After such a dramatic and intense arrival, d'Artagnan became something of a permanent fixture at the garrison. He was keen to become a musketeer himself, it seemed, and from what I knew he did not lack the skill to do well within the ranks. Over a cup of wine, I had wished him good fortune in his endeavours. He became particularly close with my brother, Aramis and Porthos, almost as if they had taken in a stray. He was often in their company, but I also saw him outside of the barracks.
He had taken up residence with Constance in her house, for she required lodgers to supplement the lack of income from her husband's rather disappointing business trade. Because of this, whenever I went to see my friend, it was not uncommon for me to see d'Artagnan. My own reasons for going to Constance were a combination of business and pleasure. Her husband and I had an arrangement with one another. Should he provide clean, plain cloth, I would embroider patterns upon it, and we would share the profit.
It was a healthy and often lucrative deal, but it depended entirely upon whether or not I could afford the threads to complete my designs or if he had the quality cloth to spare. Thankfully he had managed to acquire some decent material of late, which meant that my needles and threads were called upon to better the fabric so that more might be charged for it. More than anything, however, I always enjoyed visiting Constance. She was perhaps my only friend in this city. The only woman of my acquaintance whom I liked. She was a bright woman and kind. She had always treated me well.
Between embroidery and my numerous other means of work, I stood a good chance at replenishing the savings I had spent bribing the Chatelet gaoler. It was the only focus in my life at this point. Ensuring we had coin for rent, food and in my brother's case, wine. Though, I had noted that he was drinking less than before. Sometimes he would remain sober enough to walk me home from the tavern for my safety. It was a refreshing and hopeful improvement on his part, and I wondered if it was in part the things I had said to him in the Chatelet, but also because of the newcomer d'Artagnan.
Although my brother does not say anything outright and often refused to let his innermost thoughts be known, I could tell that he liked d'Artagnan. He had a personal interest in his career, and had taken the time to train with him practically every morning. Sometimes, he would be up and gone before I had even risen from bed. These improvement brought me genuine happiness, and sometimes I would stand and watch my brother with the young blood, listen to him teach and advice, and wish that d'Artagnan had come much sooner.
I believed everything to be going well. I should not have been surprised when all of a sudden, everything plummeted without warning. Next I knew, d'Artagnan was said to be arrested and awaiting execution for illegal duelling, all whilst under the watch of my brother, Aramis and Porthos. It was shocking, and as Captain Treville angrily admonished them in front of the other men, I had stood in silent confusion. This did not sound like Athos, who would never abandon a comrade no matter the circumstances. For them to have fled and leave d'Artagnan behind was exceedingly out of character for them.
It troubled me, as I suspected that something else had to be at play here. I had been here long enough to know when secrecy was in the air, and the air now was ripe with it. They may have fooled the other men, who now looked upon my brother with disdain, but they could not fool me. After everyone had departed, my suspicions were further justified when Athos, Aramis and Porthos all went straight to the captain's office. After being humiliated by a scolding, to go straight to the man who shamed them? They were by no means subtle. I waited patiently outside the door, leaning against the balcony with my arms folded until the door opened and they stepped outside. "So?" I questioned simply, arching an accusing eyebrow at them in turn. "Is there anything you wish to tell me?"
"That you are looking exceptionally beautiful today?" The quick-witted reply from Aramis rolled smoothly off his tongue, causing my cheeks to flush slightly but did not soften my scowl.
"Liar," I accused before focusing on my brother, who refused to meet my gaze. All the more suspicious. "I am no fool. You are all up to something."
"It is none of your business what goes on without your knowledge," from Athos's tone, I knew he was subtly warning me not to speak further on the matter. "What's done is done." Again, I had known this life long enough to understand when a secret mission was underway, and d'Artagnan was somehow involved in it this time. Frowning slightly with slight concern, I allowed my arms to relax at my sides.
"I pray you all know what you are doing," giving them a final hard look, I turned to move past them, brushing past my brother whom I heard exhale.
"Madeleine…" refusing to acknowledge him, I carried on with my chores. After all, they were my business. Sometimes, the secrecy bothered me. This life my brother had chosen was a dangerous one, and I did not like the idea of him risking himself so often. Now, even d'Artagnan was involved, though I could not fathom for the life of me why he would need to be arrested. Whatever their plan, I hoped it worked out well for us all. I had grown rather fond of d'Artagnan of late, so if any harm came to him, I would hold those idiots personally responsible. Occupying myself with my work, I kept my head down until I heard Monsieur Bonacieux's voice in the yard.
"Captain Treville!" Lifting my head from grooming the horses, I saw Constance's rather pompous husband doff his cap as she followed him with several bolts of fabric carried by an assistant. "The material or your new cape." Ah yes, Treville had asked me to make a new cape for him as his was worn out from age and wear. Quickly I patted the horse I had been grooming and set down the brush, going to the water trough to quickly wash my hands of dust. "A beautiful piece of cloth," Bonacieux claimed rather proudly as I approached, drying my hands upon my skirts.
