A/N: Time for the Jehan/Azelma series. The events of Chapter 67 of WAMP, from Azelma's POV
13: That Famed Thenardier Courage
She was given the gray dress that day, a garment as delicate and inconspicuous as a cobweb. 'It's the second finest thing I've got though,' Azelma reminded herself as she finished putting up her braids into a knot. Her finest dress, a purple silk gown, had been for last night's party, and besides today was not a time to draw much attention. 'At least for some,' she told herself as she cast a look around the room she'd been given in the Lafontaines' manor. It was rather sumptuous owing to its thick satin and damask draperies and the fact that there was a proper vanity table in the room, but it was definitely not as cozy as Jehan's tiny apartment. Azelma squeezed her eyes shut to block away the dear memories of this apartment before taking a deep breath and giving herself one last look in the mirror. Only then she headed downstairs to the front hall of the Lafontaine residence to wait for Angelique and Cerise, who were most likely still fussing over their toilette.
Much to Azelma's relief, Angelique was already at the doorway. "We're going to the Abbaye Aux Bois," Angelique announced. She looked every bit the grand matron in a cerulean gown with a matching cape. "You should be honored that Citizenness Recamier and Citizen Chateaubriand will receive us," she said pointedly to Azelma.
"I've heard of her," Azelma remarked in a thin tone. Of course she knew of two of the leading members of the city's aging elite. It was impossible to totally escape at least the mention of them during the course of the recently concluded campaign for the legislature, even if she had never been so privileged as to step into the Recamier salon or catch Chateaubriand at one of his rare public appearances. 'What will they do when they no longer count for so much?' she wondered silently as she watched Angelique admonishing Cerise, who'd just made her entrance dressed in a fine lavender gown trimmed with the finest Valeciennes lace.
Cerise smiled beatifically at Azelma. "I'm sure you'll enjoy it there; it's so sophisticated. You'll probably even meet a handsome swain who'll do so much better than a wild poet in sweeping you off your feet."
'Only when you're through with them,' Azelma almost said, but she focused more on swallowing the bitterness welling up in her throat, more so when she could hear Justine, the other Lafontaine girl, crying bitterly on the other side of the door. She could not think of a worse way to partake of someone's leftovers, especially if it was only to be crumbs of adoration. 'They won't be anything like Jehan,' she mused, picturing again the sweet but valiant poet who probably wanted nothing to do with her after her very public betrayal. Not even a royal ransom of rubies could ever mend the rift.
Angelique gave Azelma another warning look. "I won't have you going off just because we are at the Latin Quartier. You know that Citizenness Recamier would not just admit anyone-"
"I wouldn't dream of it," Azelma replied curtly.
"Not even that sister of yours."
At this, Azelma bit the inside of her cheek. Though the Abbaye Aux-Bois was a little way from the usual haunts of her siblings and their friends, it was not inconceivable for them to be in the general area or to be just passing through. "I cannot ignore them," she said.
"Azelma, please. We'll be late or we won't go anyplace if you're going to acknowledge everyone you know there," Cerise taunted. "If you like it so much, you can go back there."
"Well you know why I can't," Azelma said stiffly. After the scene at the Odeon just a few weeks ago, there was no way she could take up residence in the area without exciting comment. 'And I've brought enough trouble upon everyone else,' she thought, willing herself yet another time to forget all the tearful scenes with Jehan, Eponine, and Enjolras on the night of the play and the day after when she'd left the Latin Quartier. Nevertheless, the gnawing ache in her chest still remained, despite Cerise's attempt to turn the talk towards the people they would meet at the salon.
Her bleak mood did not improve in the slightest when she and the Lafontaines arrived at the abbey. Almost immediately they had spotted old acquaintances and left her to stand by the far well, unnoticed by nearly everyone. 'I used to have a seat near the middle of the room,' she thought bitterly as she watched the Lafontaines cajoling their hostess, who was clearly in the center of much conversation. Azelma's own 'seat near the middle' had been during script readings and rehearsals, nights when Courfeyrac, Paulette, Grantaire, Bahorel, Therese, Bossuet, and other friends would be too intoxicated with absinthe and laughter to get home on their own feet. As 'unsophisticated' as it might have seemed, Azelma now dearly longed for it, especially if she could actually remember laughing during those occasions. 'I don't think they'd miss me now, not after what I did,' she thought as she asked a manservant for a glass of wine.
