Chapter Three - 20th June 1632
Elizabeth had grown to dread answering knocks at the door of her lodgings. With Eric out doing God knows what and the maid off running errands, she was all alone. There had been incidents before. At least when she was out and about alone, when one of Eric's creditors or their hired hands approached her there would always be someone else around to step in. It had happened a lot in the south of France when she was out walking. She slowly began to live the life of a recluse because she was embarrassed to have such people threaten her and bombard her with insults in the street. The few new friends she managed to make anywhere she went were normally quite taken aback by such behaviour and Elizabeth did not blame them. They always defended her which she was grateful for, but it made matters worse in the end. Elizabeth felt bad that good and honest people were dragged into Eric's dodgy dealings and so she sacrificed those friendships for fickle women who were only friendly so that they could gossip about her later on.
The sharp rap came again and Elizabeth who was perched a few steps from the top of the staircase, didn't know what to do. It might well just be a message or an innocent encounter as it was broad daylight but Porthos's words of warning about the red guards returning made her hesitate. She should not be alone with men of any kind, let alone ones with a perilous reputation. The noise continued relentlessly and it began to distract her, breaking through her nerves and serving to annoy her. She was due to go out in a short while and it did not appear that the person on the other side of the door was going to give up any time soon. What would happen when she opened the door though? At best it might perhaps be a neighbour or some of those people she didn't want to call friends that had come to call, but it could be someone much worse. She was a woman home alone. The men her husband had wronged might take advantage of finding her in such a predicament.
Seeing no way to avoid answering the door when she needed to leave in a short while, Elizabeth crept down the staircase and stood in the vestibule before the door. In a second of quick thinking she designed for herself a safety mechanism and from the side she began to pull the chest of drawers out from the wall and towards the door. When it was finally in place a few inches from the door she unhooked the latch and pulled the door open by just a crack. The pirate musketeer and his friends stood crowded onto the top steps outside. Elizabeth couldn't help feeling a little relieved that it was not someone more sinister who awaited her outside, but she still felt a little stirring of annoyance that they'd felt the need to return so soon.
She began to push at the chest of drawers with her hips, sliding it back towards the wall a little as she opened the door wider. The sullen man was the first to turn towards her, his expression a cold one that Elizabeth did not care to understand at all. "Madame, we would speak with your husband."
The gruff statement left her feeling a little disembodied, as if she wasn't even there. It always antagonised her that other men would overlook her and always speak only with Eric. She was no fool, and was glad of it for a wise head was more than likely what had kept both her and Eric alive over the years. "He isn't here," she stated bluntly as she wedged her foot behind the door upon impulse. Something about the sullen fellow gave her the impression that he'd not hesitate to rush her and shove the door off it's hinges if he thought the occasion called for it.
Porthos tried for a friendly smile as he moved closer. "Perhaps you might tell us where he is Madame and we will not have to take up any more of your time."
Elizabeth wanted to laugh at that. How many women did she know who actually knew the whereabouts of their husbands at all times? She couldn't recall the last time Eric had willingly told her where he was going. Even if he was only venturing out to browse a book shop or two he considered it none of Elizabeth's business. Elizabeth tried for a small smile back but she could tell it was not believed. "I'm afraid my husband neglected to tell me where he would be this afternoon," she supplied thinly. "Perhaps I can help though? If there is anything in particular that you wished to ask I can try my best to aid you."
The sullen one all but rolled his eyes. Elizabeth wanted to scratch him. She'd done that once to Eric when they'd argued. They'd both been very irate and Eric had been drunk. They'd both hit each other which in Elizabeth'd eyes made her no better than Eric. He'd pulled her hair though, which such a force that Elizabeth was sure he'd torn a clump from her head. He held on as he dragged her and she'd lashed out before she even thought about what she was doing. She'd dragged her fingernails down the side of his face and drawn blood. They were only scratches, but they were visible for a week or two afterwards. Eric seemed to recover his equilibrium after that. Perhaps it was the shock of her fighting back so fiercely that made him realise he'd gone much too far.
"We're here to search your rooms again Madame," Porthos supplied. "We will not do so when your husband is absent though. We'll wait for him to return if that's alright with you?"
