Constance was standing outside to bid her heroes goodnight. "Are you alright?" D'Artagnan asked her.
"Of course I am." Constance grinned. "I'm relieved that I never did have feelings for him."
"Me too." D'Artagnan chuckled. "You deserve so much better."
"Thank you, for what you did for me." Constance smiled.
"Ohh, it was only my greatest pleasure, my lady." D'Artagnan bowed, taking her hand to kiss. Constance slid her hand from his.
"We haven't quite reached that point, D'Artagnan." She warned him. D'Artagnan sighed.
"Porthos was right." He shook his head.
"Indeed I was!" Porthos blurted, stroding up behind D'Artagnan, clapping his shoulder. "Sorry to break up the mood, young ones, but it is rather late. And the lass has been through a most unpleasant ordeal tonight. Say your good-night's, lad, and let the poor girl get some sleep."
D'Artagnan frowned up at him. Why did they have to all treat him like he was a little kid? "I'll be along." He groaned. Felice stepped up beside him.
"Goodnight, mon ami." She smiled at Constance. "I'm glad you're going to be alright."
"Thanks to D'Artagnan, and Monsieur Athos. And Planchet." Constance nodded.
"I confess that I think my brother rushes things when he becomes ambitious," Felice teased, "but as for you, I approve of your courtship...if you share his mutual feelings."
"We're not courting." Constance shook her head.
"No? If this isn't courting, then I am done for!" D'Artagnan exclaimed.
"You exaggerate, brother. Constance is just insuring that you earn her affection instead of swaying it. See how she blushes at your smile?" Felice smirked.
"I shall see you soon, I am sure." Constance tried to change the subject.
"Of course! Goodnight, my lady." D'Artagnan purred, and made another attempt to kiss her hand. Constance stepped aside and Felice pulled D'Artagnan back by his collar.
"Goodnight, D'Artagnan." Constance said, picking up her skirts and retreating inside the palace.
"Come, brother. You've had enough excitement for one day." Felice tugged on D'Artagnan's wrist.
"Yes, momma." D'Artagnan rolled his eyes. "Shall I carry you over my shoulder like I did three years ago?"
"That was seven years ago!" Felice retorted.
"You act the same to me." D'Artagnan said. "What to do with you?"
"Come on." Felice grumbled.
Athos patted D'Artagnan on the shoulder. "You did well, lad. Very well indeed."
"Your eminence appears to be deeply lost in thought." Milady remarked.
"It is time." Richelieu replied. "Buckingham leaves for England the day after tomorrow."
"Very well." Milady shrugged.
D'Artagnan had rewarded Planchet with some extra gold from his compensation from the king. Planchet was eager to spend it on something frivolous, but Porthos ordered the little man to fetch his new clothes from the tailor's, with gruff warnings not to get the silken wardrobe grubby. Poor Planchet. His rare pleasurable shopping would have to wait.
Madame Raebourn had heard the bell over her bakery door ring so she entered the front room to greet her customer. She was shocked to see a lean figure taking some tarts and stuffing them into his pockets as quickly as he could. "You there!" Madame Raebourn shouted. "Put those back right now, young man!"
The fellow startled, then shoved the trays of pastries and treats off the shelves! "Ohhh! Sacre bleu!" Madame Raebourn fumed, appalled. "You've done it now, you thievin' rascal!" She snatched a rolling pin from one of the bins.
"What is going on?" Felice asked, appearing behind her boss. Madame Raebourn grabbed the man's sleeve but he elbowed her in her very plump belly and shoved her back against the counter where she stumbled and hit the back of her head. "Wretch!" Felice snapped. The thief fled. "Oh, no you don't!" Felice called after him, drawing her sword. "Madame Raebourn?" Felice glanced at her employer who was greatly dazed. "I'll catch him!" Felice raced out into the streets, furiously glancing to and fro until she saw the robber's retreating figure.
She pursued him as fast as she could, her legs burning. "You! Stop!" She yelled. Apparently, the thief wasn't about to repent of his crime, and ran down one of the alleys. Felice hurried after him, until she reached a very poor part of the city with dirty, thin children playing in the streets. Felice saw no sign of her fugitive. She tried to catch her breath. "He got away." She growled, sheathing her sword. "I must hurry back! Madame Raebourn needs to be seen by a doctor! She may have a concussion!"