A wheezing sound came from a corner and Azelma turned to see a bellicose banker raising a glass of wine by way of greeting. "What is a goddess like you doing alone? Do you actually mean to portray Silence?" he teased.
Azelma felt as if her tongue had stuck to the roof of her mouth. "I need some air," she said.
"Azelma, don't be unfriendly, come sit here," Angelique called. "Really now, must you be so rude?" she added in an undertone. "And you shouldn't go with that gentleman, he's of the most classless sort."
"Classless?"
"A merchant from out of town."
It was all that Azelma could do not to roll her eyes especially at the way Angelique had shuddered at the words 'from out of town'. "He's the same as me. I'm from Montfermeil," she muttered.
"You haven't been back there in years, so you're Parisian," Angelique argued, shaking Azelma sharply.
Azelma crossed her arms at this line of reasoning but before she could remonstrate, someone had called Angelique's attention and the older woman had sallied off towards this distraction. She saw Cerise giving her a suspicious look before returning to preening before two dandies. 'She'll scream at me if I try to join them,' she thought, so she instead took a seat on a low stool at the fringes of the conversation, just so she could listen to the animated banter between Chateaubriand and a younger author.
In the middle of this engaging conversation, Cerise's laughter suddenly rang above the din. "That playwright Prouvaire is handsome but he is such a curious and queer one. I don't see why a man so rich has to live in a garret, dress so badly, and go about selling his scrawled verses-" she said. She paused when she saw Azelma looking their way. "Does he make much?"
"Yes; he doesn't have to write anyone for money. He doesn't go about, people come to him," Azelma corrected. She could guess a little what picture Cerise was trying to evoke, if the smug looks on the dandies' faces were any indicator. "He's that good. He doesn't need to starve. He wrote one of the best plays at the Odeon within the past two years."
"Yes, we watched it. Quite the sensation, really," an older critic said approvingly. "It is a little raw in execution; you should tell him that so he can speak with the cast. But on the whole it shows great promise. I want to see him and Dumas work on something together."
"If Dumas would consent to it!" another man laughed. "There will be a rivalry soon for the best poet in the Latin Quartier!"
Azelma couldn't help smiling with pride at this high praise for Jehan, even as she noticed the sly and disapproving looks that the Lafontaines and their cronies were exchanging. "Maybe not just the Latin Quartier, but Paris and beyond," she said slowly.
"Well there will be no accounting for taste," Angelique said curtly. "If you ask me there hasn't been a good poet since Andre Chenier."
"I am surprised that even the youth can take such interest in his work," Chateaubriand told her.
"My husband keeps a fine library and considers Chenier's work as among the greatest acquisitions," Angelique replied.
Azelma almost rolled her eyes at this exaggeration; Auguste Lafontaine hardly went to the house's library, and in fact that room would have fallen in total disrepair were it not for the slight attention that Justine Lafontaine and a few servants sometimes deigned to give it. She swirled the wine in her glass, barely paying any attention to the continued commentaries about poets and their various predilections or to anything that was said after that as the topic shifted to less incendiary matters.
Suddenly a peal of laughter came from where Cerise was now standing with some friends. "Of course he is courting me. We were introduced at a soiree at my family's home. Actually I saw him before since he was a classmate of my brother's, but we were not formally introduced during that time since my mother did not want my brother bringing his so-called 'radical' friends around," she prattled.
Azelma sat up straight at these words. 'Who is she talking about?' she wondered, even if she already had a sinking feeling in her gut as to who the young man in question might be. She glanced towards Angelique for confirmation, only to see her chatting with some friends from her convent school days.
