A/N- Once again, this chapter almost didn't happen. And unlike last chapter, this one wasn't even planned. But I think it was a very necessary chapter, and I think you'll agree with me once you've read it. Also, my inner seamstress went a bit nuts researching preferred fabrics and fashions of the day, and let me tell you they were even more psychotic about all that nonsense then than we are today!
Chapter 8
December 1, 1830
Éponine gazed at herself once more in Musichetta's mirror, and this time she felt she had something to smile about. She still wasn't what you would call beautiful- in fact, she didn't hold out much hope for ever being more than plain- but it made such a difference to have a gown that fit her properly!
Musichetta had dragged her out to a seamstress, who had looked horrified at the sight of Éponine in the older girl's ill-fitting garments. The lighthearted blonde had explained cheerfully that her "dear cousin Éponine" had just gone through a tremendous growth spurt and said with a delightfully wicked smile that not a single one of her old gowns fit anymore.
"Which, of course, is a tragedy," Musichetta had explained, "Because she's due to be married in a week!"
This was manifestly untrue, but (combined with the money Musichetta flashed about) it certainly persuaded the seamstress to promise the fastest work of her life.
Éponine came to the conclusion that, despite appearances, there wasn't really all that much difference between herself and the people in whose company she had suddenly found herself. The Amis and Musichetta both seemed to be perfectly willing to do every bit as much lying as her family ever had. The only difference, as far as she could tell, was motivation.
So now Éponine was the owner of not one but three dresses all her own. There were to be two simple moire gowns for daily wear, one in blue and one in a pale lavender. The latter was the only one the seamstress had yet finished, and therefore the one she was wearing. Musichetta had wanted green to show off Éponine's copper hair, but no fabric in a suitable color could be found in time so she had forgone emerald in favor of a dark peacock blue for the second dress. The third was to be for special occasions, and Éponine had seen a picture of the pattern the seamstress would use, and she had a hard time believing it would really be hers, a fantastic creation of fine silk and lace in a color Musichetta had described as "lemon chiffon," whatever that meant. The two everyday gowns were finer by far than anything she had worn since she was only a child, and the idea of anything finer completely overwhelmed her.
"It hardly even looks like me," she said softly.
Musichetta peered over her shoulder. "You look lovely."
"Exactly. I'm afraid I'll get it dirty," Éponine said. Forget dirty, she was afraid to breathe around this dress! "I'm not meant for fine things like this!"
The blonde giggled. "Oh 'Ponine, you worry too much! You're about to become the wife of a very wealthy man. Enjoy it. You're not a gamine anymore, you'll never be a grisette. You're about to become bourgeois at the very least, if your fiancé can afford to throw around that sort of money without even thinking about it!"
Éponine nodded, biting her lip. How on earth was she to do this? Not even three weeks ago, she was sleeping in haylofts and under bridges and begging to earn her dinner. Suddenly she was dressing in silk and expected to fool Antoine's family into believing she was a former working-class girl who had caught their haughty son's eye? She was a consummate liar, but she wasn't sure she was that good of an actress.
"Tell you what," Musichetta said excitedly, "Now that the dress has come in, we shall have to go and find you some other things as well! I have some left over from what Enjolras gave me for you. We can buy you a coat and some pretty hats and pins and things- oh, what fun that will be!"
Éponine bobbed her head mutely once more. What could she do but just go along with this? Besides, even as unsettling as it was, way down deep it did feel good to be well-dressed and looked after.
Musichetta excused herself for a few moments to run a few blocks down to the bakery to buy a few loaves to complete the evening meal she was planning. Éponine continued to stare at herself in the mirror. She touched her hair, which she had done for herself for the first time in her life. It did not look as tidy as when Musichetta had shown her how, but she was sure she would learn to do it properly with practice.
A knock sounded on the door of the little flat. Éponine ran to respond, thinking it to be Musichetta having forgotten her key, but when she opened the door, she found Marius looking back at her instead. She felt her heart speed up at the sight of him and she was sure her cheeks flushed a little.
"Monsieur Marius!" she exclaimed happily. "Come in!"
"Éponine," he said with a smile. "You look lovely."
He thinks I look lovely! Lovely, lovely, lovely, lovely...
