Chapter Twelve - 9th August 1632

As soon as Elizabeth opened the door she caught sight of her neighbours on the adjacent set of steps. Madame Deschamps appeared incredibly distressed and was attempting weakly to push her husband down the steps. He was resisting with a firm strength, with his booted feet planted firmly on the stop step. He was not entirely dressed yet, with only his boots and breeches and shirt in place. The back of the shirt was untucked and wrinkled as if it had been slept in. When they both became aware of her presence they turned to her sharply as if they were two children that had been caught stealing sweet marzipan from the dinning table.

Elizabeth hid her gasp as she realised that the front of the man's shirt was covered in blood. Elizabeth ascertained that it must be his own for Madame Deschamps appeared clean and uninjured. There was something about the situation that Elizabeth thought rather dire and dangerous. She wanted nothing more than to retreat back inside her own lodgings rather than to try and intervene, but she knew she had to do what was right.

"Can I be of some help?" Elizabeth asked softly. "Is everything alright?"

"None of your damn business is it Madame?" Monsieur Deschamps roared as he used the distraction to grab his wife's wrist. He forced her back through the door and threw a disdainful look at Elizabeth. "Perhaps you should return to your husband Madame so that he may teach you how to keep yourself ensconced within your own affairs!"

Elizabeth stepped down a few steps until she could glimpse Madame Deschamps standing in the stairwell. Her expression was more full of anger than fear but still Elizabeth wanted to ensure the woman felt safe before she left. "Madame?" she pressed. "Do you wish me to fetch help?" Elizabeth's mind was already springing to where she might find a musketeer at such an hour of the morning when the other woman shook her head decidedly.

"Honestly Madame," she called out to her, "There's no trouble here. I appreciate your thought but perhaps my husband is right in saying you should consider your own business and leave us be."

The husband grinned at her snidely and then entered the stairwell of his own lodgings. The door was slammed closed and Elizabeth was left standing on the steps alone. She knew things were not well with her neighbours but she knew not what she could do to help them when they did not wish for her aid. She resigned herself to the fact that they would have to sort their own issues as she was not going to be staying in Paris for that much longer. She was on her way to attend her last meeting with her father's lawyer before she left. Although she was exhausted she knew she needed to try and complete as many errands as she could that day. It would mean that as soon as she found a carriage willing to take her into the country for the right price, she could leave.

The small purse of coins she had buried in the pockets felt extremely light as her motion of walking caused it to bump against her leg repeatedly. Elizabeth was under no allusions that she could very well leave the lawyer's office some time later with her pockets even lighter. She knew there was a high chance that her father had left her nothing and she would still have to pay the lawyer for his time. If that were indeed the case, Elizabeth had resolved herself to the fact that she might have to do what she dreaded and go to Eric and ask him for some money. There was little likelihood that he would give her any.

When Elizabeth emerged onto the streets again some hours later, it was with mixed emotions. She was right in that her father had not left her much at all. She had been left a house in the south of France rather than money, which was of little use to her in her position. It would take weeks or months to finalise a sale of such a house and even longer before she saw any of the profits. She simply did not have that kind of time. She knew why her father had made such a choice though. When he had written his will she had still been attached to Eric. Her father had wanted to prevent any money that he did leave her being squandered away quickly so he had left her it in the form of property. He might have thought differently if she had been honest with him about her condition. Thankfully, he had seen fit to leave her husband absolutely nothing. The thought of her father potentially leaving Eric anything at all had been something Elizabeth had found cause to worry about. Eric had caused her father nothing but endless trouble since their marriage and she couldn't bear the thought of her father thinking that his son in law was still owed something.

There was some other news that was neither good nor bad. Everything else had been left to her brothers and her mother. Of course there was no way for any of them to receive such inheritance whilst locked in in the tower in London, so Elizabeth had been made custodian until such a time as she was able to return it all to her living family. Her father's lawyer had helped Elizabeth set up a storage arrangement within a bank in Paris that would hold any items of jewellery or documents that pertained to leases. Her father had cleverly arranged a payment of this storage already, so Elizabeth was at will as her father had stipulated to take what she wished from the storage as and when she pleased on the condition that she did return it to her family at some point. Elizabeth knew how her mother and brothers thought. They would consider all of her hardships and would think no less of her for selling some of the jewellery; indeed they would even encourage it.

