Thanks for the lovely response to the last chapter, and I hope you enjoy what happens next. As always, continued thanks to AZGirl for her great proofing skills.
Their journey to Rue de l'Echelle passed by quickly. Too quickly, for Constance's liking, and she found herself intentionally dragging her feet the closer they got. d'Artagnan had apparently noticed as he finally drew her off to one side so they'd be out of the way of others walking by. Gripping her by the upper arms, he pinned her with an intense look as he said, "Constance, don't worry, everything will be alright."
She couldn't help but wring her hands together anxiously as she considered his words. After several seconds of staring into his dark brown eyes, she crumbled, her shoulders drooping as her back bowed under the weight of her current circumstances. Blinking back the tears that had begun to pool in her eyes, she challenged his statement. "How can you be so sure?"
The Gascon's expression softened as he gave her a reassuring smile. "Because, no matter what, I won't let anything happen to you. Do you believe me?"
Despite her desire to appear strong, she found herself needing his assurances and found comfort in his words. She nodded wordlessly in reply, making his smile grow. Her fears weren't completely assuaged though. "But what if Broussard is waiting for me?" She lifted her nearly empty purse as she admitted, "I don't have the money I owe him."
d'Artagnan switched his grip to clasp her hands in his as he replied, "Yes, you do. I finally have what I owe you in unpaid rent, plus a little extra. That should be more than enough." His last words were edged with a questioning tone and garnered another nod from Constance.
Frowning, she resisted the Gascon's attempt to get them moving again, planting her feet as she asked. "Does this mean you've received the income from your farm?"
The question caused d'Artagnan's brow to pucker as he replied, "Not exactly, but where the money came from isn't important right now."
Constance shifted her body away from him as another option dawned on her. "Did that woman you were with give you money?" Her voice was edged with accusation and she noted the slight wince that the Gascon tried to hide at her question. "She did. I don't know what your relationship is with her, but I'm not interested in anything she gave you, money or otherwise," she stated indignantly.
"Constance, it's not like that," d'Artagnan hissed, noting the attention they were beginning to draw from those around them. "She's a friend, nothing more, and she just wanted to thank me for helping her."
"Hmph, helping, is that what they're calling it these days?" she responded sarcastically. The hurt that flashed across the young man's face had her regretting her words almost at once, but it had stung to see d'Artagnan on such friendly terms with another woman. Sighing, she forced herself to calm down. "Fine, you have the rent you owe, and we won't say anything more about it."
"Thank you," d'Artagnan responded, and she could still hear the undercurrent of tension in his tone at her earlier words.
They began walking again, the silence that stretched between them uncomfortable in a way that Constance had never before experienced. For whatever reason, she'd never minded the quiet when in this young man's company, but now it was a reflection of the cruel words she'd uttered in her bid to hurt his feelings, just as he'd inadvertently hurt hers. The desire confused her as she reminded herself that she was a married woman. d'Artagnan was a handsome, single man, and it would be unusual if women didn't notice him. The thought drew another frown to her face, which the Gascon mistakenly attributed to the presence of the man he was now observing.
"I see him too," d'Artagnan said, and it took Constance a moment to realize they'd stopped as she followed his gaze, spotting the person he was referring to.
Across the street, Bernier stood in the usual location, and although she couldn't see Broussard, she had little doubt that he was nearby. The sight had her gasping softly, and d'Artagnan responded by giving her arm a quick squeeze. "Best get this over with," he stated as he led the way to the other side of the street.
Bernier's gaze settled on him at once, his eyes examining the bruise on the Gascon's face that had darkened overnight. He grinned at the sight of his handiwork. "Looks painful," he commented once the two had stopped across from him.
"Looks can be deceiving," d'Artagnan replied evenly, keeping his expression neutral. "Where's your boss?"
Bernier looked at the young man calculatingly for several moments as if weighing the man in front of him and deciding how to respond. "He's not the boss anymore. From now on, you'll be dealing with me."
Constance watched as the Gascon's brow rose questioningly, his posture displaying his gaining confidence as he hooked his thumbs into his belt. "Then I'd say that our business is concluded."
Bernier scowled, but didn't move as he countered. "All of Broussard's customers are now my customers. That means that she and I still have business to discuss," he stated, looking meaningfully at Bonacieux.
She looked pointedly at d'Artagnan, begging him to simply pay the man so they could be on their way. For a moment, he seemed unwilling to comply, but then his features shifted and he sighed softly as he reached a hand inside his doublet. Extending the hand to Bernier, he said, "This should be more than enough to cover her loan."
As he opened his hand, Constance found herself leaning forward to examine the exquisite hairpin that rested there. "d'Artagnan, it's too much…" she began to say, only to stop as Bernier's hand darted forward to snatch the item.
She watched silently as the giant turned the hairpin to and fro, before biting down on it to test the metal it was made of. Finally, he turned his attention back to them. "This will do…as a start."
d'Artagnan had already begun moving them away from the large man, only to stop at his strange words. "What do you mean, as a start?"
Constance's words followed closely after the Gascon's as she angrily stated, "That hairpin is easily worth more than what I owed Broussard."
Bernier's face split into a hard grin as he said, "I agree, and that's why I want something more of equal value from you before I consider our business concluded."
"You're daft," Constance declared as she gathered her skirts in preparation to leave. "What makes you think I'll give you another sou?"
"There's only one reason why a married woman would seek to borrow money," Bernier replied, his expression morphing to one of cruel satisfaction. "And that's to keep her husband from finding out she's mismanaged the household budget."
