Chapter 9: Maids and Masters

I'd just like to thank krikanalo for your constant support, I've really appreciated it and it means a lot, even if you are the only one reading this story!

This chapter will be is a series of one-shots, to mix things up a bit:

The New Maid

'We don't need anymore staff!' Enjolras told his father on the morning of Clara's first day, not that he knew this yet.

'Enjolras, when you are running your own household, then and only then will you be able to dictate who will work in it.' Enjolras hated having so many people working for him, men and women twice or three times his age bowing and scraping to his every will. They had the butler, Mr Oliver, a housekeeper, a cook, two footmen, two housemaids, three kitchen maids and four gardeners. They were only a family of three, living in a house far too large for their needs. His father insisted this is how all the ambassadors live, and it's about time Enjolras got used to it. Wherever he ended up in the future, Enjolras was sure he would not live as he did in his childhood. Living in luxury on the backs of the poor. He was no better than them and he wasn't going to let them think he was.

As the footman took away Enjolras' breakfast plates the doorbell rang.

'That'll be her now,' said Enjolras Sr, and signalled the footman to answer the door. He set down the tray he was carrying with the dirty plates on to do so.

'What do you think you are doing?' demanded Enjolras Sr. 'Take that downstairs and THEN answer the door. She's only a maid, she can wait.' The footman nodded hurriedly and disappeared from the breakfast room. Mr Oliver then poked his head around the door.

'Shall I get that Monsieur?' he directed the question at Enjolras Sr.

'No, don't worry, I'll get it,' he replied cruelly. 'Take a guess.'

'I'll just go then,' said Mr Oliver meekly.

'Give the man a raise,' grumbled Enjolras Sr.

'Is that a promise?' Enjolras said under his breath.

'What was that son?'

But Enjolras was saved from answering by the footman's entrance with the new maid. And for probably the first time in his life, he was speechless.

Clara's First Day

'This is the laundry room where all the clean linen is stored, and it's best if you change Monsieur Enjolras' sheets every week or so. He doesn't seem to notice but his father sends Mr Oliver to check on our work regularly. He'd never land you in it but it's best not to force him to lie, in case Enjolras Sr checks himself and finds out. He does that sometimes, his house is very important to him. Says it's the mark of a good man, how he keeps his house.'

Clara, bright as she was, found it hard to keep up with Sally's tour of the Enjolras household. She had known he was well off, but had no idea of the extent of that wealth. His house was larger than the District 12 Justice Building, and one room was as large as her whole house.

Sally was Mrs Enjolras' Ladies Maid, and had been for several years. She was a plump, middle-aged woman with greying hair, but Mrs Enjolras was especially fond of her. Sally was the only real friend she had, not that she would ever let her husband know. As soon as Clara had come through the door, Sally had taken her under her wing, and gone out of her way to make sure Clara settled into her work as quickly and easily as possible. Clara couldn't begin to explain how much she appreciated the help, especially after Enjolras' face when he saw her on her first day.

The Wrong Way

Enjolras left the breakfast table without permission from his father. He rushed straight up to his bedroom and leant against the door, turning things over in his mind. Clara would be working for him, the girl he had known since childhood, the girl who deep down he felt he belonged to. Never before had their differences been so painfully emphasised. Moreover, he thought of Clara's face when he first spoke to her as her employer.

'This is Clara,' Mr Oliver announced. 'I interviewed her last week and decided she was best suited to the post. She has experience as she..'

'Yes, yes, make your speeches to someone who cares Ollie. Just get her downstairs and get her to work,' said Enjolras Sr. 'Enjolras, I assume she suits your fancy,' he added with a sickening grin.

Enjolras had looked up only long enough to recognise Clara, before he felt himself going as red as his jacket, and stared down suddenly with an apparent interest in the pattern of the tablecloth. He wanted this to be dream; it felt like a nightmare, it couldn't be a coincidence, could it? What if his father knew about his trips to District 12? What if this was some kind of twisted punishment? What if he was warning him about being with Clara? What if he was doing this to hurt him? Or worse, what if he was doing this to hurt Clara? And if he was, did that mean Clara cared for him in that way? Enjolras was shocked at his sudden superficial change of topic, and quickly pushed the thought out of his mind. He was definitely overthinking this, if his father did know about his regular excursions, he would confront him outright. He wasn't the type of man to make sly digs, or play manipulative tricks. He wasn't clever enough.

He then realised he had been quiet for a very long time, and his father was still waiting for an answer to his repellent question.

'As long as she does her job, I don't care what she looks like.' He had meant it to come out directly to highlight his father's repulsive nature, but one look at Clara's face told him it had not been received that way.

