Dueling with the Three Musketeers

by Lisa Samson

  Ophelia had run the bath (Milady was delighted by the easy availability of hot water, just like Captain Ahab and Quasimodo) and was now sitting outside the bathroom door, wondering, as we would with real people, how the Countess de Winter ended up so cruel. Surely it wasn’t all her fault, was it?

  Oh no! Ophelia gasped. She was being drawn into Milady’s spell! How could she have been so stupid?

  Or was she?

  Suddenly Ophelia understood how d’Artagnan was utterly fooled (later on in the book, of course), turning his back on the sweet, beautiful maid to the queen of France to be with the countess. And certainly, it’s nothing new for someone to confuse outward beauty with goodness. We’re always so surprised when a beauty is terrible, and worse yet, when a beautiful person dies, we are all the more sad for it, as if us plain folks’ lives are less worthy to be lived. Don’t do that. It’s terrible to judge a life on that basis. If you don’t like that, take it up with the administration and your local minister. Thank you.

  “I’m finished!” Milady cried. “You may come dry and dress me now!”

  Ophelia jumped to her feet and called through the door. “I’m not your servant, Milady. We don’t do that sort of thing anymore around here. The towel is hanging on the hook at the back of the door and your clothes are right there on the counter by the sink. I will do your hair for you, however. You absolutely cannot go out looking like that!”

  “You say that as if my hair is a bad thing,” she retorted.

  “It is, Milady.”

  “Oooh!” Milady shot out.

  Ophelia smiled. And she was right. The countess had removed her wig—which I would have burned right away— and her hair underneath was matted and greasy. “I’ll help you wash it here at the sink.”

  Thankfully it was still the same golden color once it had been washed. And I’ll just say this once, I’m glad it was Ophelia’s job and not mine. I don’t know how hairdressers do it, day after day, sticking their fingers against people’s scalps. They’re saints, I tell you. Saints!

  Blond hair in a simple ponytail, Ronda’s free-spirited garb hiding her slender body, Milady could hold her own in the present day as well. She looked at herself in the mirror and frowned. “Disgusting!”

  “No, no!” cried Walter a bit too enthusiastically. “Hardly. For our time period, you’re perfect.”

  She beamed and caressed his cheek with her hand. “What a lovely lad you are.”

  He blushed.

  Ophelia felt a little nauseous.

  They hurried Milady down the steps, hoping to make it through the kitchen and out the back door with Aunt Portia and Uncle Augustus none the wiser.

  No such luck.

  At the top of the steps leading down to the bookshop, Aunt Portia stood.

  Oh, you’d love Portia Easterday, and I can say that without a modicum—little bit — of doubt. She looks on the world in her own way, at her own pace, and for her own peace of mind. Portia and her brother Augustus’s parents were as eccentric as Linus and Ophelia’s parents, but much more attentive. They owned a small theater and showed plays always starring, you guessed it, themselves and their pair of twins. That’s what the family lore says anyway. It isn’t any wonder their children have a flair for the dramatic and have a bit of a hard time with what is real and what isn’t. Then again, who doesn’t?

  Delightfully, however, Portia didn’t quite learn the rules of the world, but wasn’t harmed one whit (little bit) because of it. She thought everyone was a friend until they proved otherwise, and there wasn’t a color combination that failed to be an option. She wore rhinestones no matter the time of day and ate handfuls of gummie bears when she thought no one was looking.

  Her bright pink lips broadened with a smile, and her apricot-colored frizz of a hairdo vibrated when she said, “Well, well! Who have we here? I had no idea we had a visitor!” She clapped her hands, all eight rings she wore—she decided to wear all her good rings so nobody would steal them — clinking together.

  Linus said, “The Countess de Winter.”

  If Portia was surprised, she didn’t show it. “Come all the way from Paris! Well, my stars! Welcome to Kingscross!”

  Milady’s glance burgeoned with mistrust. “Yes …”

  “Wonderful!” She turned to Ophelia. “Surely you’re bringing our guest to dinner, and by all means, use the guest room this time!”

  “What’s for dinner?” asked Walter.

