Enjolras kicked open the door to his room and carried his unconscious wife to his bed. He laid her down gently and reached over with quivering fingers to brush away the wet hair that clung to her face, watching for the slow rise and fall of her chest.
He timed his own breaths with hers, willing his heartbeat to return to a normal rate.
She was pale as a ghost but she was breathing.
She was alive.
His covers were still crumpled from when he'd jolted out of bed from his nightmare.
Outside, the black skies continued to thunder. Raindrops pummeled the windows, sounding like gunshots. Their incessant pounding echoed throughout the dark room, the noise ricocheting off the walls.
He thought he saw the shadow of a man in the corner by the window and his heart leapt into his throat.
Was it Marius, back from the dead? Here to finish the job?
Only to realize a moment later that it was the shadow of his coat hanger.
It was just a dream, Enjolras reminded himself, taking steadying breaths.
Saints. Am I to be forever haunted?
"She'll need a change of clothes, monsieur."
Enjolras jumped, Alphonse's voice startling him. He'd been so caught up in his thoughts he hadn't even heard anyone enter the room.
"Right." Enjolras mumbled, running a trembling hand through his damp curls. He thought about how ridiculous he must look to his butler, with his nightclothes completely drenched, hair disheveled, eyes red from lack of sleep no doubt.
"I've instructed one of the maids to fetch some fresh clothing for Madame." Alphonse continued, politely ignoring his master's unkempt appearance.
"Have you sent for-"
"Dr. Benoit should be here by morning to check on her."
"Right. Good." Enjolras took a moment to catch his breath, his mind spinning.
What had happened out there in the garden?
"Might I suggest you change out of your attire, monsieur, before you also catch a cold?"
Enjolras waved him off. "I'll be fine. Thank you." His gaze roamed over Cosette's limp body, looking for any sign of injuries. "You think it's just a cold, then?"
"We shall find out soon enough." The butler's words didn't sound very promising.
"Can't be anything more." Enjolras murmured, trying to assure himself. "Just a cold from being out in the rain."
He went to pick up a blanket that was resting over one of his armchairs and walked back to Cosette.
Kneeling beside the bed, he began to wipe the rainwater from her face.
"Perhaps it is not my business to ask," Alphonse interjected, "but what was Madame doing in the garden at this hour?"
Enjolras tilted his head as he wiped her arm. "I'd ask her the same question if she were awake." He reached over to carefully pick out the leaves and twigs that had tangled in her hair during the storm.
Laying like this, she reminded Enjolras of a princess in a fairytale. Like the stories his mother used to tell him when he was a boy. He recalled one story in particular where the princess was under a sleeping spell, awaiting the kiss of a prince to wake her.
Enjolras's gaze landed on her mouth. Silently, he cursed himself for not seizing the opportunity to kiss her before dinner, when she had helped him with his cufflinks.
It was the first time she'd been inside his room.
I get the nightmares too, Cosette had said, standing so close and smelling so sweet.
She'd looked so beautiful in her dress that he was stunned into a stupor, not quite believing that this graceful and radiant creature was his wife.
Then there was the opportunity in the parlor room, when everyone else had gone and it was just the two of them. The way she'd looked at him, eyes full of something like hope. And when he'd suggested they rejoin their guests, had he imagined her breathless tone, the reluctance in her "must we"? Had he imagined the look of disappointment that crossed her face when he'd stepped away to put distance between them? Could it be that she had actually expected, actually wanted him to…
God, I should've kissed you, he thought as he traced the curve of his wife's icy cheek. And wondered if he'd ever get another chance to.
Wondered, too, how this night would've played out if he'd actually done it.
Alphonse said nothing for a while. Enjolras could feel the butler's stare boring into the back of his head.
"Perhaps you could be so kind as to bring me a proper towel?" Enjolras looked over his shoulder.
"Yes, monsieur." Alphonse bowed his head, made for the door, then lingered there. "One must wonder, sir, how you came to be in the garden at the same time she was? Given the time and weather conditions, it seems hardly the best choice for a rendezvous point."
Enjolras let out a dry laugh. "It most definitely was not a planned rendezvous. I woke up from a dreadful night terror, if you want the truth. Saw her wandering through the rose bushes out in the middle of the storm, like some ghoulish specter." He ran a hand over his face, weariness washing over him. "I think she might have been sleepwalking."
"If that is true, then Madame must have been pretty distraught to wander all the way outside." Alphonse surmised.
Enjolras considered this as he wiped her neck dry.
I cannot take anymore, her words echoed in his mind. I cannot live on false hopes.
Good God. Had he been the one to do this to her? Had he driven the poor girl to the point of insanity?
He felt nausea in the pit of his stomach.
A knock sounded at the door, making him jump again.
Alphonse opened it and a maid walked in with arms full of clothing.
"I shall go fetch a towel for Madame." Alphonse bowed once more and exited the room, just as the maid approached the bed. Her gaze flitted from Cosette's drenched form to Enjolras' bedraggled state, her eyes widening. Mercifully, she did not to ask any questions.
Enjolras stepped away from his wife's side when suddenly, she began to stir. Shifting her head left to right, she began to mumble something beneath her breath. He leaned closer to catch what she was saying.
