Buckingham was shown to his guest suite by one of the royal maids, who he started flirting with. Making sure he was out of sight, Queen Anne marched into the war room. "Cardinal!" She called.
"Ahh, your majesty." Richelieu bowed.
"Might I remind you that you have not yet brought me those papers I asked for."
"Your majesty would hardly want to burden herself w-"
"On the contrary. I take a very keen interest in everything that is done in my name as well as my husband's."
"As your majesty pleases."
"She does." Queen Anne said firmly.
"By the way, if you will pardon my skepticism, your majesty," Richelieu hinted, "but will my lady not be taking time to entertain our foreign guest, perhaps? After all, it would seem ungracious for a refined lady such as yourself to not demonstrate your hospitality to such a magnificent guest."
Queen Anne pursed her lips, her limpid gray eyes became steel. "I'm afraid she will not, Cardinal." She replied flatly. "If you could see to those papers I asked for as soon as possible, I would appreciate it. Good day, Cardinal." She turned on her heel and exited the war room.
Richelieu sighed. "Time to move up our game." He puffed.
Having been dismissed by the king, Felice gladly returned to work under Madame Raebourn. Porthos was to call on a lady friend on his-no surprises there-. Aramis said he wished to attend the bookshop, as he had some volumes of great interest to inspect. Athos decided to go to the tavern, and D'Artagnan asked if he may join him. Athos didn't object, so they strolled together to the local saloon. The two of them sat down in a corner, Athos ordered whiskey and D'Artagnan a sarsaparilla. "Your horsemanship and etiquette are improving, I'll give you that much." Athos said.
"I didn't know becoming a musketeer would involve so many lessons in courtly attendance and behavior." D'Artagnan stated. "Being a gentleman does have its disadvantages, doesn't it, mon ami?"
"You are beginning to catch on." Athos grinned.
A bard maid took their order, then swayed her way back to the bar, giggling. D'Artagnan impatiently tapped his fingers on the table. A group of four men sitting in the middle of the room at a round table were speaking loudly, so that anyone close by couldn't help but hear their conversation. "So," mentioned one of them, "is the mercer's pretty little lady ever going to show?" He sneered hungrily. "I heard she's a real looker! She sure would dress up the place!"
D'Artagnan's sharp Gascony ears sharpened, and he scooted his chair just a few inches closer so he could gather the scraps of conversation more clearly. Athos also tilted his head, having overheard the gossip. "She can't hang 'round the boarding house too much." Another man at the table said. "She works for the queen herself, you dolt. She ain't got time to be lovin' on her man!"
"Imbeciles!" One of the others laughed. "He's twice her age! There won't be no lovin' 'tween them. 'Sides, I hear he ain't after her, even with her fetchin' looks, as much as he's after her standing with her majesty."
What?! D'Artagnan bristled, listening with every fiber.
"Sacre bleu! Say what?" The fourth man gasped.
"It's true, my compatriots." The third man chuckled, delighting at the chance to spread some juicy rumors. "I heard him a sayin' to his best paying customer, a rich lookin' chap, that once he marries the pretty little wench, that he'll be sitting around in more wealth than he can he could dare dream of. That he can take it easy from now on, and won't have to keep up the shack he runs. Them his exact words, they is! I heard 'em myself! You can ask his rich customer."
"Lucky fellow, Monsieur Bonacieux." The second man said enviously. "I reckon he's got all the answers. A shame isn't it, that we all can't exploit our fortunes as deviously as he has? We'd all be bathing in silks and gold, and with pretty wenches to pamper us at that."
That did it for D'Artagnan! He angrily sprang to his feet and barged over to the table, and pounded his fist on it. "For shame, gentlemen!" He growled. "I am affronted that you would speak of such dastardly deeds, as if they were a favorite sport!"
"And who are you, young scamp?" The first man laughed.
"I am in the service of his majesty's musketeers, I'll have you know." D'Artagnan said proudly. The men jeered at him boisterously.
"That's a hoot! You? Ha! Run along back to your hay bales and play hero with your wooden sword." The second man shooed at D'Artagnan.
D'Artagnan, growing more hot under the collar, drew his sword and held it toward the man's chest, cutting the four of them off guard. "Mon deui! You are no gentlemen." He snarled. "That word is too kind for the scheming likes of you! How dare you speak so disrespectfully of the queen's lady in waiting!"
