"Right about what?" Porthos asked curiously.
"Do you remember that Constance informed me that she was engaged to Monsieur Bonacieux, a much older man, whom she does not love?" D'Artagnan replied excitedly.
"I do recall." Aramis said. "What of it?"
"Athos and I chanced upon a merry brood of hooligans at the tavern a few days ago." D'Artagnan explained. "They were certainly were no nobles! But...they do have wagging tongues. They were tenants of Monsieur Bonacieux's, and they were bragging about how he expects to marry Constance only for her fortune she earns as the queen's lady in waiting."
"Really?" Felice's eyes widened.
"They all concurred each other's testimony on that account, and referred us to a wealthy gentleman who is also a tenant of Monsieur Bonacieux's. So, that is where Planchet comes in." D'Artagnan waved to the servant.
"Aye, sirs." Planchet spoke up happily. "Master D'Artagnan employed me under guise as a tenant under Monsieur Bonacieux's roof. It was quite comfortable, I must admit. The beds are soft enough, with clean sheets, lively company, and the food…ahh, the food, sirs…" Planchet rambled.
"Enough of the chit-chat, Planchet! For goodness' sake, stick to the subject at hand!" Porthos growled.
"Ahh, yes. Forgive me, sirs, but it is difficult for me to recall exact details on an empty belly." Planchet pleaded.
"Bother that." Porthos huffed. "Details now, food later." Planchet looked disheartened. Felice quickly cut a slice of bread and set it with some cheese and ham on a plate, and handed it to the manservant. Porthos rolled his eyes.
"Ahh, thank you, miss!" Planchet's eyes lit up. "You are very kind." He chewed a huge bite of ham.
"Ahem! Planchet! You were saying?" Aramis reminded him with his arms crossed.
"Ohh, yes…" Planchet mumbled. "I made quite an acquaintance with the rich gentleman. Not a badly chap, really. But he is a close friend of Monsieur Bonacieux, so I casually mentioned Lady Constance, implying that I had heard about the master taking a bride, but wondered when we would get to see her. The fellow said that Monsieur Bonacieux claimed, and I quote,
'he will marry the pretty little wench once he has his accounts settled. He has high plans for his wife's fortune. Indeed, he does. Oddly, I do find myself pitying the poor, naive lady. Bonacieux is going to bleed her dry! And once they are married, it will be his jewelry and toiletries she will be fetching instead of the queen's. Shrewd move, no?
Indeed!' I said. 'Sounds as if our mon ami Bonacieux knows how to turn the tables in his favor, eh?
Quite,' the wealthy chap replied to me. 'I do congratulate him his good fortune, yet I have a twinge of regret for his new bride, seeing as she is very beautiful and has such an innocent face, I'm told.'"
"Despicable." Aramis snarled. "He intends to make a scullery maid of the poor girl, while he lives off of her money."
"Wait." Felice spoke up. "Are we certain of all the facts?" She crossed her arms. "I mean, people do have a tendency to stir up delicious gossip, just for the sport of it."
"I had thought of that." D'Artagnan responded. "So, I instructed Planchet to follow up on any potential leads that the other people at the boarding house may spill."
"That you did, sir." Planchet nodded. "I paid a visit to the treasury office. Turns out that Monsieur Bonacieux has been opening new accounts, in fact several around the city, with news to the proprietors that he is soon to come into a great deal of money. He has opened a new account at the treasury office, the tailor's, the tannery, the shoemaker, even the sword-smith."
"So, he's got it all planned out, as soon as Constance weds him." Porthos remarked. "Well, I do say that if you're going to be tossing around money like that, it is best to have an outline for the spending."
"Not now." Athos shook his head.
"Excellent work, Planchet." D'Artagnan praised. "Just for that, allow me to pour you a cup of wine."
"Really? Thank you, sir!" Planchet gushed. Porthos shoved his hand over the wine jug before D'Artagnan could grab it. He drank it himself.
"I must confess, Planchet. I did not believe you capable of obtaining that much information and fermenting it in your mind for that long, without it spilling out of your mouth in the next ten moments." Porthos chided.
"Shame on you, Porthos!" Felice guffawed.
