What Love Is Worth, Ch. 11
As the day of the ball finally arrived, the house was a flurry of activity. The florists came in from the town and the butcher's boys arrived carrying sides of venison and pheasant. Cookie ordered the kitchen around like a general in battle.
Christine sat in her chamber in front of a looking glass, her nerves ablaze. Marie lovingly laid her dress on the bed.
"Do you know what you are going to do?" she asked her mistress softly.
"No," said Christine sadly into her reflection. Turning, she faced her friend and confidant. "I'm truly at a loss. My heart and my head have been battling since he arrived here. I don't know what I should be doing."
Marie nodded slowly. "Sometimes, my lady, things happen for a reason. It's clear to anyone that has seen the pair of you, that you love each other. Perhaps what happened in Paris happened for a reason. It took almost losing each other to realize what you had. What you have," the young woman corrected.
"When did you grow so wise?" she asked the girl.
Smiling, Marie said, "Well, some of the things you've taught me were bound to sink in eventually. Now if only you'd listen to your own lessons. The two of you tried not to be together, and yet neither of you can live without the other."
"I wish it were that easy," Christine said sadly.
"Isn't it?" Marie asked seriously as she rested her hands on her mistress's shoulders as they gazed into the looking glass. Christine studied the large and beautiful bouquet that sat in a vase on her boudoir.
"These are beautiful," she said to her friend.
Marie smiled. "They're from Aramis. He found you a different flower every day. Come mistress, let's get you ready."
oOo
Outside on the north pavilion, the four musketeers stood in their shirtsleeves with their swords drawn. Aramis stood in the middle as his brothers attacked from all sides. The farm boys and some of the villagers had stopped to watch as they marched to and from the house on errands for the ball. The other servants watched from windows of the house when they could. Truly, the swordsmanship was a spectacle to behold – it was a side of Aramis that none of them had yet seen. Suddenly the affable, jovial man was imbued with strength, grace and nobility as he and his brothers moved in step in their deadly dance.
Aramis managed to disarm Porthos who withdrew from the battle, defeated. He next faced D'Artagnan.
Aramis feigned a lunge and pulled up at the last moment. D'Artagnan, moving as though to block the lunge, and was caught off-guard by the feint, leaving him exposed. He too bowed out, defeated.
Then it was just Athos and Aramis, facing each other as they had so many times before. They were the most talented swordsmen in the regiment, so even when in Paris, their sparring drew crowds. Here, on this wide field where most of these villagers lived without conflict, let alone without swords, this gentlemanly display was something to marvel at.
Aramis and Athos traded parries and ripostes, swipes and lunges. Athos pushed forward an attack and pushed Aramis backwards, testing him. Aramis countered and changed the momentum driving Athos back up the field with a grin. Aramis went for a killing blow that Athos met with a deadly blow of his own and their blades reverberated echoing across the battlefield.
Grinning, the marksman stepped back, and throwing an arm around Athos, they walked to join the others amid the claps of the onlookers.
Refreshing themselves by the kitchen well, D'Artagnan looked at Aramis and rolling his shoulders he said, "Well, it's good to know you still know how to handle a blade."
Aramis grinned as he drank water from a cup.
"He's right," said Athos, "You nearly won that."
"As did you. Cheers, brother," he said as he raised an eyebrow, eyes sparkling in their impish way, as he toasted Athos. "You two, however, need some work."
Porthos growled a laugh, "You wouldn't be saying that if we were practicin' hand-to-hand. Can't risk bruising yer pretty face before tonight's soiree."
Aramis grinned and clapped Porthos on the back.
"In all seriousness," said Athos, "Do you know what you will do tonight?" he asked, as they moved from water onto wine.
"I've played the scene out so many times in my head…but I still don't know. I hurt her Athos, badly. It doesn't matter that I didn't mean what was said and it was only said with the best intentions. Once open and released into the world, it's hard to get those demons back into Pandora's box," he said with a sigh. "Not only did I hurt her, but I hurt her trust and placed doubt where there was once an unquestioning certainty. I have done all I can to demonstrate my love for her and destroy these fears. Does she love me? I think she may still, though until I hear it from her lips, I fear to hope. Will that be enough though? Only God will show."
"We're all rootin' for ya," rumbled Porthos. "Ya can't breathe without each other. In 'er heart, Christine knows it's true. That scene when we arrived here…the two of you…that's real, brother."
Aramis gave him a small smile. "I hope you're right," he said as they all raised their glasses and drained them.
"Come," said Athos wryly, "We should prepare for tonight. We're the honoured guests after all."
oOo
A few hours later and the Ball was set to begin. The musketeers were dressed handsomely in the simple and fine clothes that Christine had prepared for them.
"This nobility garb is a lot better than the nonsense they wear at court," Porthos whispered to D'Artagnan who grinned.
Porthos was dressed in dark breeches and a rich wine red coat. D'artagnan was similarly dressed in a coat of dark green with delicate black embroidery at its cuffs. Athos wore a purple velvet, so dark it looked almost black as it shifted as he moved.