In the meanwhile Cerise did not hide the smile on her face as murmurs and nods spread throughout the salon. She gingerly adjusted her grip on her wine glass as she waited for her captive audience to fall silent. "It goes without saying that he is too discreet and decorous to make a show of it. It is part of his good breeding, that is for sure. You'll see what he'll do just yet."
"His Jacobinian vertu more likely," Chateaubriand muttered.
Cerise shrugged at this elderly gentleman's comment. "I am so sure he'll ask my brother one of these days about the, you know what," she giggled. "Isn't it right, Angelique?"
"Mmhmm," her sister-in-law murmured absent-mindedly, sipping from her own glass of wine.
Azelma's eyes widened at this exchange. There was no doubt that Cerise was referring to Enjolras; there was no other man who occupied Cerise's thoughts almost to the point of driving her to silliness. 'Even if she knows perfectly well that he is already in love with my sister,' she thought as she tightened her grip on her wineglass. She had heard something to the effect that Enjolras had said a few startling words about this matter directly after the recently concluded trial of the jeweller Duchamp. 'Probably something good though, or I would hear about Ponine being upset,' she thought as she turned her attention towards Cerise and Angelique.
"It is good that you apparently approve of the match, Citizenness Lafontaine," their hostess Juliette Recamier said demurely to Angelique.
"Were you any younger, Citizenness Recamier, I think he would be a good match for you," one pug-faced wag teased.
"Certainly not. He is too passionate for my temperament!" Juliette Recamier said.
"Naturally, only one with the particular charms of Citizenness Cerise Lafontaine deserves to be the wife of a legislator, especially one so promising," another young man said in a tone that was meant to be envious. "I was under the impression though that he intended to live a celibate life?"
"Obviously not! And you know he never looks at anyone else, which is another great quality of his," Cerise prattled on. "Anyway I give it a year, and I will be Citizenness Enjolras. Naturally you are all invited to the wedding-"
This was too much for Azelma, who was now almost sure she could shatter the glass in her grip. Without a doubt this talk would start a rumor, one that would be embarrassing and painful to set to rights. For all that was right and wrong between her and Eponine, Azelma was still not one to stand for something so damaging to her only sister, especially if she could prevent it. Her next breath came as clear words. "What wedding?"
For a moment she felt her breath stop in her throat as she realized that all eyes were slowly turning in her direction. She cleared her throat more demurely as she looked at Cerise. "If there is to be a wedding, your wedding I mean, I don't think he's going to be involved."
"Azelma..." Cerise trailed off.
Angelique gave Azelma yet another reproving look. "Now, now Citizenness Thenardier, I am sure that you must have heard the situation a little differently-"
"I know what I heard, and I know what I see here and elsewhere," Azelma said as she suddenly realized that her voice was louder than before. "I can't believe you would tell such a lie, Citizenness Lafontaine. It's no secret who Citizen Enjolras is very closely associated with-and it is not with you."
"What do you mean? It is that propagandist...the one named Ponina, or something like that..." the pug-faced wag said.
"Eponine Thenardier," Juliette Recamier corrected him. "Of course, how could I forget her? I met her before in this very room. A very clever girl, even somewhat sweet, if I recall." She smiled kindly at Azelma. "She is your older sister, I take that?"
Azelma nodded proudly, remembering that her sister had mentioned meeting this lady too during the campaign. "The only one I have."
Cerise rolled her eyes, if only to keep from shrinking under the increasingly questioning gazes being thrown her way. "Citizenness Recamier, I believe my friend is confused. Citizen Enjolras does know Citizenness Thenardier the elder, but it is not as if they are particular friends or anything of that sort. They only run in the same Radicaux circles," she said with a laugh as she went over to Azelma.
Azelma stepped away, knowing that Cerise was about to pinch her. "Stop this."
Cerise looked at her imperiously. "Why, what is the matter?" she demanded.
"I won't stand near you if you're simply going to tell a heap of lies about my sister," Azelma hissed.