That filled Elizabeth with some hope. Her father had quite the odd taste in jewellery and she would never wear any of it. The thought of her brothers wearing it made her chuckle, because they too would not be seen dead with any of it. The only pang of regret Elizabeth thought she might feel was for her mother, who might wish to keep the jewellery purely as a reminder of her husband's poor taste and his sense of humour. Her mother would not have her starve though. Elizabeth knew well enough that although the rooms her mother and brother had in the tower were damp and draughty they had more than enough money and connections to ensure the rooms were well furnished and that they were fed well.

Elizabeth also took personal possession of her father's pocket watch as she could not bear to leave it behind. She had no intentions of selling it, and she did not think her brothers would mind her keeping some piece of her father with her even when she had passed on. The lawyer had set in motion the process of selling the house in the south of France but Elizabeth knew she would likely be gone from the world before there was any money to show for it. She had arranged that any money gained by the sale should reach a charitable source. Her father's lawyer was going to scour her father's paperwork for any charities he had influenced before and place the money there.

With all of that concluded Elizabeth felt weary and could not muster the energy for any more errands. She headed back to her lodgings with her mind swimming with all of the legal jargon, so much so that she did not notice that there was a commotion in the street until an outstretched arm blocked her access.

"I'm sorry Madame but this street is not accessible at present."

Elizabeth came to her senses and glanced up at the musketeer she did not know. His eyes were kind but his expression was firm. There would be no getting past him. "But I live just there?" Elizabeth pointed to the door of her lodgings, noticing as she did so that there were many musketeers swarming around the steps that led to the Deschamps' lodgings. "Monsieur that apartment belongs to my neighbours? Might I ask what has happened?"

"I'm sorry Madame, but I cannot divulge any information at present." In his other hand she then noticed he held parchment and quill which he brought up to chest level. "Madame may I ask your name; and which number your building carries?"

"Madame Elizabeth de Vere," Elizabeth supplied hurriedly. "Number ten. But Monsieur where might I go if I cannot return home? I have no mind for shopping or drinking or playing cards. Where am I to find peace?"

He offered her a small smile as he glanced up from noting down her name. "It is a warm day Madame de Vere. Might I suggest the Tuleries gardens? Someone will send word when the street is no longer blockaded."

Elizabeth nodded slowly then even as she realised there was little chance of there being someone spare to inform the residents they could return to their lodgings. She wandered off then, pulling out her father's watch to check the time as she meandered through the streets. The musketeer was right, it was a warm day. Eventually she was able to follow little groups of women and their parasols as they too went in search of somewhere to relax peacefully. Elizabeth moved on through the gardens even as the women found a place they wished to stop. Although they seemed amenable enough, Elizabeth had no want of listening to their conversations. Instead she kept walking until she found herself a spot where she might sit under the shade of a tree.

There were mothers and their finely dressed little children far off enough in the distance that Elizabeth could not hear them but she could make out the colour of their clothes as they scampered about over the grass. Elizabeth took the opportunity to look over all of the paperwork that the lawyer had given her that morning and she soon found herself blocking out her surroundings as she glimpsed little snippets of her father's handwriting. She ran her fingers lightly over the signatures and footnotes in a hand she knew so well from letters. She'd never get another one of those letters though. She'd not been the type to hold on to such things as there was always something else that could take up the space in what little luggage she carried with her. Now though, she was regretting the fact that she had not even kept one. Perhaps her mother had some that could be sent to her, but then the letter would not be addressed to her and would not carry the same sentimentality.

She fell into a melancholy lull of sadness. The realisation that she would never again see her name written in her father's loopy scrawl was almost the first concrete notion of him being truly gone. She had not known him in the fourteen years that she'd been in the tower. She'd not heard his voice or seen his face. All she had to go on was letters and what her brothers and mother told her. Even after her release she had only seen him a handful of times. She had always loved him regardless of the distance. He had been taken from her when she had just decided to stay nearby him. The future time they might have had together had been ripped from her. Her thoughts then wandered to her family in the tower and how they were taking the news. A letter after all could only convey so much.

Elizabeth became so lost in her thoughts that she did not notice the shadow that fell over her until she felt a presence sit down beside her between the tree roots. She jumped a little even as Athos put a hand on her knee to steady her nerves. "I've searched all over the gardens for you."

"It's quieter and cooler here," Elizabeth supplied. "Will you please tell me what happened with the Deschamps bec-"

Athos held up a hand to silence her. "Elizabeth I don't want to startle you but I will tell you the truth. Your neighbour was found dead this morning. We think poison was the culprit."

