Chapter 41

Elise sat down on the edge of the bed, hesitated but then touched d'Artagnan gently on the shoulder. She flinched and immediately withdrew her hand when the lieutenant shot up in alarm and instinctively reached beside herself as if she had got hold of her weapons there. Elise jumped up with a placating gesture. »All is well! I didn't know how else to wake you, you heard nothing and responded to no call.«

D'Artagnan stared tensely at the other woman, finding her at an innocuous distance and no one else in the room. Her eyes darted past Elise across the room, taking in the place and the early morning hour outside the windows. The sun was just grazing the peaked roofs, illuminating the chamber with enough light to chase away the night.

Having made sure of the 'where' and 'when', d'Artagnan looked down at herself and frowned at the completely wrinkled dress in which she must have spent the night. Then her mind cleared as the 'who' and 'why' also came back to her. She yawned, stretched long and blinked. »Must have overslept?«

Elise braced her hands on her hips with mock rebuke, her green eyes sparkling. She wouldn't have dared make this appearance in front of a real baroness, but an officer in complete disarray teased her into a stern retort. »Only by an hour.«

»One hour!« cried d'Artagnan, hurrying to leave the bed. The stiff corset around her chest made it impossible; she became tangled in the fabric and helplessly rowed her arms. Elise jumped to her aid and after a concerted effort Madame de Chanlecy stood on her feet, grabbed her dishevelled hair and seemed to be frantically devising a battle plan for the morning toilet. First she had to get out of that dress and fumbled with the lacing of the top.

Elise watched the erratic gestures and clumsy fingers with which d'Artagnan tried to free herself, then stepped forward, shaking her head. »Let me do it, it is my task. There's no hurry either, Mademoiselle de la Nièvre is still asleep and doesn't need me yet.«

»Oh.« D'Artagnan realised that Elise had just played a teasing trick on her and breathed a sigh of relief. Her first day as dame d'honneur did not start with the embarrassment of being late for her own introduction to Odette. »Don't you ever scare me like that again!«

»Then don't sleep soundly like a log, you're worse than Grégoire!«

Elise untied the last loop and helped d'Artagnan pull the dress and undergarment over the head. She caught a glimpse of bare skin, of numerous scars scattered over the wiry body, and turned before she would have been too curious to ask the stories behind the old wounds. Until just now, Elise had found it difficult to believe to see the lieutenant in the other woman in front of her. The old war scars were proof enough, a straight cut across the upper right arm was still healing.

Charlotte freshened up at the washbasin and was not bothered by her nakedness. She was now the Dame de Sainte-Croix and no longer d'Artagnan, who had to hide a secret. She heard Elise rummaging in the clothes chest and in the wardrobes. »I was told an endowment would be in place. I haven't inspected it yet, is everything necessary really there?«

»Well... see for yourself.«

Elise stepped aside and d'Artagnan peered into the bulging wardrobe, first with curiosity, then with amazement. Someone had gone to great lengths to have every conceivable colour, every fabric, every fashionable tailoring represented at least once in the selection. As if someone had not been quite sure what Madame de Chanlecy might like; as if her opinion on the matter had actually been significant and she was to be given free choice.

It was quite touching and d'Artagnan smiled as she pulled out one of the dresses. »How about this one?«

Elise nodded in friendliness and wonder at the same time. She would not have thought d'Artagnan at all so vain as to be enraptured by pretty dresses as any other woman. But apparently, even she was sometimes a damsel with banal dreams and desires. Not just a gruff, callous officer. Could Grégoire see that in her where others failed?

»With these shoes, what do you think?«, Elise asked.

