Black, The Dark of Ages Past

Identity

November 1828

When they returned from their trip, Jeanne was beside herself over the scandalous implications behind Enjolras not returning with Ismérie the day before as he had promised. Fabien had his arms crossed and his face was stony as Jeanne scolded the young man; she had swore up and down that she would deal with the young woman later. Enjolras stood quietly, allowing the woman to berate him and as she began slowing down, he bowed his head apologetically.

"We had no intention to spend the night in the woman's house, but the storm did not let up and it was too dangerous for us to walk into town. I ensure you that nothing transpired; I would not dream of taking advantage of her or anything of that nature."

Fabien spoke up, speaking over his sister, "Who was this woman you two stayed with?"

Enjolras raised a brow and met his eyes, "Her name was Madame Latour. She was an elderly widow living by herself."

Jeanne flinched at the mention of Latour and cleared her throat, "Monsieur Enjolras, clearly we have been too lenient with you. You have been courting Ismérie for how many months now? Surely it is time for you to decide whether or not you wish to ask for her hand in marriage."

Fabien and Enjolras frowned. The blacksmith went to speak, but Enjolras met his eye and began to speak, "I wish for more time only because I have not yet told my parents of her. I had to get to know her first before contacting my parents, it's only proper."

Jeanne raised a brow, "Very well then. You will continue to court her as before and Mirielle will continue to join you at the meetings. No more trips into the countryside; we cannot risk Ismérie's honor."

Enjolras nodded his head, "Of course not, Mademoiselle Lefevre. I wouldn't dream it."

Fabien turned to his sister, "I'd like to speak to Monsieur Enjolras in private."

She gave a nod, "I'll be in my room, mending your shirt."

With that, she disappeared up the stairs. Fabien stood there for a moment, listening to her footsteps to be sure she left. When the creaking finally stopped and he heard the scrape of the door, he turned to Enjolras, "Latour? Isn't that the name of the butler?"

He gave a nod, "His mother. Ismérie almost said something to her, but I stopped her. As Madame went on, she let it out that her son was once the butler of a wealthy family that has since died. It can't be a coincidence."

"Surely it can't be. Have you heard from your father since the last time we spoke?"

"No, unfortunately. I plan to send my reply tonight so it won't be another week or two perhaps. Have you found anything?"

"Jeanne keeps correspondence with Latour sometimes, but she hasn't mentioned you in the letters. She just updates him on Ismérie's health and the status of my nonexistent courtship of her. I instructed her to ask after the name of her betrothed under the guise of precaution. We should hear from him soon."

Enjolras gave a nod, "Good. I'll say goodbye to Ismérie now. Excuse me," Fabien blocked his way and narrowed his eyes.

"Tell me the truth, Enjolras. Why are you doing this?"

"It's the right thing to do."

"Yes, but this isn't something you would readily agree to; a false courtship? Enjolras, you and I may be unfriendly, but I've come to know you enough to see that you wouldn't do this for just anybody. You care for Ismérie."

Enjolras's marble facade cracked for a moment in surprise, but soon enough, he placed his mask back on, "You're being preposterous. Now excuse me..." Fabien shook his head, refusing to move aside.