Marius could not continue. The blank page taunted him while he tried to plan the words . He'd gotten ahead of himself twice already - the discarded pages lay crumbled next to him, ready to the thrown into the fire. He was exhausted, but he wanted to explain things properly for his beloved.

When he knew he was going to marry Cosette, Marius saw his life before him. Summed up in a series of gestures, it would look as thus: Cosette walking ahead of him, gazing at the sky, weaving between bushes and looking at flowers, pointing at things and calling back to him. Marius would follow behind, book in hand, admiring the speed at which she saw beauty everywhere. In practice, he knew Cosette would manage certain things for him. She would organize their social calendar and make sure he did not huddle too deep into his studies. She would laugh and keep him happy. For some reason, he made her happy. He would make certain big decisions if necessary, but mostly they could exist in a kind of peaceful harmony.

This was the kind of big decision she could not make. Writing this letter was his first act of guidance as her husband. And Marius, who took nothing lightly, was agonizing over the execution.

My dearest, Cosette,

There he stopped.

The first discarded letter had been too clinical, too cold. He had explained the act to her in the terms he'd learned it as a child. When he reread it, imagining his lover, it made him cringe. He was going to be her husband. They were always so tender with each other now, and he wanted that to continue in their marriage bed. It would be unfair to let his embarrassment creep into her first impression of lovemaking, leading her to believe it a compulsory and shameful act.

So when he began the second time, Marius explained it the way he imagined it would be and did not hold back. He described how he dreamed of her every night. He explained his body to her, then wrote an entire paragraph on the part of her that consumed his thoughts nightly. I will fit myself inside of you, my love - God, in my head it is heaven and I know it will only be better in person. I want to kiss your entire body, bury myself in you. I want to hear you gasp and watch your face twisted with pleasure. Once we're married I'll take you every day, Cosette, and you'll want it. You'll be asking for me to do it harder, and faster. I'll kiss your sweet, sweet little cunt and spill myself inside of you.

That was clearly wrong. Marius had stopped writing halfway through and opened his trousers. Leaning back, he closed his eyes and touched himself imagining her reading his words and growing aroused. As soon as he came, he looked at the words and crumpled the page. Ridiculous. He couldn't send her that, she'd be terrified.

Now, letter three. My dearest, Cosette,

Marius looked at the rest of the blank page before sighing and blowing out the candle. It was impossible.

He picked up the crumpled papers and, just before throwing them in the fire, stopped. With a glance at each one, he threw the clinical one into the fire and left the dirty one onto his bedside table. It had been quite a nice fantasy.


The following day Cosette was drinking tea with Grandfather and Marius. They sat in the parlor under the large windows, a shawl around Cosette's shoulders reminding Marius of the way she'd removed it the night before. As Grandfather talked, Marius drank his tea with a surprising speed just to keep himself occupied. Cosette remarkably composed, sitting with good posture on the blue satin settee, not betraying an inkling of the conversation she and Marius had shared in the rue Plumet the night before. Marius, who felt his face growing red and heard himself laughing too loud, knew he was suspicious. Grandfather was unconcerned - "Marius, you should go rest, you look tired," was all he'd said. At that, Cosette sent Marius a commiserating glance. His heart skipped a beat. Once more, they had a secret.

"I think it would be lovely to go to the ballet," Cosette mused. Grandfather had been telling a story about a mistress of his who had danced many of the main roles. Marius shook his head at Cosette, unbeknownst to the old man. Cosette giggled.

"Have you never been, my dear?" Grandfather asked, astonished.

"We will have to go," Marius said, though ballets put him to sleep as a child and he did not suspect much had changed. "After we are married, I shall take you."

Cosette smiled. "That sounds lovely."

"I would be happy to take you next week," Grandfather said.

Cosette set her teacup down on the plate with a satisfying clink. "I think it would be lovely to go with my husband."

"Ah, yes," Grandfather said. "Newlyweds!"

As he talked, Cosette tried to catch Marius' eye. He ate a sandwich instead, not knowing how to tell her he had been unable to fulfill the task she'd asked of him. He kicked himself for not taking advantage of the opportunity to write, and decided to complete the letter that night.

He would tell her how much he loved her and briefly describe the basics, before focusing on the emotion of it all. Loving her, becoming one, et cetera. Perfect.

By the time she and her father were leaving, Marius had not had a moment alone with her all day. He grasped her hand farewell, as usual, and kissed her on the forehead. With her father standing by he was unable to speak freely, but looked meaningfully at her, hoping she understood. She shot him a coy smile, fastened her hat and left.


Later on, Marius was dressing for dinner. He sat down on his bed to tie his boots when he looked at the naked bedside table.

His heart stopped.

The letter had been there last night - he'd set it down, right there! - and now it was gone. In a flash, he was rummaging through the draws, looking under the bed, behind the headboard, in his desk. It was nowhere to be found.

Marius scrambled out of his bedroom. He was half-terrified to ask after the letter, in case anyone had read it, but where else could it be? Besides, if someone had read it, they probably would have left it where it was, being ashamed to do anything else.

He found Nicolette in the kitchen, slicing bread thin to go with the soup.

"Monsieur Marius," she said. "Dinner is ready in twenty minutes. You'll have to wait until then."

"It's not that," he asked. He was sweating under his collar. "There was, er - a letter on my bedside table. It's not there."

"Oh, yes," the housekeeper said, tasting a bit of the soup on her finger. Apparently it needed something, for she began rummaging through the spice rack.

Marius fumed for a moment before pressing on. "Well... where is it?"

"I saw it was addressed to Mademoiselle Fauchelevent," she said, sprinkling pepper onto the top of the soup. "Oh, don't worry. I didn't read it! I gave it to her on her way out. It's not my place to say, but I find the two of you so adorable. She's the sweetest young lady isn't she? And the way I see you dote on her!"

Nicolette turned to look at Marius, but he was gone.


Reviews are lovely, please! New series. I like this one :)