D'Artagnan agreed without having a real opinion and relied on Elise's taste to choose the right composition. While she let herself be helped and the corset laced, she examined the other garments in the wardrobe. Something red shimmered at the very edge, she reached for it and pulled it out. Then she laughed in surprise and amusement. Elise spied over her shoulder a red uniform coat, shirt and trousers. »For emergencies?«

»That proves someone who knows my identity must have made that selection.«

»Who do you think knows you so well?«

»Rochefort! He's capable of having taken care of everything personally.«

Elise said, rather indefinite, »Aha«, and had her own thoughts on the matter that of all the possibilities of who could be so close to her, the master spy came to d'Artagnan's mind first. She tied the last knot, the last bow and gestured to the dressing table. »Only the hair left to do.«

D'Artagnan obediently took a seat and Elise set to work. While she brushed out the other woman's hair and thought about how to tame the short, shoulder-length locks into a normal hairdo, she said, »This is all new to me, too, you know? Being a chambermaid. I usually just fluff up the beds, dispose of the chamber pot, do the dusting and such.«

»Mademoiselle de la Nièvre seems pleased and has taken a fancy to you, so don't worry.«

»She has a good character, very kind and gentle. Strong-willed, too, without condescending to- I'm babbling, forgive me.«

D'Artagnan raised her brows. Elise was certainly not a blabbermouth. There was another reason for her talking about Odette. »Do you take sides and defend the duke's daughter before me?«

»Well, I do. She's familiar with courtly society, but she doesn't know real life. There are evil men who are out to get her. It's fortunate that you will watch over her. Just... be a little more lenient on her, please? The encounter with the lieutenant yesterday has really upset her. It was nothing but a harmless conversation, you need not fear-«

»Harmless, bah! I'll look after her safety, it's my duty. But who will look after Sorel?«

D'Artagnan bit her tongue too late to hold back the treacherous exclamation. Elise scrutinised her in the mirror and thought she had really seen through her, because amused by her supposedly silly behaviour, the maid inquired, »Look after him? Where did you get that idea?«

It was more complicated than what Elise might think, than mere dislike or secret jealousy. D'Artagnan tried to put her true fears into words. »I do not think Mademoiselle de la Nièvre is malicious, quite the contrary. But if she should ever understand that her uncle also imprisons her because of the politics and has long since had his own plans for her, she will want to escape again. She will look for allies in her own way, by feminine wiles. I can't blame her, mordieux, I might end up helping her flee myself and risking my neck for her! Sorel would, he-«

»He would do the right thing.«

»Indeed. Because he's a good man. The best of us.« D'Artagnan fell silent, thinking she had said too much and turned Elise, who adored Odette, against herself. But Elise just thought carefully about what she had heard and finally decided, »You're imagining things.«

»Of course I do! I'm reasonably insane.«

»Not that, but you think wrongly about Grégoire.«

»Is that so, is it?« D'Artagnan sighed, once more burying deep feelings that ought not to be. »Did the celebration of his promotion hit him badly?«

»He came home awfully drunk and awfully cheerful about it. Apart from a headache, he's doing splendidly.« He clearly hadn't been boozing out of lovesickness, although in Elise's opinion he would have had reason enough to do so. She refrained of any remark in that direction, for she saw no point in deliberately hurting d'Artagnan, who was either blind or stupid.

Instead, she continued with the morning toilette. Elise needed more hairpins than usual, but she was quite pleased with the result. It was hardly noticeable that Charlotte's hair was cut too short. In case of doubt, she would have had to explain it with lice, because of which her head had been shorn and her curls were now slowly growing back. »All done!«

D'Artagnan scrutinised herself in the mirror, her neatly pinned-up hair, her new disguise. She could not take herself seriously in this splendid dress, as a dame of honour at that! But it was not uncomfortable to wear and she looked questioningly when she noticed Elise's smirk. »What is it?«

»Nothing, just... I couldn't imagine it until just now.«

»It's beyond any expectation, I suppose.«

»Oh, yes! You're-«

»-not used to these shoes.« D'Artagnan stood up and took a few lanky steps. »My feet are going to kill me tonight. After this, the shoes will either be ruined or worn in.«

»Alcohol liniment helps.«

»For internal treatment?« The hard-drinking lieutenant of the Red Guard laughed out as Elise grimaced and scolded her, »You're awful, you can't behave like that in front of the other dames!«

»I'll control myself. Though, I'm not sure that alone will be enough.«

»Don't worry,« Elise repeated the words with which d'Artagnan herself had encouraged her previously.

