A/N: For Hiyas. I am not sure how a discussion on Halloween resulted into this plot bunny within the WAMP verse.
Charlesette is actually a character created by a friend of mine, Clovelyliz. Many thanks to her.
The Marriage of a Paladin
June 27, 1848
Although weddings were always occasions to celebrate, especially in a certain overly extended family of the radical persuasion, it was generally agreed that the wedding of Citizen Maurice Courfeyrac to Citizenness Charlesette Karolyn was a landmark in itself. 'If only to finally unleash years of over-anticipation," Francois Combeferre noted as he finished buttoning up his best coat, taking care not to rumple the paper he kept folded in one pocket. He adjusted his spectacles before looking to a new clock in the small sitting room of his home at Picpus. The time was just half-past six in the morning, a good enough hour for mischief as well as the prevention of it.
The sound of chatter on the second floor drew Combeferre out of his reverie and he turned in time to see his seven year old son traipsing his way down the stairs. "Right on time, Remy," Combeferre said approvingly as he went to the child. "Where are your Maman and your sister?"
Remy hopped off the last step, only to nearly trip on a dangling bootlace. He caught himself at the last moment and straightened up, all the while brushing his dark hair out of his eyes. "Yvette is fussing about her ribbons and Maman is trying to help her out," he reported. "Are they going to take long, Papa?"
"No. You'll see them in a minute," Combeferre said. He could always trust in Claudine's efficiency in dealing with their daughter's foibles, especially on particularly hectic days. "Are you ready for today, little man?" he asked Remy.
The boy nodded eagerly. "Papa, what are you going to do at Uncle Courfeyrac's wedding?"
"I'm one of his groomsmen, so that means I have to help out with giving a speech and some other things for later," Combeferre explained.
Remy wrinkled his nose. "What's a speech?"
"It's when someone has to stand up and say something at an occasion." Combeferre had to keep a straight face at his son's quizzical expression. "It's something that happens at big parties, Remy."
"Bigger parties than the one Yvette and I have every year?" Remy asked.
"Grown-up parties," Combeferre amended. "The very official sort."
Remy nodded again, but this time he pulled a face and stuck out his tongue as he looked to the stairway. "You're going so slow, Yvette!" he teased his twin sister.
"I'm trying to be a lady, Remy!" Yvette retorted. Indeed she looked the part in a new pink dress covered with lace paired with new black ankle boots, but it was clear that she was not yet used to these very fussy garments. She looked up imploringly at her mother. "Maman, can you tell him I'm a lady?"
"You're always a lady, Yvie," Claudine said as she squeezed her daughter's arm reassuringly. She was dressed in a darker shade of pink, and had swept back her brown hair from her face in a modest knot. "Remy, whether she looks like a lady or not, she's still your sister. Be nice," she chided.
"You heard your Maman," Combeferre said to the two children before exchanging a smile with Claudine. Though at past forty years of age she had a few lines on her face, especially around her eyes, these marks only served to give her a more regal air, such that Combeferre found himself staring at her till she gave him a knowing wink. He cleared his throat before taking her arm. "I don't think we've had a morning this hectic since our trip to London," he remarked
"It was hardly enough time to discuss the new publications with Citizenness Lovelace-I should wish to speak with her personally once more because merely corresponding does not do justice to mathematics," Claudine pointed out. "If her health permits, I should invite her here to visit, and perhaps if you can manage it, schedule a lecture at the Sorbonne?"
"That would be interesting," Combeferre concurred. There were some interesting advantages to becoming one of the deans of this institution, one of which was the privilege of inviting guests every month or two to deliver lectures on special topics. 'First things first though,' he reminded himself when he heard Remy and Yvette racing each other to the door.
The men of the wedding party were set to gather at Courfeyrac's apartment near the Quai d'Ecole before the entourage would proceed to call on the bride and the ladies at the Karolyn residence near the Ile de Cite. When Combeferre arrived at his friend's home he immediately caught sight of a gangly but impeccably dressed boy pulling garish streamers off a carriage. "What's happened there, Armand?" he asked.
