Summary: Many can hear the beating of the drums, but to each they can play a very different tune. Some have everything, others nothing to lose. What does an ambitious, obsessive man do when his path is crossed by someone who soberly sees the possible consequences of his venture? Enjolras/OC...somewhat. Based on both book and musical.
Author's Note: An OC - I know what most may be thinking, but I promise to bleed my heart out before letting her become a Mary-Sue. Rating is for future chapters.
Disclaimer: I do not own "Les Miserables".
"THE BEATING OF THE DRUMS"
I. A trip, a dress and a cafe
As the carriage moved, the view behind its window slowly changed from a rural landscape to an urban one. After passing the city gates, the wooden wheels no longer quietly murmured on dirt roads, but rang against the cobblestone streets. The air also smelled different - heavy, lacking the freshness of open spaces. This is what happened when a city began to outgrow its walled borders, becoming cramped and suffocating.
"Couldn't you have put on something more presentable?" A male voice broke the silence long lingering inside the coach. "You look like a servant girl, and one from a bad household." Jacques Laurent said with discontent, looking at his daughter, who sat in the dark corner of the opposite side of the carriage, gazing blankly outside its window.
"Was I supposed to tie myself in a corset for this six hour travel? I can barely wear it for one." Georgine answered without emotion, head resting against the wall of the carriage, her stare fixed on the changing view.
"No, but you could have chosen something better looking." Laurent grimaced as he studied the girl's simple, green dress that's best days had long ago passed. Her hairstyle didn't compliment her either, a sloppy updo one could jest she made in the dark without the help of a mirror. "Do you realize what impression it gives, when my daughter looks worse than a maid?"
"Then introduce me as one and you won't have to feel so ashamed." Another emotionless answer. The man sighed heavily.
"I'm not ashamed, you should know that well." Laurent said as softly and assuringly as he could. He didn't want to argue with his daughter, not after months of parting. "All I ask is a minimum of consideration. I told you I have duties, we have to stop on the way at the Palace of Justice." This time it was the girl that sighed.
"You have to stop." Georgine finally turned her eyes to her father. "Just go in without me. I'll wait inside the carriage. No one will see your shadow of a daughter." She shifted in her seat, moving out of the shadows. Her face was semi-oval with clearly drawn cheekbones and average sized, dark eyes. She had a straight, proportional nose. Loose strands of her dimmed-chestnut colored hair framed her features. Georgine could have been considered as quite pretty, however she was not the sort poets wrote rhymes in ode to. She held a common type of beauty... until she started to grimace, which twisted her features in an unattractive way.
"I don't know if that's a good..." The man started in an unsure voice.
"Don't worry, I'll be fine. I'm not dying yet." she cut him off with a firm yet amused voice, a small smile appearing on her lips for a moment. The girl possessed quite a charming smile, only when it was sincere though. Laurent lightly smiled back.
As they neared their destination, the streets became filled with more and more people. Georgine noticed this with surprise. Yes, Paris was a large city, but its population rarely was drawn in swarms to one place, like flies over a piece of rotting fruit.
"What's going on? Why this crowd?" The girl asked her father as they finally pulled to a stop at Palace of Justice.
"Bah." Laurent waved with hand with annoyance. "Not worth mentioning." he firmly stated as he exited the carriage. The man then saw his daughter proceeding to do the same. "Why are you getting up?"
"Really father, I've been sitting for the last six hours. I want to stretch my legs while you're gone." Georgine replied as she stepped out onto the street. Fatigue with the journey was one of the reasons she wanted to get out of the coach, but an entirely different one was that she was curious of all this commotion. "And it's not like you can stop me anyway." The girl added smiling defiantly. Her father knew there was no point in arguing. He sighed and nodded.
"I won't be long. Don't stray away too far." The man turned on his heel and went towards the building. Just before entering, he adjusted the collar of his uniform. Laurent had to admit he was annoyed. After several months of parting, he traveled miles to bring his daughter home from the countryside and even this day he couldn't have entirely to himself. It seemed the duties of the city's Chief of Police were never over.