Madame de Chanlecy nodded as if she had received an order. »Let's hope that Mademoiselle de la Nièvre has a little leniency towards me, too.«


Their first encounter was a disaster.

Odette de la Nièvre let the world know with every gesture and every unspoken word that she did not wish to have a dame d'honneur. She knew that this meant that she would have a chaperone at her side, without whom she was not to take another step through the palace. A governess, as if she were a mere child! She blamed the lieutenant of the Red Guard, who must have spoken ill of her to her uncle.

Her objections were ignored and as a result she did not dignify Madame de Chanlecy with a single glance when she was introduced to her in the cardinal's study. Richelieu had sent for his niece that morning to attend to this formality. It was a matter of minutes and Odette rushed off with her head held high, without even looking at her new dame of honour or addressing a single word to her. But also without being able to shake her off.

The Madame followed her stubbornly and she was not alone in this. She was joined by two other watchdogs, who had been following Odette ever since she had taken a single step out of her chambers. The guardsmen Bernajoux and Biscarat, who had escorted her chivalrously outside Paris and were now as annoying as flies. They were not Grégoire de Sorel.

Where could he be, how was he doing? Had he also been put under strict control and therefore had to pretend to reject her yesterday? Oh, how romantic!

Odette headed for her chambers. She could get rid of the guardsmen that way, but she wasn't so sure about her new female companion. The madame followed her at a few paces' distance, adapting herself whether Odette strolled or hurried. She never quite caught up with her, but she also never lost sight of the duke's daughter. It therefore surprised Odette that she could really take refuge alone in her rooms and remain there unmolested by further persecution and unwanted company. At least, this Madame de Chanlecy had the decency and sensitivity to allow Odette a little privacy.

D'Artagnan, for her part, sighed in front of the closed door that had literally been slammed in her face. Oh, she had no desire to impose herself, since she was hated before they had even exchanged a word!

Bernajoux and Biscarat turned into the hallway, they were in no hurry to follow the women. As long as their lieutenant was on guard, they probably thought they could take it easy. Biscarat still had his arm in a sling, but he was well enough again to be amused by the rudely locked out dame of honour. Bernajoux only shrugged at this and resumed his place as sentinel.

D'Artagnan had no choice but to wait and scowl at Biscarat's friendly mockery. Of course, the looks bounced off him, caused even more merriment and provoked him to ask, »Why exactly does it take both of Bernajoux and me to look after an unruly damsel?«

»Are you actually referring to me?« D'Artagnan asked back irritably, and was not entirely wrong; Biscarat grinned too broadly to misinterpret it. She brushed it aside with a gesture. »You both know who I am.«

»You can never be quite sure about that.«

»If you think it so difficult to recognise me, I shall gladly remind you; your superior officer, in whatever disguise. So don't try to ooze charm on me!«

Biscarat raised a brow, but did well not to provoke d'Artagnan any further. She emphasised her rank too clearly to continue teasing her. Bernajoux, too, seemed to suspect a purpose in the fact that they were both assigned to guard duty, and not just because d'Artagnan was less uncomfortable showing herself in true guise before them than before any comrade otherwise.

They understood the plan behind it when, more than an hour later, Odette de la Nièvre had sulked sufficiently and strode out of her chambers again with a haughty air. She took cursory note of the two guardsmen and seemed to resign herself to their discreet company at a distance of a few paces.

Her dame d'honneur, on the other hand, who stopped stepping from one leg to the other to give her battered feet alternate relief in the tight shoes, she treated as air. Odette seemed to have no particular destination in mind as she followed the hallways of the palace and yet it was easy to guess that, despite all the detours, she was aiming for the Guard's wing.

D'Artagnan did not stop her and followed her like a second shadow, more invisible even than Elise when Odette paused for a friendly exchange of words with other aristocrats. The unknown dame of honour was looked at in wonder, but since Mademoiselle de la Nièvre considered her completely unworthy of any attention and did not introduce her as her companion, Charlotte de Chanlecy was soon of even lower status than the dirt under Odette's shoes.

