Marrying the Musketeer (14 page)

Courtney waved him goodbye with as good a grace as she could.
 
She bore him no ill will for his lack of hospitality, knowing only too well that she was a dangerous guest to harbor.
 
She would not have stayed longer even if he had pressed her to.
 
They had a long road to travel and had best be on their way.
 
“I thank you for the horse and donkey,” she said.
 
“And if a Frenchman, Monsieur de Tournay, comes to look for me…” her voice trailed off into silence.

He looked up at her, alarmed at the prospect that she might be followed by the King’s men and might yet bring his family into danger.

She swallowed bravely and continued.
 
“If he comes to look for me, tell him what has happened to papa.
 
Tell him…”
 
She hesitated for a moment, wondering how much she ought to reveal and how much ought to stay hidden.
 
“Tell him that I am waiting for him.”

Monsieur Legros’s face cleared as soon as he realized she was in no danger from a hostile pursuit.
 
“How will he know where to come to you?”

She would not tell him where she was going.
 
She could not trust him.
 
She could trust no one any longer – no one but Pierre.
 
“I will contact you when I am settled.
 
Fare thee well, Monsieur, and thank you for your help.”

He tipped his hat to her in a last goodbye.
 
“Fare thee well, Mademoiselle Courtney.
 
May God be with you.”

Chapter 4

The country house was silent and deserted when they finally reached it late that afternoon.
 
Their progress had been slow and Courtney’s head ached with the effort of rightly remembering the way.
 
She had concentrated with all her might on each turn and twist of the road - not wanting to sleep out under the stars that night, lost in the countryside until daylight came once more.

She dismounted awkwardly, with a groan of protest from her stiff and aching muscles.
 
She had no love of horses or horse riding and she hurt all over from being jolted around on her mare’s back all day.
 
“You see, we will not starve,” she said to her maid as she rubbed her sore buttocks in an effort to ease the discomfort.
 
“We shall have a decent roof over our heads tonight, and the fields around here look fertile enough to feed us without dipping into our stores of coin.”

Suzanne, her eyes round and wide, nodded.
 
She, too, was relieved to have reached a habitation at last.
 
“This is all yours?”

She stamped her feet on the ground to get the blood flowing into her toes again.
 
“My father knew something evil was afoot.
 
He prepared a bolt hole for me to run to if I had need.”

How her life had changed already though.
 
No longer was she the pampered daughter of a well-to-do merchant, with servants on hand to do her bidding.
 
She had to run her own household now as best she could.

No stable boy was on hand to take care of their mounts.
 
With leaden steps, they took of the saddles, brushed their weary mounts, fetched water from the well for them to drink, and found some musty hay in the hayloft for them to eat.

They were both exhausted to the point of collapse by the time the horse and donkey were comfortably ensconced in the roomy stable.
 
There was no food in the cold, bare kitchen and they had no energy to go foraging.
 
Supperless and aching, they flopped into their cold beds.

The following morning dawned fair and bright.
 
The grumbling in their empty bellies soon tempted them both out to explore their surroundings, despite their aching legs.
 

The nearby village had no shortage of willing workers ready to do a good day’s labor for their landlord’s silver. Courtney quickly found herself a cook, a housemaid, and a boy to look after their horses.
 
She warned them that she did not need their help for long – as soon as Pierre arrived she intended to leave with him for Paris – but they were happy to take their wages while they could.

The cook rustled up some fresh bread and milk for their breakfasts.
 
Courtney was more than happy with the simple country fare.
 
Had her father not been so prescient in providing for her, she would have an empty belly this day indeed.

That evening, when her servants from the village returned home and all was dark and quiet in the house, she checked the safe in her father’s study.
 
It was as full of jewels as it had been when she first saw it - a mere sennight, and yet a whole age, ago.
 
She hefted a small bag of gemstones in her hand and slipped it into her pocket before locking the rest away again and hiding the safe once more behind the portrait of her mother.
 
She needed to turn a handful of emeralds into gold and silver as soon as she could to purchase the bare necessities of life such as food and firewood.
 

She would also need some money for her journey to Paris with Pierre as soon as he heard of her plight, and a handsome present to the King might yet see her father free again.
 
Before the next few days were out, she would have to brave the markets in town and sell them.

She could not ride into Lyons as Courtney Ruthgard.
 
Her father’s enemies would be on the lookout for her.
 
Did they once find where she was hiding, she had no doubt but that they would confiscate her estate and her gems right away.
 
She had to make the whole city think that she had left in disgrace – penniless and alone.

Still, she had to sell the jewels – they were no use to her else.
 
She could not entrust them to Suzanne – the girl had no idea of their value and no experience in striking a good bargain.
 
She would be an easy mark for the honest jewel merchants of Lyons to cheat.
 
Neither could she trust anyone in the village to do any better.
 

There was no help for it.
 
She would have to go herself, though not as herself but in disguise.

The newly hired housemaid had come across some clothes belonging to her father in one of the clothes presses, she remembered with a smile of satisfaction.
 