"Someone has put a prank on this," Armand Courfeyrac said as he kicked away a particularly obnoxiously colored pennant. At fifteen he was quite the spitting image of his father, save for the fact he had a dimple in his right cheek. "I can't let Father or Aunt Charlesette-I mean, Citizenness Karolyn, see this!"
"Then thank whoever it was that he or she did not use paint," Combeferre remarked as he began to help Armand dispose of the last of the wayward streamers. "You need not refer to your stepmother so formally, especially after today," he advised.
Armand's cheeks reddened for a moment. "Would it be right though? I mean my mother..."
"Would have wanted you and your father to be happy," Combeferre reassured him. The fierce devotion that Armand had to his living parent as well as his mother's memory was heartening as well as startling; it was a well known fact that a jibe against his parents was among the very few things that could sully the younger Courfeyrac's sunny temperament. 'A boy who was raised a little too well,' he noted silently.
Armand suddenly turned at the sound of footsteps approaching the house. "Good morning Uncle," he said by way of greeting. "Was it really part of the plan to be here early today?"
Antoine Enjolras nodded as he clasped his godson's shoulder and then clapped Combeferre on the back. As usual his attire was understated; his only concession to revelry was to change the color of his waistcoat to a less somber maroon, but it befitted the elegant statesman that he was. Nevertheless traces of his youthfulness could still be caught in the warm smile that crossed his face when he was in good company. "Not early enough on some counts," he said as he gestured to the pile of discarded streamers. "Is your father upstairs?" he asked Armand.
The boy nodded. "He said he'd like a moment to himself but that was a while back," he said. He gestured to a valise lying in the doorway. "So we'll come here for my things later?"
"Whenever you're ready," Enjolras said. "He'll stay over at the Rue Guisarde for the next week," he explained to Combeferre.
"As always," Combeferre said approvingly. During times when Courfeyrac had to take cases outside of Paris, Armand usually stayed either with the Pontmercy family at the Rue des Filles du Calvaire, or with the Enjolras-Thenardier family at the Rue Guisarde. 'Hence his being an only child who didn't grow up alone,' Combeferre noted; it was a known fact that young Armand got along a little too well with the children of both households, and thus often involved at least a friend or two in various misadventures.
Armand checked his own watch. "I'll tell my father you're here. About the carriage-"
"It looks cleaned up enough," Combeferre said. He waited for Armand's footsteps to fade before nodding to Enjolras. "I had expected to find worse here today in the way of practical jokes," he pointed out ruefully.
Enjolras raised an eyebrow. "Some of us have learned temperance."
"Some. You said it."
"Which is why Eponine is going on ahead to the Hotel de Ville to see to things. Pontmercy may be there too, as well as the Prouvaires."
Combeferre rolled his eyes. "Let us hope that any poetic raptures—as Jehan says-will be saved for the reception later. We cannot afford a repeat of his and Azelma's recent mishap in Istanbul."
"Indeed," Enjolras said, turning to look now where the two Courfeyracs were now emerging from the house. "How are you, my friend?" he asked the bridegroom.
"Nervous, and I believe I have every right to be," Courfeyrac said with a grin that was both mirthful and yet filled with a wry sort of dread. "I realized that there have only been a handful of weddings I've attended wherein I was not too overtaken by mirth."
Enjolras touched Courfeyrac's arm. "I believe that there will be some limit to the extent of pranks and shenanigans, for the sake of Citizenness Karolyn."
"Charlesette has never had a problem with anyone's antics," Courfeyrac said fondly. "Her side of the family however...I almost fear that her father will not let us bring her to the ceremony."
"I doubt her father's refusal will change her mind," Combeferre pointed out more mirthfully. "She loves you, very dearly."
