"What is the ransom for my safe return? How much do you want to release me?"
Taylor raised his eyebrows. "Why, we're not asking anything for you, Milady. All we want is the privilege of entertaining you for a short while. A week, perhaps, no more."
"And then?"
"And then you won't be seeing us again," said Taylor.
Now a week had passed. It had been a maddening week. Each day, the man called Taylor came to her. He brought her all her meals and he would stay a while to talk with her. They would talk about the most meaningless of things, the weather, what fashions were popular at court, what her favorite foods were, what she liked, what she disliked, whom she had had affairs with…
Taylor seemed to know almost as much about her as she knew herself. That frightened her. How could he know such intimate details of her private life? How could he know that she had once been a nun and that she had seduced a priest at the convent of the Benedictines of Templemar? How had he known about the fleur-de-lis, with which the executioner of Lille had branded her? Who was this man, who seemed to know her almost as well as she knew herself?
She could get nothing out of him. On several occasions, he had come with a slightly older man, another stranger to her. This man would gaze at her strangely, then approach her. He would study her intently. Sometimes, he would touch her face, running his hands along her jawbone, touching her nose, the corners of her eyes, her lips. Once, when he had done so, she had softly kissed his finger, licking it lightly with her tongue. His hands shook slightly after that.
"Think you can do it, Doctor?" Taylor had said at one such time.
"I–I can do it."
"You'd damn well better be sure," said Taylor.
"I won't let you down, Adrian."
"It's not just me, Doc. You know what's riding on this."
"Yes, I know," said the one called Doc. "I know only too well." He had sounded frightened.
She had no idea what any of it meant. Sooner or later, she knew, they would have to make their purpose clear. She would bide her time and wait.
A week and two days had passed when she received yet another visitor. This one was a lady. The door to her room opened and the man called Doc entered, along with the lady and two other men. The lady hid her face behind a fan. Milady was certain that now she would find out the reason for her abduction, the purpose behind all this intrigue. She stood up, giving her jailors a haughty look.
"Well," she said. "It appears that at last I will-"
The words caught in her throat as the lady dropped her fan, revealing her face. It was the Countess's own face. Milady stared at her living reflection, struck speechless at the sight.
"You see," said the woman, in Milady's own voice, "I told you that we would only keep you for a week or so."
Milady backed away from the woman who was her twin in every way. She had her face, she had her voice, she had her manner…
"Who- who are you?" she whispered.
Her double laughed and it was her own laugh, exactly. Then she spoke in a completely different voice. A voice Milady had come to know only too well. "Why, Milady, don't you recognize me?"
"Taylor! In God's name, how is this possible? How-"
"Why don't you ask Him when you see Him?" Taylor said. He pointed a slim tubelike instrument at her. A bright, pencil-thin light stabbed out from it as Taylor quickly flicked his wrist.
Milady's head, severed by the laser, fell upon the floor and rolled grotesquely into a corner of the room.
The man called Doc turned his head away and made a whimpering sound.
"Jesus, Taylor!" He leaned against the door jamb for support.
"Weak stomach, Doc?"
"You didn't have to kill her," Doc said, his voice quivering.
"Oh, I did, indeed. We're playing for high stakes, my friend. It wouldn't do to have two Milady de Winters running around now, would it? Besides, I did her a favor. I spared her from the headsman's axe."
"By beheading her yourself," said Doc. "You didn't tell me you were going to kill her."