She would dress in those and trust that she would not be recognized.
 
No one would look at her twice if they thought she was a man.

With Suzanne’s help, she pulled on the breeches and boots, tucked the linen shirt into her waistband and pulled the riding jacket over the top.
 
The boots were too large, but a pair of stockings rolled into the toe made them fit well enough.

She looked at herself critically in the glass.
 
She still looked far too like a woman to pass easily as a man, or even as a youth.
 
“Get the shears,” she asked Suzanne.
 
“You will have to cut off my hair.”

Suzanne’s face was a picture of horror at the suggestion.
 
“Not your hair…”

She wanted to cry herself at the thought of losing her long blonde tresses, but she refused to give her enemies even that small satisfaction.
 
Pierre would still love her even though her hair was unfashionably short.
 
“There is no help for it.
 
Besides, it will soon grow again.”

She shut her eyes as Suzanne lopped off her hair, lock by lock, until it swung free above her shoulders.
 
She did not ever want to open her eyes again to see her butchered hair staring at her from the looking glass.

She held out her hand.
 
“My hat, please,” she said to Suzanne.
 
Her eyes still closed, she took the hat and clapped it on her head.
 

The transformation it effected was worth the sacrifice of her hair.
 
She looked passably like a man now – a slightly effeminate man to be sure, but definitely a man.
 
She stroked the skin between her mouth and nose.
 
If only her cheeks and chin were not so smooth and hairless she would look more realistically male.
 
“I could wish for a moustache,” she muttered to her reflection.

Suzanne gave a sudden squeak.
 
“I can make you a moustache, Mademoiselle.”

Her maidservant evidently had hidden depths she had not yet discovered.
 
“You can?”

“My father made perukes of all kinds in his shop.
 
That’s how I learned to dress hair as well as I do..
 
When I was still a child, I worked in the shop with him and he taught me enough that I can fashion a moustache for you out of the hair we have just cut off.”

In a scant hour, the moustache was ready and glued to her top lip.
 
It itched abominably, but it perfected her disguise. She looked just like a stout-hearted young man.
 
She could travel to Lyons in safety and sell her emeralds herself for a fair price – and take the opportunity to make discrete inquiries to see if Pierre had returned yet as he had promised.
 
She did not want him to be frantically searching Lyons for her, wondering and worrying where she had disappeared to.

Her false moustache looked very little the worse for wear the following morning.
 
It needed just a small ruffle and it looked as good as new.
 
Suzanne’s father had evidently taught her well.

With a tip of her hat she rode off on the fine blooded mare that Monsieur Legros had lent her, the pouch of emeralds concealed in her shirt against her skin.

Without the donkey to slow her down, she traveled quickly, arriving in Lyons at midday.
 
She went straight to Monsieur Legros’s warehouse.
 
He was the biggest trader in Lyons and would give her a fair enough price for her goods.
 
Besides, it was well known that he was an intimate of her father’s.
 
If Pierre had arrived by now, he would surely have visited Monsieur Legros in his search for her.

She was on the point of striking a satisfactory bargain for her bag of emeralds with the factor, and about to broach the subject of whether any stray French Musketeers had been spotted hanging around the warehouse in the last day or so, when Justin Legros stepped in to the small chamber where they had the jewels spread out on a tall workbench in front of them.
 

The factor doffed his hat.
 
“Good day, Monsieur Legros.”
 
He indicated Courtney with a wave of his bejeweled fingers.
 
“This is Monsieur Lafayette from Rheims, come to sell us some emeralds.”

Courtney tilted her wide-brimmed hat so that it shaded more of her face.
 
“Good day,” she growled in a low voice, hoping her old friend would saunter out again as quickly as he had sauntered in.

Justin cast a seasoned eye over the emeralds on the workbench.
 
“They are top quality.
 
May I ask where they came from?”

Courtney wanted only to leave before she was recognized.
 
She did not want anyone, not even Justin, to know that she still had some emeralds to sell – that she was not a pauper.
 
“You may ask, but I may not answer.”

He gave her an easy grin.
 
“I would be interested in obtaining more, if you could get your hands on them.”

“Maybe I can.”

He was not put off by her rudeness.
 
“Maybe we could walk over to the tavern over the way and sup together while we discuss the possibility?”

Courtney opened her mouth to refuse when Justin, under pretext of getting a closer look at the emeralds, leaned into her ear and whispered, “You had better accept my offer, Mademoiselle Courtney Ruthgard.
 
I have certain matters to discuss with you.”

She could feel the blood rush from her face and she gripped the workbench tightly with white knuckles to stop herself from falling over.
 
“I would be delighted to sup with you, Monsieur,” she said in as steady a voice as she could muster.
 
Just as delighted as she would be to sup with the Devil himself.
 
How had Justin penetrated her disguise so easily?
 
What would he do to her now that he had found her out?
 
Her father’s fate had made her wary as a fox.
 
She could not trust anyone at all – not even her oldest, closest friends.