"Thank you," she said, and she knew she was blushing now. She pulled him into the apartment eagerly and guided him into Musichetta's tiny parlor. "Come in, Marius, and sit with me awhile! What on earth are you doing here?"
Marius said, "We went to see your father yesterday."
Éponine's eyes widened. "What did you do that for?"
"You're underage, Éponine," he told her. "We've falsified your documents, of course, so there won't be any legal questions about getting your father's permission or any of all that business, but... well, you know your father. You know what sort of things he does." He looked distinctly uncomfortable saying this sort of thing. Éponine couldn't see why. The truth was the truth, even if it hurt. "If he found out about you marrying Enjolras without consulting him, heaven only knows what he'd do! He would cause all sorts of problems... Enjolras certainly has enough to worry about without having legal difficulties on top of it all! Not to mention you'd be in trouble."
He cares, Éponine thought gladly. He doesn't want me to get in trouble!
"So you went to the Gorbeau house? All by yourself?"
He shook his head. "No, of course not. Enjolras took both Bahorel and I along, which was rather astute of him as it turns out."
"It was Antoine's idea?" Éponine asked, disappointed.
"Not exactly. I was the one who proposed dealing with your father now rather than later, but he was the one who wanted to ask for your hand in marriage, though."
Éponine couldn't help it: she laughed out loud. Marius looked at her as if she were mad, which didn't surprise her. Around him, she felt mad. Once she had caught her breath a little, she said, "Oh, he is a foolish boy! Asking for my father's permission? Yes, he is foolish."
"He only wants to do the right thing," Marius said in a disapproving tone.
She shook her head. "It is sweet of him, I suppose, but he should know better than that. Or you should have told him."
"Éponine, he only wants to do what is right for the pair of you," Marius replied. "He and I both only want what is right for you. Trying to appease your father now was the best way to ensure that. I won't go into all the minutiae, but we have managed to ensure your father's silence. He won't bother you anymore, 'Ponine."
She heard but did not really register anything after 'he and I both,' her head spinning with those words. Yes, Marius cared. Maybe now that she was prettier, she could get him to see it, too? "Marius," she said softly, "Does it not bother you that I am marrying one of your closest friends?"
"Of course not," he said easily. "As I said, I want to see you happy, 'Ponine. Won't being off the streets and safe with Enjolras make you happy?"
Not as much as you would, she wanted to scream. "I suppose it will," she said, resisting the temptation to scream. "I'm not likely to get a better offer, am I?" Like an offer from you.
Marius smiled. "Enjolras is a good man," he said. "Probably the best man I know, though he may not seem like it at first. I know he takes some warming up to, but believe me... you couldn't end up with anyone better."
I could end up with you! Éponine cried silently.
At that moment the door swung open and Musichetta sauntered over the threshold. Marius rose quickly to his feet. She stopped dead upon seeing Marius. "Who are you?" she asked.
"This is my friend, Monsieur le Baron Marius Pontmercy," Éponine said. Musichetta raised an eyebrow, prompting Éponine to add, "He and I have known each other for several years, and he is also a friend of Antoine's."
Musichetta's expression relaxed into her usual coy smile. "Oh, well don't let me interrupt you," she said. "Go on as if I weren't even here!"
Marius stared after Musichetta for a moment as she walked out of the room. Éponine wasn't surprised. Everyone stared at Musichetta. Well, everyone male, anyway. "You had better be careful," Éponine said, feeling a little stab of envy at Musichetta's beauty. "You may be Joly's friend, but I think he'd pound you just the same."
Marius blinked, turned scarlet, and quickly dropped back into his seat. "Anyway," he said, then paused to clear his throat. "I actually came here for a specific reason. I saw your sister yesterday."
Éponine smiled, despite the pain in her heart. She loved her sister and her rarely-seen younger brother, Gavroche. She didn't always show it the way she probably ought to, but they almost made being part of the Thenardier family worth it. She had always seen Azelma as a weakling, but she was dependable, and Gavroche never failed to make her smile (when she could find him, at least).
"What does 'Zelma say?" she asked.
"She asked me to tell you not to forget her, when you're married," Marius said.
The words struck right to the heart of her. Forget Azelma? Of course not! Never. She would do her very best to forget her father and, to a lesser extent, her mother. But Azelma was her sister!
