In-between the lines
By JeanTre16
Chapter Three
Packaging the Goods
"I don't know how I let you talk me into this." Jacqueline exasperated as d'Artagnan and she walked among the shops of Paris.
"You don't have to go through with this." Her lively companion rattled her. "If you'd rather spend your afternoon with Mireille, just let me know and we can head back to the garrison."
"No." She rolled her eyes at the suggestion. "Let's get this over with."
"All right, then," he said, giving her an appropriate male-to-male thump on the back. "First, let's start with your dress. Shall we?" Beaming with a happy grin, he gestured her in the direction of the dressmaker's shop.
Jacqueline loathed it when he treated her like a man, while teasing her as a female. Besides that, she thought he was showing a little too much enthusiasm at her misadventure. After all, it was his fault in the first place that this was even happening, she surmised. Begrudgingly, she bit her tongue and followed.
Coming up next to where her comrade stood, the woman in the façade of a man took in the view of the dress-shop window. Her eyes scanned the options and came to rest upon a lovely blue dress.
She was about to say something when d'Artagnan interjected, "Red. Definitely the red one." He never noticed her giving him a bewildered look because he grabbed her by the arm and pulled her into the shop.
Being greeted by the familiar dressmaker's daughter, d'Artagnan dipped his head. "Mademoiselle," he said, and kissed her hand with civility.
Unnoticed by either the woman or the man, Jacqueline rolled her eyes and shook her head at her comrade's smoothness.
The young dressmaker blushed. "D'Artagnan, isn't it?" she asked.
"You have a good memory, Mademoiselle. It's been some time since I've been this way." He pleasantly smiled.
"Well, yes," the young seamstress shyly replied. Then, noticing his quiet companion, she politely curtsied, "Monsieur—" she laughed lightly in embarrassment and looked back at d'Artagnan "—I'm afraid I can't quite recall your friend's name."
"Leponte." Jacqueline spoke up candidly for herself. She had seen enough of her comrade's interplay with the young woman and wanted very much to get on with the business they had come for. "Actually, we're here today to buy that blue dress for my sister." With a pretend, gentlemanly smile, Jacques pointed to the bust in the window.
D'Artagnan frowned and interjected his correction, "You mean the red dress…for your sister." He ended his statement by glaring at Jacqueline to overrule her. Then turning to the dressmaker's daughter, he asked, "Don't you think the red dress would make a more lasting impression than the blue one?"
"Monsieur d'Artagnan..." The dressmaker paused, wondering how to please both of her disagreeing customers and still make the sale. "The blue dress is lovely—" she smiled warmly toward Jacques, who grinned at her opposing companion "—yet, if your sister desires to make a lasting impression, I'm afraid I'd have to agree with d'Artagnan. Definitely the red one."
Now it was the man's turn to gloat and his companion's turn to pout. Jacqueline looked at both sets of eyes resting on her and caved in. "All right, then we'll take the red one," she consented, thinking it really didn't matter anyway. There were no real plans for the dress other than ridding herself of the overbearing wash maid.
D'Artagnan quickly produced his money pouch and nobly offered to pay. "The honor is mine. I'll take care of this." And while Jacqueline steamed in the awkwardness of the moment, her male friend paid for the dress.
With the brilliant red gown packaged up, the two Musketeers proceeded toward their next acquisition—a wig. Both agreed that Jacqueline's own, natural hair would be too dangerous to don along with any dress in public. Arriving at the wig maker's store, the two, once again, scanned their choices through the window.
"How about the red one?" d'Artagnan said, turning to Jacqueline with his grin and flickering brows.
She shook her head, yet again, at his over enthusiasm in helping her create a disguise. In her opinion, he was enjoying this way too much. Leaving him standing outside the shop, she quickly went in before he could take charge of this shop owner like he had the dressmaker. With great purpose, Jacques Leponte approached the wig maker and asked to have the blond wig in the window boxed up for him.
Walking in on the tail end of the transaction, d'Artagnan's only response was to appear speechless and say, "Well, blond is a nice color, although it's not my favorite."
Jacqueline didn't want to ask what his favorite hair color was. This was not for his benefit anyhow. She quickly paid for the wig, thanked the vendor and left the shop.
Running after her to keep up, d'Artagnan commented, "Is there anything else a woman would need that we could pick up. This is actually quite fun."
To that, Jacqueline turned to him and shoved the wig box into his one free hand—he already had the dress package under the other arm—and left him standing there with a 'what did I say' look on his face.