A Map for Life
The next two days were spent in relative peace and quiet. They had spent their time reading, walking, and just generally being in each other's presence. It was soothing and Enjolras was certain he had never been quite this happy in his life. And yet it all had to come to an end eventually.
"We need to talk. Now." Melodie had said with authority before grabbing his hand and dragging him into the library. It was now the third day since the incident at Notre Dame and she had been comparatively tranquil compared to her usual banging around the house. The sight that greeted him when they entered the library was confusing at first.
Melodie had arranged for one of Fabian's maps of the world to be tacked up on a book case and a table and a set of chairs had been arranged in front of it. As he took in the sight, Melodie had marched over to the map and rapped her knuckles against it.
"It's time to decide." She declared.
"Decide?" Enjolras asked slowly. Melodie rolled those beautiful, gold eyes at him.
"Oui Capitaine! It is time to decide where we are going to live. We have a little over two weeks to vacate the premises of France. We need to pick a new place to carry on our lofty ideals." She had sliced her hand through the air as if he should have been thinking of this himself long before hand.
Which he should have, but he was not going to readily admit as much to her.
"Ah yes. True, you are correct." He muttered. He made is way forward to stand before the map with her.
"So …" He looked to see her regarding the map dubiously. "Where do we begin?"
"Hmmm …" He turned to face the map once more, taking all the various borders, rivers, and mountains into account.
"England?" She suggested hesitantly. He grunted.
"I'd rather rot in prison. Their concept of democratic ideals is only a hair's breadth above the monarchy's current views."
"Right …" She murmured, once more focusing on the map.
"Perhaps someplace where our own French tongue is spoken, at least enough before we can get settled?" Melodie continued. Enjolras nodded thoughtfully.
"Perhaps somewhere in the Caribbean? There are a number of islands where French is still the common tongue." He gestured vaguely at the region on the map.
Melodie made a face.
"Non. I'd prefer someplace with a little more … civilization. And democratic views."
Their eyes continued to drift over the map. This was the hardest part, Enjolras decided. They had everything they could want here in Paris.
Except a government that they could stand. Where in the world would they find a place with the liveliness and beauty of France, but without the stubborn refusal to see reason when it came to opportunity for people?
"Enjolras?" Melodie said softly. He glanced over to see where she was pointing.
Her finger hovered over a river delta on the North American continent.
New Orleans.
The United States.
The country France had begun its own first Revolution in a semi-imitation of.
A city that had French roots, where French was still spoken, but where the democratic ideals of the United States had already made headway.
Perfect.
"Yes." It was all he could get out. Melodie grinned and nodded. They had come to an agreement. Enjolras reached out and hugged her to his side, dropping an affectionate kiss against her curls. They were loose today, as he preferred them. He smiled into them, knowing she only did it for his sake. She had only yesterday been complaining about the sweat they left on her neck. He became inspired to inspect such a thing now, to see if it was true. Perhaps he could find a … way … to alleviate her of the dratted stuff …
"Enjolras!" A sharp jab of her elbow to his rib cage jolted him from his train of thought. Clearly, he should have been paying better attention to her.
The woman had elbows like knives.
"I'm sorry, what were you saying Melodie?" She giggled at his humble tone and shook her head.
"I said, we need to go arrange our passage to America. The Cardinal should be able to handle everything."
The Cardinal.
Enjolras's next thoughts made him short of breath.
The Cardinal had made it very clear that he found it unacceptable that Melodie would be consenting to live with a man who was not her husband. The Cardinal would want them married before they left France.
The question was, did Enjolras want the same.
Yes.
An over resounding yes. Against all odds, even though he had only just come to terms with the knowledge that he did indeed love Melodie, he did want her for his wife.
Because it meant that no one except God could take her from him.
It meant forever with her and that was a beautiful if not terrifying thought.
He knew she was expecting an answer and cleared his throat unevenly.
"Yes, well. Why don't you go see to it? I have … a matter that requires my attention here."
Melodie looked him over, as though questioning his sanity.
"Are you truly alright with that Enjolras? Are you sure you can handle me being from sight for an hour or so?"
Oh.
She had a point.
Enjolras took a deep breath and closed his eyes. Her familiar citrus scent calmed the panic that had suddenly over taken his body. He swallowed, hard.