D'Artagnan found no difference in this from her first days as a guardsman and accepted the humiliation and disrespect; the experience paid off in not being too affected by the contempt any more, at some point even thinking it deserved herself and not fighting it.

Soon they left the stairs to the upper gallery behind them; from here it was not far to the guardroom, and the number of guardsmen who crossed their path increased. D'Artagnan tried not to be too nervous about whether anyone would recognise her, stare at her in disbelief, or laugh at her. Biscarat and Bernajoux imperceptibly caught up to her, perhaps d'Artagnan also fell back with each step to be closer to her friends.

Odette, for her part, stood undecided, looking on all sides as to where she should turn next. She did not see her noble Knight Sorel among the guardsmen and now she took advantage of being closely guarded. She turned directly to Bernajoux and Biscarat with a harmless countenance and naïve smile. She overcame the discreet distance between them and said quite innocently, »Ah, I must have got lost again. I have no right to be here, I was told. Will you gentlemen therefore lead me back? But not the way we came! It would be too unpleasant for me to meet the other nobles again and have to explain my inability to them.«

Biscarat caught a barely perceptible nod from d'Artagnan out of the corner of his eye and bowed politely to Odette. »At your service, Mademoiselle.«

There was only one other way out of the wing, a staircase at the far end of the gallery. Bernajoux gestured down the corridor and Odette accepted the invitation all too willingly. She still completely ignored her chaperone, and would have disregarded any word, about venturing among the soldiers in an entirely indecent manner, anyway.

D'Artagnan smiled at this without any humour. It remained to be seen who was the slyer vixen of them. Bernajoux and Biscarat led the way, Odette followed them obediently, keeping an obvious lookout for the ensign of the Guard. But she had no luck, and d'Artagnan could have told her beforehand that it would stay that way. Sorel with a headache? He would want to spend the day in the study doing entirely unexciting paperwork or carrying his hangover out into the fresh air during weapons practice.

Instead, Odette learned impressively that a fine, young woman should not be intimidated by the rough jokes, cheeky anecdotes and coarse conversations between men. Perhaps the lieutenant was not so wrong as to say that the guardsmen were not worthy of a duke's daughter's attention and that she should stay away from here.

She stood her ground, borne of a strict education and aristocratic arrogance towards the plebs. D'Artagnan secretly paid her respect for following Bernajoux and Biscarat unflinchingly and successfully ignoring everything that was bound to bring a blush to the face of any innocent damsel and make her feel insecure.

The guardsmen were relatively reserved and polite, none of them really behaved insolently or inappropriately towards the unexpected female visitors; but they were still soldiers and not courtiers. If, rarely enough, a woman happened to stray into their midst, it attracted attention of a certain kind.

They were followed with unconcealed stares, insinuating remarks were made as well as unambiguous gestures, always seen only out of the corner of the eye, when the two women had already strode past and they could no longer indignantly reproach the guardsmen for their behaviour.

Odette appeared not to be easily impressed, but in the end she looked exhausted when they had left the wing behind and took the stairs back down. She had gained a lasting impression of real life behind the scenes and did not mind that Bernajoux and Biscarat led her straight back to her chambers.

D'Artagnan had fared no better on the march, but she was only the quiet and uninteresting companion, not the worthwhile prey. Fortunately, no one had recognised her.

Bernajoux and Biscarat at best sensed the gauntlet that the path meant for a woman. How could they ever have empathised with her and understood that a compliment, no matter how kindly meant, or a completely harmless look could be threatening instead of flattering? They were all the more uncomprehending when Odette - tired of all men for today - paused at the door of her chambers and eyed the guardsmen sharply.

»Thank you, Messieurs,« she said in a tone devoid of gratitude. D'Artagnan almost laughed at Biscarat's perplexed expression and pitied him for being subjected to the young woman's wrath, which must seem to him as out of the blue and completely unprovoked. What had the guardsmen dared to ask of Odette by walking this gauntlet!