"Miss! Oh, if you please, miss!" A pitiful, fragile voice cried out to Felice. She whirled on her heel and noticed a lean figure huddled against the wall, with a raggedy blanket wrapped around her shaking body, and a tattered blue shawl shielded her face.
"What is it? Is there something I can do for you?" Felice asked.
"Oh, you are very kind, miss." The frail woman moaned. "Most people walk by without giving the time of day to the likes of poor me, a widow, without a single penny!"
"That's a shame." Felice frowned. "Can you cook? If you will come with me, I am sure Madame Raebourn could give you a job! And perhaps even some warm bread." She offered.
"Oh, no, no!" The woman began to cry.
"W-what?"
"I am a sickly widow, not very strong. Can barely lift a shovel."
"I am sorry." Felice said. "Have you not been to see a doctor, ma'am?"
"One must have money, to be able to send for a doctor, my dear child."
"Of course." Felice muttered.
"Would, would you not do me one small kindness, dearie? It would soothe my poor old heart so much!"
"How can I help?" Felice asked.
"If only I could have…"
"Yes?"
"A little water." The woman wept wistfully. "A drop of fresh water, and not the filthy water that comes from the horse's trough, which scoundrels toss at me for sport!"
"The cads!" Felice growled. "Here!" She reached into her pocket under her baking apron and pulled out four silver coins. "Take this."
"Oh, thank you, dearie! God bless you! Please, I only ask for a little fresh water!"
"Certainly." Felice smiled. She hurried down the alley to the well in the square, then returned the long street back. "Here you are, madame." Felice beamed proudly, handing the poor woman a bucket full of clean water.
"Oh, bless you, dearie! Bless you!" The woman wept for joy. "You shall get your reward in heaven for this, you lovely child! I hate to ask for more, but if you could hand it to me? I am not strong enough to lift such a heavy bucket. Please, love?"
Felice noticed the woman's pale, thin arms, and the spindly fingers that did indeed look fragile. "Alright then." Felice agreed. She lifted the bucket to the woman.
"Oh, thank you!" The woman gushed, squirming around in her shawl as if she were shaking from the bitter cold.
"Have you not been to the cathedral, madame?" Felice suggested. "I am sure the minister would be able to assist you in finding safer lodgings."
"I have, but he is out of the city on missionary business."
"Well, there is a priest I know very well." Felice said happily, a glimmer coming into her eyes. "He is a very kindly fellow, and I know he would not turn you away if you are in need."
"If only, dear child. If only…" The woman sighed defeatedly. She suddenly sneezed harshly, dropping the bucket. Felice caught it but some of the water spilled out onto the ground and her skirt. "Oh, forgive me!" The woman gasped. "I am so sorry!"
"Oh, do not fret over it." Felice shrugged. "I've had worse. It will dry off. Are you catching cold, madame?"
"You are an angel." The woman prattled on wistfully. "Truly, you are too good for this cruel world."
"No. I am only...on...only…" Felice began to slur. Her own mouth felt like it didn't belong to her as she tried to form the words but her jaw wouldn't cooperate. Something wasn't right! She began to feel very lightheaded and swayed. She was seeing double, bile rose in her throat, her stomach burned, and without warning, her legs gave out from under her. She fell backwards onto the muddy cobblestone street. She tried to get up, but her entire body felt like jelly. She lay there, miserably, confused, and feeling sicker by the minute.
"Wha-help-" She tried to say.
"Like I said, you are truly too good for this cruel world. Please understand. This isn't personal, it's strictly business." The woman's creaky voice had transformed to sympathetic, and...strangely alluring. She removed the shawl from her face to reveal a gorgeous lady. "Don't worry, my dear. It isn't poison. Only a toxin, on the rim of the bucket. Inactive until it came into contact with the liquid."
"Arrghh…" Felice swallowed, trying to speak. She could barely see now. The world was growing darker even though the sun was still out. Why was it getting dark? Was a storm coming? Several blurry shadows moved around the woman. Felice strained to understand what they were saying, but their voices sounded far away.
"She won't wake for several hours. Take her to the low hull, but see that she is looked after. After all, we would not want to present his lordship with ruined goods, now would we?"
"Whatever you say, Milady." Rochefort kissed the woman's hand.
No! NO! Felice wanted to screech but even her mind felt fuzzy. She lay there, unable to lift her own body from the ground. Charles! Athos! Someone...help me...help...
"Ugh...ohhh...oh! Ch-Charle...Aram-" then everything went black.