Ok, so this is where I kinda go off the deep end. So I'm sorry if you think it's super weird, but I just think that Enjolras and Danielle would barely give each other the time of day unless I made them, so there. They're so difficult!

Chapter 6

Danielle did not return to the Cafe as long as she possibly could after seeing Enjolras. The next afternoon was, in fact, spent in preparing for the masquerade. Fortunately she already had a dress made for such an occasion. It had been designed to flatter her perfectly, and she was ecstatic to be able to wear it to such an ostentatious ball. It was a deep, midnight blue with a black organza overlay, with glittered stars sprinkled sporadically until the very bottom, where they were so many the skirt sparkled like the night sky. Her silver gloves and mask were also glittered. Annette teased her hair into ringlets and pinned the hair around her face back, so that the effect was of a proper bun from the front, but a waterfall of golden curls tumbling past her shoulder blades in back. A blue silk fan was her only accessory; no jewelry, no combs of any kind. She wanted elegant simplicity. She wanted to look effortless. She wanted to look as though she cared not what every person in that ballroom thought of her.

Bossuet arrived promptly at six and escorted her to a hired fiacre. He wore the costume of a conquistador and seemed to look very Spanish. Touched at the idea that he had used his precious money to hire a second-rate fiacre just for her, Danielle smiled with extra exuberance as she took his hand and stepped up into their transport. He intended for her to arrive in the luxury to which she had become accustomed, while he would be the eloquent, stylish, perfect gentleman she so rightly deserved. Heaven knew she needed this night.

They arrived at the Opera in short time and were soon inside, mingling with other masked faces in attendance. The revolutionary student and the disdained sister of the Marquis De Chagny could roam and dance without limits or fear of recognition and rejection. Danielle could forget the events of the past two days and be an aristocrat once more and Bossuet could experience firsthand what it was he stood against. The pair separated and rejoined periodically, but it was while they were apart that Raul recognized and sought Danielle out. He wore a very fine officers uniform and no mask; his eyes locked on her and were unwavering even as he edged the throng of the dancing middle classes. After what seemed like eons of watching him, he stood before her, looking not angry, but relieved. He placed his hands jovially on her shoulders.

"Danielle!" He grinned, "I'm so happy you've made it! I do believe I forgot to invite you - forgive me - which was dreadfully negligent because there is someone of great importance in attendance." Winking at her conspiratorially, he took her hand and pulled her to the bottom of the grand, gold gilded staircase.

"Who is it, Raul?" She inquired mechanically. It didn't matter to her, for it was probably Christine; the only person to get him chipper for months.

"Why, didn't I tell you?" He glanced at her, genuinely surprised, " You're betrothed, dear sister. To a man of high social standing who needs to marry as much as you do. He ought to be here any time now." Muttering to himself, he checked his pocket watch and ignored completely Danielle's reaction to this news.

Her mouth opened and closed several times, resembling a fish. She couldn't seem to remember how to speak. She blinked rapidly and her nostrils flared her deep, quick breathing. Betrothed? To a man? Surely Raul must be joking. But he never was one for humor or any other triviality. Perhaps they were in financial trouble and a good match was needed to at least pull her out of impending poverty. Didn't Raul realize that Danielle much preferred poverty? It was all absurd.

"Raul, are we in financial trouble? Is that why you've arranged a marriage for me? Because I don't mind being poor, I welcome it in fact." He only looked at her as though she were dense and turned back to the room. "Well why don't you marry some aristocratic woman and leave me be! Raul, listen here," She stomped around him until they faced each other, "I am not marrying some posh old man for absolutely no reason. I have standards, and they don't include my brother selling me to the highest bidder and some fuddy-duddy haggling and bargaining for my hand!" She cried, not caring that people were staring. She only cared that Raul understood.

"Danielle, you will be married. Lady Baybridge is convinced it's the only way to make you be a proper member of society. Marry a rich man, care for him and his house, raise his children. That's the only way to tame a woman. " Raul didn't even turn to her as he spoke.

"I am no longer a child, Raul! I am capable of making my own decisions without your oppressive regulations! Even if I were to get married, I will not stop doing what I feel to be right. Nothing will stop me from helping those people; not Lady Baybridge, not you, and certainly not some pot bellied, pompous aristocrat!"