Elizabeth was still concious of her foot jaming the door into place and of her jittery nerves which had no doubt been obvious to the four men. Something stirred within her conciousness that they might have planned it all. Perhaps they wanted to lie in wait of Eric's return to foil whatever scheme he was concocting next. That did not help Elizabeth, who dearly wanted to leave the lodgings for the first time in days and go to her meeting.
"Actually..." she announced on impulse, "I'd rather that you searched now if it's all the same. I've got somewhere to be soon and I trust I can't be allowed to leave until you've searched the rooms. As long as you'll permit me to pin my hair whilst you search, I've no issue." She opened the door wider, seemingly proud of herself that she was thwarting their potential plan and keeping her herself and her husband right.
"You're sure?" Porthos asked as he took off his hat and presented her with a raised brow.
"Please do not take offence for I intend none," she replied, "But I have no desire to sit watching the windows for my husband's return and in turn watching all of you. As I said. I've got an appointment to get to."
Porthos was first to enter, offering her a simple nod as he began to make his way up the stairs. The others followed, with the sullen one bringing up the rear. Elizabeth shut the door on the street, hoping that none of her neighbours had seen the musketeers arriving for they were sure to disapprove. Then as she turned she saw the chest of drawers still jutting out quite a bit from it's original spot against the wall and hoped none of the musketeers had noticed it.
In the parlour they waited patiently, as if they were hesistant to begin without her permission. Elizabeth thought such a notion was comical, as they would not have given a second thought to her if her husband were present.
"I assume one of you will need to search my things so you can do so whilst I pin my hair," Elizabeth called as she turned and made for the hallway again. "The quicker you search gentlemen, the quicker I can leave to be about my business."
She heard footsteps follow her as she made her way into her own sparsely decorated room. They'd not brought much with them to Paris and Elizabeth wasn't sure they'd leave with much either. Things were getting much worse in regards to Eric's behaviour. A few years ago, they sometimes got to leave of their own choosing and took some new belongings with them, but they hadn't been able to do that in a long time. They were usually chased by creditors or by husbands who had discovered that Eric had been seeing their wives privately. They'd also been run out of a few smaller towns were there was no real harm done, but people wanted them gone nonetheless.
Elizabeth perched in her stool before her dressing table and lifted a handful of pins, grateful when she glanced into the mirror and saw that it was not the sullen musketeer who had followed her but the one called Aramis. He hesitated for a few seconds as if he was waiting for her to give permission for him to search her things. She gave none and began to twist her hair up and away from her face before she pinned it to her head. When she glanced in his direction again he had begun to search of his own accord, gently rifling through the pages of a small pile of books she'd somehow managed to carry with her to Paris.
"There's no need to look so sheepish," Elizabeth called to him over her shoulder after a while. "I think we can assume this is not the first time you've searched through a lady's things. As long as you do not damage anything and leave it all where you found it I've no quarrel with you Monsieur."
She watched his reflection smile into the mirror at her. "I am sheepish Madame as I do not expect to find anything. We searched these rooms a few weeks ago finding nothing and I'm quite certain a woman like yourself would not have anything to hide. It's more your husbands rooms we are concerned for..."
He trialed off as Elizabeth heard a drawer slide open. She cringed inwardly as she knew he'd come accross her stash of medicines and potions. She wondered who it was that had searched her belongings the time before, as it was evident that Aramis was seeing her collection for the very first time.
"See something you like musketeer?" Elizabeth asked as she bristled slightly.
He turned towards her again, their eyes meeting in the mirror. "Madame these herbs and potions are not what one would expect, they are surely dangerous when taken together?"
Elizabeth turned on her stool so that she was facing him, hair pins still clutched in her hand. "Who says I take them together Monsieur? I've been ill recently and some of them have eased my pain a little. The others are for recreational use and as I said before to you, they are not illegal."
Aramis nodded even as she saw his eyes dance over the labels of the little phails. "If you were to take the wrong thing though Madame, and in the wrong quantity... It would be an easy mistake to make in the dark and if you're ill and not of your own mind."
Elizabeth rolled another lock of hair away from her face and pinned it as she continued to watch him. "I'm careful Monsieur. That's why there are labels. There's nothing lethal there anyway. They just ease my pain a little, and in times of dire need they transport me away from my life for an hour or two."