"Why and what is the actual story between Citizen Enjolras and your sister?" another society matron asked, raising an eyebrow.
"He's courting her. You can ask anyone in the Latin Quartier about that," Azelma said. She felt almost ridiculous explaining something that should have been obvious even to a blind man. "They work together, they spend a great deal of time together and he gives her particular attention," she added.
"Hah, as a mistress!" Cerise laughed.
"She's not his mistress. Do you think he would ever do that, since he is as respectable as you like to say he is?" Azelma retorted, drawing herself up to her full height.
"They live in the same house-"
"Well if you think he is doing such a thing, why do you bother with him?"Azelma challenged.
Cerise paled at this question. "She isn't respectable," she spat.
"I have heard talk that Citizenness Thenardier, the elder in particular, is associated with that new political society of women," the pug faced wag said sceptically.
"Why that would make her a perfect match for Citizen Enjolras, him being a radical legislator!" Chateaubriand said, sharing a knowing look with Juliette Recamier.
"My dear Citizenness Lafontaine, are you quite sure you were referring to the same man?" a matron asked. "Because I have seen Citizen Enjolras and Citizenness Thenardier together in public, and while they are decorous, there is obviously a strong affection there."
"And he has said that they have a mutual attachment. His words, not mine," another young man noted. He smiled admiringly at Azelma. "I believe you are in the right of it, Citizenness."
"Thank you Citizen," Azelma said over the hubbub of ensuing conversation. Suddenly the room felt stifling and she was all too aware of the venomous look that Angelique was giving her. She then set down her wineglass and made an awkward sort of half curtsy to their hostess. "I am sorry, but I must leave. Maybe I'll be here at some better time," she said, trying not to gasp.
"Are you well, Citizenness?" Juliette Recamier asked.
"I think I am now," Azelma said. "Goodbye," she added over her shoulder before walking quickly out of the room. She was not even a few paces away from the door when she already heard footsteps behind her but she willed herself not to look back as she ran towards the abbey door, nearly tripping over the hem of her gown in the process. She threw the door open and ran out into the yard, but before she could get to the gate, someone ran up in front of her.
"Just where do you think you're going?" Cerise shouted, trying to grab her. "How dare you walk out, after saying such horrible things!"
"You were the one who started it," Azelma spat. "Now let me go!" she added, half pushing Cerise away and running to the abbey gate. She slammed it shut before Cerise could reach her. "I'm not going with you and Angelique any more, ever!"
"So you think you can simply leave? After everything that Angelique and I have done for you, this is the sort of gratitude we get?" Cerise screeched as she grabbed the steel gate.
"I can't thank you for making me feel terrible even when you say you're trying to make me look nice. I am tired of following you around, and Angelique telling me all the time what to do especially when she's being horrible to other people. You've been horrible to me ever since that meeting at the Place Vendome," Azelma snapped.
"Because you did what you weren't supposed to do! Just because she is your sister, that doesn't mean you had to choose her in that silly election," Cerise seethed.
"You didn't have to be there either. I know you didn't even want to go," Azelma said. They had almost been late since Cerise did not want to get out of bed. However that incident was now the least of her problems, and Azelma was determined to drive the point across. "I also don't like what you say about so many other people, like Jehan, or my sister, or my brother."
"Brother? Your brothers are still children, why would I bother with any of them?"
"Not them. My older brother, at least he will be someday."
Cerise's jaw dropped. "How could you say such a thing?"
"It's much better than what you have been trying to make everyone believe about him and you," Azelma shot back. "I'm telling Jehan too what you said about him back there-"
"He'll have nothing to do with you," Cerise hissed. "After what you did, with that money and the necklace? It's still a mess, even with that horrible man Citizen Duchamp in prison. He'll never want a horrible liar, someone from the lowest gutter-"
Azelma saw red and she kicked the gate, making Cerise jump back. Cerise stared for a long moment before running back to the abbey, howling that Azelma had gone mad. "And maybe I have," Azelma muttered under her breath, suddenly feeling shaky as she walked away from the convent and broke into a run. She desperately hoped that if she was going to burst out in tears, it would not be in public.