"Hm," Treville refrained from making a comment on the fabric itself as he inspected it, however as I approached he quickly looked to me and his expression softened. "What do you think, Madeleine?" Turning the bolt towards me, I made to reach for it, extending my arms to take the fabric from him but Bonacieux hissed in protest.
"I would not touch that, your hands are filthy," he raised his head so that he could look down at me over his nose, with all the air of importance he had no right to claim. "You stink of horse."
"I'll thank you not to insult the lady, especially not in my presence." Before I could open my mouth to tell Bonacieux where he could put his fabric, Treville was immediately at my defence, looking at Bonacieux with a cold, unimpressed anger. "Here, Madeleine. You know quality better than I." Nodding to him gratefully, I took the fabric and weighed it in my arms before feeling at it, closely inspecting the threads.
"Although it is not the best I have seen, it will suffice for your needs," unable to help myself, I smirked at Bonacieux as Constance also hid her smile behind her hand. I turned back to Treville, holding the bolt of fabric against me for safekeeping. "I shall make a fine cape for you, captain."
"I know you shall." Touching my face with his hand as he passed, I naturally warmed at the affection. Bonacieux however, did not look pleased, haughtily moving around me and following after Treville where I caught d'Artagnan's name pass in conversation. I sighed to myself.
"Sorry for him, you know how he is," Constance apologised as she joined me, shaking her head with a glower at her husband's back. "I keep telling him he should be nicer to you considering the potential earnings you could produce with your needlepoint work, but he is a proud man. He does not like the idea that he requires a woman's help to make profits." This I only knew too well. Bonacieux suffered me because any fabric I touched was guaranteed to triple in value if I worked upon it. That was not to say we were friendly. I did not like him and he most certainly did not like me.
"Men are so incompetent and petty," muttering under my breath, Constance smirked in amusement as I settled the fabric upon the table to begin measuring how much I would require to make the captain's cape. As I did so, however, Aramis called out across the yard which made me jump, becoming aware of his presence as he approached us.
"A beautiful morning, Madame Bonacieux." He greeted Constance politely, but I kept my back turned to allow myself a moment to contain myself. Already my cheeks were warming, so I pressed the back of my hand to them so that they cooled down.
"I doubt if it looked so good from inside the Chatelet prison," Constance responded callously, and I admired her candidness as Aramis, Porthos and Athos approached.
"I can assure you from experience, it does not." Now turning, I once more folded my arms to give the three of them my best withering scowl.
"You've heard about d'Artagnan?" As Athos leaned into a relaxed stance, Porthos seemed a little tenser than usual, I noted. He was uncomfortable, I could tell easily. Clearly something had him ill at ease which meant that he could not relax as naturally as my brother. Of the three of them, Porthos had always been the worst at keeping secrets, and always loathed to lie. From his stance alone, I could tell that he was trying to keep something hidden from the rest of us.
"You know, these stories can be greatly exaggerated."
"Really?" Unconvinced and far too courageous to be intimidated by these men, Constance was not afraid to speak her mind in front of them. Another reason why I liked her so dearly. "I was told you led him into danger and then abandoned him." Porthos shifted uncomfortably.
"That one's about right." I knew I was right. It was not in them, any of them, to leave a fellow man behind. This could only mean that d'Artagnan had been abandoned purposefully, but to what avail I had no clue.
"He's your friend. What are you going to do about it?" Playing a man completely at ease, Aramis spoke callously, a piece of bread in his hand.
"We've been getting along well, but I wouldn't say friends exactly." He bit into the morsel, but no sooner had he begun to chew, Constance's hand flew to meet Aramis's cheek with a hearty slap, one that rung clearly and even I flinched from the sting it must have caused. Bits of bread flew from Aramis's mouth, meaning that she had not held back as she shamed Aramis in front of everyone present for his blasé attitude towards someone who had trusted. Unfortunately, however, Bonacieux chose that moment to return, witnessing his wife's behaviour and rushed to apologise on her behalf with indignant shame and shock.
"My most humble apologies, sir!" Bonacieux rushed to Constance and grasped at her wrist, forcing her to quickly bow her head in the presence of her husband. "I cannot think what came over her."
"Good sense and justice?" At my dry wit, Bonacieux spared me a dark glare as Aramis cleaned his mouth with a handkerchief.
"Your wife's actions were fully justified, it is I who should apologise." At the very least Aramis had the decency to take the blame for Constance, hoping to lessen her husband's ire towards her. That was just like Aramis, it was part of the reason I admired him so greatly. His gallantry most likely had little effect upon Bonacieux's displeasure, however, as he promptly marched Constance away with a secure grip upon her. As they left, I caught Aramis smirking. "God, I love that in a woman."
"What, passion?" My stomach knotted a little, feeling almost queasy as Aramis continued to smile.
