Sign of the Cross
By JeanTre16
Chapter 5
Adjustments
Chapter Description: Siroc helps the d'Artagnans' struggle with Jacqueline's new role.
Several days had passed since the d'Artagnans had returned to Paris, and they were beginning to get settled in. The couple had sent a courier to the former Roget farm to gather their personal effects and bring them to their Paris apartment. Not far from the Musketeer garrison, they had found a quaint Parisian suite tucked back on a little cobblestone side street. It was not large and there was nothing showy about it, but it was neat and clean. It was all the busy young married couple needed during their time of adjustment.
Captain Duval had granted Jacqueline permission to return to duty and retrain for her new commission. She had almost entirely recovered her physical strength, but, she still needed to spend time rediscovering how to work as Madame d'Artagnan, verses Jacques Leponte. Being Leponte meant donning a male façade, but was otherwise forthright in delivery—she had been a Musketeer like all the others. Being Jacqueline as a soldier took another type of mask donning that needed a whole different approach. D'Artagnan had volunteered for the special task of helping her hone her fighting skills, while Siroc had been given the deliberating task of providing her with the proper tools for the job.
This morning, Ramon and Siroc were on their way over to the d'Artagnans' apartment to inform the couple of Duval's orders for the day. On approach, they could hear the couple's morning drill in progress.
"D'Artagnan!" They heard Jacqueline's angry voice through the heavy wooden door.
Siroc looked at Ramon, and asked, "What do you want to bet there goes another ruined dress?"
"How many would that make this week?" Ramon looked at his inventor friend in question. "Any headway on that tear-proof material you've talked about?"
Their discussion on Siroc's invention was momentarily interrupted by the sound of clashing debris from the other side of the closed door. "Maybe I should start thinking about full body armor," quipped the man with the source of ideas.
When the Musketeers outside heard Jacqueline's triumphant call, "Yield!" they knocked and entered. An angry, but victorious, female stood before a frazzled d'Artagnan. She had disarmed him and pinned him at blade point against the bed post. Noticing their guests' entry, the conquering woman brushed aside her dress assessing its damage and lowered her rapier. Offering no explanation to the entrants but an upset look, she retreated to change.
A still dazed looking d'Artagnan slowly sat up on the unkempt bed where the appearance of a battle had just commenced. He served his friends a look of frustration.
"Lose again?" Siroc stated, more than asked. Assessing the damage in the room he went on, "Maybe she wouldn't get so forceful if you didn't keep spoiling her dresses. Have you considered having her practice in pants? I mean, she wore them as Jacques."
"No." D'Artagnan pointedly disagreed as he retrieved his rapier from across the room. "When the time comes for Jacqueline to defend herself, she won't be able to say, 'Would you please excuse me while I change into something more accommodating for sword fighting? My bodice is a little tight.'" D'Artagnan swished his blade and returned it to its sheath emphasizing the seriousness of his point. "She has to be able to be effective as she is. Her life and the lives of others will depend upon it." Evidently the couple's morning drill had gone roughly and both were in agitated moods.
Siroc moved the fabric on one of Jacqueline's dresses slung over the back of a chair to reveal a gaping hole in it. He appeared to be deep in thought as he examined it.
Ramon watched Siroc investigate the hole, and observed, "D'Artagnan, you could go a little easier on her clothing, Senor. This has to be getting expensive."
All d'Artagnan could do was sigh. It was true that he had run his blade through three of her dresses in less than a week, but he was dead serious in helping her prepare for her new role. If it meant being hard on her, so be it. He loved her and had promised her his best. As unpleasant as it was, he owed her that much.
"D'Artagnan, do you mind if I have this?" Siroc picked up the slit dress off the back of the chair, still studying it.
"But Siroc, it's not really your style, is it?" His friend looked him over oddly. Then suspecting the inventor was onto something innovative for Jacqueline, he consented, "If it's something you think you can get into."
"Thanks," Siroc replied, completely unaware of d'Artagnan's sarcasm. Engrossed in reflection, he set it back down on the chair. "I'll come back for it later."
Jacqueline returned to the room adjusting her new set of clothing. Still wearing an agitated look on her face she smirked. "I'm really hungry this morning, dear, how about breakfast?"
Ramon and Siroc shook their heads and shared a frown of disbelief at the revelation that the married couple still fought for their breakfasts. As the four of them left for the Café Nouveau, the Spaniard and inventor imagined there probably was no other couple like Jacqueline and d'Artagnan in all Paris—for that matter, in all France.