She had not gone far when she heard a steady set of footsteps on the street. She turned to snap at this person but she realized quickly that following her was none other than Enjolras. It was clear from the wry and questioning look on his face that he was somehow aware of the recent row. Azelma had to choke back a relieved sob as she went to meet him; it had been so long since anyone had looked at her without the slightest bit of disgust. "She's awful. Am I glad to be gone, and am I glad to see you!" she managed to say.
"You should speak to Eponine as soon as you can," Enjolras simply said.
This reply brought Azelma up short. 'From one trouble to another,' she thought but she knew better than to protest. Of course Enjolras, or for that matter any of their friends, would make this suggestion. "Is she at the Rue des Macons now?"
"Most likely. What do you plan to do?" he said calmly.
"After I tell Ponine about this, I will send for my things," Azelma blurted out. 'It's only fair at least; they can't keep my dresses,' she thought. Nevertheless this question was sobering; now it seemed as if she was standing at the edge of a void and her purported brother had little more than a thin lifeline to guide her through it.
He only nodded to this. Very well then, and do you already know where will you stay?"
"I could go to the Pontmercys; I know Cosette won't turn me away," Azelma blurted out. She nearly cringed at the surprised look that Enjolras gave her and she decided that if she was going to walk with him, she would have to come up with a better answer. "Never mind that I said that. Ponine will help me think of something better than the streets. How is Jehan?"
"He is still doing well."
These words could only hearten Azelma somewhat; Eponine had said the same thing not too long ago, but there would be no way for her to ascertain this till Azelma saw him with her own eyes. . "I should...I should thank him." She paused to see if Enjolras would be angry, but seeing that his expression did not change, she explained herself further. "Ponine was right about him, I should have spoken to him earlier. Do you think he will be at home some time later?"
"Perhaps. You should also see if he is at the Odeon," Enjolras replied as they reached the corner of the Rue de Chaise. He gestured to an omnibus. "After you, Azelma."
It was all she could do not to sigh with relief as she boarded the vehicle, knowing that her own shoes wouldn't stand the walk. For the rest of the trip she could not bring herself to say anything to him, not when she was so sure that he overheard a great deal of the fight, perhaps even the more incriminating conclusion of it. Yet the words spilled from her lips as they arrived at the area of the Rue des Macons. "Are you angry that I said you were my older brother?" she asked slowly, wondering what he would say to this.
He gave her a pensive look. "More of surprised."
Azelma swallowed hard before she wiped her face with the back of her hand and frowned at the rouge that came off. She would have laughed at this sight, but for now there was something more important to explain to him, now that he seemed to have taken her confidence in stride. "Cerise was bragging to all those people we were visiting that she'll become 'Citizenness Enjolras' by this time next year."
He snorted. "That is foolishness."
"I told her so, and that was the beginning of the row," she said. It was all she could tell him without sounding like the gossips she had just left behind. She felt a frisson of nervousness as she followed Enjolras to the house, more so when she caught sight of Eponine working at her desk. 'She might not be happy to see me,' she realized but she steeled herself to enter the building.
Eponine lost no time in meeting them in the hall. "What happened? I know you two are here for a reason," she asked curiously.
Azelma had to will herself to collect the words, but the fact that Eponine did not seem too angry was a good sign. "I'm no longer staying with the Lafontaines," she said.
Eponine's jaw dropped. "You have to tell me all about it in a little bit; we'll talk in that room I was just working in. I just need to talk with Enjolras first."
Azelma knew better than to eavesdrop on Eponine and Enjolras, so she quickly went into the front office, taking care not to tread on the books and papers that her sister left lying about. 'Will I have to get a situation like this?' she wondered as she looked about the front office. Unlike Eponine, she was not particularly gifted with working with books and text; her own skills with words were more intuitive and suited for drama. She knew she was no hand with a needle, nor did she have the patience to work at a stove. 'What sort of thing can I do then?" she wondered as her sister returned to the office.