Georgine waited until her father disappeared behind the heavy doors of the grand Palace of Justice and began to follow where the crowd was heading. It didn't take long for her to reach the place men and women were gathering. In the middle of a wide, neighboring street people flocked around some man, that stood on an empty cart which currently functioned as a makeshift podium. He was making some sort of speech, but the girl couldn't make out what he was saying from this distance. She began pushing through the crowd, stepping on more than a few feet on the way, until she was capable of seeing and hearing the man clearly. With passion he spoke of revolution, liberty, the tyranny of the monarchy, giving power to the people.
"Too long have the rulers of France tormented the people with taxes, prison and poverty. No one will give us deliverance. No god or king. We must win our liberation with our own hands." The man's words were strong and decisive, his face serious, eyes full of fire. Yet while others around Georgine were cheering, she crossed her arms over her chest and raised an eyebrow. The content of his speech seemed to be contrasting with what she saw. Here stood a man of no more than twenty four by her judgment, young, handsome, talking like someone with the years and experience of her father, sounding as he could cure the world. When he started talking of the poverty of the citizens, the girl couldn't stop a quiet, single chuckle escaping her. Georgine couldn't help but think, what could he know about poverty? A good looking, fine clothed bourgeois in clearly expensive boots.
Still, she couldn't help but to find him interesting. It wasn't what he was saying though. The vision he was spreading seemed too unrealistic to her. Not quite along the lines of what she was brought up to believe in, either. However the way he spoke, his serious, cool composure, the fire in his eyes, the air of superiority surrounding him... Georgine could understand why people gathered around him. The girl herself had become more and more curious of him.
Georgine then noticed a group of other young men standing close around him, handing out pamphlets. If she had learned anything from her father and his ongoing work-related monologues, it was that if you want to find out something, mingle in, ask around. Her today's poor choice of wardrobe was to her advantage. The simple, old dress she wore made her look no different than the common-folk.
The girl, with use of a bit of wit, managed to extract some information from one of the men, that proved to be the least immune to her smiling, eyelash batting and as much feminine charm she was capable of producing. It was in a way funny, how much information some men were willing to give if approached the appropriate way. She learned that they were a group calling themselves "Les Amis de l'ABC". ABC read like abaissés - the lowly. Friends of the lowly. Smart, Georgine thought. What other facts was she able to acquire, was that the man speaking to the masses was their leader, his name Enjolras. However the most important bit of information she gathered, was that they were meeting tonight at a place called the Cafe Musain on the Place Saint-Michel. Satisfied with this, the girl decided it was time to go back to the carriage and return home as she had plans for tonight.
As Georgine made her way to the coach, she noticed her father waiting for her. He stood with his arms crossed, a picture of discontent mixed with concern painted on his face.
"Where were you? I asked you not to wander off far." Laurent said firmly as his daughter approached the carriage. The girl sighed and looked at her father.
"I wasn't far, I just took a walk to straighten my legs." She began to enter the coach.
"Took you long enough." Georgine shrugged and sat down finally inside.
"I wanted to look around, I was gone for a while, I missed the city. I see no crime in it." she said matter-of-factly. "Besides, you should know that once I settle in again, I won't be sitting all day home either."
"You know I'm worried..."
"Can we please go? I missed home and I'm tired." The girl cut her father off, stretching her back, pressing her hand below her sternum. Laurent calmly nodded with resignation at that and entered the coach himself. As he sat down, he leaned to a small window in the wall of the carriage and spoke to the driver.
"Take us home." he gave the instruction. A crack of a whip could be heard and coach once again began moving. They were finally on their way home.
A familiar scent hit her nose as Georgine entered the lobby of the Laurent residence. It was the smell of home. Seven months passed since she had left for the countryside, to improve her health as it was said. Seven months of being sent into exile as she considered it.
The girl ran her eyes around the large entrance hall, it looked exactly the same as when she left. It wasn't very surprising as her father didn't have much taste for change. In the twenty years of her life, the only things she remembered to have changed in the house were decorative vases. The new ones placed only after their predecessors had been destroyed in some fashion.
