Whatfunny; you might be right there! ;)

We're about to find out a little about what Elizabeth's women's meetings are all about, and someone might be trying to dig into her life a little.

Chapter Six - 29th June 1632

"These petitions are the way forward for all of us ladies. I know some of you are apprehensive about speaking out, but if we do not then who will? We must lead the way because the poorer women of society will not know how to act or how to get on at all if we do not lead by example! Without our support they would be beaten and trampled upon. We must lead them because our place in society affords us some liberties. We have the right to speak and be heard; particularly at court!"

Elizabeth shook her head in bemusement as she watched Blanche de la Marche, the Comtesse of Toulouse parade across a set of tables that had been haphazardly shoved together in the run down tavern. She had payed handsomely for the use of such a space and as the proprietor was extremely short of funds he had relented. Everyone knew how hard it was to find adequate meeting places for the women because strictly speaking, they shouldn't have been meeting at all. If they were found out by red guards or musketeers they would all be marched off home to their husbands to await a punishment of said man's choosing. They also wouldn't be permitted to speak to one another again. But here the Comtesse was, brandishing her pamphlets as if they were the word of God and thrusting out her expensive silk skirts with every movement of her legs. These women might be congregating for the right reasons, but Blanche's theory was all wrong. Elizabeth did not point it out of course, because they all would have shouted her down. The women were petitioning for a petition in a way. They wanted there to be a regular course of action that their peers might take when they had the need to make a grievance known to the King's privy council. Elizabeth had differing views. She knew that most of the poorer women were more likely to speak up about something they believed in. They'd likely married a man of their own choosing which was a choice that had been taken away from the wealthy women at the meeting. The poorer women had real experience of what it was like to live life on the breadline to really suffer. Most of the women surrounding Elizabeth were able to ask their husbands for whatever money they needed and some even had a weekly allowance to spend on what they wished.

Elizabeth was sure that no common women would ever listen to a woman like Blanche. Poorer women were more inclined to hate her than look up to her. No, none of it would come to any good. And yet Elizabeth found herself sitting at the back of the room during one of the meetings, unable to resist the endless prattle that stopped her mind from thinking of all else. She hadn't been able to bare listening to Eric's endless worries about her fathers killer coming after him. His debts were endless and he now considered himself as the prime target. If it were true, then Elizabeth's father had died as a means to an end. She did not want to think of it that way. She could fairly see where Eric was getting her ideas from though. Unless an Englishman or an English agent had killed her father, Elizabeth could not think of anyone else who would wish to harm him. he'd built quite the life for himself and was well respected in Paris. No, Elizabeth could readily believe it all had something to do with Eric.

They had fought of course, when she had managed to slip away from her father's lodgings the day before and return home to tell her husband the news. Elizabeth wanted companionship and a kind word but instead Eric flew into a raging panic. He was not outraged by her father's death though. He was more worried about his own precarious position in Paris now that her father was not able to speak for him. They'd argued for hours until they were both horse and then Eric had dissapeared off into the night despite his fears. The morning had brought hostility and anxiousness for the couple before Eric had voiced his wish to leave Paris. They repeated the arguements of the day before and added new ones to further refine their points of view. In the end Elizabeth had fought her way out of the apartment with harsh words and angry looks. In the end the straw that broke the camels back was her telling Eric that when he did indeed next leave the city, she wasn't going with him.

It was his lack of even civility let alone sympathy for what she was going through that made the decision for her. She could no longer in all good grace continue her life with such a man. Many times she had thought their marriage to be at an end over the course of the last four years and now that it was finally at that turning point, she felt somehow free. Elizabeth stormed from the apartment in her mourning dress and went straight to speak with her father's lawyer to see if she could discover who her father had rented her apartment from. She knew she could not hear the reading of the will for perhaps months but she could at least try to ensure that they did not cut short the lease and leave her homeless. Remarkably, Elizabeth found that her father had placed the lease in her name and as such, there was nothing the landlord could do regarding her father's death unless she did not pay the rent.

Although she was relieved in a way, Elizabeth was still desperately sad about her father. Now she really was all alone in Paris. Listening to those brazen women pratlling on at the meeting only made her feel worse. When their husbands all came calling they would do the bidding of the man they had married. That was how things always ended. Elizabeth had been to enough similar meetings to know. When the meeting finally ended she was at a real loss as she did not wish to return home to argue with Eric again. It was having a poor affect on her nerves. The vials of laudinum and opiates clinking in her pocket as she walked made her long for vibancy and joy to lift her mood; and she knew just where to find it.