Eponine motioned for Azelma to take the better chair in the room. "It's a long story, isn't it, Zelma?" she asked, sounding someplace between worried and bemused.
"It's the simplest thing, Ponine.I had a fight with them, and I refuse to go back with them," Azelma said. Hopefully this explanation would suffice. "I'm not going to stay with someone horrid."
"I s'pose it's funny since you called me exactly that not so long ago," Eponine pointed out.
Azelma frowned, remembering the night of their quarrel and how she'd gone so far as to scratch her sister' face. "They're a different sort of horrid. You're only horrible when you're angry or not thinking, they're horrid because they like to be that way."
Eponine snorted. "Well it must have been more than them behaving badly, Zelma."
Azelma sighed. "They were lying and saying horrible things about so many people, even you and Jehan." She saw a curious look cross over sister's face at these words. "Cerise Lafontaine said she's going to marry Enjolras."
"She's only being silly," Eponine said, rolling her eyes. She took a deep breath as she looked at Azelma, almost as if she was unsure what to say. "So where will you go?"
"I don't know. I know you hardly have any room," Azelma said.
"Well if need be, we can talk to Combeferre or someone..." Eponine trailed off. She took a deep breath as she glanced towards the door. "You should know that Prouvaire is here."
Azelma felt as if her heart had suddenly stopped. "What for?"
"He and Stendhal are working on something," Eponine explained. "I know you've been wanting to go to him. Nothing is stopping you."
"What if he doesn't want to see me?" Azelma asked. Now that she felt she could breathe, the words threatened to come in a torrent. "I never said sorry before I left; I just walked out since I didn't want to embarrass him after that whole mess with the necklace. But I miss him. I really miss him and I want to be sure that he's fine-" She had to stop before she burst out crying. "I know I shouldn't have done it, not to the best person I've ever, ever known."
"You can see him now, this very hour," Eponine said. She pulled a speck of dirt away from her glove. "He loves you, Azelma."
"You mean loved," Azelma whispered, not trusting herself to speak. "Shouldn't he hate me?"
"He doesn't hate you at all," Eponine insisted. "Please, can you trust me on this?"
"You'd better be right," Azelma said even as she nodded. "If he yells at me, I'm not going to see any of you again, Ponine."
Eponine sighed as she got to her feet. "Do you want me to take a look first?"
"Please?" Azelma could feel her heart hammering in her throat as she watched her sister go to the office door and peer out before signing for her to follow. She willed her feet to move towards the hallway, and she had to clap her hand over her mouth when she finally caught sight of Jehan talking to the Stendhals. He was a little more drawn and tired than she remembered, almost as if he had been carrying a great weight on him. Yet after a moment he looked her way and an astonished smile crossed his face as he mouthed her name.
She looked at her sister, just to make sure she wasn't dreaming, even as she felt her feet being dragged forward, towards where Jehan still stood. "Aren't you happy to see me, Jehan?"
Jehan shook his head and for a moment Azelma felt as if she had the wind knocked out of her; there was little point in staying if he was not happy to see her. Before she could turn away, she heard his footsteps and looked up to see him right in front of her. He bent almost as if to caress her, but all she felt were his lips hovering close to her ear. "I can't be only happy, Azelma. I should have gone after you. I'm sorry for letting you walk away," he whispered.
It was finally enough for Azelma, and now she was sure she could not do anything about the hot feeling pricking at her eyes. She flung her arms around him, knowing now she could not stand for another moment to be apart from him. She could feel her own sobs shaking her, but that was swiftly overtaken by the familiar feel of his arms pressing her close to him. "I shouldn't have gone or done those things, Jehan. Can you forgive me for it?" she murmured.
Jehan buried his face in her neck before discreetly kissing her cheek and pulling her closer as if she was the only thing that could keep him from falling. "You didn't have to ask. I just always need the chance to tell you so."
Azelma nodded and breathed easily again, now that she was certain she would never let go.