Elizabeth held a hand up to her face to hide her gasp. She felt a knot begin to grow in her stomach. She had not intervened enough that morning perhaps. If only she had gone for help despite their protests. "They were fighting this morning when I left," Elizabeth supplied thinly. "Madame Deschamps was trying to force her husband to leave. He had blood on his shirt."

"What time was this at?"

Elizabeth tugged a hairpin that was causing annoyance from her hair and twirled it between two fingers absentmindedly. "I think it must have been shortly before nine. Of course it is a day for meetings, is that how it was discovered?"

Athos looked perplexed. "What do you mean?"

"The women's meeting. There was one this morning. What I mean is I take it that Madame Deschamps' absence led to her discovery?"

Athos shook his head warily. "Elizabeth it was not the wife who was killed but the husband."

"What? I thought..." Elizabeth patted her hair nervously. "But then surely you don't think...?"

"The wife? We've considered it but she says she was attending the meeting this morning and there are a crowd of angry women who are her alibi in that she was there from start to finish."

Elizabeth's eyes widened a fraction. "That's nonsense. The meetings begin at seven and usually end somewhere after nine. They have not taken me off their mailing list yet. I still receive the pamphlets through my door every evening - Oh goodness, I have just given her up to you haven't I?"

Athos had moved to stand but he pointed a stern finger at her. "You have done the right thing Elizabeth."

"Those women will be angry with me!"

Athos touched her shoulder gently. "You told me they argued this morning because you thought you were helping the woman. You've done nothing wrong. Stay here and I'll fetch you once I've taken this information to the correct source."

He swept off in a great hurry and Elizabeth felt a pang of nausea. Clearly Madame Deschamps had taken justice into her own hands in killing her husband. All she had needed to do was ask Elizabeth for help. After all she had an apartment all to herself where she might have sheltered the woman. She could not believe things had gone that far. Despite all of the arguments that had occurred over the last weeks, Elizabeth had thought them more akin to a married couple certainly than she and Eric were, and they had not killed one another yet. Elizabeth pulled out her father's watch again and discovered that it was late afternoon already. She did not know where the time had gone. The gardens were not as busy now, and no more blurred colours hurtled through the grass some distance away. She took her cloak off her shoulders and placed it over her legs as a makeshift blanket and sat back against the bark of the tree to rest her eyes until Athos returned.

Elizabeth was awoken by a rough shaking. She blearily opened her eyes to the late evening light and saw Athos at her side. "Oh thank God..." he sighed. "I thought...never mind."

She could see the fear in his eyes though. She imagined him walking towards her across the gardens and seeing her slumped against the tree awkwardly. He had thought for a moment that she was dead. She took hold of his gloved hand. "I'm not quite dead yet Athos, just immeasurably tired. Did you find Madame Deschamps?"

"With the phial of hemlock in her pocket. Aramis knew it immediately. Thanks to your witnessing their argument this morning, we have her at home instead of at the meetings. I do not know why the men who spoke with her this morning did not search her."

Elizabeth thought she could hazard a guess. "I've seen how those women act Athos. They will have been clucking round her like aggravated hens as she cried. I think that would be a frightening prospect for anyone. No one would think her guilty of such a thing. I certainly did not think so. When you spoke to me earlier I assumed that you had found her dead and not the husband. I wonder why she felt she had to do it?"

Athos shrugged then as a dark shadow crossed his eyes. "Do you women need a reason for anything? Forgive me, you I must excuse from this but many women I have come to meet over the years have been callous and cruel. You do not all sit around crocheting and baking. No, I think you are all far more capable than we give you credit for. Look at the life you have led for example. You've run with and supported a husband even at his very worst. There's strength in you despite everything."

Elizabeth felt a wave of sadness wash over her for the musketeer. "I am sorry that someone hurt you so badly. You are a good man. You did not deserve such treatment. Look at how you have looked after me. You're a kind soul."

"Am I?" he questioned as if he did not entirely believe her. "But of course you would think so Elizabeth. You see the world through rose tinted glass. If I were kind I would have left you well enough alone. You believe there is goodness in everyone, even that blasted husband of yours!"

"Is that such a bad thing?"

Athos did not answer her question. Instead he stood up and held out his hand to help her to her feet. "Let me walk you home."