Pierre Pevel - By The Alchemist in the Shadows Page 0,86

have no fear. I delivered them to the person for whom they were intended.'

'My orders were to place them personally in madame de Chevreuse's hands.'

Mirebeau smiled.

'Unfortunately, it is impossible for you to meet the duchesse immediately. But these papers needed to be delivered to her as soon as possible, didn't they . . . ? Also, there was an encoded letter inside your doublet. Do you know of its nature?'

'Not exactly, no.'

'The queen mother invites the duchess to take you into her service.'

'That much, yes, I did know. And have already accepted in advance.'

'Perfect! In that case, the duchesse's desire is for us to form a team. Does that pose an inconvenience to you?'

'Perhaps.'

'Really?' said the gentleman in surprise. 'Why is that?'

Leprat looked directly into Mirebeau's eyes.

'If I was ordered to place the documents in the duchesse's own hands, it was not merely to ensure that they arrived at

their proper destination, but also to satisfy myself that no one was trying to trick me. I do not know you, monsieur. I do not know if you are in the service of madame de Chevreuse. I do not even know if you have ever met her. In fact, for all I do know, you could very well be in the service of Cardinal Richelieu . . . On the other hand, if the duchesse were to receive me . . .'

Still maintaining a smiling, friendly demeanour, the man in the beige doublet nodded calmly and then said:

'I applaud your prudence, monsieur. And I understand your concerns . . . However, considering your position, your only option is the following: to place your trust in me during the time it takes to prove yourself . . .'

'Or?'

'Or you can choose to leave.'

'Which is not likely to please Rauvin, is it?'

'Probably not.'

Agnes returned to the Hotel de l'Epervier at the same time as Marciac. She was on horseback. He was on foot and still limped a little, carrying a bundle of his belongings on one shoulder.

'Already recovered?' she asked.

'Already cast out,' he corrected.

She nodded, the tumultuous relationship between the Gascon and Gabrielle having long ceased to surprise anyone who knew them both.

'And you, Agnes? Where do you return from?'

The young baronne de Vaudreuil jumped down from her saddle while Guibot opened up one of the doors of the carriage gate and she apprised Marciac of her approach to the former Mother Superior General of the Sisters of Saint Georges. Then, once inside the courtyard, she entrusted the reins of her horse to Andre and asked the old porter with the wooden leg:

'Is the captain here?'

'No, madame. He was called to the Palais-Cardinal. And this letter arrived for you this morning.'

It was now almost noon.

Agnes took the missive, recognised the seal of the Order the White Ladies printed on the red wax, opened it and read.

'Bad news?' enquired Marciac.

'This letter is from the Superior General of the Chatelaines. It expresses her wish to see me this afternoon, which amounts to the same thing as a summons.'

'Like that? All of a sudden?'

'Yes, in a manner of speaking . . .'

'Will you go?'

'I don't have a choice in the matter. But I should have liked to speak with La Fargue before going.'

'You will have to content yourself with talking to me,' said Marciac, taking Agnes fey the elbow.

'Come, we'll have dinner and then I will accompany you to the Enclos.'

Laincourt had made an effort with his appearance before presenting himself for the second time at the Hotel de Chevreuse. He had donned his most elegant doublet, found a matching pair of gloves, carefully polished his boots and stuck a new feather in his hat. His meeting the previous day with the duchesse had made a deep impression on him. She was not only breathtakingly beautiful, but her elegance, poise and nonchalant manner had disarmed him. She moved with the most natural ease in extraordinarily luxurious settings.

This time he was expected and Laincourt was immediately conducted to the terrace, where a square table had been set beneath a white cloth canopy embroidered with gold thread. There, madame de Chevreuse, looking radiant and serene, was chatting with a young girl and an older woman who, like her, was sipping raspberry water that had been cooled at outrageous expense with snow preserved from the previous winter. The young girl was very pretty, lively and very daintily attired.

In contrast, the woman was grey-haired and unassuming, with a dull look in her eye.

Upon seeing her visitor, the duchesse greeted Laincourt with