  “We’re going green today! Broccoli, peas, salad, and fried green tomatoes. You’ll love it.”

  Walter had heard what they were serving at the school, some fried meat cutlet (referred to as mystery meat at college cafeterias everywhere) and canned green beans, and this was a far sight better.

  Be glad you don’t have to eat the food at The Pierce School, especially in the summer when Madrigal cooks. Alas, she tries …

  “I’ll be there, thanks!” Walter answered.

  “Wonderful! Well, I’d better get back to work.” She turned her green-sequined-clad figure and descended back down the staircase to her bookshop. She looked back over her shoulder and said, “You look wonderful in that outfit, Milady! And so much easier to move around without a heavy corset, don’t you think?” She disappeared.

  They all stared at the vacant spot where the force of nature once stood. Aunt Portia had learned the secrets of the attic when Captain Ahab crossed over.

  “I like her!” said Milady suddenly.

  Everybody’s head turned so quickly to gape at her, she said, “What’s wrong? I do!”

  Linus wasn’t surprised. Portia Easterday had that kind of magic about her. He made a mental note to remember that. It might come in handy.

  Ophelia batted away the thought that maybe the countess was like she was because nobody had ever really, truly been kind to her. Ever.

  Foolishness? Hmm. I suppose you shall have to wait and see.

  Do people change that drastically?

  That’s a question best answered on a case-by-case basis.

  twelve

  A Summer Breeze, a Flushing Toilet, and a Master Plan

  They stepped out onto the sidewalk just as a truck roared by. Milady screamed and grabbed onto Ophelia’s arm.

  “What was that … that thing?”

  “A truck.”

  She pointed to all the black telephone and power cables we don’t see anymore, strung from pole to pole. “And that black rope? Why is it there?”

  “It’s for electricity,” said Linus.

  She pointed to the string of cars parked along the edge of the street. “And those are trucks as well?”

  “Cars,” said Linus. “Short for carriages.”

  “Oh.” She breathed a sigh of relief. “So horses pull them?”

  “No. Look, here comes one down the street.”

  Milady gasped and jumped back three feet. “Oh goodness! Oh dear!” She turned to Ophelia. “So what you were saying earlier? It’s all true!”

  “Yes.”

  The countess sat down on the bookshop steps to catch her breath.

  Now, I’m just guessing here, but I imagine the Countess de Winter was truly at a loss for the first time in many, many years. The boys looked at each other, then at Ophelia. She smiled, not a pleasant smile, but an “I told you so” grin.

  She sat next to Milady and put her arm around her. “So you see now?”

  “Yes. Although it’s still quite unbelievable.”

  “What you need to know is this. We really don’t want to hurt you. We want you to get safely back through that circle the day after tomorrow.”

  “I feel like I have no choice but to believe you,” she said.

  “I know you won’t do this, Milady. But believe me when I say, you can trust us. All three of us.”

  Across the street in the park, Milady laughed as the breeze hit her skin and swirled the skirts around her legs. “My, my! It’s magnificent! I like this era.”

  “Don’t get too used to it,” said Opheli
a.

  “Oh, that.” She sidled up to Linus and tucked her arm through his. “You can figure out how to let me stay, can’t you? You’re so smart.”

  “I could try.”

  “Linus!” cried Ophelia.

  Milady shrugged. “Well, why not? This is a wonderful place. These cars. The lights.”

  “Things are different now, Milady.” Walter stepped beside her on the pathway leading through the park and down to the Bard River. “You’d have to find a place to live, which means you have to pay for it, which means you’d have to find a job.”

  Her blue eyes clouded with confusion. “A job? Whatever do you mean?”

  “Women and men work every day now, Milady.” Ophelia sat down on a park bench and patted the seat next to her. “We don’t have to rely on men for our well-being anymore.”

  Milady sat down. “Really, now? You don’t have to marry someone you don’t love and” — she screwed up her face— “well, never mind. You don’t have to rely on your wits to survive?”

  “You do. Just not in the same way. For example, my mother is a scientist. She studies butterflies with my father.”

  “So she helps him?”