"Which makes her the bravest woman I know-no offense meant to your wives, of course," Courfeyrac said to his friends. "You know what I mean."
Combeferre nodded as he and his companions went to the carriage. It had been quite a shock when, after so many years of being a bachelor dedicated to raising his only child, Courfeyrac had begun earnestly courting a childhood acquaintance, Charlesette Karolyn. No one was sure what had been more difficult-convincing Charlesette of the earnestness of his suit, or obtaining the blessing of Charlesette's very staid father. There had been no doubt though that eventually Courfeyrac's gallant nature would win the day, and of course the lady's hand.
It was a short trip to the Karolyn residence, which was on a wide street that was now crowded with friends and hangers-on waiting for the entourage. Courfeyrac alighted from the carriage a good way from the house and made his way through the cheering crowd. "Charlesette! My apologies-" he called, only to trail off when he was met at the doorway by another old friend, Musichetta Joly. "Chetta, where's Charlesette?" Courfeyrac asked.
"Upstairs. She's just a little queasy with nerves-" Musichetta began nervously as she tucked a wayward curl behind her ear.
"It's not nerves! I'm perfectly fine!" Charlesette called from the stairway. Even from afar she was a vision to behold, wearing a dress of the finest white lace and an antique veil crowned with orange flowers. Her gray eyes brightened with anticipation when she caught Courfeyrac's gaze. "I am sorry if I gave you a fright, Maurice. This day has been overwhelming"
Courfeyrac smiled sympathetically before he kissed her hand. "Then there's no use in prolonging it. We've waited long enough."
Charlesette nodded eagerly before looking to a white haired gentleman talking to some neighbours. "Papa, shall we go to the Hotel de Ville now?"
Vincent Karolyn smiled at his daughter but scowled slightly at his future son in law as well as Armand. "This is all in the way of an entourage? I had expected more relations."
"I could not possibly bring the entire family here; they have all agreed to meet us at the Hotel de Ville," Courfeyrac replied bravely.
'He means us,' Combeferre realized, a notion which was confirmed when he caught Enjolras' serious look as well as the shocked and admiring glances from the other guests in the front room. Even after all these years the rest of the de Courfeyrac clan in Gascony refused to acknowledge its youngest son, reasoning in their words that it was 'on account of the bastard he refuses to give up'. 'Their loss,' Combeferre couldn't help thinking, more so when he saw how Charlesette took a step so that she was standing closer to her fiancé and his son.
Vincent Karolyn looked at the young people for a long moment before stepping forward to take his daughter's arm, a gesture which produced a sigh of relief throughout the company. "As you said we've waited long enough," he said gruffly before motioning for everyone to proceed outside the house.
By this time Combeferre found Claudine and the twins in this crowd. "Not nerves?" he asked Claudine in an undertone.
Claudine shook her head and discreetly gestured to her midsection. "Let them have it out in their own time," she whispered.
Combeferre sighed deeply. 'You've done it again, my friend,' he thought but he closed his mouth before Armand, Enjolras, or anyone else could give him questioning looks. "Who else knows?"
"Chetta and me, but I think most of us ladies may be able to guess," Claudine said before reaching out to grab Yvette before she could run off to grab some sweets. "Charlesette will be fine."
"I know, but now I worry for her father's nerves, and Courfeyrac's," Combeferre remarked.
Claudine laughed. "He'll be fine. When has any one of us done anything in the proper order? Us before our wedding for instance."
"I still worry about meeting your father in whatever afterlife there is, and what he'll have to say about it," Combeferre muttered. He knew that his courtship of Claudine so many years ago had broken some bounds of propriety especially under her father's roof, but now was no time to regret the course of matters. 'As long as one is always prepared for consequences,' he told himself before kissing Claudine's hand and rejoining his friends for the trip to the Hotel de Ville.
