Summer, 1635

Morning

Constance smoothed the brush over the Queen's hair and tried not to feel envious of her happiness. Anne always kept her excitement skilfully hidden with every ounce of the reserve that had been instilled in her since birth, but she relaxed more in Constance's company than with any of her other trusted maids and little tells of her happiness began to bleed out when they were alone.

After a long year, Anne was going to see her daughter again.

Constance certainly didn't resent the Queen for these precious few days a year despite the risks to herself and to everyone she loved, but now it brought home to her something she did not want to confront.

She was barren.

Years of marriage with Bonacieux and she still remained childless. She had hoped (prayed, quietly, treacherously) that lying with D'Artagnan might bless her but her monthly courses came just the same. Last year, she had snuck away while the Queen was playing with Isabelle and swum in the pool herself. Still dripping with the mineral rich water, she had snagged D'Artagnan's hand and pulled him deep into the forest.

She had cried so bitterly when she bled a few weeks later.

Outside of the tent, voices could be heard coming closer. Anne looked up at Constance, a sudden unguarded look of utter joy passing across her face.

"My robe," the queen said, getting up.

Constance draped the fine cloth around the queen and once she was covered, Anne darted from the tent. Constance followed. She emerged to see Porthos and D'Artagnan bowing to the queen, who was all but ignoring them, looking around anxiously.

"You are alone?" She asked.

The musketeers straightened up. "Athos is assisting the king's dispatch." Porthos said, "and Aramis is ensuring that her majesty's safety is not compromised."

A dispatch from the king was probably nothing to be concerned about, but they could not be too careful. Aramis and Isabelle would have to remain hidden for the time being.

Constance admired the way Anne raised her head, every bit the stately monarch, and spoke. "Of course. I shall take the waters." She said and none of the weight of disappointment she must surely be crushed under showed in her voice or on her features. "Please ensure I am not disturbed."

-o-

Constance felt D'Artagnan's presence behind her like a warmth. It flushed through her as he came to stand at her side at the water's edge.

"Is Isabelle safe?"

"She's with Aramis. They rode out as soon as Athos spotted the dispatch." D'Artagnan replied.

"We should never have come." Constance said. "The cardinal is too suspicious. There are too many rumours about Buckingham."

"They are just rumours."

Constance's stomach twisted. The musketeers were unaware of just how true those rumours were. She hated concealing anything from D'Artagnan but she did so out of loyalty to the Queen. Anne was in love with the Duke of Buckingham and it was easy to see why. He looked so much like Aramis that he could easily be mistaken for him in low light. Constance had been party to many clandestine meetings between the two.

"In fact, they might work in our favour." D'Artagnan said.

"How so?"

"All the while the cardinal is focused on England and her prime minister," he explained, "he does not pay attention to us."

Constance turned to face him then. "You sound like a politian."

He snorted at that, "hardly," he muttered. It frightened her sometimes, how much he had changed in last couple of years.

She shivered, "the king would have us all hanged if he found out."

He offered her a smile, placing his arm around her and pulling her against him. "He won't find out."

He sounded so certain and she wished that she could believe him.

Midday

The sun was at its highest point in the sky when the sound of Athos and Aramis' approaching horses could be heard. Anne looked up at the ridge, clearly anxious, and wadded out of the pool. Constance immediately wrapped her in her robe. She could feel the queen trembling.

Within minutes, Constance could see the musketeers approaching with a small child walking between them.

Constance saw Anne's lips move silently but it was easy to read them.

Isabelle.

Athos and Aramis bowed to the queen, who completely ignored them and went to kneel in front of the child.

Constance's heart ached for her, knowing that all she wanted to do was just grab her daughter and hug her to her and never let go. But she couldn't. This little girl didn't know her and all it would do is frighten her.

"Hello." Anne said.

Isabelle looked up at Aramis.

"Isabelle, say hello to the queen." He prompted.

"Tent!" She said instead and pointed.

A fragile smile appeared on Anne's lips. "Would you like to see inside?"

Isabelle broke into a grin and darted off, throwing the tent flaps aside and crashing through.

"I believe that would be a yes." Athos said.

Afternoon

Constance sat down next to Aramis. The musketeer was perched on a rock with Isabelle's dirty and torn dress in one hand and a needle and thread in the other. He was mending it with surprising delicacy, his stitches small, neatly aligned and even.

"If you ever get tired of soldiering," Constance said admiringly, "my husband would gladly employ you."

Porthos laughed. "I always said you should be a seamstress."

That surprised Constance, "you sew often?"

"Far more often than I would like," he replied and he reached out and ran a finger along a scar on Porthos' arm.