  “They work together, fair and square, fifty-fifty.”

  “How curious.” Milady looked out over the river. “Where does the king live?”

  “We don’t have a king. We don’t have lords and ladies and counts and countesses. Our country is founded on the belief that all men are created equal.”

  Well done, Ophelia!

  Milady gasped in horror. “No nobility?”

  “Not a one,” said Walter. “We still have them in England.”

  “Walter!” Ophelia hissed.

  “I thought we were in England,” said Milady.

  Ophelia tried to explain the United States of America and democracy in under five minutes.

  “Oh, well!” breezed Milady. “As long as women are still pretty and men are still strong and handsome —”

  “Want an update?” interrupted Linus, cursing the “an.”

  Ophelia nodded. “On Madge,” she said to Milady.

  “Walt?” Linus asked.

  The boys sat on the grass.

  “Of course, mate. Here it is as I see it,” said Walter, leaning back on his hands. “I heard Madrigal and Johann talking over breakfast. He’s bringing a lawyer over later today. Anyhow, Madge pleaded with Johann —”

  “Pleaded?” Ophelia’s mouth dropped open. “Madge?”

  The countess’s eyes sparkled. An intrigue! How exciting!

  “As much as her type does,” Walter said, waving to a group of kids from the summer camp next door as they canoed down the river. “Oy!”

  They waved back with gusto and shouted like banshees. Linus reminded himself to get back to the camp and finish building the ramp leading down to the yard. The wheelchair-bound children had to go out the front door and around. This would make it easier for everyone.

  He’s quite handy with hammer and nail.

  “He has a right to it, unfortunately,” said Ophelia.

  “You’re right, Ophelia.” Walter stood up. “We can only hope he’ll have some compassion on his sister.” He dropped for a set of push-ups.

  “Poor Madge,” said Linus.

  None of them ever thought they’d say those words. I’ll bet you didn’t either.

  “So let me understand this,” said Milady. “This school …?”

  Linus pointed across the street. “Right there.”

  “This Madrigal. Her brother is trying to take the school away from her?”

  Ophelia explained the situation further.

  A fire lit in Milady’s eyes. “Well, what are we going to do about it?”

  “We don’t know.” Walter looked mournful. “If it closes down, I have to return to London.” Walter sat back down. He has trouble remaining still.

  Milady pretended to spit. “Pah! I hate that city!”

  Oh good, thought Ophelia. Maybe that will upset Walter.

  “So do I,” said Walter. “I don’t want to go back. Kingscross has quickly become home for me.”

  The home place for unintentional orphans, thought Linus. Incredible.

  So much for that, thought Ophelia. She looked at her watch. “Eleven a.m. We need to go see how Father Lou is faring with d’Artagnan. Maybe he’s come up with a way to scare Johann away.”

  Linus jumped. “Let’s go!”

  “What is it?” asked Ophelia.

  “I’ve got it!” he said.

  The group of four hurried across the park, by the church, and rushed up to the rectory. Milady, if anyone had looked at her, seemed to have come to life. This was drama. This was intrigue. And she’d come along just in time. In all honesty, she didn’t really care one way or the other about the outcome just then. She had two days left here in this odd place, and she was going to have a wonderful time!

  The group shuffled into the rectory and Father Lou led them into the small living room. Yes, Milady even had an effect on him. Clearly the kitchen wasn’t good enough for her like it was for everybody else.

  “Have a seat everyone,” he said, after the introductions. “D’Artagnan!” he called up the steps.

  The toilet flushed.

  “He’s been flushing the toilet all morning.”

  “It’s magnificent!” said Milady, gently lowering herself in an overstuffed armchair. “As is this chair!”

  D’Artagnan trotted down the steps dressed in a pair of Father Lou’s jeans and a Harley Davidson T-shirt. He took one look at Milady and gasped. “Milady! Your clothes!”

  “Oh, calm yourself, young man! It’s all the mode here.”

  “Okay!” said Father Lou with a nervous laugh. “Now Linus, you said you have a plan?”

  D’Artagnan took a seat in a bent wood rocker.

