The de Vere Inheritance

Chapter Two - 8th June 1632

"I'm going home Eric."

He turned to her with a confused expression. "Elizabeth you can't just walk out of a party at the Louvre Palace alone. I thought we'd agreed we were going to drum up some connections tonight anyway? You need them just as much as I do!"

Elizabeth didn't have the effort within her to roll her eyes, so instead she just scowled. "Eric I'm not feeling well at all. I'm going home. Stay and make your own connections."

She turned away from her husband but Eric caught her forearm in his grip. "You can't go alone. I'll take you. Let my fetch my cloak. There will be other parties, and your father isn't even here to introduce us to his own connections. We can make other arrangements."

"Hurry up then," Elizabeth complied. "I need to get some air before I loose my senses. This hall is stiffing."

~

"I didn't realise who her husband was," Porthos supplied. "She seemed quite nice the other day. Audacious she was. You wouldn't think a woman like that would put up with a husband like him."

"People are full of surprises." Porthos turned to glance over his shoulder at Athos's monotonous tone. His captain ignored the looks his friend gave him and instead watched the couple fetch their cloaks and hats.

"If we cut out of the hall and cross the gallery," D'artagnan mumbled, "We may just beat them to the courtyard."

~

Elizabeth felt the beginnings of light headedness as they left the hall behind and skirted around hallways in the candlelight. She only made good speed on the staircase because Eric held her arm. At the bottom though as Eric paused to button his doublet, she glimpsed the shadows beyond the doorway. Men were waiting for them, as they had been so many times before.

"Monsieur Porthos," she greeted the pirate-like musketeer as he came into view in the late evening sunlight.

"Madame," he inclined his head to her, but she noticed that he did not remove his hat.

"Mon Seigneur de Vere," another of the four men said as he stepped forward. "We have some questions we wish to put to you. Perhaps we might find a quiet room where you and your wife might speak with us?"

"Do I have a choice?" Eric asked blandly.

"Well chances are you'd sooner make a run for it," Porthos added. "This way, we can at least extract from you the money and information you've already gathered in the few days you've been in Paris."

Elizabeth saw Eric try for a polite smile. "That's all very well gentlemen, but my wife is ill. I was taking her home. Perhaps you might allow me to do so, and you could meet me at our lodgings in say; an hour?"

Elizabeth felt four sets of eyes fix upon her then, and it was testament to how tired and withdrawn she looked lately that it appeared Eric's words had been believed.

"Very well," said another of the men. Elizabeth could not see his face, for he stood in the shadow of the awning and the brim of his hat was pulled low. "You have one hour Mon Seigneur and Madame."

"Come Elizabeth..." Eric whisked her away without so much as a backwards glance.

"An hour is a long time Athos," D'artagnan argued. "They could be outside the city gates in an hour!"

"Nah," exclaimed Porthos. "There's red guards on every street corner wanting to search their carriage. They wouldn't get much further than Les Halles in an hour."

"I said they had an hour." Athos approached from his spot against the wall. "I did not agree not to follow them directly too their lodgings within that hour."