It was on the Rue du Petit Pont that she found the kind of party that she was looking for. Inside what appeared to be a crumbling old townhouse that had seen far better days in the distant past of Paris there often took place the debauched kind of parties that Elizabeth's father would have refused her entry to. At the age of twenty two she would still perhaps have been considered too young to attend such an establishment by many, but she had been to many opium dens across christendom and had seen things beyond even perhaps her husband's imagination. It was comical to Elizabeth really, that Eric thought she simply lay abed whilst he caused trouble all over Paris. She ventured out quite often at night when he was not home in search of entertainment of some kind. She was always careful to only go to places that had been recommended to her, and from where she could easily find her way home in the early hours of the morning. The particular party she had chosen attracted those revellers for whom the delights and intrigues of Paris court were not enough. Dukes and Comtesses languished on couches and smoked the drug through long pipes whilst young rakes who were the future of the nobility ran amok through the rooms, playing cards and chasing women of looser morals whilst they drank the drug in a form of a black liquid.

Elizabeth chose not to smoke the drug, for she knew before long that she would have to resort to only that method. Instead she drank some of the black liquid whilst also sipping a glass of wine. She lounged on a couch, placing her weight on one elbow as she watched the frivolity around the room. It was not an oppressive or threatening atmosphere, but an energetic one. No one was attending the party who did not want to be there, and even the young women of nobility around Elizabeth's own age seemed to gain some pleasure from just observing. The young women were not alone, and usually some young rogue was flirting with them relentlessly with no hope of succeeding. Elizabeth sometimes did consider that perhaps her wedding ring warned people against approaching her, but within very little time she was approached by a man not that much older than her. He was not intrusive or weird but he was very complimentary. They both chatted merrily for a time and their conversation made little sense really as they were both intoxicated but it made Elizabeth consider just how different a life she might have lead if she had given in to temptation and taken a lover. She might have found the companionship her marriage lacked, or at the very least she would have at least felt desirable as a woman again. It was not something she had ever really given too much thought to. She had always intended to be loyal to her husband even when things were extremely bad between herself and Eric. Perhaps it was the fate her mother had been dealt and her father's quick flight that had instilled within her some need to be the perfect spouse.

That part of her life was over now, and she was neither sad nor glad about it. To have a little freedom once Eric had taken his leave would be somehow almost bittersweet. Elizabeth's illness would soon render the point of being able to do as she pleased somehow useless. Perhaps if Eric knew the seriousness of her condition he might not have been so lax in his attentions of her, but the fact that he had managed to overlook the fact for so long made Elizabeth sure there was no love left between them. What did it really take, to ensure your husband's love and respect for all eternity? Elizabeth did not want Eric's sympathy or care because she was ill. She wanted a husband in every form and she wanted back the man she had married at sixteen years old. That was not to be though, and so she found herself being propositioned by the young French Comte who had no shame. When he was refused, he took Elizabeth's well meaning apology in good humour and more than likely would have stayed where he was to chat with her if he was not interrupted and sent on his way.

Harry de Vere sat down beside Elizabeth on her lonely couch, still scowling at the Comte who was now meandering through the crowded room towards the card tables. "They should learn some manners, this lot!"

Elizabeth shook her head at her brother in law. "Harry he meant no harm! He was perfectly polite."

"Meant no harm? Elizabeth you're wearing a wedding ring!"

Elizabeth scoffed. "For goodness sake Harry, that's never stopped you in the past!"

Harry rolled his eyes. "You know I only tease you. I don't mean any of it."

"Don't you?" Elizabeth asked pointedly. "I might have been fool enough to marry Eric when I was younger but I am not fool enough to believe that Harry!"

"What are you doing here anyway?" Harry asked as he poured her another glass of wine from the bottle he had brought with him.

"Same as you, trying to find some entertainment for an evening!" Elizabeth watched her brother in law closely as he moved closer to her on the couch when another gruop of young men entered the room and spared them a glance.

"You should be at home with your husband. Eric's behaviour towards you is ridiculous! The fact you're left to wonder the streets alone does not do credit to the upbringing that my brother and I had. I've a mind to have a word with him!"