Georgine had a long day behind, weariness growing inside of her. She sighed tiredly at the thought of having to say hello and most likely answer numerous questions about her time away. Empty, courteous inquiries of the servants and duègne Margaret - curious, middle-aged Englishwoman.
"Georgine!" The voice rang in the girl's ears as if summoned. The duègne made her way towards her with a broad smile on her face, her dress and petticoat rustling as she walked. "It's been so long. How was your travel?"
"Hello, Margaret. The travel was fine, thank you." Georgine replied, smiling meekly as the older woman actually embraced her. Margaret had been working in this household for over twenty years. She was first hired as a female attendant to Georgine's mother when she was pregnant. When Madame Laurent died in childbirth, Margaret changed from attendant to Georgine's minder, later tutor because of her education. Coming from a decent household, she was capable of handling the duties of mistress of the house. At that time, Monsieur Laurent gladly laid said duties in her hands, being completely devastated with the death of his wife. Very quickly he had simply appointed Margaret as the duègne, adjusting her new salary properly to the position. Still, after so many years, the woman had become close to the Laurents, perhaps close enough to be considered almost family. This allowed her a degree of informality towards Georgine, one an employed servant normally would not exhibit.
"You must be tired after all those hours." Margaret said, letting go of Georgine. "Rest in your room, I'll send one of the maids with some hot tea." The girl nodded wordlessly. "I made sure that no one moved anything there in your absence."
"Thank you." Georgine was genuinely grateful that Margaret had thought of trying to keep her things untouched. Or at least so she claimed. The girl didn't really suspect the duègne to pry into her life in that extent. Her father however was another story, especially considering the circumstances of her departure. "I'll go then." Margaret nodded at Georgine as the young woman directed her steps towards a grand staircase and after ascending it, disappearing in a hallway at the top.
When the girl entered her room, the first thing she did was collapse on her bed. Her bed. Missed for so long. She lay there motionless, sweeping the chamber with her eyes, taking in the familiar surroundings. The old, green tapestry, her vanity with its small cracks around the mirror, her pine desk with its green desktop, her velvet sofa that had a small tear in the tapestry, hidden under a decorative pillow - a flaw that normally would have a piece of furniture replaced in a reputable home, but Georgine liked her room decor too much to change it because of a small imperfection - and finally, the wooden doors to her walk in closet. She liked her closet, it had more functions than just a place to store clothes...
A maid had brought Georgine the tea Margaret spoke of and placed it on one of the bedside tables. The girl hardly noticed it and continued to lie on the bed. She was tired. However, a certain perspective seemed to pump energy into her. As outrageous as it may have seemed, she actually decided to leave her house tonight. Sneaking out wouldn't be a problem, her father would hardly notice as he will most likely be buried in documents as usual. Another thing bothered her. The Place Saint-Michel was a slums part of Paris, hardly a place a woman would want to wander through alone in the evening.
Then a smile played across Georgine's lips. She thought of something her father more or less willingly had taught her by talking of work through the years. A simple rule of investigation as he called it 'When in Rome, do as the Romans do' - an old saying that in his line of duty gained a new meaning. Through his endless monologues, Georgine's father had unknowingly taught her quite a few things and she had been clever enough to find a use for them.
The girl got up from the bed and went down to the servants' quarters and seeked out Marie, a young maid with whom she always had a decently friendly relationship. In the past she had chatted with the servant girl a few times. Marie came from a poor background, in the current times, she was lucky to have found employment in a household as good as the Laurents'.
"Hello, Marie." Georgine said when she found Marie carrying some linens to be pressed.
"Mademoiselle Georgine. I heard you've arrived home. How were you all this time?" Marie asked curiously, it had been seven months now since she had seen the master's daughter last.
"Fine, Marie, fine. Thank you. There really isn't much to talk about." She circled the servant girl and took her by the arm. "Marie, I need to talk to you."
"Yes, Mademoiselle? Is there something you need?"
"Yes, I need to look at your wardrobe." Georgine said, smiling. Marie couldn't have looked more puzzled then. "Leave those linens and come with me." The young mistress then took the lines from the maid and set them aside on a small table that stood by. She then tugged Marie by her arm to the room of the houses' maids.