'Well, I'll take her downstairs and show her the ropes,' Mr Oliver tried to save the situation.

'Never cared about your work and never will,' Enjolras Sr announced, picking up his paper.

Mr Oliver put a hand on Clara's shoulder and led her away.

'Well, I don't know how much cop at housework she'll be,' Enjolras Sr said to his son, 'but I'll tell you this much. She ain't half a looker.'

Enjolras, able to contain his feelings no longer, raced upstairs, as far away from Clara as possible. And there he remained, unmoved by time or obligations, wondering what on earth would become of this new situation.

The Aftershock

It had been a week since Clara's arrival at the Enjolras household. She avoided Enjolras as much as possible, and so far it had been a success. As of yet they had never been alone in each other's company, and with everyone else, it was easy for both to assume their respective roles.

'Can I take that for you?' Callum walked up beside Clara. Callum was second footman of the household, and in the short time Clara had been there, the two had become great friends. Clara was making her way to Enjolras' bedroom with his clean laundry when Callum had seen her struggling with the large basket.

'Yes you can,' Clara replied decidedly, and handed over her load, which Callum took with ease.

'Is this all for our young master?' Callum asked, wondering how one young man the same age as him could have so many clothes.

'Yep, and just imagine there's more in his drawers!'

'Your kidding,' Callum said with a deadly serious face.

'You have no idea what I go through.'

'Have you forgotten that I am chief silverware polisher, as well as second footman? And you know the pride Mr Oliver holds in it, imagine if it got scratched, or heaven forbid smashed! I'm telling you, I'd take laundry detergent over polish any day.'

'Can I have that in writing? That's to go in here,' Clara took out her keys and unlocked Enjolras' bedroom door. Callum set the basket down on the bed.

'Tell you what; I don't think I'll be needing the gym today. That's slave labour, getting you to carry that,' Callum said stretching his arms.

'Yeah, I should contact my Union rep.'

'Do you have one of those?'

'I'm not even sure what it is!' Clara laughed.

'Is there anything else I can do?' Callum asked.

'No, I can take it from here. Thanks all the same,' and she gave Callum her glowing smile.

Callum knew it was his cue to leave, but somehow he couldn't bring himself to do it.

'How many red jackets does one person need?' Callum said, as Clara put the third one on a hanger.

'It's his signature colour, there's smart, smart causal, home wear, work clothes, night ware…'

'Night ware?'

'Okay maybe that's a bit of an exaggeration.'

Callum laughed and Clara joined him, and Callum for the first time noticed her true beauty.

'Here,' Clara said, taking a red jacket off the hanger. 'Let's see,' she brought the jacket behind Callum and he put his arms through, 'if it works on you.'

Callum and Enjolras were about the same size so it was a perfect fit. It was amazing the effect a decent jacket had on the appearance of a working class boy, Callum was a young man transformed.

'Allow me sir,' joked Clara with a curtsey and took a clothes brush from her apron pocket.

'Don't you dare,' Callum warned backing away from her, but Clara closed the distance.

'I mean it Miss Clara, stay back, I have a….cloth and I am not afraid to use…' He was cut off when he tripped on a floorboard and fell back onto the bed. Clara collapsed in laughter.

'Oh, so you think that's funny!' Callum asked, regaining his composure.

'Just a little,' Clara demonstrated a tiny gap between her thumb and index finger.

'Well you won't be laughing when..' he had taken off the jacket and raced over and wrapped it around Clara from behind. Both were in hysterical fits of laughter until Callum turned Clara round to face him, and their faces were almost touching. It's now or never, Callum thought, and went to kiss her.

But it would never be known what Clara would have done, as she caught sight of someone in the doorway. She gasped and Callum looked around, and swiftly ripped the jacket off Clara.

'Sorry Monsieur, I only meant to help Clara carry the laundry basket, but we got carried away. It was my fault, don't blame Clara,' Callum attempted to explain.

'I wasn't,' Enjolras replied coldly.

Uncertain what do next, Callum excused himself and went away. And Clara and Enjolras were alone.

'Sorry Monsieur, I'll put away this laundry and I'll be on my way.'

'Clara…'

'Actually I'll get out of your way now. I've got lots to do and I assume this can wait?'

'Of course, but…'

'Then I'll be on my way, sorry to disturb you, Monsieur.'

'Clara…'

But she was gone. Enjolras went to sit on his bed. He should have been angry that Clara and Callum were messing about in his bedroom. He should have been livid Callum was in his room at all. But he wasn't. All he could think of was how becoming Clara looked in her uniform.