Even from afar Combeferre could see that the steps to the Hotel de Ville were crowded with guests, in particular all the friends who had not been at the Karolyn residence. There was no mistaking even at a distance the stoutness of Grantaire's form, or the brash gold of Bahorel's coat. "Wouldn't you know-the Feuillys must have just arrived from Poland," Combeferre told his friends.
"A day earlier than expected. Of course they would," Enjolras concurred.
"And for once Aunt Leonor doesn't look all that cross," Armand muttered, motioning to a gaily dressed by stern faced lady standing next to the diplomat.
"Travel is said to have a mollifying effect on the temper," Courfeyrac remarked as they stepped out of the carriage. He smiled broadly at the sight of a little girl with dark braids running up to him. "You're looking angelic today, Lucille."
Lucille Pontmercy gave him a toothy grin. "Uncle Courfeyrac, is it true what the big ones are saying?"
"Which is?"
"That Aunt Charlesette is making a decent gentleman out of you?"
Combeferre had to do his best to hold back his laughter, but found it almost impossible to do so when he saw that even Enjolras was having difficulty keeping a straight face. Armand was quite unable to suppress a chuckle but he quickly resumed his more dignified attitude especially when he saw Lucille's father running up, completely red in the face. "Courfeyrac my friend, I'm truly sorry if my daughter has been pestering you," Marius apologized as he scooped up the little girl.
"I'd find it more worrisome if she wasn't," Courfeyrac said cheerily.
Lucille buried her face in her father's shoulder. "I was only saying what the boys were talking about."
Marius groaned. "Your mother told you to act like a little lady today."
"She's only a little girl for a few years," Combeferre pointed out.
"Unfortunately," Marius said resignedly as he glanced towards where his two older children Georges and Marie-Fantine had managed to draw aside Armand, as well as another good friend Laure Enjolras. "Another scheme afoot?"
"A more sensible one, perhaps," Enjolras deadpanned. He caught the avid gaze of an auburn haired woman who had just finished talking to a short and stout matron riding herd on four tall boys. "Well then, Eponine?"
Eponine smirked at him teasingly as she met him halfway to the steps. At thirty-three years old she had acquired a far more refined bearing, but still retained every bit of her famed vivacity and audacious manner. "Of course you did not expect the Bahorel brothers to simply not do something about today. Therese caught on though, just to keep her sons in check," she said as she straightened out his cuffs
Enjolras smiled knowingly as he caught her hand. "What about everyone else?"
"Simply out to wish a happy end to Courfeyrac's bachelorhood," Eponine replied. She nodded to Courfeyrac. "Charlesette is waiting inside. She's terribly impatient."
Courfeyrac took a deep breath and smiled. "Are you all going to-"
"To be there? Wouldn't miss it for the world," Feuilly chimed in from where he and his wife and daughter were standing.
Courfeyrac's smile grew wider as he walked hurriedly up the Hotel de Ville steps, and towards the office of the magistrate. The official waiting there with Charlesette and her father rolled his eyes on seeing Courfeyrac, but was left speechless for a moment when he saw the crowd following the bridegroom. "Which of you is the actual witness?" he managed to say.
"I am," Enjolras said, coming forward to stand with his friend. "Armand as well will stand here," he added, gesturing to the boy.
The official nodded before clearing his throat and beginning the ceremony. Combeferre nodded to his friends and went to stand with Claudine again. Much to his relief, everyone in the hall was silent up until the moment when Charlesette and Courfeyrac were to say their vows. "What have you written there, Citizen Courfeyrac?" the official asked pointedly when he saw the bridegroom bring a paper out of his coat pocket.
"A letter that ought to be read," Courfeyrac replied.
"Better now than the church ceremony," the bride's father grumbled.
"Father, I think it's very sweet of him," Charlesette said. "And very apt. I expected nothing less of you, Maurice," she added approvingly.
Vincent Karolyn rolled his eyes. "That rite should not be interrupted in the slightest."