"Apollo." Cosette murmured. Then again, "Apollo."
He frowned, not understanding.
"It appears that Madame is asking for her cat." The maid spoke up, placing the clean clothes on the edge of the bed. "He likes to sleep in her bedchamber during the night. I bet he's still there. Shall I go get him, monsieur?"
"Apollo." Cosette muttered once more, before going still.
Blasted cat.
Enjolras let his fingers brush against her wet locks, watching the rainwater seep into his pillows. She was shivering.
"I'll fetch Apollo while you get her changed." He told the maid.
To Cosette, he whispered, "You will not die, sweet, stubborn girl." He pressed a kiss to her cool forehead. "I won't allow it."
He got up and, ignoring the look of surprise on the maid's face, walked out the door.
He shouldn't be leaving her side. Not when she was in such a state.
Yet he was grateful to have a moment to himself to calm his shaking nerves.
What in the world could have led her outside in the middle of the night? And in a storm no less?
Enjolras remembered the haunted look in her eye when he'd found her amidst the grove of peach trees. Had she really been sleep walking?
He recalled the heated argument they'd had in the dining room.
Had the terrible words he'd thrown at her been enough to drive her mad?
Enjolras swore as he marched through the hall that led to her quarters.
"Your wife is quite the hostess." One of the gentlemen had commented to Enjolras during the party, after they'd all finished dinner.
"She is simply charming, Enjolras. Wherever did you find her?" Another man asked.
Enjolras' eyes followed Cosette from across the dining room. He'd been catching glimpses of her all night long. Mingling with the guests. Checking in with Alphonse, Guillaume, and the servants to make sure everything was running smoothly. Making his colleagues laugh with her subtle wit.
"Actually, she found me." He answered solemnly. "I was left for dead on a cobblestone street after the rebellion. She saw I was still alive and took me into her father's home and nursed me back to health."
"Ah, the rebellion. One has to wonder what the state of our government would be if your group of students had succeeded that day…" The first man drabbled on, but Enjolras barely heard a word. He was thinking back to those early days, when God had given him a second chance at life. When he'd woken up each morning to Cosette's lilting songs, entirely unaware of how much this songbird would come to mean to him in the months that followed.
Nothing left beside this old cathedral
Just the sad, lonely spires
How do you make it right?
Oh but you try
The minute he entered her room, he was assaulted with the scent of flowers. Everywhere he looked, there were pots and vases filled with every sort of flora; in corners, on top of stools, beside her bed... He noticed, too, that her covers were strewn about and halfway on the floor, as if she'd stumbled her way out of bed.
He took a few more steps, feeling entirely like an intruder. The room itself was simply adorned, cast in a golden glow by the light of a lamp that she had most likely lit before bed and forgotten to blow out.
Her armoire stood by the window, it's doors opened, revealing dresses made of linen, cotton, and chiffon. He walked towards it, running his fingers along a pale blue ribbon on one of her gowns, touching the soft silk of a pair of ivory slippers tucked into the bottom corner.
Beside the armoire, he spotted a collection of jewelry and perfumes sitting atop a polished, walnut dresser. He picked up one of the glass bottles, watching the translucent liquid inside glimmer in the lamplight. Bringing it closer, he caught the scent of lilacs, the smell bringing him back to that morning, when she stood before him with her head bent over his sleeve as he counted the stray curls atop her head.
He set the bottle down, his gaze drifting to the string of pearls lying beside it. His fingertips brushed over each ivory pearl. As he studied Cosette's small collection of items, every piece revealing a part of her nature, it occurred to Enjolras how seldom he'd been in a woman's room before. He couldn't even remember being in his mother's private chambers as a child. She had died so long ago and his father, in a fit of grief or madness, had gotten rid of nearly every trace of her.
A muffled meow stirred him out of his thoughts. He turned towards the sound, remembering why he was here.
"Apollo?" He looked about the room.
Another muffled meow, this time coming from under the bed. He checked underneath it and saw a pair of yellow eyes peering back at him.
"There you are. Come on out."
The cat blinked slowly, unmoving.
"Stubborn creature." Enjolras mumbled, stretching his hand into the dark to drag the cat out.
He was rewarded with a swift swipe of Apollo's claws.
"I rue the day Cosette brought you home." Enjolras huffed, withdrawing his stinging hand. "Get out of there, you obstinate feline. Your mistress has need of you."
Miraculously, as though he understood his master's words, the cat crawled out. Enjolras bent down to pick him up, then walked over to the still-burning lamp beside the bed. Leaning over to blow out the light, he glimpsed Cosette's lavender gown draped over a nearby chair.
A memory of her dancing with Guillaume flashed before him, her head thrown back in reverie, Guillaume's arm firm around her slender waist.
Coward. That should've been you dancing with her.
He clenched his jaw and blew out the flame.
Why did you not dance with me, Enjolras? Her words echoed in the quiet dark.
Enjolras swallowed, allowing himself to admit what he didn't have the courage to during their argument.
Because I could not trust myself.
He knew for certain now, after picking her up in the garden and carrying her into the house, what he'd only guessed at then: that once he knew what it was like to hold her in his arms, it would be nearly impossible to let her go.