Bossuet approached them, a bemused expression on his face.

"Is something the matter?" He asked gravely. When it came to Danielles happiness, he was all seriousness.

"No, it's nothing, Bossuet. Raul simply doesn't agree with my life decisions." Danielle pouted childishly.

"Ah, is that all?" His face brightened, "I agree with Raul. Your life decisions are rather rotten."

"Do not tease me. My decisions are neither your, nor my brothers concern. In the eyes of the law I am fully capable to choose my own future! I needn't marry, if I so wish; and I do not wish to marry! Ever, if God wills it." Danielle declared forcefully to both of them.

"To never marry is a hard thing. Especially if you were unfortunate enough to be betrothed to a pot bellied, pompous aristocrat." A new, smooth voice asserted. Danielle looked to the source to see a masked, young looking gentleman standing before them. Although his words held humor and irony, his voice and demeanor were grim. Now, custom dictated that two people must be introduced by a third party before conversing properly. But Danielle was always quick to forget convention when her ire had been raised.

"Pardon reasonableme, Monsieur, but I don't believe my personal affairs are any of your concern. If they were, you'd have to be my afore mentioned betrothed and I would much prefer a pot bellied, pompous fop to you. I pity the woman so unfortunate as to love you." Her words may seem too biting and malicious, especially as they were directed to a complete stranger, but in her mind she had every right to yell at the world and everyone in it. Before the gentleman could respond, Raul stepped between them as a sort of barrier and spoke.

"Danielle, this is your betrothed, a man of high social and economical standing. Monsieur Enjolras."

Danielles' heart skipped a beat as she stared into the now familiar cold eyes of the man she'd wished never to see again. Her fingers twitched nervously at her sides and she found it difficult to remind herself to breathe. So not only was she to be married, but she was to be married to this insufferable man who seemed intent upon annoying her. She wished so badly to slap both Enjolras and her brother right then and there, but she was a lady, and had been raised to use her tongue to deliver blows; not her fists. +

"Monsieur Enjolras, I'm surprised you'd deign to be seen with such company as this. Surely you would prefer to associate with the less savory members of Parisian society, such as the highwaymen and prostitutes?" Raul gasped at her vulgar language and Bossuet grinned like a madman. "I will never marry you, monsieur. No amount of money or social redemption could possibly persuade me otherwise. Raul was very mistaken to think that I would allow myself to be bought or sold to the highest bidder." She felt her cheeks redden from anger and the embarrassment that the entire ordeal had visited upon her. She had never expressed any inclination to marry, and now Raul, the least trustworthy person in such matters, had betrothed her to a man she's most likely murder as a newlywed. No, she wasn't dramatic at all. Angry tears stung her eyes. They wouldn't understand. They couldn't possibly understand what marriage meant to her. It was not something, in her estimation, that could simply be arranged.

"Danielle, do try to be reasonable." Raul chided belligerently.

"I am reasonable, Raul. I will not marry for the reasons you want me to. I mans' character is infinitely more important, but you seem unable to comprehend that! I can't do this, Raul. I simply cannot." She was tired of trying to explain to deaf ears, so she did something considered less than polite. She whirled around and fled away. There were colors and voices whirling all around her, but her attention was caught only be the great doors that would lead her out of the Opera house and into the cool recesses of night. She was grateful for the midnight blue color of her dress, perhaps she could fade away from everything. Maybe even forgotten. Was this punishment for her rebellion? Was Raul so unkind? Her head spun and tears fell down her face. She ripped the mask off to allow them free reign. Pushing through the throng of people, she heard someone call her name, but it only served to fuel her desire to escape. She ran through the nearly deserted entrance hall, barely waited for the doors to be pushed open and her wrap to be placed over her shoulders, and rushed outside.

Danielle knew this wasn't over. Raul would surely go through and announce their 'engagement' and that stubborn, serious, and unwavering Enjolras will be her official betrothed. As she walked down the opera house steps she tried to imagine being the wife of a man such as that. He was arrogant, proud, and insensitive. He could only break her heart. But those thoughts proved too dangerous.

"Mademoiselle, stop running!" The last voice that she wanted to hear at that moment called out. She walked past the line of carriages calmly.