"Yes, just – just take a footman or some person with you when you go. If something should happen to you now when –"
When I want you for forever.
She darted forward and circled her arms around his waist, leaning her head against his chest.
"I promise to come back to you Enjolras. I always keep my promises."
He nodded shakily and looked down into her warm, burning eyes. She smiled that smile she always seemed to reserve for him and pressed a soft kiss to his mouth.
"I'll be back soon." She whispered against his lips. Another brief kiss, and she was out of the room calling for a footman.
Enjolras sighed and rubbed the back of his neck. He needed to speak with Arielle, Fabian, and Marius. Quickly, he removed himself from the library and sought the sleeping dragons in the study.
Hopefully Madame Arielle wouldn't burn him too badly.
HHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH
Arielle ruminated on Enjolras's odd behavior as she rode home from the Cardinal's residence with the maid and the footman Arielle had demanded she take.
With the Cardinal's own out riders keeping pace with her carriage.
All and all it seemed Enjolras wasn't going to be the most difficult person she knew since her abduction.
Which made no sense as to his earlier behavior?
He was being evasive. He was sneaking. He was … well he was being a typical male with an agenda.
Thank goodness she loved and trusted him, otherwise she may have locked him in the library till he confessed. She was certain she could arrange some way to make him talk. Perhaps those curtain ties could be used for other things …
"We're here Mademoiselle." The door to the carriage came open and the footman handed her down. As she entered the house, her eyes searched for her errant lover. Finding no sign of him, she sighed and handed her gloves, bonnet, and shawl off to the maid.
Moving quickly through the house, she found her sister employed with needle and thread in the kitchen. A plate of biscuits sat at her elbow and every now and then she would pause to nibble on one without glancing up from her work. The happy domestic scene made Melodie wistful, remembering their own mother occupied in such a fashion. Melodie let the moment linger, hoping and praying that nothing like what she had brought with her would harm her sister ever again. If anyone deserved happiness it was Arielle.
She was just about to leave, unable to interrupt such a perfect scene, when Arielle's voice caught her.
"How did it go?" Though the words were spoken softly, Melodie could detect the slight tremor in her sister's voice. She shrugged, uncertain how to explain something so necessary yet so painful.
"It went. His Eminence says New Orleans in an excellent choice and has already dispatched a letter to the priest in charge of St. Louis Cathedral to inform him of our arrival and to see to our help and comfort."
"Who would have thought two fugitives would find such a ready welcome." The line was meant as a tease, but the usual sparkle was missing from Arielle's eyes. Melodie reached out and laid a gentle hand on Arielle's now unmoving wrist.
"Sœur? What is it?" Arielle's lower lip began to tremble and Melodie felt a wave of unease course through her.
"It's just that New Orleans is so far away!" Arielle sniffed and threw down her needle work. Melodie sighed and patted her sister's wrist.
"I know but –" Arielle threw her hands into the air.
"But you'll miss it! I mean him! Or her! I'm not exactly sure what it'll be yet but you still won't be here when it comes." Arielle shouted, tears gathering in her eyes and spilling onto her cheeks.
"Arielle! What in the world are you blubbering about?" Melodie asked, bewildered beyond all reason.
"I'm not blubbering!" Arielle sobbed. Instead of explaining further, she reached for her needle work and thrust it into Melodie's hands. She cast a wary glance at Arielle's splotchy face and slowly smoothed out whatever she had been working on.
And then she could only stare.
And blink.
And blink again.
"Arielle?" She whispered softly. "Am I seeing what I think I'm seeing?"
Arielle snorted.
"Well if you think you're staring a hole through you new niece or nephew's christening gown, then yes you are indeed seeing what you think you're seeing."
And indeed, she was, for there upon her lap was a snowy white christening gown with all of the nauseating lace and ribbons that was currently in fashion.
"I'm going to be an aunt?" She could barely get the words out around the lump growing in her throat.
"Yes." Melodie finally looked up to see her sister's face. She was smiling through her tears, the happy glow that she had become so used to magnified tenfold.
"I'm going to be an aunt!" The happy shriek burst forth from her chest.
And then they were hugging, laughing, and crying all at once and it was one the most beautifully painful moments of her life.
Because leaving had just become that much harder.