After breakfast, Siroc and the d'Artagnans headed back to the inventor's lab for a briefing on what a weapons survey had turned up for Jacqueline. They knew it would take more than getting an invitation to the palace for her to obtain the information Captain Duval had need of. She had to be a soldier in every sense of training, yet a lady in every sense of appearance. And as a Musketeer she had to be prepared for any contingency that got in the way of achieving her mission. All the above would mean new tools and retraining.
Upon entering the lab, the ferret that the ingenious man had previously trained to 'rat out' the garrison mole came scurrying up to him. The scientist gave him a pat and slipped him some food from his pocket. "Hello, little guy," he said, cunningly.
With a sniffing nod of its head, the curious little animal greeted the inventor's friends. He had become familiar with their scents and their routine entrance into his territory known as Siroc's lab. With the ferret's curiosity settled, it scurried back to its out-of-the-way vantage point and nestled in.
Siroc began, "We'll have to come up with some advanced, state-of-the-art infiltration medium and compact weaponry that a woman can conceal." He gestured around the room. "We'll start with some known options, and once I get a feel for where you'd like to go with this, I'll engineer some unique ones catered to your liking."
Jacqueline walked around the table that was lined with a medley of trinkets and weaponry—known and unknown to her. "I'm not into all that poison-in-the-ring, devious woman-type stuff you hear about." And with that she picked up a dagger to hurl across the room. It landed squarely in a protruding wall beam and stuck. "I much rather prefer a fair fight."
Scoffing, d'Artagnan coolly revealed, "There's nothing fair about a fight with a lady." His inference implied that more had gone on that morning in their apartment than Jacqueline's dress getting ruined. "But then, I'd be the first to admit, you're not any ordinary lady," he raised the challenge to his wife.
"I'd act more like a lady, if you'd act more like a gentleman," Jacqueline replied, icily.
"I'm sure I can write my father for some tips on being a gentleman when it comes to dealing with difficult women. I seem to recall Milady de Winter being especially genteel when it came to manipulating and abusing men," he smoothly demeaned her.
The insulted woman gasped at his last comment. His blow at associating her with such a woman had obviously hurt. She admitted to herself she was having trouble putting forth her newfound femininity while holding her fighting nature intact, but had she allowed herself to become as bad as he had suggested? But he had pushed her to, hadn't he?
Before, being Jacqueline or Jacques, meant being either one or the other. Now the line was so fuzzy. As a woman soldier, she was using a forceful femininity toward her husband that even she did not feel comfortable with. Maybe dueling with him wasn't such a good idea right now. Maybe they needed a break. How could she tell the man she loved that while she felt she had crossed the line that morning, she was afraid she would be called to cross that line again and again as a female Musketeer? Jacqueline wondered how they were going to reconcile these two natures that had to co-exist in one woman.
"Ahem." Siroc broke the thickened silence. Not wanting to get in the middle of the couple's argument and not wanting to know the details of it, the inventor redirected their attention back to their task at hand. "I was looking over this dress that d'Artagnan gave me permission to take, and it occurred to me that we could insert intentional slits in the skirt to act as hidden pockets. You could carry just about anything in it depending on the fullness of the skirt."
An intrigued looking d'Artagnan smirked while still holding his wife's gaze. "I'm glad to see I've been of some service," he sarcastically offered.
"Very funny." Jacqueline steamed at her husband's smart remark about him providing the idea by slashing holes in her clothing. In truth, it was the clothing as much as it was the whole charade that was giving the female Musketeer trouble. She had dueled in a dress countless times with her brother, Gerard. But a farm work-dress offered more flexibility than the finery of a Viscompte's wife. While the fullness of the skirt did act as one hindrance, she was beginning to see the value of it also acting as an asset for concealment. Then speaking to Siroc, "But, I don't suppose it would conceal a rapier?"
"No, I don't suppose it would," the inventor confirmed. "You'd have to rely on one of these other means of protection." He gestured to the spread of arsenal across the table.
Once again she eyed the daggers and pistols. "Great," commented a disheartened Jacqueline, "I've been practicing with the wrong tool." The implication that all her aggravation with d'Artagnan recently had been for nothing was truly a disquieting thought.
"Not entirely," Siroc encouraged, "a rapier is still a gentleman's preferred defense and you no doubt know how to disarm a man of one. You'll also still be able to carry a rapier under a lady's cloak as well as on horseback." Then, more timidly, he added, "But, of course that would be limited to outdoor travels."
"This adjustment is going to be more complicated than I first thought," she quietly announced with a sigh.
Siroc walked across the room and grabbed a light-weight leather apron off his cloak rack. He approached Jacqueline and handed it to her.
"What's this for?" she asked.
"Consider it a small gift from me to help you keep some peace in your marriage until you adjust," Siroc offered. "Wear it over your clothing while the two of you are busy…slashing at one another."