Aramis entered the room looking like a hero from a romance novel. He wore a dark navy to match the sea. Faint silver embroidery was visible on the cuffs and at the lapels. He escorted two women towards his waiting brothers, who for the first time in their lives would have honestly admitted that he was handsome.
"D'Artagnan, you remember Marie? She's agreed to be your partner this evening. She has a brother that she says lives not far from where you grew up," Aramis said grinning. D'Artagnan bowed and grinned as she smiled warmly and curtsied back. They took their positions at the head of the line.
"Porthos, I'd like to introduce you to Marguerite. She's the estate's pastry chef. She made that incredible apple dessert from last night. I explained to her that you were in need of a partner," he said.
The beautiful baker stepped towards the brawler, who bowed clumsily. Smiling, she took his arm. "Is this your first ball?" she asked.
"Only the first one attendin'. M'fraid I'm not much of a dancer. We usually stand guard at these things."
"That's alright, I'm sure we can find other ways to enjoy ourselves," she said smiling at him. He smiled back broadly as they took their position behind D'Artagnan and Marie.
Aramis next stepped towards Athos.
"If you repeat this, I'll deny it, but you clean up nicely," he said to Aramis, a sparkle in his eyes.
"Please, Athos, as if there were any doubt." He looked about the antechamber at the base of the stairs that they were gathered in before asking Athos, "I don't see who you're escorting this evening?"
Suddenly, Claudine bounced excitedly towards them in a pale blue gown.
"Hello Aramis! You look very handsome!" she said brightly.
"That's a beautiful dress Claudine. I'm hoping you'll oblige me with a dance at some point," he said grinning and bowing to the girl.
"I'd like to Aramis, but I'm afraid I'm already engaged," she said with all the airs of an adult. Turning from the marksman to the swordsman she said, "Hello Athos, is that for me?"
Athos smiled and handed her the small white rose he had been holding. Aramis' jaw fell open then burst into the brightest and widest smile imaginable.
Athos grinned back. "For some reason we were under the impression that you already had a partner," he said staring over Aramis' shoulder at the stairs behind him.
Aramis turned and gasped.
At the top of th stairs there stood Christine, in all the true glory of her house. Her dark blue gown was slightly lighter than Aramis' jacket, but complimented his perfectly – the stormy sky to his sea – something that Marie (who had arranged it that way) smiled at and whispered conspiratorially to D'Artagnan. Soft grey gossamer floated delicately at the top of her bodice, which was draped low to expose the top of her lily-white bosom and shoulders. At her throat she wore the symbol of her house – the three stars dangling from their delicate chain. Deep blue sapphires hung from her earlobes, curtained by her thick dark hair, which was pinned back off her face with delicate pins crowned with diamonds and pearls.
She looked like a queen. She looked like a goddess descended to earth. She looked more radiant than Aramis believed possible – a miracle to a man who bore witness to her beauty on a daily basis.
"Just close your mouth, and remember to breathe," Athos whispered in his ear as Aramis gazed star-struck at the divine beauty of the woman he loved. Athos grinned and took his place in line with Claudine.
"Lord have mercy on me," he whispered as Christine glided towards him.
"You look…" Aramis was lost for words. Christine blushed.
"Thank you. So do you," she gushed. He bowed to her and kissed the inside of her wrist. She smiled at him and curtsied back, never breaking his eye contact.
"Are we ready?" asked D'Artagnan with a grin as he saw the pair take their places, both beaming at him.
As he looked at where they stood holding each other, Porthos could have sworn that they sparkled.
D'Artagnan led the way into the grand ballroom where the villagers awaited them and clapped at their arrival. When Aramis and Christine entered the room collectively took a breath before roaring into applause. It seemed like all of France was praying for these lovers.
Dinner was fantastic as course after course of Cookie's exceptional cooking was served among the guests. No meal in Paris had ever rivalled the decadence, delicacy and deliciousness of that cuisine, and when the desserts arrived baring Marguerite's impeccable handiwork, Porthos thought there might be a chance that he too would fall in love that night.
As the final plates were cleared away and the glasses were once again charged, Christine rose from her seat.
"Thank you," she said, "Thank you all so much for attending. The walls of this hall have missed you for all these years, and looking around at all your beautiful, smiling and loved faces, this house finally feels like home again," she said, her eyes catching Aramis'. She smiled broadly. "This night is meant to celebrate all that you do to maintain the excellence of our village, and I, like my father before me, and his father before him, and his father before that – as we have always done – would like to thank you for all your service," she said to tumultuous applause. They all raised their glasses and toasted. Aramis' beamed at her with pride in his eyes.
She smiled at them all. "And now, without further ado, I present to you, Monsieur Laval."
The innkeeper rose then, his glass in hand, "Thank you my Lady, we, your people, are humbled by your love and example. We are proud to have you represent us at court," he said to which the gathered crowd roared their approval; Porthos' shrill whistle was discernible amid the clapping. She beamed and blushed and hid her bashfulness in Aramis' shoulder as he pressed his lips to the top of her head, regardless of what the town might think.
"And now, my friends," Monsieur Laval resumed, "Enough of my chatter. Let the fun and the dancing begin. Play on!" he shouted and the band struck up a lively tune and the members of the village got up to dance.
oOo