Cosette entered the ballroom to an eager, bustling crowd. Servants wove their way between politicians and nobles, carrying hors d'oeuvres and glasses of shimmering champagne on gilded platters. Guillaume had procured a perfect string quartet and they were playing everyone's favourite pieces. The balcony doors were propped open, allowing a night breeze to waft in, doing wonders in cooling the guests and livening up their spirits. Outside on the terrace, couples leaned over the balcony to point at the vast gardens lit up by torchlight. Others had made their way down the steps that led to the grounds and were strolling arm in arm through rose bushes and orchards. Some couples had already begun to dance, holding each other close under the open star-filled sky.
Cosette watched and envied their sense of ease and intimacy. Did Enjolras even know how to dance? They hadn't had the chance to practice together. Surely his upbringing had prepared him for such an activity. She herself had only a rudimentary set of dancing skills.
She imagined herself with Enjolras, dancing together out on the terrace to the music of distant violins and a symphony of chirping crickets, away from watching and scrutinizing eyes. Hope blossomed to life within her again and she started making her way to the balcony to get some fresh air when Guillaume apprehended her.
"Ah, now that the mistress of the house is here, we can begin the festivities." He proclaimed.
Meaning the dancing portion of the night. So soon? Cosette glanced about the room but had yet to spot Enjolras.
"It appears that the festivities have already begun without me." She replied. "Everyone seems to be enjoying themselves, we should let them continue as is." She patted Guillaume's arm, trying to hide her worry.
He couldn't still be in the parlor room, could he?
"Nonsense! Everyone is itching to start dancing." He said with a confident smile. Before Cosette could stop him, he walked over to the small stage that had been set up for the musicians, instructing them to halt their playing.
"Mesdames et Messieurs!" Guillaume clapped his hands, garnering everyone's attention. "I hope you are enjoying your evening thus far. Might I say how remarkable you all look."
Cosette noticed a few of the ladies blush, no doubt charmed by Guillaume's charisma. He would have no shortage of women to dance with tonight.
"I ask that you please make room for our lovely hosts as they start us off with the first dance of the evening."
The crowd quickly parted at Guillaume's announcement, everyone skirting to the edges of the room, leaving Cosette standing alone at the center of an enormous circle.
"Where is Enjolras?" Guillaume asked, looking about the room.
Another group of people parted to her left and she finally spotted her husband. He was staring at her, face full of alarm.
But why should he be alarmed? He knew this part was coming, didn't he?
"There he is!" Guillaume exclaimed, making his way over. "The man of the hour! How about it, Monsieur? Show everyone how it's done. Come dance with your wife."
Enjolras glanced from his campaign manager to her. The room hushed, awaiting his response.
Cosette felt the weight of every eye in the room on her as Enjolras' hesitation prolonged.
He leaned in toward Guillaume, the two men exchanging words in hushed tones.
People in the crowd began to whisper, speculations arising. Cosette tried to calm her racing pulse. Her cheeks started to feel warm.
"Change of plans, ladies and gentlemen." Guillaume announced. "It seems that our kind host has sustained a leg injury several weeks ago and is still recovering."
There were sounds of sympathy from some of the guests. Others glanced at their host's leg with lifted brows and disbelieving frowns.
A leg injury? He hadn't mentioned any injuries to her. Besides, he seemed to be walking about just fine earlier that evening.
It was obviously an excuse to avoid dancing with her. A lame one, at that. Her heart plummeted.
"I'm sure you would not mind if I asked your lovely wife for the first dance instead, eh Monsieur?" Guillaume elbowed Enjolras. He didn't wait for a response, simply making his way towards her.
Cosette let out a slow breath, allowing herself to smile. God bless this man for not leaving her alone and humiliated in the center of the ballroom floor.
"Would you dance with me, Madame?" Guillaume bowed with an extended hand.
"I'd love to." She answered, placing her hand in his.
He stepped forward, sliding a hand around her waist, and nodded to the quartet. The musicians started up a lively tune and off she went, following Guillaume's lead. The campaign manager turned out to be a brilliant dancer, expertly making up for any of Cosette's lack of skill. And if he took notice of her trembling hands, he gave no indication of it. After a few moments, he called out to the crowd, gesturing for the guests to join them on the floor.