Forgetting her own guilt, she haughtily announced, »I have no need of a sentry. Tell that to this unfortunate lieutenant to whom I owe your company!«

D'Artagnan was amazed that neither Biscarat nor Bernajoux instinctively turned their heads towards her. Perhaps this dress did have one good thing about it, making it easy for the guardsmen to not perceive her as their lieutenant anymore and not to betray her by gestures.

Biscarat started to object. »With respect, Mademoiselle-«

»With respect, Messieurs!« D'Artagnan broke away from the background and abandoned her role as silent observer. She planted herself in front of the men and put her hands on her hips, as she had seen Elise and Madeleine do. »Mademoiselle de la Nièvre has clearly stated her wish!«

Bernajoux' scarred face began to move; he twisted the corners of his mouth into one of his terrible smiles. There was a flash of aggressiveness in his eyes, or perhaps just amusement. He had never been able to frighten d'Artagnan with it, but Odette breathed a toneless, »Oh, Goodness...« at the sight, and she hid behind her companion, whose presence was abruptly quite pleasant to her.

»We have our orders,« he growled.

»And I have mine,« d'Artagnan countered, »but the conflict can be resolved quite easily; Whose orders were given by His Eminence personally and who follows a mere lieutenant only?«

Biscarat and Bernajoux exchanged a glance. D'Artagnan was asking them to do nothing less than kowtow to the assertions of a woman. It was a great demand, to make a mockery of themselves in front of their comrades by this.

Hesitant seconds passed before Bernajoux grumbled retiringly and Biscarat behaved not at all eloquent before Madame de Chanlecy, who almost took it too far by waving condescendingly. »Well? Shoo, begone!«

The men murmured, their miens angry and indecisive. But then they departed, not without unspoken curses and threats against the dame of honour on their lips. Their foul mood was convincingly feigned. The next rounds in the Fir Cone would be on d'Artagnan until she had paid off this great favour to some extent.

Bernajoux and Biscarat would never have obeyed an ordinary woman. On the contrary, she would not have been able to assert herself in the slightest against the men, and would at best have been laughed at by them and judged to be out of her mind. That was precisely why they had both been assigned as sentinels and not other guardsmen; because they indeed recognised their lieutenant and d'Artagnan could withdraw them from that post at the right moment, to demonstratively take Odette's side. To show authority, to gain importance beyond the rank of an annoying chaperone; to convince Odette that she was an indispensable friend and ally.

It was as scheming as if Rochefort had devised this plan, but it worked. Odette stared at her in surprise, dumbfounded and not yet fully comprehending that she had in fact been freed from her guards. D'Artagnan turned to her, for the first time Odette really looked her in the face and blinked. »You are this Madame from the street, aren't you?«

»I assure you I'm certainly not from the street. But we have already met when you came to Paris. Madame de Chanlecy, Dame de Sainte-Croix,« d'Artagnan introduced herself again, in case Odette had deliberately missed her name. »Your dame d'honneur

»My governess.«

»If you wish to think of me that way. As long as I am at your side, there is no need of guards.«

Odette wrinkled her pretty nose. She was still not very fond of the other woman, who seemed to her to be as audacious and imperious as when she first met her. She was so unladylike, a rube and also intimidating in her whole manner. She had a touch of a sergeant about her. Sorel knew and liked her, very much indeed, that had become obvious to Odette, there in the streets of Paris. She had hardly been able to distract him from this person, although he had been ignored by her.

But the guardsmen obeyed her for some reason. That was a considerable advantage for Odette and she decided, »I accept your company for the time being, Madame.«

D'Artagnan bit her tongue to refrain from making a rude retort. Instead, she tried a curtsy and got to her feet again when Odette had already disappeared into her chambers, leaving her standing wordlessly in the hallway once again.

D'Artagnan decided against following Odette and saying some very clear words to her about their future relationship and their dealings with each other. The battle lines between them were drawn, Madame de Chanlecy's presence was tolerated as long as she scared away the guardsmen and otherwise remained invisible.

But becoming friends, no, that would never happen...