'Are you sure she won't be missed?'

They were standing near the horse, blowing on their hands in the cool night. The carriage housed the sleeping girl.

'I've sorted it.'

'So she'll be fine?' He asked. He knew he was being selfish but his concern for Constance overruled his usual common sense. Milady had hinted that people were disposable. He hoped it wasn't Constance's life that was being disposed of.

She turned to face him, eyes watchful for any overhead words. 'I can only take her so far, Rochefort. Once she gets past a certain point she has only herself to rely on. You know that she must never come back.'

Rochefort felt a dread stealing over him. 'Are you sure she will be able to cope?'

She glared at him. 'I've been in exile for many years prior to this, Rochefort and it has done me no harm. I've learned to look after myself and she will too. I'm sure she has strength that has yet to emerge. She won't be the delicate little flower if she uses her wits and employs some courage.'

That was telling. Rochefort knew that Milady made a show of being a delicate little flower in public but any man brave or misfortunate enough to encounter her in private, more fool him. Milady was a tigeress all the while she manipulated her public image ruthlessly. She knew what it was to live a lie and maintain it flawlessly; she had been doing so almost her whole life. It had been necessary. Constance in comparison had always been a simple creature and now she would have to deal in deception for the rest of her life, if this plan worked out.

Inside the carriage, Constance listened. She wasn't asleep as they thought she was. But hearing this had aroused her suspicion and she could sit still no more. Throwing aside the drapes from the window, she looked out, attracting the attention of Rochefort who was still trying to get information out of his companion. He walked to her side immediately.

'She won't hurt me, will she?' She implored to her rescuer. Milady rolled her eyes and moved to the horse that was now starting to whinny. He took her petite hands in his. 'She is sending you somewhere you can be safe. But you'll have to run for your life.'

'How do you know she won't send me to the convent to be killed?' She whispered. Rochefort rested his chin on her hands, a sign of trust. He didn't realise she had heard the plan.

'You won't be going there. There is a boat leaving at midday tomorrow, for England. That is where you will be.'

She drew deep breaths to steady herself and to stop the tears from falling. Leave her beloved France? To be exiled from her homeland possibly forever? How impossibly cruel.

'You get on that boat and you find a new life. Forget all of this because you will not be safe here.'

She had to believe him. At this moment, he was all she had left. She squeezed his hands in appreciation, not trusting herself to speak.

'Ready when you are.'

He turned to Milady and asked her one more time. 'You promise she'll be safe?' The answer was in the nod. She had given her word. Constance wouldn't be harmed. But someone else had to go in her place. Someone that nobody would miss. And she knew just the girl to use.

She leaned over to the waiting girl and cupped her chin in her palm. Those tawny eyes mesmerised and taunted Constance.

'Remember, where you are going and from now on, you answer to the name of Kitty. Kitty whatever you like. Do you understand? Constance Bonacieux does not exist anymore. In a few years time you could change to be anyone you wish, especially if you marry a rich man in another country.'

'What of my husband? And d'Artagnan?'

'Forget them. They will marry elsewhere. If you're wise, you will too.'

Constance didn't want to think of d'Artagnan being with someone else. There was also the matter of her husband. Although he was an inconsiderate man, she was still married to him, and both of them marrying another would mean an unholy state of matrimony.

'But neither of us can marry another while we are alive.'

'He thinks you are dead, that makes it easier for both of you.'

'But that's wrong.' Constance was horrified. 'All of this is wrong.'

'All of it has been done before and will be done again.'

That shut the girl up as she realised that Milady was talking about her own circumstances, warning her that she was about to embark on the same kind of life. Constance said no more to her. She simply buried her face in the drape. Rochefort led his co-conspirator a few yards away.

'What of her replacement?' He asked softly. For now he knew of how one girl would be switched for another in the convent. Her maid must be worthless to suffer such a fate. 'd'Artagnan will know it's not Constance in the convent once he sees her.'

Milady's face expressed her spite. 'd'Artagnan has the misfortune of knowing her also. That will keep him quiet for a while. You have the choice. To save one, you must sacrifice the other. Make your mind up.'

She knew his answer before she'd finished speaking. They returned in silence. Constance turned to Rochefort.

'It looks like this is goodbye.'

He nodded, not one for sentiment but strangely mournful. He had always tried to avoid this kind of farewells. Leaving his family home, he had just saddled up his horse and rode away, never looking back. It suited him. This was a most unusual occurrence.

He leaned forward and kissed her hand. 'Goodbye Constance.' He needed to say nothing more. The single tear streaking her face was her final response before the coachman was called over and the journey was about to start, all within the minute.

'Goodbye, sweet child' whispered Milady mockingly at his side. Rochefort ignored this, focusing only on the horse and carriage leading her away from him. She left him with the lasting memory of her white scarf waving out of the window as the coach rode on through the night to her final destination of her home country. A signal just for him. Something he would never forget.