"Violence." Now I flushed again, clicking my tongue with a shake of my head to hear such an embarrassing statement.
"You are a cad, Aramis," I told him bluntly, drawing his focus upon me. He blinked in surprise, as if he had forgotten entirely that I was there. "You should never speak so about a woman."
"Of course, my apologies to you, my lovely." Again my stomach twisted. Electing to focus upon the captain's cape, I finished measuring out the required length before rolling it once more. Behind me the three of them murmured together, but whatever their plans, I heard none of it. I did not rest easily that night, still offering my brother the cold shoulder even when he returned home to find me working by the light of a single candle which was starting to burn low. We would have to buy more soon, if our pockets allowed it.
As my needle pulled the thread through the fabric which I had already cut into separate pieces, I heard him coming up the stairs. The sound of his footfalls were familiar to me, and judging by their gait and weight, I was always able to tell how sober or drunk he was. Tonight he seemed a little tipsy, taking the steps slowly and heavily until he reached our door. It opened at his push, finding me at the table with the captain's cape. "You should lock the door, Madeleine, especially when you are alone." I did not answer. My brother sighed heavily, pushing the door shut and locking it for safety before coming inside and searching for another drink. "Are you still not speaking to me?" Silence was my answer.
I concentrated on the captain's cape, wanting to have it completed before Good Friday. He was to escort the queen to the Chatelet where she would pardon several prisoners, which meant he had to look his best. It was my hope that d'Artagnan would be one amongst the number of prisoners the queen pardoned. "It is late, and that light is not enough for you to work with, you should get some rest." My needle continued to pull the thread, joining one piece of fabric to another. I had mended and made so many capes over the years that I could practically make them with my eyes closed now. The dim light made little difference to me. "Madeleine, this is childish. Will you not at least look at me?" At this, I finally lay my hands down for a moment.
When I cast my gaze towards my brother, he had found himself a drop of wine left in one of the few bottles which remained in his hoard. He drank from it deeply, and my face darkened as I watched him. Catching my expression, Athos lowered the bottle from his mouth, swallowing what he had consumed before wiping his mouth dry with his sleeve. "What? You will not speak, so I may as well drink. If you have something to say, then by all means speak your mind, sister." He truly was a troublesome brother. For a moment I considered my thoughts, gathering them to me so that I might construct something witty or at the very least, clever, but I was too tired to do so.
"He is young," all I could accomplish was voicing my concerns for d'Artagnan, who at this moment was most likely shivering from the cold in the Chatelet cell. "Young, inexperienced, but desperate to prove himself." Athos did not need to ask who were speaking of. He knew. That look in his eyes said it all. That flash of guilt. "I just hope that his eagerness does not get him killed in whatever task you and Treville have set for him."
"If it is any consolation, I was against the decision to use him from the beginning." Yes, I could well imagine Athos being opposed to d'Artagnan purposefully putting himself in danger. Although Athos was keeping an eye on the young blood, he had not fully accepted him as of yet. My brother was not an easy person to impress, despite his acknowledgement of d'Artagnan's skills. "I would have gladly gone in his stead."
"Then I would have worried all the more for you, Athos." It appeared there was no winning in this situation. Turning back to my work, I picked up the fabric and needle to continue where I had left it. "I worry for you every day. I worry that one day, either a bullet, a blade or that drink will kill you." I glanced to the wine in his hand. "For me, it is simply a case of waiting to find out which it is to be. Truthfully, I was betting on the drink." Perhaps my words had stunned him into silence, because Athos did not answer me. Instead, he sat there on his small bed, bottle in hand, where his gaze became distant and contemplative.
He did not disturb me again, allowing me to continue my work until finally the candle went out, reaching the end of its wick with melted wax oozing into its dish. Exhaling softly, I carefully put aside the cape and looked to my brother. He was fast asleep, snoring lightly from his bed. One leg dangled over the side, still booted and wearing his daywear. Honestly, he would be completely helpless without me. Silently rising, I pulled the boots from my brother's feet, managed to sit him up without waking him to remove his belt, shoulder guard and jacket, then settle him down comfortably with a blanket to cover him.
Then, once he looked comfortable and his snoring deepened, I brushed at his hair whilst sitting beside him, taking the wine bottle from beside his bed to move it out of reach, though I noted how there was still some wine left. With a glance at Athos, I swigged at the wine and finished it in several gulps, coughing lightly as the alcohol hit the back of my throat with an acidic burn upon my tongue. It had the desired effect, however, warming my stomach and wetting my throat so that I could at least retire to my own bed in relative comfort. Looking at Athos once more, I reached down to kiss his brow.
No matter how irritated with him I might be, Athos would always be my brother, and my ire never lasted long. As his sister, however, I could always pretend, and I enjoyed teasing him with my pretend annoyance for as long as I had reason to employ a reason to do so. I saw it entirely as my sisterly duty to be as grand a pain in my brother's backside as possible, and I took my duties very seriously.