Elizabeth sighed heavily and leaned in to Harry's side, glad to have some familiar company for a moment or two. "You already have had a word with him Harry. Lets be honest though, would you have treated me any better? Look at you, still unmarried and combing the opiate dens for a parterner for the evening! I remember what you were like back then too Harry! Eric was by far the better prospect!"

"I haven't found the right woman to marry yet," harry mused. "You can ask any woman I spend time with though, and they will tell you that I'm the perfect gentleman and they are all treated very well. Just because I'm a bit of a rake and I've been with more than enough women doesn't mean I don't have morals. I don't lead women on Bess, as well you know. When you were first brought to our home from the tower you were still a child. I wasn't going to impose upon you. Would I have taken you as my wife, yes gladly! You preferred Eric for his quiet sensibility though and look where you are now! Perhaps you made the wrong decision back then, for when I do take a wife I will be the most perfectly loyal husband there ever could be. I'm allowed to enjoy my life as a bachelor until then."

"I chose Eric because I considered him to be the lesser of two evils," Elizabeth supplied.

"Evils?" Harry cried. "That's a strong word Bess."

"Stop calling me that, you know I don't like it!" Elizabeth swatted Harry's arm lightly in warning. "I suppose evil is a strong word and in regards to yourself it is unfair, but you know how I felt back then Harry! I was fourteen and I'd spent my whole life in the tower only to be released into the care of a family who were only taking charge of me because they'd been promised that I'd marry one of their sons! I suppose I cannot blame you and Eric or your sisters for what passed back then. Our parents were all the ones at fault, thrusting us young people onto paths we had never considered ours before."

"That marriage saved your life Elizabeth. Do not look upon it so ungaciously." Harry moved then, his arm coming to rest behind Elizabeth's shoulders on the back of the couch. If you wanted a future with more freedom you should have married me. Eric has rather closeted you, and you being ill doesn't warrant it in any way. I think of the times I've seen you both and you always appear in better health for being out in the world."

"Well there will be much more of that from now on Harry," Elizabeth confirmed. "It seems our marriage is at breaking point. Eric desires to leave Paris. I have told him that when he does I am not going with him."

Harry seemed shocked at her announcement. "You mean you've chosen to seperate?"

"I am a loyal wife to your brother Harry, but he is not a loyal husband. I never talked of separation, he did. I told him I was staying in Paris but I did not ask for a divorce or an annulment. God knows I could afford neither even if I did want to take that course of action. No, I think it was more that Eric saw how tired I am of travelling all the time, and of how determined I am to stay here against his better judgement. He sees within me a new sense of independence and it worries him. Thus his mind jumps to a separation. If that's what he wants he can have it. It makes no difference to me after all."

Harry shook his head. "I never did believe that Eric ever wanted things to end that way between you both Elizabeth. He wanted that happy marriage unit as much as you did. If our father finds out about it, he won't be pleased!"

Elizabeth bristled a little. "Oh I don't care what your father thinks Harry! I'm no longer willing to adhere to the demands of those who want whats 'best' for us. The truth is that it was all about money!"

"I'm not having this discussion with you when you're in such a state Elizabeth! You're grieving and you're out of your mind with this poppy juice! I'm guessing you swallowed some amount of your tonics before you came here too! That's not a healthy mixture! I'm taking you home so you can sleep it off and I'll call on you tomorrow when you've a clearer head. This business with your father is rotten, but you cannot think that this behaviour will help in any way?"

Harry made a grab for her arm but Elizabeth slid across the couch out of his reach. "i'm fine Harry, just leave me alone!"

"Ican't leave you in this state!"

"You've left me in worse states, you and your brother!" Elizabeth snarled.

Harry shook his head, suddenly furious. "If this is about Italy, I've already told you-"

"Yes, yes you didn't know I was there...blah blah blah. Go on with you Harry. I don't want to go back to an empty apartment to squander away in my misery. I'd rather stay here and watch other people's merriment. just go home Harry, and leave me be."

