In-between the lines
By JeanTre16
Chapter Two
Leponte's Type
Thinking she probably shouldn't have, Jacqueline let him into her room. "All right. Who is this woman you know that would be willing to do this for me?"
D'Artagnan pulled her desk chair to the middle of the room and straddled it backwards, facing her as she sat on her bed. Resting his folded arms on the raised chair back, he began. "You."
"Me?" Jacqueline made a face.
"You," d'Artagnan continued. "You'd make the perfect fiancée for Jacques Leponte."
Rising from her seated position, she made her way to the door. "That's it. Thank you very much for your brilliant suggestion. But, I think we're done here."
"Wait—" and he reached his hand out to grab her arm as she passed by and whispered her name "—Jacqueline. Why not?"
At his use of her name and grip on her arm, she turned to face him with her dissuading argument. "Have you forgotten that I have wanted posters up with my picture on it? I can't just go walking about in Paris as myself." Shaking her arm free of his grasp, her face wore the pain in the reality of her own statement. She wanted to be alone; she wanted d'Artagnan to go.
His gaze turned compassionate as he apologized, "I'm sorry, Jacqueline. I didn't mean to raise painful issues." He knew how much those posters ate at her.
Shaking her head in frustration, she dismissed the subject. "Never mind, d'Artagnan. I appreciate you trying to help, but I'll figure it out myself." Sighing, she resumed her path to the door to let him out.
"But wait! I never intended for you to be you."
Stopping in her tracks she raised her hands in frustration. "D'Artagnan, would you please stop! You're making no sense." Then giving him a quizzical look, she asked, "And what do you mean by, I don't have to be me?"
"You, as yourself, wasn't what I had in mind in the first place. No offense, but I don't really see you as Leponte's type of woman." He apparently had given it some thought, but at the same time, not without adding his own idiosyncrasies to the analogy.
"I'm not Leponte's type of woman?" She raised her brow in surprise. How could he possibly conclude she was not suitable for herself? "And whose type am I?" She wondered what kind of woman this fickle man thought she was.
Making concession for her inquiry, he illustrated. "Well, you're too forward, for one. Jacques needs a gentler woman…a traditional woman…" Seeing the perturbed look on Jacqueline's face, he stopped his description.
"Forward? You think I'm forward?" Her arms were crossed.
"Well…yes," he said, looking like he had nothing to defend himself for. "There's no doubt you're a charmer—in a good dress—but you are far too bold, too front-of-the-line and too futuristic in your thinking for Leponte. You're much more suitable for a man who isn't intimidated by your beauty and brawn."
At this, Jacqueline's jaw dropped, shocked at his contradictory portrayal of her character—simultaneously using feminine and masculine descriptors.
Since their recent exchange with Charles II, d'Artagnan believed he had learned some things about Jacqueline. Looking off in his assessment, and unaware of her response, he continued. "You need someone who can stand up to your competitiveness; Jacques is too gentle." Engrossed in his relating of her traits, he reflectively expounded. "Leponte's fiancée is rule bound; Jacqueline is liberating. Leponte's woman is befitting of a genteel Musketeer's wife; Jacqueline is invigorating, perfect for a roguish man."
"Wait a minute, Monsieur d'Artagnan," Jacqueline protested, while trying to keep her voice down. Forgetting her role of a male Musketeer and taking on the defense of her feminine self, she retorted, "I will not have you refer to me as such. I may have taken on the personification of a soldier in a garrison full of men, but I assure you, I am a proper woman." Listening to herself explain her situation, she was shocked at just how contradictory her own words sounded. In short, her defense only confirmed his summary of her.
All d'Artagnan could do was smile at her faltering. Lifting his brow, he delivered, "I never said there was anything improper about you, Jacqueline." He held her gaze for a moment, with a grin on his face. Unfolding his arms and slapping his hands on the back of the chair, he pronounced, "Now, all we have to do is find an outward disguise for you that would fit Jacques Leponte's type of woman."
Not knowing quite how to take his insight on her personality and equally afraid to ask what he thought Jacques Leponte's type of fiancée should look like, Jacqueline flinched and gave him a blank look.
Taking matters into his own hands, in her silence, d'Artagnan enthusiastically suggested, "I know, let's go shopping!"