Her stomach twisted sickly.

"You should see him stitch a wound." Porthos told her. "There's no finer doctor in the regiment."

Aramis held up the dress and eyed his work critically. "Linen is easier to work with than skin and far less bloody." He got up and called out. "Isabelle!"

The little girl appeared from the tent, dressed only in her undergarments which were now filthy, and hurried over. He looked down at her.

"Can you not stay clean even for a single minute?"

She gave him a cheeky grin and shook her head, "no!"

"Good thing we're right next to a pool then," Porthos said and scooped her up. He then dangled the giggling child upside down over his shoulder. "I'll bring her back when she's clean."

Aramis sat back down. "That could take a while."

-o-

Constance stood behind Anne and dried her hair. In the relative privacy of her tent, the Queen allowed her sadness to show.

"She has grown." Anne said.

Constance smoothed a tangle. "She has, your majesty."

"I miss so much of her life."

She couldn't stop the traitorous thought that at least she got to some time. Constance would gladly take just that over the emptiness of her own womb.

"She does not like me very much."

"She doesn't know you." Constance pointed out. "There is a difference." Then remembered her place. "Your majesty."

The Queen smiled to show that wasn't offended by the impertinence and got up. She walked to the tent door and opened it just a crack, enough to see Aramis on the far edge of the pool, with Isabelle at his side. They were laughing together.

"She looks at him as if he is her whole world."

"She's a woman," Constance joked. "He's Aramis."

The Queen frowned and Constance knew that was an impertinence too far.

"Isabelle is 4 years old and he's her father." She felt her own heart ache for her own sake at her words. "Of course she thinks he is her whole world."

"I want to be part of her world." She sounded so young.

"You are."

In the distance, Isabelle crawled into her father's lap. He pecked her soundly on the lips.

"It just takes time." Constance told her.

Anne looked around, eyes full of sorrow. "Time is something I will never have."

Evening

Constance lay in D'Artagnan's arms, drowsy after their lovemaking. They were concealed among the trees on the edge of the small ridge, far enough away for their soft conversation to go unheard but not so far that the squeals of Isabelle splashing in the water didn't reach them.

If she raised her head and looked through the leaves of the bush they lay behind, she would see them in the shallows: Anne and Aramis and Isabelle. But she contented herself with the sounds of a family at play.

She envied them.

Constance reached up and smoothed back her wet hair. Perhaps this time…

She closed her eyes and told herself that the waters had to have earned their reputation for royalty to come here.

But last year…her traitorous heart reminded her and brought with it all the turmoil of the last twelve months.

"So much has happened," she said, "since last year."

"Rochefort is in prison. Milady is gone." His fingers moved against her skin. "They cannot hurt us anymore. We are safer than we've ever been."

She lifted her head, looked at him. "You sound so sure."

"I am." He kissed her. "Aramis would never have risked joining us if it were any different."

She wanted to tell him that, miles away from this place, the Duke of Buckingham was sailing to France and she had seen the force of his desperation to see Anne and it frightened her.

D'Artagnan frowned. "What?"

But she had pledged her loyalty to the Queen and had sworn to keep her secrets. So she put her head back on his chest and closed her eyes. "Nothing," she told him. With one ear she could hear the beat of D'Artagnan's heart, with the other Isabelle calling for her papa.

But she sensed that D'Artagnan knew there was more and when his fingers moved along her spine to prompt her, she added, "I just… I wish it could be like this all the time. You and me."

"It can." D'Artagnan said. "If you leave your husband."

She sat up.

He followed her. "Bonacieux is no longer of use to the Cardinal." He plucked at a wet strand of her hair and the smile in his eyes told her he knew exactly what she had done. "And we may soon have a very good reason to be together."

"I don't know what to say."

He homed in on her mouth. "Say yes."

"Yes," she murmured against his lips.

Night

"The days go so quickly when I am here." The Queen said as Constance attended her to bed. "And so slowly the rest of the year."

"That is always the way." Constance said. She thought of the coming months with a thrill instead of the dread she was used to.

"I do know how I will bear the months of waiting."

Constance pulled back the bedcovers and smiled, her own happiness making her playful. "And I am sure you will find something to fill the time."

It was the barest hint of her coming meeting with the Duke of Buckingham but a blush appeared on Anne's cheeks all the same. "Perhaps I will," she said as she got into bed. She cast a glance at Constance that told her that her joy hadn't gone unnoticed. "Perhaps you will as well."

Constance went to put out the lamp.

Anne smiled. "You will tell me tomorrow," she decided.

Constance blew out the flame. "Good night, your majesty."