I hope this chapter isn't confusing for anybody, but let me know what you think. It picks off from the last words of the last chapter, which were written in a letter by Annette three years prior to Enjolras seeing it. Hope you enjoy!
THREE YEARS EARLIER
MAY, 1825
Don't tell the others, my dearest. I should like to be the first to tell Etienne. Though I can hardly imagine what my father will say.
Eighteen year old Annette smoothed the parchment before her, pleased with the grace of her pen. Today she had received another letter; that made five this past week. She'd been giddy with his words on the paper; this was success. Madame Voullouz had not been wrong on that head: men were fools. The poetic words on paper, what a damned scoundrel! Annette smiled to herself. Father need never know. It would be over before it had ever begun. She picked up her pen and carefully wrote a few more lines.
I can't bear the secrecy, my love. When we meet tomorrow at the angel statue, Father will be out; I couldn't bear not seeing you one last time before you went away.
Annette folded the paper and sealed it, holding it to her chest for a moment. This was it. One more night, and her friends would be freed. She wouldn't have to agonize for days until at last she heard the news of their untimely and bloody death. It would all be perfect. She would soon get the recognition she deserved. Annette kissed the envelope, her heart and mind light and free of worries. Soon, so soon, they'd have to be together again. And there was nothing her father could do to stop it.
Blaise, what do you think of marrying in the theater? It would be so romantic, and you could even sing. I know, mon amour, we'll be the next names in history as the artists of the century. There is nothing else in the world I need but you.
Annette crossed the room to her window. Outside the sky was growing dark, the navy velvet interlaced with wispy pink and orange threads. The setting sun lent a sense of calm to Annette's anxious heart as she thought about what would be the greatest day of her life.
A gentle tapping at her window aroused her from her thoughts. Annette's head snapped up to see what—or who—it was.
A handsome face, with full pink lips that smiled in the most mysterious way, rosy cheeks and lashes as long as a girl's. On this occasion his hair was styled in an elegant but subtle coiff, the handsomeness of which never escaped Annette's careful eye. Annette's hand flew up to her mouth in surprise and joy. Swiftly she unlatched the window and let the lean frame of her fiancée to climb into her bedroom.
"Annie, darling." Blaise walked smoothly, his voice rich and silky and seductive. Annette smiled uncontrollably as he stood before her and brushed her hair from her face. His hands lingered on her face for a moment, then in a swift, decisive instant he pressed his lips against hers. Annette's eyes widened as an unfamiliar shock spread through her body. She broke away in fear. Even though her father was miles away he would know. He always somehow knew.
"Propriety, Blaise," she whispered shakily as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. How far was she willing to go for this charade? She swallowed hard when she saw his face.
"I think we've gone past propriety, don't you think, mon amour?" His tone was biting and sarcastic all of a sudden. Annette looked down.
"We'll be married when you return."
Blaise suddenly relaxed, and his countenance appeared more cheerful.
"Yes, we will, won't we?" He smiled that same odd smile, which for some reason did not reassure Annette. She slowly moved toward the open window.
"Ah, I understand. The bride is nervous before her big day?" Blaise leaned lazily against the wall. "Don't worry, mon cherie. It will be the best wedding the world's ever seen. With a pair like us, how could it not be?" Annette nodded. Suddenly she found herself wondering when Blaise would leave. It was so hard, keeping this up.
"What if I only brought Etienne?" She speculated for the hundredth time. It was always amusing to see Blaise's reaction. "He wouldn't want to miss it, and—"
"—No." Blaise became a stormy pillar, immovable and impenetrable.
"But he's my brother, and—"
"—And I told you, no. Don't you want this to be special, darling? Just you and me, remember? No one we know, so that it can be a surprise for them later on." The smile was gone. In its place was a look that was hard and cruel, a look which Annette had been warned to beware. She turned away from him, steadying herself. Just one day more. Then the fool would be in prison, where he belonged, and she would have the information the Daughters of the Republic had sent her to retrieve. She just had to keep him thinking she was madly in love with him. It came surprisingly easy, for one who had never been in love.
Suddenly she felt his hands on her shoulders, a grip that was firm and impossible to escape. Annette tried to relax, but even then she knew he could hear her heart thudding heavily in her chest. She realized then that she was in partial undress, her chemise being visible under her first petticoat. Annette tried to shake him off casually, but there he remained. She swiveled to face him.
"Release me, Blaise." Despite the calm of her voice, she trembled and could only hope that he didn't notice. Blaise regraded her coolly. Finally, he let go, but remained there, inches away from her face.
"You should be more friendly towards your fiancée," he said, leaning in again. Annette moved away. Now was the time.
"After the wedding." She paused, unsure how to start. "By the way, Blaise," she said, her voice taking on a new innocent sweetness. Blaise raised his eyebrows warily. "Remember when you were talking about the people who were going to be executed?"
Blaise scoffed. "Those old hags? Of course. Their blood will run just as the others' did."
"Yes, those poor women. I was wondering, do you have that list of their names, and when they're to be...executed? Since they're keeping it all very secret, they haven't even released the date to the press."