The chamber of the servant girls was small and modestly furnished, but clean and well kept. It even had simple decorations like a vase with some flowers standing on a windowsill.
"Show me the clothes you have, Marie." Georgine said as she closed the door to the room behind them.
"I don't understand, Mademoiselle. Why do you wish to see my clothes? I have few."
"Please, just show them to me." The young mistress said as she sat down on one of the servants' beds.
Still puzzled, the maid nodded and reluctantly made her way to a chest of drawers standing in one of the corners of the chamber. She pulled out the middle drawer and produced a yellow, patterned dress. Her best, she wore it to church.
"No, that won't do. It's too nice. Do you have anything else?" Georgine shook her head as she examined the dress. Marie was becoming more puzzled with every moment. She put the yellow dress away and pulled out a brown one. She wore it whenever she was out to the market. Georgine raised her eyebrows. It was better for the occasion than the previous one. "Do you perhaps have anything else?"
"Mademoiselle, I really don't know why you want to see my clothes. And I don't have many of them either." Marie shrugged as she put away the brown dress. "Except those all I have is this old thing." The maid then pulled out an old, blue dress which had been long past its prime. Its hem had been mended in two places and the original color had faded. Georgine smiled.
"How much do you want for it?"
"Excuse me?"
"That dress, I want it. I'll pay you twenty franks for it."
"Twenty franks? Mademoiselle, it isn't worth twenty franks. And I don't know how you could possibly want..."
"Forty franks then." Georgine cut Marie off in mid-sentence. "And you can have one of my dresses in replacement, any one you like." The maid couldn't understand her mistress' behavior, however the perspective of earning forty franks for an old rag and being able to choose a dress from her employer's wardrobe was far too tempting for a poor girl like Marie. She handed the dress to Georgine.
"Mademoiselle, may I ask why do you want this?" The servant girl inquired. She knew she had made a good bargain, yet curiosity did not let go of her. "Do I have to worry about any consequences from Monsieur Laurent?" Hesitation filled her voice.
"Don't worry, just don't say anything about it."
"What if Monsieur Laurent sees me wearing one of your dresses, Mademoiselle?"
"Tell him I gave it to you instead of throwing it away." Georgine's eyes were fixed on examining the blue dress, she couldn't help but smile. "Perfect..." She whispered to herself.
"What?" Marie asked, hearing her mistress say something quietly.
"Nothing." Georgine shook her head and then turned her gaze from the dress to Marie. "Do you perhaps have a coat too?"
"I have a coat, Mademoiselle, but it's old too." Georgine nodded smiling.
"Good. I'll pay you another twenty franks for it. It's still pretty cold outside after dark."
Marie didn't even bother to ask this time, she just pulled out an old, thin, black coat, which couldn't have cost more than half the sum her mistress was offering her even when it was new. When Georgine approved of it, the maid handed it to her also.
"Come with me, I'll give you our money and then you can come to my room and pick yourself a dress." Marie nodded and didn't inquire anymore. It was obvious by now her mistress wouldn't say anything unless she wished to. In the end, the servant also decided that perhaps it was best to know nothing.
Georgine had taken the sixty franks promised to the maid from a box her father kept in his office when he was conveniently absent. She then allowed Marie to take one of her dresses and closed her bedroom door by key after the maid left. The girl went through her wardrobe, looking for shoes that would complete what she had in mind to achieve. She remembered of a pair of tall, black boots that she often wore during her stay in the countryside. They had endured many long walks on dirt roads, forest soil and occasional post rain mud. The boots were costly when first ordered at the shoemakers but their extensive use had left only some of their original appeal. Thankfully, they were still comfortable and solid enough to not soak through easily when exposed to rain and puddles.
Georgine changed into the clothes she had prepared for herself and when the time came, she left her room quietly. She made her way outside through the servant staircase and house entrance. Once finally in the street the girl pulled up the collar of her coat, slid her hands in her pockets and made her way towards the Place Saint-Michel and a certain cafe she had learned of earlier that day.
Thank you for reading! Reviews will be greatly appreciated :)