He said nothing, only shaking his head at her incredulously before he took up his coat and left her. Elizabeth was glad of his leaving even if she did regret her harsh words. Harry was too close to Eric though to ever really be on her side. It was a shame she did not have her own brothers with her, for they would have understood her sentiments. She had been unable to compose a letter to them or her mother yet. No doubt her mother would have been informed of her husband's death by now because news could travel remarkably fast across the channel when it wanted to. Elizabeth would have preferred the news to come from her own letter, where her mother would read it in an empathetic hand of her own daughter. Elizabeth did not have that kind of sensitivity within her yet to sit down to write such a letter. If Harry had been nicer she might have asked for his help but it did not escape her notice that he only mentioned her father's death in reference to her own grief. He had not offered his condolences or sympathetic wishes. The de Vere men were all quite fickle like that.

Elizabeth slid the tumbler of black liquid away from her then, suddenly too weary to drink any more of it. Instead she finished her wine whilst the room around her emptied as the lateness of the hour grew. Eventually she found the good sense within her to go home. She stumbled a little as she crossed the threshold back out into the street and righted herself before turning the street corner. She almost walked into two women that were in much the same inebriated state as she was. They took it in good humour and waved off her apology with laughter. Elizabeth threw them a small smile as she passed on but could not bring herself to laugh along with them. She wound around another corner and stumbled, her ankle twisting in her heeled shoes. She was not sharp enough to catch herself this time and braced herself for a fall, but it never came. She found herself suspended in mid-air, with strong hands clutching at her upper arms from behind.

Her first initial thought was that Harry had not left the party at all, but had simply waited outside to follow her home. There was not the abundant scent of expensive aftershave though which Harry always carried with him. Elizabeth felt herself righted again and she spun around only to find the face of the scowling musketeer before her eyes. If she had been any taller, the brim of his hat would have cast too much of a shadow over his face to be recognisable but from her vantage point Elizabeth could readily see his displeased frown.

"Madame, you are alone?" he asked stiffly.

Elizabeth rolled her eyes. "Of course I am! Do you see anyone else with me? Might a woman not have a care for her own company from time to time?"

She intended to move away from him then but found herself rooted in place. Then she noticed that he had taken hold of her arms again somehow without her notice. "Not at this time of night Madame-" he began but as his eyes flitted over her face he hesitated. "Madame you do not look well; have you taken too much of something?"

Elizabeth wrenched her arms from his grip and turning, she began to walk away. "It's none of your business," she supplied warily as she marched on, feeling as if she suddenly had a renewed sense of purpose to get home. Elizabeth had thought she was walking quite quickly until the musketeer fell into step beside her, his long and slow strides telling her that she must be dawdling. "You cannot follow me!" She snarled at him before trying to pick up her pace a little.

"Madame I also cannot leave you. I have an obligation to ensure you make it across the river in one piece. You must understand, you've suffered a loss and appear incapable of rational thought. Therefore I have a responsiblity to ensure you return to your lodgings safely." His hesitation was unmissable. "If however my company is undesirable for you I can appeal to my comrades at the garrison, and someone else might escort you home?"

Elizabeth scoffed. "What and wake them all up at this hour? What about Porthos, the one who resembles a pirate; would he be awake? Or even home at such an hour? No, he seems the mischevious type so he will be up to no good I expect. Well for him. More enjoyment should be hand in the world. Now I must ask you to leave me. You really can have no worry for me. I'll be home and abed before this half hour is out."

She thought he rolled his eyes but couldn't be sure. "Madame as I have already iterated, I cannot do that. I must ask you to permit me to walk with you. These streets are not safe so late at night."

Elizabeth carried on walking and with each step that she took, she felt her anger rise. "And who are you, musketeer; to order me around? Do you know, I am sick and tired of men thinking they have the authority to dictate how a woman must wear her hair or which colour of new dress she picks; or of what books she reads or who she may speak to! Do not think I have forgotten that you took it upon yourself to speak for me yesterday when I had never asked you to do so! The only man who may do such things is my husband! My-"

"And where is he Madame, at such a time as this when you walk the streets unchaperoned and clearly not of your right mind?"

"I don't like you very much - what is your name?"

"Athos, Madame."

"Athos, I do not like you at all. Speak with my husband if you take such an issue. I do not have to explain myself to a musketeer, least of all a sullen one with no manners at all whatsoever!"

He was watching the side of her face intently as they continued to walk, the bridge that would take them across the Seine almost upon them. "Madame my manners lie in my walking you home to ensure that no harm befalls you. Do not expect more from me when you continue to condone the actions of your husband."

"If you must know," Elizabeth snapped. "My words of cation have no affect whatsoever on my husband! I have never condoned his behaviour but I cannot stop him from doing as he pleases!"