As couples made their way forward, Cosette caught a brief sight of Enjolras, who had remained in the same spot, eyeing her. She couldn't read the dark expression that had come over him and could only guess at what sort of thoughts he was thinking.
Was he upset with her? And if so, what right had he to be upset? He'd been the one to humiliate her in front of all their guests.
When he hadn't kissed her in the parlor room, she'd consoled herself with the assurance that she'd at least get a chance to dance with him that night.
Ignoring the sting in her heart, Cosette turned resolutely back to her dancing partner and resolved not to give her husband any more attention the rest of the party.
No one knows me like you do
No one sees me like you do
I know I'm hard to read and I'm easy to tear
And I'm unaware
That there's something in me
Strong enough to kill something in you
After the last of the guests had left, Cosette went back to the dining room to help with the cleanup. Alphonse assured her that the servants would take care of everything, but she insisted. Working had always had a strange way of calming her thoughts and tonight, she wanted nothing more than to clear her mind and try to make sense of what had happened in the ballroom.
Thus Enjolras found his wife, with her arms full of soiled napkins.
"You could have at least changed out of your nice dress if you were planning on playing a maid." He said, his words coming out clipped.
She picked up the last napkin off the table, determined to ignore him, and dumped the pile of napkins into a bin one of the servants had provided for them to wash later.
"I'm sure we have enough servants to take care of such menial tasks." Enjolras said. If this was his way of making conversation, it was a poor attempt, Cosette thought. He must have realized it too, since she still wasn't responding.
"Cosette, please. Let the servants handle this." He tried to soften his tone. "It's been a long night. You must be tired."
"I'm not tired." She lifted her chin, determined not to reveal the pain that was still fresh from his rejection in the ballroom. She walked back to the table, gathering the silverware alongside two servant girls who were collecting the dinner plates.
"I find that rather surprising. I thought all that dancing would've tired you out." His voice was cool, casual. Laden with biting sarcasm.
"Well lucky for me, I had a splendid dancing partner." She shot back, looking up to catch the way his eyes flashed. It gave her no small pleasure.
"Must be why you danced with him six times." A muscle in his jaw ticked.
"You were counting?" She lifted a brow.
The servant girls left the rest of the plates on the table and quietly and quickly made their way out of the room.
"Yes, and what a delightful night it was for me, getting to stand there and be absolutely humiliated by my wife and upstaged by my own campaign manager." He all but snarled.
Cosette gaped at him. She couldn't help but think how drastically the mood had shifted between them from the start of the party to the end of it.
"You were humiliated by me?" She asked incredulously, putting her pile of silverware down. White hot anger was beginning to boil in the pit of her stomach. "You were the one who refused to dance with me!"
"You should have followed suit and rejected Guillaume's offer!"
"Well unlike you, I was looking forward to dancing all evening. I wasn't going to turn down an offer after my own husband rejected me before all of his prestigious guests."
He said nothing to that, hands clenching and unclenching at his sides.
"Why did you not dance with me, Enjolras?" She pressed.
He looked away.
"Dancing wasn't part of the deal." He muttered beneath his breath. But Cosette's keen ears caught every word.
"Deal? What deal?"
"Your father said nothing about planning parties or eating dinners or dancing together." He ran a hand through his hair. "I was to marry you and provide a good, stable home for you! That was it. This I have done." He huffed.
Her eyes stung at the mention of her father.
"If that was all that was required of you, then what was that you pulled earlier, before the guests arrived? Or back in the parlor room? You act as if I don't exist half the time and then tonight you…" She struggled to describe the gentleness with which he'd treated her earlier that night, how it made her feel. "The way you talked to me, the way you looked at me…" All those times he'd touched her in small, but intentional ways. When he'd kissed her hand…
Surely he understood what she didn't have the courage to ask. Surely it all meant something to him too.
He stared at her, his eyes hooded, but said nothing. Unwilling to acknowledge or explain his behavior.
"If this was all just some ruse to show your future colleagues the presentation of a loving husband and loving wife, you might have convinced them had you actually danced with me tonight." She said bitterly, hoping with all her heart that it wasn't true. Daring him to refute her, to prove her wrong.
