The Three Musketeers (The Modern Library) - Alexandre Dumas [249]
The stranger advanced slowly and as he came into the circle of light projected by the lamp, Milady involuntarily recoiled. Then, when there was no longer any possible doubt, she cried in amazement:
“What, brother, is it you?” Overwhelmed with surprise: “You?”
“Yes, fair lady!” Lord Winter made a bow that was half courteous and half ironical. “Yes, it is I myself, in the flesh!”
“Then this castle—?”
“Is mine.”
“This room—?”
“Is yours.”
“Then I am your prisoner?”
“Virtually.”
“But this is a frightful abuse of power!”
“No hifalutin words, Madame! Come, let us sit down and chat quietly as brother and sister ought to do.”
Then, turning toward the door and noticing that the young officer stood waiting for further orders:
“All is well, I thank you. Now please leave us, Mr. Felton.”
L
OF AN INTIMATE CONVERSATION BETWEEN BROTHER AND SISTER
Lord Winter closed the door, fastened a loose shutter and drew up a chair close to his sister-in-law.
Milady seemed lost in thought. Staring into space, she searched the limits of possibility without imagining what had befallen her and what would come of it. Her brother-in-law was, as she knew, a gentleman, a loyal and decent man, a great huntsman, an inveterate gambler, a wooer of women, but no plotter or intriguer. Could he possibly have discovered the hour of her arrival and had her seized and abducted? If so, why was he holding her?
There was Athos, of course, who had insinuated that her conversation with the Cardinal had not been unheard. But surely Athos could not have acted so promptly?
Perhaps her previous activities in England had come to light. Buckingham might well have discovered that it was she who had stolen the two diamond studs. He might well wish vengeance. Yet Buckingham was temperamentally incapable of persecuting a woman, particularly if that woman was probably moved by jealousy.
Was her past catching up with her or was her future in jeopardy: there lay the whole problem and she inclined toward the former solution. All in all she congratulated herself on falling into the hands of her brother-in-law. A stranger would have been more direct, intelligent and vigorous. Her immediate problem was to find out from Lord Winter what to do in the immediate future. He might not know what this operation signified or he might be hedging. Accordingly she smiled on him and waited for him to react to her charm. She did not have long to wait.
“So you decided to return to England?” he said very evenly. “Against every oath you swore to in Paris, here you are in Britain, eh?”
Question to question, Milady thought, and using enemy tactics:
“May I ask how you were able to know so intimately of my movements? May I ask since when you kept so close a watch upon me? Port of landing, day and hour, even?”
Lord Winter countered in kind:
“What brings you to England, sister?”
“The desire to see you.”
“To see me?”
“Why not? Is that strange?”
“So you have crossed the Channel just to see me.”
“Yes, My Lord and brother!”
“How dearly you must love me, My Lady.”
“You are my only kinsman,” Milady sighed ingenuously.
“Your only kinsman, ay. That makes you my only heir, Madame!”
Milady started. Obtuse as Lord Winter was, he could not fail to observe her dismay. The thrust was direct and deep. Had Kitty betrayed her, Milady wondered. Had Kitty told Lord Winter of certain indiscreet remarks, of certain expressions of dislike, confessed by mistress to servant and inspired wholly by greed of gain? Why had Milady been so indifferent and callous on the evening when Lord Winter introduced D’Artagnan to her as the man who had saved her life? And there was Kitty’s disappearance, too.
“My dear brother—” she stalled. “I do not follow you.” She must at all cost let him declare himself. “What on earth do you mean? What mystery lurks behind your words?”
“No mystery at all, my dear sister,” he replied. (Was his joviality spontaneous or assumed?) “So you came to England to see me, eh? Knowing this, I spared you all sorts of annoyance: I sent you an