"Precisely the point," Courfeyrac said as he unfolded the note with one hand, and then clasped Charlesette's hand with the other. "Charlesette my dearest. Once, a little girl in Gascony told a boy that she wanted to be swept away by a man who was a prince. That boy laughed and said that it was a silly dream, and he would rather much explore uncharted waters. Decades have passed by-just enough time to bring us both to Paris, which isn't that far at all—so you get the last laugh for that one." He paused as Charlesette gave him a mischievous grin, which elicited laughter from some of the onlookers. "I cannot give you the castle, or a title to rest on, but today I swear to be at your side when you laugh, when you are in tears, during perfect years and the years when we could do better. I give you my love and my constancy all the days of my life."
Charlesette's eyes glistened and she had to dab at her face with the edge of her veil. "It was never home without you, Maurice. I love you and I'm thankful we're finally here," she said.
Combeferre felt his eyes stinging at this exchange but before he could reach for his handkerchief he felt Claudine's hand around his wrist. "That was long in coming..." he remarked.
"Oh quiet now, Francois," Claudine said happily as she tightened her grip. "They deserve it."
Combeferre nodded as he looked first at his own wife, then at all their friends. Most of the group was also a little misty-eyed with emotion; in fact Jean Prouvaire was already blowing his nose in one of Azelma's handkerchiefs while Bossuet had made a mess of Joly's coat. Even the magistrate looked down for a moment before clearing his throat and continuing with the ceremony. "I now pronounce you Citizen and Citizenness Courfeyrac. Now off to the church for both of you!" he said by way of concluding the rite.
The couple burst out laughing. "Must we? Your vows said it all!" Charlesette whispered.
"Your father hasn't given you away entirely yet," Courfeyrac pointed out.
'There it goes,' Combeferre decided as he reached into his pocket and tore up the speech he'd prepared for later that day. "Inspiration," he said when Claudine, Remy, and Yvette threw him puzzled looks.
"You're just going to make it up, Papa?" Yvette asked.
"Yes. Wish me luck there, my darling," Combeferre said. Unlike some of his friends, he was a little less used to the practice of extemporaneous speech, but now he felt that his previously practiced words no longer did justice to the occasion. It was a thought enough to keep him occupied throughout the rest of the morning, up until the reception in the Karolyn residence. While relatively modest wedding luncheons were the norm for their friends, the Courfeyracs had not been allowed to celebrate with anything less than a several course banquet with some dancing.
Towards the end of luncheon, Combeferre nodded to the newlyweds. "It falls to me today-after all these years. Will you allow me?" he asked, raising his glass.
"Please do. You'll save our dignities," Courfeyrac said.
Combeferre got to his feet amid the cheers of the rest of the guests. "Contrary to expectations, I am not here to regale you all with stories about our dear friends, especially regarding Courfeyrac here. Most of us still remember the occasions of his gaiety..."
"Also we'd rather that the younger ones do not know," Leonor Feuilly muttered.
"There is that," Combeferre said wryly. "If ever I would emphasize something today, it would be about steadfastness, as our newlyweds here can attest. Throughout the years he has been living here in Paris, Courfeyrac has never forgotten Charlesette-and has let her know so during every holiday and good turn. Thankfully these notes were always reciprocated—even over hundreds of miles and several years.. This is not a case of childhood sweethearts finding each other, or the end of pining-those are myths that have no place today, especially for our newlyweds here." He took the opportunity to look at the newlyweds intently; while part of him somehow wondered how it would have been if this wedding had happened years earlier, he knew deep down it never could have happened in such a fashion. 'You two have finally grown for each other,' he realized.
He swirled the wine in his glass before speaking again. "To my dear friend Courfeyrac, I am deeply honoured to have been your brother and comrade all these years. You are not only a defender of the public, but an upstanding father and the truest of friends. To Charlesette, welcome to the family at last-even if you have been like a mother to Armand for some time now. To both of you, I wish you all the happiness, peace, and joy. you deserve. The waiting is over, let a new page begin."