sleeping alone," she said as she stepped backwards into her room and closed the door on him with a snap.

oOo

She rose early and was restless. She had been unable to sleep for much of the night as she thought about the man who was sleeping on the other side of the study. She pushed away the thoughts of his deep, dark eyes or the feeling of his lips when he had kissed her yesterday and prepared herself for the day, inwardly cursing at his proximity. Why hadn't she housed him in the West Wing?

Exiting her chamber she halted, nearly treading on something that lay just outside her door. She stooped and picked up the wildflower bud, just starting to open. She looked at it thoughtfully then put it aside.

"Good morning, Cookie," she said entering the kitchen, picking up a basket. "Shall I fetch you some eggs?"

The cook looked at her and grinned. "No need,' she said, her grin growing larger. "Your gentleman friend, Aramis, you know, the handsome one? He already fetched 'em this morning. Water too. And he slopped the pigs!" she said.

"Did he mention that he was handsome?" she said, rolling her eyes.

"No, but I have eyes…and he did ask a lot about you," she replied with a wink.

Christine rolled her eyes again.

"Don't you be rolling your eyes at me, missy," she scolded with a laugh as she lay a plate of food before the Comtesse.

oOo

Christine went about her tasks that morning, aware of Aramis' absence, but too stubborn to ask where he had went.

It was approaching mid-afternoon when she set off for the fields with a basket of sandwiches and a large flagon of water for the workers.

She was surprised to see the men leaning on the fence chatting happily as Aramis dressed in his shirtsleeves laughed with another young man as they worked to mend the fence. She approached them warily, her eyebrow arched suspiciously. The older farmers grinned at her as she approached.

"G'day m'lady," one man said to her as she neared.

"Hello Charles, how is everything…I see you've met Aramis. Glad you've put him to work," she said with a grin.

Charles chuckled. "Helpful he is. Surprising for a city boy."

Aramis stood, his eyes bright with a wide smile on his face. "I'm actually quite used to this," he said. "I worked on my father's land as a young man. And I've gotten myself into trouble enough times to have grown accustomed to backbreaking labour. There are a lot of stable stalls in the garrison," he said with a grin to which the men laughed.

Christine smiled. "I bring gifts," she said and passed the basket to Charles. As the men divided the food amongst them, she wandered along the fence inspecting the handiwork. Aramis walked at her side.

"I'll admit," she said, "I'm surprised to see you working a field."

Aramis grinned. "Mending and labour I'm used to. I've never ploughed a field in my life, but I've been told I'll be taught," he said with a soft chuckle.

"Good," she said, catching his eye with challenge and mischief and mirth in hers. "If we are to be putting you up for two weeks, you should at least earn your keep. Maybe you can prove to the others that you're more than just a silver tongue and a pretty face," she said as she walked back to join the others, leaving Aramis chuckling to himself.

oOo

Aramis proved himself to be quite helpful over the next few days, something that the townspeople were quick to comment on. Each morning Christine found a new bud lying at her bedroom door. Marie had begun collecting them in a small vase.

Their days were spent among the villagers, their nights gathered around the large table in the kitchen with the staff, where Aramis and Christine took turns telling tales. Aramis helped repair the axel of a cart that was hauling seed to the field. He helped remove the bell from the church tower, which was due to be replaced and he tended to and splinted the arm of a lad who took a nasty fall from a tree.

Christine laughed along with the others who had gathered to watch Aramis learn to plough, the large workhorse pulling him off his feet at one point. He lay stunned in the dirt for a moment, laughing along with the others as several worn and calloused hands reached down to help him up and dust him off. She smiled at him and handed him her glass of water to drink from and their fingers touched and lingered in the exchange. He looked into her eyes as he took a drink and was thrilled to see the warmth that resided there.

She took him through the market and introduced him to the apothecary and showed him her own extensive herb garden where she cultivated the ones that she used in her salves and poultices. They took walks through the orchards, a few trees just beginning to bloom, and rode through the dense woods. When it rained, they stayed in the study, choosing books at random and reading aloud to each other. Aramis read her passages from his bible, and Christine shared some of her favourite verses with him. Sometimes in the evenings they simply sat in silence and read, secretly relishing in the comfort of each other's company.

Aramis could not yet express the elation he felt to be reunited with her, to speak and to laugh with her once more. He desperately longed to take her in his arms, but he restrained himself knowing that he was only entitled to three kisses – and they needed to count!

For Christine, her life was in conflict. She too felt the warm familiarity and comfort that only Aramis had ever brought to her life settle in and around her shoulders once more. She could not admit how much she had missed him, or how happy she was to see him each morning, and dine with him each night. It would have been so easy to fall back in love with him and pretend like the weeks before had never happened…but when she lay alone in bed at night, that voice at the back of her mind repeated the words "Are you sure?"

oOo