  “Yes, sir.” Linus swallowed. He was going to have to speak in whole sentences. Many of them. His heart started to race and his face blushed to a bright magenta.

  “It’s okay, Linus.” Ophelia squeezed his hand from where she sat next to him on the wine colored sofa. “You can do it.”

  “All right.” He inhaled deeply. “We’re all aware of the plight of Ms. Pierce. We have to get her brother out of the way.”

  “I shall challenge him to a duel!” cried d’Artagnan, leaping to his feet and reaching for a sword that was still by the kitchen door.

  “Oh, do sit down!” Milady snapped. “Let the boy have his say.”

  Walter looked from one traveler to the other. These two sure would make things interesting. “Go ahead, Linus,” he said.

  “Well …” he cleared his throat. “Umm …”

  “Just say it, son.” Father Lou looked as earnest as a priest could be, and that’s quite earnest if you ask me.

  “Haunted house!” he blurted.

  Ophelia’s eyes grew to saucers. “You mean literally scare Johann away?”

  “Uh-huh.”

  “Brilliant!” Walter cried.

  “Inspired!” said Father Lou.

  “Magnificent!” D’Artagnan looked ready to start planning right away.

  Milady cleared her throat. All eyes turned her way. Her face gave no clue as to what she thought. She stood to her feet, spread her arms, and gave a curtsey. “Meet ‘the Gray Lady’ of The Pierce School.” They cheered. Even d’Artagnan. He arose from his seat and knelt down in front of the countess. He took her hand. “Milady, a truce?”

  “For now, young man.” Her haughty expression came back full force.

  “Ah, for now.” His smile was so charming Ophelia almost fell over in her seat.

  “Then let’s get started,” said Father Lou.

  “I’ll fill Madge in,” said Ophelia. “But first, let me show you the costume room, Milady. I’m sure you’ll find everything you need there to be the perfect ghost.”

  “To the garage, men!” Father Lou pointed toward the door.

  “We’ll be back soon,” Ophelia promised. “We ca
n’t let you guys have all the fun.”

  thirteen

  You Know It’s Bad When Madrigal Pierce Will Stoop to a Plan That Might Actually Be Fun

  Madrigal Pierce, dressed in a brown skirt that fell almost to her ankles, brown high-heeled sandals, a yellow blouse, and her usual white summer shawl, looked so relieved when Ophelia walked into the parlor of the school, Ophelia almost thought it wasn’t Madrigal at all.

  The Pierce School for Young People is housed in the old family home, as you know, but when I say “home” what I mean is mansion, and not the houses that pass for mansions these days. This house had twenty bedrooms, now dormitory rooms, and a swimming pool in the basement (still there; Clarice uses it). Senators and geniuses — Einstein himself! —made their way through the beautiful old home. Some people would call it “gracious,” a word used frequently to describe stunning homes that were built with good taste. In other words, there isn’t frou-frou, curlicues, naked babies with wings, or woodwork so heavy even the Cyclops himself would fail to lift it. Ask your language arts teacher about the Cyclops. Or your mom or dad.

  Unfortunately, the Pierces seemed to have a genetic predisposition (they were born that way) for dark and gloomy colors. Ophelia looked around in delight. Dark drapes, dark wood, dark walls. Dark, dark, dark.

  Excellent!

  “Ophelia!” Ms. Pierce cried from her perch on the edge of a blood-red silk settee. (A settee is a small sofa, sometimes called a love seat, but what is to love about a sofa one can’t stretch out on to read?) “Come in, come in!”

  They entered the room Madrigal and Johann’s grandmother had decorated back in the thirties. Deep maroons and purples prevailed, mahogany wood still glistened, polished every week without fail.

  “I’d like you to meet my brother, Johann.” She gestured toward her brother. “Johann, this is Miss Ophelia Easterday.”

  “Pleasure to meet you, sir.” Ophelia put out her hand.

  He stood to his feet, a taller, male version of his sister. “Hello.” He ignored her hand.

  She stuffed it in her pocket.

  Johann turned to his sister, his mouth turned down at the corners. “My lawyer should be here in five minutes, Maddie.”