Clara's First Kiss

'Callum! I need you to take up this chicken for the dinner. Hurry up! No dilly-dallying. Trust Mr Oliver to be ill today of all days!' Callum was getting an earful from the cook Mrs Greenson, as he and George were representing downstairs as they served President Snow.

He hadn't been expected by any means, Enjolras and his mother were playing cards in the lounge when Sally rushed in, and told them she saw Master Enjolras and none other than President Snow walking up the garden path.

Sally rushed away as quickly as she had rushed in, as first footman George led the two men into the lounge.

'President Snow, I'd like to introduce you to my family. My wife, and my son,' said Enjolras Sr, gesturing to each in turn. 'George, go and tell Mrs Greenson to start on dinner. The President has a busy schedule.' The President sat down next to Enjolras and started up a conversation. Enjolras Sr seized George by the arm, 'And make sure she it's a decent one, nothing like the atrocity last night, this is the President we are talking about!'

It had been a disaster zone ever since. Mrs Greenson had been in a panic and the poor kitchen maids got the worst of it. She had eventually cooked up a chicken and enough vegetables to feed the entire District 12, but it was an excellent dinner, even by the President's standards. Mrs Greenson was good at her job.

'Yes Mrs Greenson,' replied Callum as calmly as he could, taking the magnificent tray in his hands. He rushed upstairs and set it down behind the screen in the dining room, preparing to take it in.

'Hey,' Clara whispered, appearing out of nowhere. 'You okay?'

'Yeah I mean, I'm just about to serve our President and not only my job but my life's on the line!'

'Well…good luck?' Was there any other way to reply to that?

Still, Callum smiled. 'Thanks.' Clara turned to walk away but before anyone could react the household dog raced in and began taking chunks out of the chicken.

'Get out! Shoo! Away!' Callum said in hushed tones, as he could hear the President's conversation only a few metres away from him. Luckily Clara took the dog by the collar and ushered him into the lounge, but the damage was done.

'What in hell are we going to do?' Callum despaired. 'I am never getting out of this one, oh god help me.'

Callum looked so defeated it broke Clara's heart. 'Do you have a knife?'

'Yeah, to carve the chicken, why?'

'Give it here.'

With no other options, Callum gave her the knife, and Clara got to work. She carved carefully, cutting off where the dog had got its teeth into it. When she was done she stepped back.

'How does that look?'

Callum straightened and couldn't believe his eyes. Clara had carved the chicken into the rough outline of Panem.

'How did you…'

'Just go in there and see if we can save this!'

Callum picked up the chicken and laid it on the table in front of the President, nervously awaiting his reaction. The President gazed on it for a moment, then his face cracked into a smile, and then…he was laughing. A raucous, quite frankly horrible laugh in Clara's opinion, who was waiting anxiously behind the screen.

'That's genius lad! That's genius!' He carried on laughing as Callum served the chicken, bowed to the party and went back downstairs, collecting Clara on the way.

'Thank you so much, Clara! I can't believe…I just…You're just the most incredible girl I've ever met.'

And with that he leaned in to kiss her, and with no distractions, she kissed him back.

And Enjolras, sent down to pass on congratulations to the cook, could only stand there and watch.

Change

A week after the President's visit, or the dog's best meal, as Callum and Clara would remember it, Clara and Enjolras found themselves alone again.

Enjolras was studying at his desk in the late evening when Clara came in. She coughed to let him know of her presence.

'Excuse me Monsieur, I'd just like to prepare your bed for the night.'

'Um…yes…um..Do what you like.'

Clara nodded and got down to work. Enjolras always found himself tongue tied when Clara was around. Whenever he saw her, he would flashback to that image of her and Callum in the servant's hall, and every time he saw that, he felt his heart break all over again.

'So the dinner with the President went well then?' Clara said, trying to break the almost painful silence, 'It wasn't half a panic downstairs.'

'Yes, my mother and I felt much the same,' stifled Enjolras.

'I can imagine,' Clara smiled, but Enjolras forced himself to look away, he definitely couldn't handle her smile.

'Wow. You really can't stand the sight of me, can you?'

Enjolras was confused. 'Excuse me?'

'Look, I realise my working here my have shocked you into remembering how much better off you are than us…'

'Clara, that's not..'

'But there's no need to look at me as if I'm some piece of dirt you're aching to get rid of.'

'That's not…'

'And what's more you NEVER see Courfeyrac anymore. Did you even know Posie fell ill the other week?'

'Posie? Is she..'

'No you didn't, because you were too wrapped up in your own life and far too superior to…'

'Don't you dare! Just don't,' Enjolras was fuming.

'If anyone is being superior here, it's you!' he retorted.

'Excuse me?' Clara spluttered.

'You come waltzing into my house..'

