Musketeer's Daughter:Unanswered Riddle

Chapter 42: Surrender

Warm beneath the many layers of covers, Ysabeau lay. She blinked, staring at the opulent colors and patterns. The rich thickness of the paintings, the hangings. The gold and intricate carved designs of dark wood. She closed her eyes. It meant nothing to her. Turning her back to any pleasure was the best way to deal with what loomed.

A knock brought her attention. "Enter."

"It is I, Philippe."

"Oui."

He stepped in holding a tray and set it down. Though she had not eaten, she did not deserve any kindness nor care. "Will you please eat something? I worry for you."

"Philippe. I do not deserve such kindness from you. You ought to leave me to my own devices. I take care of myself very well."

"And you have for the last sixteen years. It is time someone looks after you, cares for you and shows you every bit of love you so deserve. Please, Ysabeau, let me be him."

She regarded his broken expression and pitied him. It would not hurt to indulge in life a few moments, would it? "Very well, as you wish." Her smile was tentative at best, but joy did light her.

His face brightened and he sat upon her bed at once, slid the ring to her finger and bowed to place a warm kiss upon her cheek. "I love you, Ysabeau de d'Azay-le-Rideau, with all of my heart, body, soul. Though we are not before the Pope, there is no harm in bearing you the intentions of my heart."

"The Pope?" she whispered. "I am not Catholic, Philippe. Will you not be ridiculed?"

"What does religion matter when we have a great leader upon the throne now? Tolerance is grand and I sanction it."

"I pity those who were massacred when he wedded."

"Massacre de la Saint-Barthélemy?"

"The very one." Ysabeau flinched at the harsh declaration of the single night of horror.

"It is no news that he is Protestant at heart, yet to appease the powerful Catholics, he has converted and now seeks peace to balance the outrage. If I had lacked faith in my King, I would no longer wish to serve under His Majesty. Please, Ysabeau, I go into this marriage with eyes wide open as well as heart. Neither of us need to fear."

She narrowed her eyes and studied his gaze. "What of secrets? Do you hold any?"

"If I do, however within my own right and none to the extent that would harm you as your own have, but let me say this." He wet his lips, his breath still, his eyes penetrating. "We are from a lineage both noble and grand, where all shines down upon."

"Philippe, I am afraid."

"It is a perfect match, you and I. We share much the same. Let us explore the unknown, and together, we shall conquer." He rose with a smile after slipping the ring upon her finger. "There is to be a banquet in the Ballroom whereas the ball out on the courtyard. Care to join me?"

"I prefer to have my meal carried to my apartments, thank you." His dubious expression forced her to explain. "I have much to think on in light of past events. Surely you empathize?"

"You shall be missed." He bowed and backed to the door, his eyes lingering. Silently, he slid from her and she was alone.

With every passing tick of the clock, she grew anxious. Her plans snug in place, Ysabeau wondered the gardens alone with her satchel and recovered her musketeer's garb. Back in her apartments, she locked her door and slid an armoire against every hidden door she knew of.