"How dare we?" The third man sputtered. "Don't go playing preacher with us, boy. It was Monsieur Bonacieux who said it first, not us! Put that confounded weapon away! Someone could get hurt."
"Oh, I guarantee that." D'Artagnan said smugly. "This Monsieur Bonacieux, you heard him yourself, speak these disreputable things?"
"I did." The third man nodded. "And so did his best paying customer, young man. Go threaten him if you do not believe me! For goodness's sake, will you please remove that blade from my friend's chest?"
"Are you regular tenants of Monsieur Bonacieux?"
"No." The third man answered. "We are not. He would not accommodate us as we were short on money. Aye, I confess we give to wasting our wages on booze. But, heck, a man has to relax once in a while! But we happened to be there that day, and we have heard of Monsieur Bonacieux's business."
"Everyone in that district has heard of his good fortune," the fourth man added, "how he is to wed a lovely lass, with 'advantages' in gold."
"You speak the truth?" D'Artagnan asked skeptically.
"Wi, young master."
"And this wealthy customer can concur what you said?"
"Wi. Now would you get outta here? You spilled our ale, d- you!"
"I could spill more, if I so chose." D'Artagnan grinned evilly, not removing his sword just yet. "After all, you have greatly insulted the queen's lady in waiting, and made light of her future disgrace! You are not respectable gentlemen. But the mercer in question has committed a worse crime." He sheathed his sword, and pulled out his purse of forty pistoles. He handed three to each of the men. "I thank you for the information, gentlemen. Please do stick around the vicinity for the week. I may require the necessity of your gossip later on. I find it most intriguing."
"Well, you did threaten me, lad." The second man reminded him.
"Merely produced a demonstration." D'Artagnan corrected him.
"But," the fourth man chuckled, "if you're gonna pay us for our troubles, I may be obliged to forgive that rash act." The other men agreed.
"That's superficially decent of you, sirs. By the way, my name is Monsieur D'Artagnan. If you have any other juicy rumors that you think will interest me, send word to Captain de Treville, leader of the musketeers. He knows who I am. I assure you, should I find your tidbits appealing enough to act upon, you have my word as a musketeer, I will make it worth your while! Good day, sirs." He tipped his hat and left the saloon. Athos ignored the bigots and followed him.
"Did ye see that scholarly lookin' gent that pursued the young devil?" The first man sputtered. "Now there was learned man! And he was dressed as a musketeer!"
"Do you suppose that D'Artagnan fellow could have been telling the truth?" The third man asked.
"Nonsense." The second man disagreed, drinking heartily.
"Well, you certainly made an exhibition of yourself back there." Athos spoke coyly. "But granted, you seemed to have shrewdly turned it to your favor."
"Athos! Do you realize what this means?" D'Artagnan fumed. "Monsieur Bonacieux wants to marry Constance only because he is after the hefty wages she gets from the queen! The cad doesn't love her! He is playing her! This is outrageous! I will not stand for it!"
"And do you intend to do about it, lad? If you go into his establishment, and accuse him, he'll deny it. And you need proof." Athos reminded him.
"You are right, Athos. You are absolutely right!" D'Artagnan declared excitedly. "Welp, if it is proof that I need, then it is proof that I shall get! I shall not allow Constance to suffer this injustice! Mark my words, dear Athos! Now if you will kindly excuse me, I have urgent business to see to!"
D'Artagnan ran with all his might to his friends' apartment, praying Planchet was not out on errands. His lungs felt as if they would burst by the time he burst through the door into the kitchen. "PLANCHET! Planchet?!" He hollered impatiently.
"Yes! Yes, sir?!" Planchet's scared voice answered from the storage room. He plodded down the stairs in a frenzied rush. "Sir? What has happened? I swear, I didn't do it!"
D'Artagnan tried to catch his breath. "Planchet, I...pardon me…"
"Are you ill, sir? You are very flushed!" Planchet gasped.
"Planchet, do...do just pay attention…" D'Artagnan panted.
"You best lie down, sir!" Planchet urged. "Rest. I will fetch a doctor."
"No! I don't need a doctor, you idiot." D'Artagnan scowled. "Don't paw at me, Planchet. I assure you, I am very well."
"Well, then what were you yelling for, sir?"
"Planchet, my good man," D'Artagnan narrowed his eyes with a devious smile, clapping Planchet's shoulder, "I have a very important job for you."