'Waltzing? I'm working! You know, that thing the working class do that….'

'Clara, just listen to me for once in your life! If you think by any stretch of the imagination I am happy for people to be working for me then you are truly mistaken. You know why I wear all these red jackets? It's the symbol of revolution, and socialism, a society whereby everyone is equal. From each according to his ability, to each according to his needs. That's what I've believed in all my life, and I believe one day I will be a part of that revolution, to bring down the aristocracy and raise the poor out of poverty. Whatever my feelings may be for you they are most certainly not based on your social standing.'

Enjolras had never told anyone about why he loved the colour red so much, and had never told anyone he wanted to be a part of a revolution.

'And if you think I would judge you because of it,' he continued, 'then you really don't know me at all.'

There was a long pause between the two old friends.

'You're right. I don't. I wish I did after all these years but, we have never once spoken the truth to each other, and I've been truly horrible to you since I've started working here.'

'No, anyway besides, I gave as good as I got. I just don't think either of us ever saw this coming. I've just been going through a lot lately.'

'I know, and I haven't been sympathetic or kind to you at all. Courfeyrac always asks how you are, he has never yet got the answer he wants. I don't know why but whenever I see or think of you or talk about you I feel...'

'Feel what?'

'Too much, anger, annoyance. Emotions just boil up inside me and I express them in the wrong way. I'm sorry but that's the best I can do to describe why I am always as I am.'

'Well I don't think I'd want you any other way. I really wish I could see him, you know. And Harry and Freddie. And Posie and….Cosette.'

Clara grinned, 'She's still as hung up on you as ever, you know.'

Enjolras took a deep breath. 'I know the feeling.'

Clara's smile faded. 'Enjolras don't, please I…'

'No,' Enjolras interrupted. 'For once I'm going to tell you the truth. I think…no, I know….I'm in love with you, Clara. And I don't mind telling you anymore, I don't expect you to say it back, I just wanted you to know. I couldn't take keeping it to myself any longer.'

Clara looked down. 'I love you too.'

'You do?' Enjolras was genuinely surprised.

'Of course I do, you idiot,' she smiled. 'I just thought it would hurt too much to say it, but it actually feels okay.' Enjolras felt a surge of love rush through his body.

'Why would it hurt?'

'Because I know nothing can ever come of it. We're from two different worlds I mean,' she looked down at her uniform, 'I'm your maid!'

'That doesn't matter,' Enjolras batted it aside.

'Yes, it does,' Clara insisted, 'no matter how hard we try to ignore it. It was easier in twelve; I wasn't thinking about how much too good for me you were. Does that make sense?'

'No, but I hear what your saying, and there's no way on earth I'm…'

'Maybe in another life,' she looked down again, 'Maybe if I had made some different decisions, we could have made this work but…'

Enjolras didn't want to hear this. 'But what?'

'But we both have our lot in life, whether we chose it or not. And now, we have to grow up and live with them. And I can't wait to watch how you succeed. I'll always be thinking of you, whether you know it or not.'

'Succeed as the Capitol's puppet,' Enjolras grunted, turning away.

'Maybe,' Clara replied, walking towards him. 'Or maybe as a revolutionary. Maybe then our differences won't be as great. Whatever you believe in, I'll always be there to support you. Just promise me one thing?'

'What's that?'

'Don't change your ideals. Not for anyone. They are the noblest I have ever heard.'

Enjolras couldn't help but smile. Never before had someone even suggested they agreed with his beliefs. He now knew for certain he had someone to share them with. Even if he ached to share more with her.

'Can I just ask you one thing?' Enjolras stopped Clara as she was about to walk out.

'Of course, anything.'

'Last week I saw….you and Callum…I mean….Are you….Do you….' He assembled all his courage. 'Do you love him too?'

'I don't know,' Clara said at last, 'I guess I'm trying to find out. I certainly like him a lot but…..there's someone else I like more,' she said with a tiny smile, but it too soon faded. 'But I want..I need to forget him, otherwise I don't know what'll happen to me.'

'Forget him,' Enjolras insisted, 'I'm sure he only wants you to be happy. Whatever the cost.'

Clara smiled one last time. 'Well I've finished with your bed, I believe your dinner will be ready soon. It certainly smells great downstairs. We hope to get ourselves a few leftovers.'

'I hope you do.' Enjolras paused. 'It won't always be like this, you know.'

'Like what?'

'One day, you won't be scrapping for leftovers. One day, everyone will have their fair share. And one day, you won't be working for me. No one will be working for anyone.'

'Well until that day,' Clara curtseyed, 'Monsieur.'

'Clara.' Enjolras replied, and he watched as she left his bedroom.

R + R if you can :)