October the 16th of 1832

My Beloved Son,

Oh, you have no notion of how my old heart leapt when I saw even just the envelope of your letter! For I know your handwriting better than I know my own… and I thought to myself, "My God; that's my Marcelin's handwriting! He's written at last!" How my hands were shaking when I opened it!

And such wonderful news I read! Oh, my baby boy is engaged, experiencing love at its finest at long last! I read through your letter several times in the sheer joy those words brought me, and then I read it once again to your dear father! Oh, how happy we both are for you, ma coeur!

And as for receiving our blessing, I beg that you bring her here to the estate, and as soon as possible! I'm dying to meet her; I'm sure she's the world's most wonderful creature if she got you to propose. Besides, it's been years since your last visit; it's about time you finally returned to the home of your childhood! We miss you so terribly!

We'll be expecting you within the next few days; do not waste even a moment in preparing to leave!

Mother loves you so,

Sylvie Enjolras

Two days. Perhaps even a day and a half. That had to be some sort of record.

Enjolras stared at his mother's frantic scrawl for a good five minutes, thoughts buzzing furiously about his head to the point of physically discomforting him. 'We're so happy for you? We miss you terribly? There is no 'we' about any of those things. I wouldn't be surprised if he burned my letter as soon as her back was turned,' he thought bitterly, 'But that would make it all the easier for me, I suppose.'

He'd been right all along. This had been a mistake. He should never have let himself give in to Lynette's beseeching. He was lucky that she had gone out to restock their food supply, as he could now just throw the letter out and pretend his parents had never bothered responding.

He crumpled it in his fist decidedly. As soon as it was gone, they could just forget this whole incident had ever happened and move on with their lives… she'd be disappointed, but there was no doubt in his mind she'd be quick to get over it. After all, what was more important to her? Him, or his parents? Him, of course. So he had every right to do this. Besides, she didn't know what she was asking when she implored to meet them… he did! He was saving her, in a way… he was doing the right thing…

'Then do it, Enjolras. She doesn't have to know…' his common sense hissed.

But the thought of lying to her again made both his hand and the parchment crushed inside of it tremble. Flashes of the days after she'd walked out on him played back through his mind; the drunken haze and pain in her eyes haunting him perpetually. It made him think twice about his plans… the very ones he'd been so sure about but moments earlier—

"Enjolras? Give me a hand with this?"

And there went his chance. Just his luck; in the short time he'd hesitated, she'd returned. He sighed, keeping his fist closed, and walked over to get the door for her. Perhaps it was the best after all…

'No! This whole visit is asking for disaster! Just keep your mouth shut…' common sense screamed much more. And though part of him felt like a child bursting with guilt—ready at any given moment to gush forth a flood of truths—he kept his fist firmly closed. "Of course, love," he murmured casually as he began to take the bags out of her hands. But right as her mouth opened to utter a thank you, her eyes fell upon his hands and probed his sealed fist curiously. "What have you got there?" she inquired.

"Nothing, what do you mean by that?" he answered, cursing his voice for speeding up considerably. But she didn't seem to notice…

Or so he thought.

"Of course… do forgive me. The letter aughtn't be back for ages. How silly of me. Now, can you brings these into the kitchen, please?" she requested with a dazzling smile, handing the last of the bags to him. He nodded, trying to hide his relief, and took them from her waiting arms. But as soon as he had, as he shifted his position to better support them, she snatched the letter right from his palm—taking full advantage of the element of surprise her feigned obliviousness had awarded her with. 'My Beloved Marcelin,' she drawled dramatically as soon as she'd managed to flatten out the note, 'You really must stop trying to fool your poor fiancé; she knows you much too well and always sees right through you.'

"Gah! Give it here, Netta!" he exclaimed, nearly dropping the foodstuffs he held in his unexpecting astonishment. He started toward her, but she simply thrust out a finger, stopping him in his tracks. He lifted his gaze to meet her accusatory expression, but instead of anger, he found amused triumph dwelling there. She'd won, and they both knew it. For even if he managed to reclaim the letter, there was no force on earth that could beget her to disremember it.