"Let me be, Monsieur." She whispered thickly. Her voice couldn't seem to go any louder. She pulled the hood of her cloak over her hair and walked between two carriages to cross the street. But she nearly ran into Enjolras, who was looking at her with that same unreadable expression he seemed to favor giving her. Danielle was too exhausted to try to run again or fight, so she stood there, wishing for this to be a terrible nightmare. At least nightmares have endings.

"I apologize, Mademoiselle. That was not the way any woman should be told of an engagement. Naturally, if you wish to quietly extricate yourself from this arrangement, I will understand." He offered formally.

"Thank you for your consideration, Monsieur, but you don't seem to understand. Raul is the self appointed executor of my life and future. He has been for a very long time. What I want is of no importance." She hung her head miserably. She didn't want to appear so vulnerable before him, but she had no other choice. She was tired of yelling.

"I know this isn't what you want." He looked around himself, seemingly grasping for some thought or idea, "Give him a year." His eyes flashed to her and she found she couldn't look away.

"Whatever do you mean?"

"Prove to him that you can be a proper lady, capable of choosing her own husband, in the space of a year. In that time I can call on occasion, if you wish." It occurred to Danielle then that Enjolras didn't want this marriage either and was offering to call because he felt guilty trying to get rid of her. But it was her best plan at the moment and she didn't mind that he didn't wish to marry her. She was certain that she would do anything to avoid being tethered to a man like that for her entire life.

"I'll do it." She resolved and caught herself. Why was she agreeing to this? She'd looked into his eyes and somehow felt as though he was the person she could trust most in the world. She was putting her future into this scheme of his and felt perfectly confident in it.

"It means giving up everything you care about and doing whatever Raul deems ladylike." He reminded her.

"I understand." She asserted firmly. Enjolras nodded and turned to leave.

"Wait, there's something more." She took a deep breath. He looked at her with an eyebrow quirked expectantly, "If you're going to call on me, but we're not telling people we're betrothed, people may say we're in love." She felt foolish for even suggesting such a thing, but she knew first hand how people could talk.

"You think there will be gossip about our sham of an engagement?" A ghost of a smirk crossed his face and she realized he was mocking her.

"I know there will be gossip, monsieur. There is always gossip when a republican student becomes engaged to a disreputable, wealthy woman who has fallen from grace. My brother must not know that you are an insurgent. Or, if he does, he cares not about it. He must think that I am too far gone for a man of rank and so has flung me to the first gentleman he laid eyes on!" She glared at him, "Why in Heavens name did you agree to this?" Perhaps she should have thought of that earlier, but there were more pressing matters to take her time. Enjolras grimaced and ducked his head, keeping his eyes on her. They hadn't broken that contact their entire conversation.

"I did not know it was you. My father thought it would do me good to have a proper wife; maybe she'd tame my 'wild ways'. He threatened to remove me from University and have me sent to their estate in Rouen if I didn't agree to the betrothal. A wife seemed the better option." He explained.

"Why don't you wish to live with your family?" She inquired.

"You are not my betrothed, Mademoiselle. We need not delve into personal matters." He asserted flatly.

"Of course, Monsieur. How foolish of me." She didn't want to know anything about him. She had surprised herself even by asking about it. "You should go back inside, Monsieur. It's supposed to be an outstanding Masquerade, you shouldn't miss it. I will speak to Raul on the morrow and inform you promptly of his decision. Good night." Danielle spun around quickly and tried to find the fiacre that Bossuet had hired. This time she was not followed.

Two roguish men peered at her from the shadows of a nearby building, planning their next move. She was a perfect target as she passed by them. obviously distressed, but the boss didn't want her yet. It wasn't time. They were just supposed to watch and study her. Get to know her better than herself. Know her habits, her dreams, her fears. Figure out how to break her without causing physical harm or harming her spunk. She would fetch a much better price that way. For her brother would pay that price, but only after they had broken the spirit of the aristocratic girl who'd had the nerve to meddle where she didn't belong.

A/N: Sooo, too weird? I kinda like it. :) I bought a new laptop for school, so I officially have access to a real computer now! Awesome possum! Anyway, I hope you liked it, and I'll write soon. Please review! I'm working hard on this and would love constructive criticism. Thank you!