They were crossing the bridge when Athos next spoke. "Might I enquire as to your age Madame?"

"Why does my age matter?" she bristled as she turned to look at him. He glanced away as she did so, and Elizabeth felt belittled by his attitude towards her.

"Because I overheard your conversation with the young man who offered to walk you home some time ago."

Elizabeth stopped walking and turned to face him, shock and anger marring her features. "You were at that party?"

"I was there for my own reasons, to observe a character wholly unrelated to you Madame. I could not help overhearing the end of your conversation. Who was the man?"

"You ask rather a lot of questions Monsieur, when you do not even know me at all! You are a stranger, a musketeer. What right have you to ask a gentleman's wife those sorts of questions?"

"I ask your age because within you there was a sense of resiliance and understanding upon your features when the man asked if he could see you home. Neither of you spoke of it, but there was some undercurrent there that I sensed. You knew perhaps that his intentions were not the purest. It seems a rare and rather smart conclusion for one so intoxicated to make, and forgive me but your appearance implies that you might not yet be old enough or wise enough for such coherent thoughts even when sober."

Elizabeth wanted to laugh suddenly at his backhanded compliment, if that was what it was. She started walking again and they reached the end of the bridge and carried on. If Athos recalled that he had promised only to see her to the other side of the bridge, he did not mention it. "The man is my brother in law Monsieur Athos," Elizabeth said lightly then. "When I was released from the Tower of London I was handed over into the custody of the de Vere family. I was the only one of my family thought to be impressionable. They thought that my mother and brothers were too far gone, but that I could be moulded and shaped and thus no longer in need of incarceration. I was released when my mother paid the de Vere's to take me into their care on the promise that I would marry one of their sons." Why Elizabeth had told him she did not know, for surely she had mentioned as much the first evening that the mukseteers had searched her lodgings and even if she hadn't, all he had to do was a little research to find it all out. "And I am two and twenty..." she added as an afterthought.

He nodded and was silent. It made Elizabeth nervous. "What, my age displeases you?"

"I would not have considered you to be that age by your appearance or manner, that is all. Although two and twenty is still remarkably young."

"Do you speak in terms of my husband?" Elizabeth queried. "He is older than me but not by so great a number of years."

"Old enough for there to be discord between you though," Athos mused.

Elizabeth scowled at him and chose to say nothing. They walked on in silence until they reached the street of Elizabeth's lodgings. "You can leave me now. I can walk these ten steps to my door without aid!" Elizabeth announced as she strode ahead. She suddenly had it in mind that she should thank him for his courtesy. She did not like the man but propriety stated that as he had ensured her safety, he was due some appreciation. The words were upon her lips as she glanced up towards her lodgings when she stopped still in the middle of the street, the sight that met her eyes sending a feeling of sickening dread into the pit of her stomach.

"Madame?" the musketeer had stopped a few steps ahead of her and turned back to ascertain why she had stopped.

Elizabeth couldn't speak. She stared ahead at the doorway of her lodgings, where her own husband stood with his arms clutched around the waist of another woman, his mouth pressed to hers in an unmistakable passionate kiss. Elizabeth had suspicions about Eric's fidelity, but it had never been confirmed before. It took a moment for Athos to follow her eye line and witness what she saw as Eric pulled away from the woman and unlocked the door of the lodgings to drag the woman inside.

Athos opened his mouth to speak and Elizabeth held up a hand to stop him, suddenly weary of him altogether. "I thank you for your kindness in walking me home Monsieur Athos, and beg you not to speak of this to anyone." With that Elizabeth left him standing in the middle of the street and ploughed ahead towards the steps. At the top of the steps she turned to find the musketeer still watching her but his expression was now hidden by the wide brim of his hat. Elizabeth knew he would not leave until he had seen her safely inside so she let herself into her lodgings and closed the door over until she could glimpse the street through the tiniest crack. Finally the musketeer turned and left the street the way he had come with her. She left the lodgings hastily, taking the steps two at a time until she reached the street again. With no real friends in Paris she had no choice but to go in search of Harry, who she knew would be at the card tables still. It worried her a little to be around company early in the mornings for that was when she was most unwell, but she had little choice and Harry would not take much notice if she told him it was a simple cold.

What did you think of Harry; is he good or bad?

In the next chapter, Elizabeth finally decides what and who she wants, but will she get it?