He plopped himself down in an armchair, crossing his arms like a child as he tetchily watched her read the rest of his mother's message. He saw her face light up contentedly as she neared the end, and he had to stifle a groan as it did. Because if she was smiling, that meant she'd read of his mother's open invitation for them to come to the estate to be properly introduced. And if she'd received the invitation—

"Well; let's begin packing, shall we? They're 'expecting us within the next few days'," she announced, handing the crumpled epistle back to him. He took it and shoved it in his shirt pocket. "I'm having trouble seeing the urgency of this situation. You said it yourself, they're expecting us within a few days. Which means we can spend a few sorting all of this out, and a few more packing. We don't have to toss everything in a few bags and embark as soon as we possibly can."

But Lynette just smiled at him as a mother does her pouting child: with a sort of loving pity. "Enjolras, darling," she purred softly, "why are you fighting this so bellicosely? I'm not going to give in; I'm convinced—though you don't seem to realize this yet—that this is what's best for you."

"Best for me, or for you?" he glowered sharply, his tone and the words themselves turning the query into a very audacious and potentially perilous rejoinder. He saw her jaw tense slightly, but her expression remained more or less unchanged in its absolute composure. He could have laughed were it not for the current manner of the situation; it was amazing how much her self-control had improved in these past few months of living with him. She had gone from being a dangerously sensitive explosive which detonated with even the slightest provocation to someone more like a flame: in order for it to grow and consume in its white-hot ire, it must first be fanned recurrently.

"For you, Enjolras, to leave your past behind. We had this conversation. Surely it has not slipped your mind just yet," she answered with an eerie amount of control in her voice. He huffed, though, once again, he was beginning to lose his grip on this feeble attempt at a resistance. "It has not. But I continue to fight because you, having never met them, cannot even begin to grasp their characters— the entirety of my father's cruelty. Have you even tried to see it through my eyes... the possibility that perhaps it is I who is thinking of your welfare?"

She seemed to stop and consider that for a moment, but he didn't dare get his hopes about her changing her mind again. It was a good thing, too, as the very next thing she said was, "And while I appreciate your concern, you know better than anyone that I am rather well versed in matters such as these; I'm perfectly capable of defending myself, if the need arises."

The day she'd brought him home to meet her own family instantly came to his mind, and he couldn't help but wince as some of her aunt's slanders played back through his head. Lynette's responses were, with all things considered, just as biting and twice as sensible, but he'd never be able to forget the way her face has crumbled as soon as they'd stepped outside. And he'd never be able to forgive himself if she wore it again at the hands of his father.

"I'm well aware of that, Netta. I just don't want you to have to," he sighed pleadingly. She smiled sadly, walking over and kissing him gently. "Thank you. Really. The fact that you're so worried about me makes my heart swell with warmth. But I know I can handle this, even if he is still as ill-tempered as you described. And I want to meet them... her, especially. After all; are we not the two women in your life who love you most?"

It was always those damn kisses... though he could barely bring himself to call them 'damned' when they brought him such blissful inner peace. But they never did fail to bring down his walls in moments such as this; transform his mood from furious rage to cheerful tranquility with one touch. Had it not been but a few months since he had scoffed at Marius for the way his infatuation for his mystery girl controlled him completely? And now who was the one practically on his knees?

"I suppose so..." he mumbled after a while, placing his forehead against hers. She grinned and kissed him once more. "Good. Then let me ask again; we shall begin packing, yes?"

"Can't that wait... just a few more minutes, at the very least?" he questioned impishly, reaching up to stroke her cheek. But she saw what he was doing immediately and spun out of his grasp, sauntering halfway across the room in a few, graceful strides. "I don't think so... deferment can become a terribly enslaving habit if you chose to do it often, love."

He exhaled in a hiss and walked over to a sleek, mahogany chest which had always blended perfectly into the orderly background of the room in its permanent residence beneath the table. He doubt Netta had ever noticed it; he'd forgotten about it until now, for God's sakes. But now it appeared that it was to make yet another journey after all... as he seemed to have talked himself into a visit home.

A/N: Hello, my darling readers! I was very pleasantly surprised with several new followers and reviewers on my last chapter... thank you all, and I hope you're continuing to enjoy reading as much as I am writing!

Sorry I missed my Sunday update: with another production in the works, finals looming overhead, and just getting out of the holiday season, I've been at a bit of a loss for spare time. I was sick all day today, and while with most people that would be an absolute bummer... I like to look on the bright side of things. "Hey, I can update today!"

Anyone find Madame Enjolras's letter to be overly perky? Yes? Good. It's just the way she rolls, people. More of that to come.

Anyone who reviews gets to know what's in Enjolras's secret mahogany chest! :D ~DonJuana