Blaise shrugged. "I don't see why you should worry about that, darling. They're better off nameless. For what they've done, the guillotine is too good. You should have less pity for them and more for me."
Annette clenched her fist behind her back, digging her nails into her palm. Those women were her friends. She would get that list if it killed her. She looked at Blaise again. Even if she had to marry him to do it.
Annette smiled. "I'd just like to pray for their souls, you know." She sighed wistfully, looking out the window. She snuck a glance at Blaise. It seemed to work. "Ever since my mother died, the thought of a lonely death has been too terrible to think of. Won't you promise me, Blaise?" She turned her soulful blue eyes, glistening with tears, to Blaise. Blaise, disgusted at the sight of a woman's tears, bid her to stop at once.
"Whatever you want, woman. Just stop crying." Annette sighed in relief. She looked up and smiled at him. Blaise smiled back.
"For my services, I believe a kiss would do nicely," he remarked darkly. Annette's smile did not waver as she moved to him. His hands were suddenly on her waist, and she was being pulled in roughly. She held her breath and tried not to grimace as his lips met hers. Rough, bitter, and cold. Just like the man. As his hands gradually began moving up Annette broke away. She discreetly tried to wipe her mouth on the sleeve of her dress as Blaise looked at something behind her.
"You'll bring it tomorrow?" She asked, plastering a charming smile over her petrified features. Blaise nodded, his eyes still seemingly far away. Annette suddenly remembered the letter she'd written. She had to keep feeding him things such as these. She handed him the letter with a grateful smile. Silently he took it, stalked to the window and climbed out again. Before his head disappeared, he called to her.
"Don't be late, mon cherie."
The next night Annette waited anxiously for the clock to strike nine. There was no telling when her father would return. She had to get this done and over with.
It would be simple: meet Blaise, get the list from him, return. There would be members of the Daughter of the Republic following them to ensure her safety and success. They needed that list above all things. It was the only way she could save the women from death.
Annette still counted herself lucky not to be one of those who'd volunteered to go that night. There had been awful rumors of the "woman's rebellion" in the streets, whispered between neighbors, shouted to gendarmes. Accusations of murder, thievery, blaspheming practices and the like had all been set as claims against them. And on one terrible day three women had been arrested on the street, quietly and without resistance. Any resistance or fight would have been futile. So they disappeared, snuffed out like candles, and hadn't been heard from in weeks. The only reason it was known that they were still alive was because they'd overheard the gendarmes discuss the complications that came with executing three women without the public knowing. It would be a couple of months, perhaps, before they could carry out the order.
But still, it could only be a few weeks. The Daughters of the Republic had planned for weeks on strategies to free their members. They'd tried the classic break-in and distraction ideas, armed with ropes and female charm. But what use were plans when one didn't know when they were to be executed? There was one man who would certainly have that knowledge: the Baron Vichy. In fact, he was the one who'd openly campaigned for the throne in order to become the king's favorite.
The Baron was a known womanizer. Countless scandals had been covered up by his family and friends, but the whole world was not lost on his sins. He'd led many women astray, promising marriage and wealth, only to leave them at the last moment with a couple sous and a child. So the Daughters of the Republic did what they thought was the only way: they chose their cleverest and strongest to seduce the Baron. Certainly Annette was not the prettiest, but she had all of the right tact and acting skills to make her the most charming girl in the world. The goal was supposed to hit two birds with one stone: retrieve their imprisoned friends and send the Baron to jail. For once it was discovered that the Baron had leaked important information to the rebels he was certain for at least a year or two behind bars. The law these days had very little care in these matters, unless the victim were of respectable old money families. Everybody, however, hated the Baron.
Annette rose as the clock struck nine. At last it was time. She glanced at her reflection in the mirror before setting out. She'd tried to look as pretty as possible tonight, and had let her thick, glossy black hair rest in gentle curls around her shoulders. It gave her a freer appearance. Thank goodness it would be too dark for the neighbors to observe the impropriety of it all tonight. Her dress was low-cut, which she'd purchased when in town with Celine. It had stayed hidden in her drawers lest the maid discover it and tell her father. However, now seemed the opportune time. The light blue silk complemented her eyes, and the folds accentuated her usually boyish form, giving it a fuller look. As an extra measure, she'd even put a bit of rouge on her cheeks, though she knew if ever her father were to discover it...well, he wasn't here now.
Slowly Annette opened the window, wincing at the slight creak that might wake the maid. She pushed it all the way through, and with a sudden inspired fear that the maid had heard, she leapt from the window and fell onto the ground in a painful landing.
She lay on her stomach, catching her breath. The grass was soft and cool underneath her hands, and she realized it might leave stains on her dress. Containing a groan, she gingerly crawled away from under the window and stood only when out of sight. Annette glanced down at her dress, and was devastated to confirm that indeed, several moist, green stains could easily be observed from the front. No matter. She'd rely on her other charms for now.