"Of course I won't forget her!" Éponine exclaimed. "I never forget the people I care about." Feeling daring, she reached out and pressed his hand in her own. "Thank you for bringing me her message. You don't know how much it means, Marius."
He smiled gently at her. "Of course, 'Ponine." Then he glanced at his pocket watch and sighed, getting to his feet. "I should go. They're expecting me at the cafe any minute- I only really stopped by to bring you your sister's message."
"Not to see me?" Éponine asked as he made for the door, hating the fact that she thought she heard a whine in her own voice.
Marius laughed. "I always like seeing you, mon ami."
She nodded without saying a word.
"Goodbye, Musichetta!" he called. "I'll say hello to Joly for you, shall I?" A muffled reply could be heard from the next room and, satisfied, Marius turned back to Éponine. "Goodbye, 'Ponine."
He left.
Éponine shut the door behind him and leaned her back against it, closing her eyes against the tears threatening to spill. "Goodbye," she whispered.
All at once, she heard Musichetta say, very close to her, "Mon dieu, Éponine, what is wrong with you?"
She opened her eyes to find the shorter girl staring at her very intently. "What?" she asked tiredly.
Musichetta grabbed her by the hand and dragged her over to the chair she had just vacated, pushing her down into it and taking up residence in the other. "You care for him, don't you! That's why you're so cool about your fiancé, isn't it?"
"And so what if I do?" Éponine snapped.
"Well, there's nothing really wrong with that," Musichetta said, "except that it makes you foolish!"
"Everyone says I am foolish," Éponine muttered. "Go on, then. Why do you think I am a fool?"
Musichetta, to her credit, either did not notice Éponine's snappish tone or was gracious enough to overlook it. "Éponine, you'll endanger everything you stand to gain with Enjolras if you keep moping after that other boy!"
"I can't help it," Éponine said sadly. "I love him."
"And he...?"
"Doesn't seem to see me."
Musichetta's violet eyes turned sympathetic. "Oh you poor dear," she said. "I suppose, given how you were living, it's maybe not surprising. Still, it's never fair when you're torn in two, is it?"
"What would you know?" Éponine sighed enviously. "You're madly in love with someone who loves you back."
"That doesn't mean I don't sometimes feel divided," Musichetta said. She turned a little pink. "May I confide in you, Éponine?"
She nodded, not really caring one way or another right now.
"I... well, the truth is, there was a time when I almost left Alexandre for Laigle."
Of all the things that Musichetta could have said, that was the last thing Éponine had expected. "What?" she exclaimed.
The blonde looked down at her lap with wistful eyes. "I care very much for both of them," she explained. "They are both such good boys... I suppose I am a little bit in love with both, really. And at the time, I felt certain I must love Laigle more. I thought I would surely die if I couldn't be with him. I was a coward, though. Joly is well-off, his parents are bourgeois. If there is any future for us, Alexandre would be able to provide for me. Laigle... well, he's a darling, but he can hardly keep a roof over his own head, let alone look after a mistress or a wife."
Éponine gaped. "So you're only with Joly because he is wealthier?"
Musichetta laughed her tinkling laugh, with an edge of sad wisdom to it. "No. It's much more complicated than that. I love him. Truly, I do. And what I felt then for Laigle faded with time, though of course I still care for him. I took the safe path, I chose the safe man, and I'm glad I did. Alexandre and I are good together. But that doesn't mean I don't sometimes wonder what would have come if I had taken the risk and... well." She looked intently at Éponine. "Do you understand why I am telling you this?"
"Not really," Éponine confessed.
"What I'm trying to say is, you have these feelings for this Marius, and you think he's the only one for you. But Enjolras wants to marry you. He'll take care of you. And it might never be the same with him as it could have been with Marius, but it's the safe thing to do."
Éponine sighed. "But Antoine doesn't love me, and from what I know of him, he isn't likely to. And I don't love him, either. It's foolish, as you say, for someone like me to be so picky when I've got such an opportunity at my fingertips, but I... I don't want to be without love."
"Does Marius care for you in that way?" Musichetta asked.
"I want him to, but..."
"But it seems unlikely?"
"Yes."
"Then make the safe choice- the wise choice. Marry the man who'll have you."
Éponine sighed. Wasn't that what she had already decided to do? So why was it so hard to hear from someone else's lips?
A/N- Next chapter is nuptials!
Reviews, pretty please?
