Black, The Dark of Ages Past

The Medici Fountain

July
1828

The end of June had been rather rainy, so Enjolras was unable to take Ismérie for the walks he kept promising. Instead, he had to sit in the Lefevre's parlour and court her there, which was awkward to say the least. Their chaperone changed each time they saw one another. One day it would be Mademoiselle Lefevre, the next Mirielle or Fabien. It was hard to speak to one another with people sitting there, watching their every move. The first two weeks of their courtship was perhaps the most awkward two weeks of their lives. Enjolras visited on Fridays and Sundays, still bringing her to the meetings when they had them (which usually fell on Wednesdays or Saturdays). 

When the first sunny Sunday came along, it was July. The rainy June weather had made Paris unbearably humid, the stench even more horrific.  Enjolras and Ismérie stood side by side in church, trying to keep a modest distance (while also trying not to feel too hot). They both found it exhausting due to the boring sermon and the heat. When they left, it was almost freeing. They went straight to the Luxembourg Garden. The gardens were a sweet escape despite the heat and humidity; it was much better than sitting in a sweltering room with no conversation. The two walked arm in arm with Mirielle, Fabien, Victor, and Jeanne not too far behind at "chaperone distance". This enabled them to speak more freely. Enjolras saw this as the perfect time to perhaps see if he could figure out who her fiance was to be and any proof to bring against Latour.

"Ismérie, you said your grandfather was from Paris. Where did you grandmother hail from and why was she in Quebec?"

There seemed to be some hesitance onIsmérie's part in answering the question. She thought over how to explain to him who her grandmother was. Yes, their courtship was awkward in the beginning, but their friendship had not been. She didn't want to scare him away if he was really bent on helping her avoid marrying Fabien in this way. She had her own questions, but decided to save them for when there were less ears, "My grandmother was born in Spanish territory in America. My grandfather was trading goods with a Lakota tribe and met her. They fell in love and married, settling in Quebec."

"So your grandmother is Spanish?"

She shook her head, "My grandmother was a Lakota."

That bit of information surprised him. He had assumed many things, but her being part Native American was not one of them. He cleared his throat, "Did she learn French after marrying your grandfather?"

She gave a nod, "He spoke her language and was able to teach her French. I remember her always speaking to me in French, but adding some words from her language in. My father was always encouraged to speak only French, but he felt it necessary for himself and I to at least have an understanding of his mother's language in case she was having trouble figuring out some words, which she did."

"Can you still speak it?"

"Barely. I've used French more and I haven't had to speak it in years so I've lost a bit of it."

Enjolras smiled gently, "Well, I'd be interested in hearing you say something."

"You aren't... scared away?"

"Of course not. It makes you no different from myself or others."

"Philámayaye."

"What does that mean?"

"Thank you. I told you, I can't speak much of it at all. I am French-born after all."

They walked in silence again, unsure of what to say. He felt that he had insulted her somewhat, she felt like he might view her differently. The awkward silence was hard on the two. Finally, Enjolras spoke once more, "I know it's odd that I asked you after I told you I wouldn't and I apologize for that... Just know that I care about you and I want to help you."

"You don't have to do this, Alexandre."

There it was. Her typical denial of help. He couldn't help but sigh in irritation. The internal struggle was wearing on him a bit.  Should he lie further and say that he was harboring romantic feelings towards her? Or shall he just tell her that this is what he wants to do? All he wanted of this was to keep her safe and coming to the meetings. He stopped in front of the Medici Fountain and stared upon the Fountain of Leta. Ismérie looked up at him curiously. He wore that pensive look on his face, the one that made him look serious, yet attractive. A bit of a breeze blew which made the cool mist of the water hit them.

"What if I told you that I want to do this?"

"Then I wouldn't believe you."

Enjolras looked over at her with a frown, "Is it really that unbelievable that I want to court you?"

She sighed, "Would you be insulted if I said yes?"

"A bit. Ismérie, if I had to court anyone in this entire world, it would be you. You're kindhearted, intelligent, beautiful... I was honestly a fool not to see it before."

In actuality, as he spoke, he truly began to feel that way. She was certainly a catch; there weren't many girls like her in existence. The fact that he felt he spoke some truth irritated him, but he kept on. The moment this was all over, he knew he could throw it all away, forget it had even happened. Ismérie blushed at his words, taken by surprise. To her, he seemed sincere, but it was just all so strange for her.

"What did you say to Fabien to get him to say yes?"

Enjolras ran his free hand through his golden curls, "I... I told him how much I cared about you... How I wanted to make you happy and wanted a chance to be with you. He agreed to it probably because in actuality, he does want to see you happy."

 Ismérie thought over what he said, still filled with a bit of doubt. Nonetheless, she decided to take his word, "You flatter me too much, Alexandre."

Enjolras released her arm and took her hand, bringing it up to his lips and placing a gentle kiss upon it, "It's not flattery when I say what I mean."