Three hard, resounding knocks came from the other side of the door, followed by Tanville's high pitched voice. "Open in the name of the law," he demanded, his voice cracking midway through.
Javert bolted from the sheets beside her even before the first knock hit the wood. With all his swiftness and stealth, he managed to throw on his breeches and stuff his linen shirt into the waist before their guest allowed himself in.
Cécelie's face betrayed not a single inner thought as she sat up in bed, not even moving to cover herself in the chill of the morning sunlight.
Despite his racing thoughts and his pounding heart, Javert couldn't help but allow a slight sneer as Tanville's eyes opened in shock at the scene he now found himself in. That one moment of humor granted him a moment of clarity, pushing away the creeping feelings of surprise, guilt and a twinge of unfamiliar humiliation.
Tanville cleared his throat, his eyes flickering between Javert's looming presence before him and Cécelie's half-naked body just beyond. "Comtesse Cécelie de Renauld, you're under arrest under for suspicion of murdering Jacques Tournot," the confidence in his voice trailed off as she remained unmoving in her bed. The deep blue of her eyes rested on Tanville for a moment, and a look of shock and perhaps admiration returned her gaze as she calmly stood from the bed to throw her shift over her body.
As Tanville took a single step forward, pulling out his shackles from his pocket, a forceful push stopped him midstep. Javert's hand braced him squarely in the chest.
"On what grounds?" he hissed.
To Javert's dismay and disgust, Tanville merely tsked at him. "You're too close to this, Inspector, to be privy to that knowledge."
"You know as well as I do that your reasoning does not follow procedure," he replied steadily, as the hardness to his voice built with each word. "And, as your superior…"
Tanville shrugged, interrupting Javert with a cock to his thin eyebrow. "I'm sure the Commissioner would explain everything to you, should you venture to his office this morning," the disdain dripping from his words. He bent down to pick up the discarded jacket just a little beside him, handing it to Javert with a sickening smile. "But perhaps, first, you should make yourself immaculately presentable as always, Inspector Javert."
All this while, without so much as a whisper, Cécelie had dressed, combed her hair and now made her way towards the men, proffering her wrists before her as she drew to a stop.
Tanville chuckled weakly, "Your willingness is either wisdom or guilt, Comtesse."
She said nothing.
"Tell him what you told me," Javert ordered. His hand encircling her arm, attempting to turn her to look at him. "Tell him where you were when that criminal was killed."
Still silence. Not so much as a sob as she stood before her accuser. Javert let go of her unmoving arm.
Iron chains jingled as Tanville drew the locks apart. "Would you like to do the honors, Javert, or shall I?" he laughed, more confident this time.
Javert's gaze and withering scowl could kill, Tanville decided, as he hastily grabbed for the woman's wrists, just to look away from the Inspector beside him.
Cécelie could feel the piercing gaze of Javert's green eyes down on her, but she did not look up, focusing instead on the veins of her wrist as iron clicked shut around them once more. Before she made her way to the door, she took one moment, turning to glance one last time through her small window into the morning light.
A heavy thud from behind drew her attention. Tanville sprawled on his back as Javert suppressed a grin, straightening himself from a crouch to his full height. "You should know better than to trip on your own coattails, Tanville," he growled. Then, his eyes met hers, searching them as he drew her face into his hands. "If you truly are innocent, I will go to the fullest extent of the law to make sure you do not spend one moment longer in that jail cell," he whispered.
Calmly, she withdrew her face from his grip with a turn of her cheek. "And If I am not, or if you cannot prove me innocent. What then, Inspector?" her whisper spat at him, the light of her eyes, usually so bright, dimmed with resignation.
Javert made no reply, his hand falling at his side as he felt Tanville pull her towards the door. The little officer still puffed from his unexpected fall to the ground.
With the final click of the door behind them, Javert turned slowly about the room. His thoughts scattered a million places as he finished gathering his effects from the floor.
Justice must be done, he thought with a vengeful sniff. Yes, it was his duty to prevent Tanville from being too opportunistic and over confident to fabricate his own glorious capture. That young rat would stop at nothing for a little glory, not even at bending the sacred laws they upheld.
To the same turn, Javert cursed himself. He should have stormed that convent last night to find the witness to Cécelie's innocence. If he had not been distracted, he would have followed up every clue and uncovered the true murderer himself last night instead of…
He beat himself in the breast twice with his right fist. This was his fault, he thought between pants of pain. He had failed his duty. He had failed her. Now it was truly time to make amends, this time with justice, with honor and with the law.
Throwing his uniform coat over his shoulders, he flung open the door. Ten minutes to make himself presentable, he decided, then he would demand the truth of the matter. The truth that would allow him to seek true justice against Tanville's poor attempt to gain power on the force. He would clear her name with her own words. And he would clear his own reputation and judgement at the same time. He did not allow himself to decide which of those was the most important.
Just before he crossed the threshold, a shine caught his eye. Just beside him on her table sat her rosary, white beads and crucifix just beginning to catch the light. Not knowing fully what overcame him, he grabbed the beads, gently sliding them into his pocket. The proof of her innocence, he decided.