"You think dancing with Guillaume for six whole dances didn't shatter that idea?" He shot back. "Perhaps now they'll all come to the real conclusion: that you and I are trapped in a marriage of convenience!"
The words hit her like a stack of bricks.
"Your father made it sound so easy, you know." He continued, pacing back and forth. "'Just marry the girl, give her protection. She'll leave you be.'" He let out a dry laugh. "I was a fool for believing him in the first place. You haven't let me be since the day I married you."
She blinked at him, feeling breathless. She grabbed onto the back of a chair, feeling her head begin to spin.
How cruel of him to make her believe he might have actually felt something for her. How cruel of him to have given her hope.
The room felt too small. Tears stung at her eyes. Her breathing began to stutter, as if there wasn't enough air in the room.
Trapped, was the word he'd used. How appropriate.
"A marriage of convenience…" She echoed the words. "Forgive me. I suppose it's my fault for expecting anything more."
He watched her, his expression unreadable as always. The space between them stretching as wide as a cavern. She began to walk away, when she felt his fingers reach across the divide for her wrist.
"Cosette, wait."
She paused mid-step, his touch barely able to tether her. In her heart, she'd already begun to slip away.
"I didn't know you wanted…more." He spoke, voice low and gravelly.
She swallowed the lump in her throat, her eyes blurring. Distantly, she felt the slight brush of his thumb along the inside of her wrist. The world before her was fading, dissolving. Or perhaps she was the one withering away.
"I don't want anything." She whispered brokenly. "I liked you better when you were cold and indifferent."
The words were harsh, but they did the trick. Enjolras winced and let go of her arm.
She walked away.
I'm giving up on all the sadness
I'm giving up on all the dark
Wanna walk away from all the madness
That keeps on pulsing through my heart
I can smell the rain
Come down and wash away
I know now I will be safe
That night Cosette dreamed of Marius.
They were back in the garden at Rue Plumet, hiding beneath a drooping willow tree. Thunder clapped above, a cold wind picking up around them. There was shouting and gunfire in the distance.
When she turned to look at Marius, his features were strangely blurred, something about them not quite right.
"I must go, my love." He was saying, pulling away. She grabbed onto his hands, holding tight.
"No! Stay with me." She urged, knowing somehow that if he left, he would never come back to her.
"I must join my brothers in the fight." He said, smiling valiantly. His smile was crooked, eyes too close together, brows lopsided. Even his hair was different, lighter than she remembered.
"Marius, I'm sorry." She choked back a sob, placing a hand on his cheek. As hard as she was trying to focus on his face, his features remained indistinct. As if a painter had smeared the paint before it had a chance to set.
"What are you sorry for, my love?"
"I'm forgetting what you look like." Tears were falling down her cheeks now. Or perhaps it had started to rain. She swiped at her eyes, willing herself to look at him and remember. "I promised you I would never forget you. I'm so sorry. I'll get this right." She promised. Her hands were shaking as she clung to him.
He smiled at her sadly and leaned in to kiss her forehead.
The shouting in the background had turned into a haunting drinking song, a chorus of men's voices echoing down the street.
Drink with me to days gone by…
Marius took a step back, moving her hands away.
"I must go now."
"No. No!" Desperation clawed at her throat as she tried to reach for him, but he was walking away towards the sound of the singing.
"Will the world remember you when you fall?" He joined his voice to theirs as rain began to pour from the night sky. "Could it be your death means nothing at all?"
I've failed you, she thought bitterly as she stumbled after him, the world turning gray all around, cobblestone streets turning to soft grass beneath her feet. Suddenly, she was no longer in Paris, but back in the garden at her manor, surrounded by rose bushes and peach trees.
"The world will remember!" She called to Marius, wherever he was. "I will make your death mean something!"
She weaved through the trees, but the sound of the singing never seemed any closer.
"I will find you." She swore. The rain increased, drop after thick drop landing on her head, drenching her clothes completely.
"I won't forget." She muttered, hugging her arms around herself. "I won't forget. I won't forget. I won't forget…"