"It cannot be an easy life, always travelling so much," he replied. "I must apologise for your distress the last time myself and my friends were here. We did not mean to upset you. You were right in that we did not know your history."
Elizabeth shrugged and grabbed the remaining hair at the nape of her neck and began to twist it onto the back of her head so that she could pin it. "Few do. It's not something I discuss and Eric does not like to speak of it. I think it pains us both to recall what we left behind in England, and of what our lives might have been had we not left when we did. Perhaps I might have found myself back inside the tower."
"I cannot imagine what that was like." He was searching through her trunk now, but he was moving things in a respectful manner and replacing them when finished. "To be born into captivity and to live such a sheltered life. All of this travel must be bittersweet. Even though the world is beautiful to discover, I'm sure it's tinged with a sadness that you have only borne such freedom for a short space of time, and your brothers have yet to see such things."
Elizabeth fought against the urge to tell him not to speak of such things, but she knew that others would not have much understanding of the pain she was in. "Yes, quite," was all she managed before she turned away from him.
Dropping the rest of her pins down onto the dressing table, Elizabeth lifted her scent bottle and brushed some gently below her ears and on the insides of her wrists before she moved out of the musketeer's way so that he could inspect her dressing table. A few moments later she heard the door closing downstairs and inwardly grimaced.
"What the devil is going on here! Who let you in!"
Elizabeth was already on her feet and heading back towards the parlour when she heard Porthos speak. "Your wife let us in Mon Seigneur. We did offer to wait for your return but the Madame was adamant that we proceed."
"Eric," Elizabeth called as she reached the parlour door and turned into the room. "It's fine Eric. There's nothing here to hide and I have somewhere to be. I thought it made little sense for all of our days to be held back because you were absent."
Elizabeth pulled her cloak from the back of a chair where she'd left it and lifted a book from a nearby table as her husband's face grew redder with anger. "It's about the principal! You should not have let them in Elizabeth! A woman alone with four soldiers in her lodgings? People will talk."
"Yes," Elizabeth simpered. "It's wonderful to know that's your chief worry Eric." She slipped the cloak over her shoulders and fastened the clasp at the base of her neck. "Do you need to search me before I leave?" Elizabeth said over her shoulder to Aramis who had followed her back into the parlour.
"No Madame, I don't think that will be necessary."
She nodded her thanks to him and threw Eric a disdainful look as she passed. He grabbed her wrist painfully to halt her steps. "Yes because there's like to be all sorts concealed under that bodice!"
Elizabeth was no longer riled by the contemptuous remarks Eric sometimes threw her way when he was displeased with her. She glanced about her, making sure that no one else was in ear shot before she spoke again. "Well it's not like you'd know is it Eric? After all it's been so long since we shared a bed that we're practically born again brother and sister!"
Elizabeth snatched her wrist back out of his grip and turned away from him. "Where are you going now?" he called after her.
"A women's book meeting!" She waved the book in the air as she walked, not daring to turn back and see the ire in his expression. He didn't like her being obtuse with him. Lifting her chin up she stormed from the room and ran straight into the sullen musketeer who was standing right outside the door. Elizabeth could not tell if he'd heard her conversation or not because his eyes gave nothing away. He gave her a sharp nod of the head and moved to let her pass. She'd already decided she didn't care if he'd heard by the time she was clattering down the last few steps and opening the door to the streets of Paris because she'd disliked him from the moment she set eyes on him.
Madame Deschamps was standing at the top of the steps outside the neighbouring house. "We're going to be a little late! What took so long? I saw those musketeers..."
"Yes they're here to deal with my husband," Elizabeth skirted the issue as both women descended their own staircases and met in the street. She glanced the other woman's way as they matched pace and walked together in the direction of the river. Elizabeth was not entirely sure why she was stepping out with a woman who clearly didn't like her, but boredom had driven her to seek out catty and pernicious women for want of something to do and entertainment. She'd never associated with women like Madame Deschamps before but now she had little left to loose really. It made her laugh to think that people might think her one of them.
"What did your husband say this time? I recall he was not pleased that you left without his permission to attend the last meeting?" Madame Deschamps pushed as they crossed a bridge.
Elizabeth scoffed. "I told him I'm going to a book meeting. What he doesn't know wont hurt him!" Then she lifted the book and threw it over the balustrade where it hurtled towards the murky depths of the Seine.