"I beg your pardon?" Porthos nearly choked.
"I know you think Planchet is just your mindless chamber maid, but even you have to admit, that he fulfilled the mission Charles put on him, and with satisfactory results. I believe he deserves a reward." Felice said.
"Do you now, Momma?" Porthos huffed.
"Ahem! I believe we should bring ourselves back to the subject at hand." Aramis grunted in exaggeration. "May I remind you that we have more pressing matters to discuss? We must inform Constance and the queen of this atrocity." Aramis stated.
"Aye. But we will need proof." Athos agreed.
"Leave that to me!" D'Artagnan grabbed his hat and cloak. "Ahh, and Planchet? Here you go!" He tossed his lackey a coin.
"Thank you, sir!" Planchet cheered.
"Charles! Where are you going?" Felice asked.
"To get acquire the proof we need. I won't be long." D'Artagnan answered.
"I am going with you." Athos rose to don his own feathered hat. With that, they left the other four together in the small dining room.
"Well, Planchet. You must be exhausted." Felice sighed. "Tell you what, you head for bed, and I'll bring you some supper."
"I ain't gonna argue with that!" Planchet beamed and tripped over the stairs on his way up.
Good grief, Felice shook her head. "Oh, yes. You most definitely need to head for the pillow! Up you go!" Planchet scuttled up to his room.
"Good l-." Porthos complained. "And I objected to you, and your Higher Power scruples, my friend!" He gave Aramis an exasperated look. "Remind me to never argue with a God-fearing woman! D-, I thought I was free of the monotony of it all when I left my dear old mum."
"And you have been paying the price for that absence ever since." Aramis teased.
"Aww, poor old Porthos." Felice drawled. "Women are such cruel creatures, aren't they?" Porthos grunted throatily.
"You truly have no idea, lass." He shook his head. Aramis silently agreed, as his mind bounced back to Milady's betrayal of them all, and how it had left his dear friend Athos sullen and cynical ever since.
D'Artagnan and Athos went about the city, visiting the establishments that Planchet had mentioned, questioning the managers, which confirmed Planchet and the wealthy tenant's stories. Athos requested documents regarding Monsieur Bonacieux. The managers were hesitant, but Athos paid them and assured them that this was a matter that would interest the queen herself.
"Well done, lad." Athos smiled at D'Artagnan once they'd been through the shops and the treasury's office. "We shall bring these papers to her majesty in the morning, and should be able to put this case to rest, and save your angelic phantom from a miserable existence. We must report this to Captain de Treville. Then, what say you we stop by the tavern before we go home?"
"Why not?" D'Artagnan nodded. "The last time we entered there, we learned valuable information. Who knows, but that we might possibly find something just as delectable this time? Perhaps even something about Monsieur Prissy Boots!" Athos had to laugh at D'Artagnan's ecstatic energy. He was head over heels, giddy with victory. Well, he could not blame the boy, really. After all, D'Artagnan had uncovered a dastardly deed and nearly brought it to a close without the opponent even aware of his downfall. D'Artagnan was most pleased at being able to so successfully avenge his sweet, innocent Constance.
"You are incorrigible." Athos gave D'Artagnan a light slap on the back of the head.
"One of my more endearing talents, no?" D'Artagnan boasted.
"Come along." Athos chuckled.
The two musketeers met with their captain who said he would definitely look into it, then they strolled to the tavern. "You've done well tonight, D'Artagnan. Order whatever you care for, lad. The drinks shall be on me tonight." Athos told him.
"Much obliged." D'Artagnan grinned. "Hullo? What's that?" He noticed a couple shadowy figures across from the tavern, outside the barber's shop. It was obviously a man and a woman, even in the dim evening light. They appeared to be squabbling.
"Just a lover's quarrel." Athos remarked nonchalantly. "No need to interfere, D'Artagnan."
D'Artagnan, being the curious son of Gascony that he was, could not help himself but by being interested in the couple's argument. What were they arguing about? The man slapped the maiden hard across the face and she gave a small cry. "Sacre bleu!" D'Artagnan barked.
"Why, Athos! That's Constance!"