Annette walked briskly in the still, empty streets, her heart racing. Would Blaise be waiting at Madame Lefleur's angel statue? Or would he take this opportunity to leave her as he'd left the others? With every step Annette felt as though she were marching off to her execution. Suddenly she was ashamed of everything she'd had to do these past few weeks, everything short of completely ruining herself and giving up her honor. She was ashamed of the filthy blue dress and her loose, vagabond curls. She saw the disappointed face of her father appear, and a lump rose in her throat at the idea of what he'd say if he could only see her now.
As Annette caught sight of the angel statue in the garden, she could have cried with relief to see the familiar dark form of Blaise leaning against the statue. She put on a smile and tapped him on the shoulder. He turned around, unsmiling, and put an arm around her shoulder. Annette leaned her head as she was supposed to in the crook of his arm, and said warmly,
"I'm glad to see you didn't abandon your poor bride." She smiled into his face, and could even see the usual rigidness of his features fall away as he was taken in by her easiness. She could almost have mistaken his next movements for gentle and loving, if it weren't for the sarcasm of the words to follow.
Blaise stroked her cheek with his thumb, his eyes gazing at her lips. "I decided I'd wait a while more for that."
Annette didn't let her smile become a scoff, and she thought she should receive some reward for this alone.
"I don't have very much time, as I fear my father will be returning soon. We have the moon and the stars for but a few minutes tonight, mon amour," Annette murmured softly, sweetly. Blaise kissed her once, hard, taking her by surprise. His cold eyes hungrily took in Annette's dress, and Annette knew she had to act quickly.
"You did remember my wedding present, didn't you?" She asked, stepping back. She pouted, mimicking the displays she'd seen Courfeyrac put on to make her laugh as a child. "You did promise me, you know."
Blaise gazed at her steadily before drawing a worn, folded piece of paper from his pocket. He fingered it for a moment, appearing conflicted, before handing it to Annette. Annette reached for the paper, but Blaise whisked it away, holding it over her head. Refusing to play the game, Annette patiently waited, placing her hands gently on his shoulders and looking up into his face.
"Blaise, please? Those women haven't very much time, you know, and I think I might visit them before they die. It's the Christian thing to do." She looked down, blinking hard to bring back the tears that had worked so well just yesterday. But Blaise did nothing.
"Why should you care about three bad women such as they? Haven't you heard about the things they have done? I fear, my dear, that if you truly were a good Christian you would have the same opinion as me." His eyes ruthlessly searched hers, and Annette slowly sensed a rising panic within her. This was not how it was supposed to be.
"Blaise, I haven't been completely honest with you." The tears that fell were genuine ones, now, and as she stepped back she could see Blaise lower his arm. "One of those—those traitors, is my schoolfellow of many years. We have been through so much, and I...I—" she burst into sobs, only half acting, as she feared what would happen if she should fail tonight.
Blaise stood rigid and uncomfortable. "What did I say about the damn crying?" He snapped. He tucked the paper back into his pocket. "I swear, if you wake the neighbors..." His voice became threatening. Annette realized she'd have to wait for another opportunity. She dabbed her face with a handkerchief Blaise tossed her as Blaise paced the ground impatiently.
"Thank you, mon Caile." First, though, better to give him what he wanted. Annette stepped up to Blaise and kissed him slowly. Blaise immediately kissed back, and Annette had to steady herself as she was pushed back. Just one moment and she would meet her friends with the list. She reached into his pocket slowly, and with deft fingers found the paper. One moment and her friends were saved. She grasped the paper in her hand. One moment and—
A deep, booming voice made her reel back in horror. "Annette de Courfeyrac!"
Annette could have fainted away then with shame. There, not five feet away, was her father, leaning out of his carriage. Quickly she pushed Blaise away, who began running and quickly disappeared into the shadows.
Annette squeezed her eyes shut and slowly turned around to look at her father, who by now had stepped out of the carriage. How must she look, with her wild hair, low-necked, grass stained dress? And that, that was not even the worst of it. The worst part was that he was never to know the real motivations for the scene he'd just borne witness to.
Monsieur de Courfeyrac strode towards Annette and took her roughly by the arm. Giving brief orders to the driver of the carriage, he began the brisk walk home.
For that entire walk not a word was said by either of them. Monsieur de Courfeyrac kept his gaze straight ahead, and it would appear he was unaware of his daughter, if it were not for the steely grip he kept on her arm.
When they returned he ordered a late dinner to be served, and Annette was to attend. Throughout dinner, still, he was silent. Whether he saw the quiet tears run down his daughter's face it could not be said. He had not even the compassion to allow her to change her dress, which every moment seemed to Annette to dirty her soul.
Monsieur de Courfeyrac never again said much more than a couple of words to Annette. When he did, however, he was harsh. So it was that the already feeble bond that the two had already been trying to fix was completely broken and both worlds changed forever.
Perhaps the both of them were too unfeeling towards the other. While the man could never hope to understand or realize what his daughter's intentions had been, the daughter too would never see the tears of a man who has lost his daughter. These were the tears he felt so overpowered by they led him to take his absence more often than he would have done only days ago. Yet he would never know that he was the death of three innocent women. From then on their interactions were scarce, and slowly they both faded from the minds of each other till they were nothing but memories.