"How do you know I'm not her husband?" d'Artagnan countered, lifting his chin defiantly towards the larger man.
Bernier shook his head slowly. "No, you're not her husband, which makes me wonder why, exactly, you keep stickin' your nose into this business."
Constance didn't like the look the giant was now giving the Gascon, and spoke up in his defense. "He's a good man and a Musketeer, that's who he is." The words were spoken with a level of pride and conviction that surprised d'Artagnan, and his grateful gaze swung in her direction.
In that moment, Bernier's fist lashed out, striking a punishing blow to d'Artagnan's already bruised cheek, and laying him out flat on the ground. With an ease belied by his size, Bernier swiftly scooped up the young man and effortlessly threw him over one shoulder.
Shocked at the sudden turn of events, Constance fairly shrieked, "What are you doing?"
"Not a word to the Musketeers," Bernier warned, his eyes flashing with anger. As soon as the words had left Constance's mouth, he'd known that he'd need to act decisively to protect his new position. The best, and only option, seemed to be to take the young soldier with him, and to secure a promise of silence from the women under threat of the man's life. "You have two days to pay me the other half of your debt. After that, he dies."
With that, he turned and disappeared quickly down an alleyway, while Constance was left staring at the space where d'Artagnan had stood just moments before, an expression of horror etched onto her face.
Constance stumbled along the uneven cobblestones, her mind churning as she debated her options. Her heart warred with her brain, arguing that d'Artagnan's life was more important than any embarrassment she'd face for her dealings with the moneylender. Her pride turned out to be the harder of the two to convince, pointing out the folly of doing anything that might reveal her actions to her husband. The inner debate was all-consuming, blinding her to everything and everyone around her until she found herself standing in the garrison courtyard.
The realization sent a flush of panic through her system, adrenaline pumping through her veins with each beat of her heart, and encouraging her to flee. She almost did, but a voice calling her name froze her in place.
"Madame Bonacieux, to what do we owe the pleasure?"
Aramis' voice flowed over her and her heart sank as she realized it was too late to run. She did her best to scrounge up a smile as the marksman approached, Athos and Porthos following in his wake.
He must have noticed her pale features and her wide eyes. Adopting a hint of a frown, he stopped in front of her and asked, "Is everything alright?"
She searched for several moments for the words to explain what had happened, failing completely and finally just throwing her hands up in frustration as tears welled in her eyes. Aramis' hands gently captured hers and held them, his face a mix of concern and anticipation as he waited patiently for her to compose herself and explain. Managing a deep, steadying breath, she finally blurted out, "d'Artagnan's been taken."
She barely caught the look that passed between the three men before Aramis was leading her over to a table and guiding her to sit down. Crouching down in front of her, and still holding her hands, he asked, "What do you mean, d'Artagnan's been taken?"
Constance glanced up at Athos and Porthos, both of whom were standing behind Aramis, intently watching her as they waited for her response. With a tremulous breath, she explained. "I borrowed some money from a man named Broussard, and was due to repay my loan today."
"Then you are in luck, Madame," Aramis stated. "We arrested him yesterday."
She frowned for a moment and then shook her head. "d'Artagnan said the same thing, but my problem hasn't gone away with his arrest." Steeling herself, she continued. "His enforcer has taken over his business."
"Bernier?" Porthos asked, receiving a nod from Constance. The large man muttered something disparaging under his breath that had Athos dipping his chin in agreement, but it was said too quietly for her to hear.
"What does this have to do with d'Artagnan?" Athos questioned, already having reached a conclusion and now hoping that his deduction was flawed.
"Bernier wasn't satisfied with my payment," Constance replied.
Though disturbed at the fact that she'd still tried to repay her loan, Athos asked, "You repaid your debt?"
She let out a small huff. "More than repaid based on the look of that hairpin."
Porthos' brow furrowed as he tried to understand what he was hearing. "What hairpin?"
"It's nothing," she shrugged, dismissing the item as unimportant. "All you need to know is that he got more than what I owed, but he still wasn't satisfied. He threatened to tell my husband if I didn't pay him the same again."
She'd stopped speaking and the three men looked at each other in varying states of confusion, still not comprehending how Constance's situation had ended with the Gascon's abduction. "What happened to d'Artagnan?" Aramis pressed.
Constance took a breath that sounded suspiciously like a sob. "I tried to scare him off."
"Who? Bernier?" Porthos clarified, receiving a nod in reply.
"I told him that d'Artagnan was a Musketeer, thinking he'd leave me alone, but instead, he hit him," Constance continued, her eyes now watery with unshed tears. Porthos' head dropped to his chest for a moment as he considered the dire implications of Bonacieux's words.
Athos had clearly understood as well, and he softly queried, "Did he warn you not to say anything to us?" Constance nodded wordlessly, now looking down at her hands, which were still clasped in Aramis'. "How much time did he give you?"
"Two days," she replied, still speaking to her lap as she blinked against the moisture in her eyes.
Athos shifted his gaze to the marksman, conveying his order wordlessly. Aramis gave a curt nod in reply, rising smoothly to his feet and pulling Constance along with him. "Come, Madame, I'll escort you home." She looked between the men in confusion. "Don't worry, we'll take care of this and find d'Artagnan." The assurance seemed to satisfy her, and she fell into step with Aramis who led her out of the garrison.
In the courtyard, Athos turned to Porthos who said, "I'll head down to the Court and find out where we can find Bernier."
"And I'll inform Treville," Athos responded, the two men splitting and heading in opposite directions.