Black, The Dark of Ages Past

Need to See You

One Week Later

"How could you be so insensitive, Enjolras?" 

Jehan and Enjolras were alone in the meeting room. In most circumstances, Enjolras would not seek out the poet for idle chatter, but he was the romantic type. He had assumed Jehan could help him with this one; so far, he had found the other man to be less than helpful. He should have factored in that as a romantic man, Jehan would immediately push for Enjolras to go after Ismérie without caring that she was to marry another man. He made it seem much more than it actually was, at least to Enjolras.

"I didn't know she was there. It's complicated."

"It's not complicated. You love her."

Enjolras rolled his eyes, "I don't love her. I care about her. This isn't some silly love story. She deserves to know the truth, but I can't tell her the truth until I know it myself."

"But, you still don't want her to marry Fabien let alone a stranger."

He went quiet, pursing his lips in thought. Jehan was, of course, right about that. For some reason, the thought of her marrying anyone bothered him. He sighed, "She doesn't want anything to do with me."

"Since when do you give up? I have an idea..."

...............................

A knock sounded at the door of the Lefevre residence. Ismérie rested the broom she had been sweeping with against the wall, hurrying over to the door and opening it. For the past few days, she had been hoping that Enjolras would come to the door. Her heart still ached and she was still angry with him, but she missed his company. She immediately regretted agreeing to marry Fabien and begged the Lefevres for more time to sort out her own heart. The agreed to another two months since it was known that she had been courting Enjolras. When she opened the door, she felt her heart drop.

"Monsieur Prouvaire! It's nice to see you! What brings you here?"

A part of her hoped he would say Enjolras sent him, but he only smiled and bowed his head, "I was coming to ask permission to court Mirielle."

"Oh," her tone was disappointed, but she quickly mustered a smile, "How grand! I'll get Mademoiselle Lefevre!" 

Jehan quickly took her hand and kissed it. She was able to feel a folded up piece of paper pressing against her skin. He looked up at her with a smile, "Please do."

She quickly shoved the paper into the pocket of her apron and hurried up the stairs to find the door open to the older woman's room and Jeanne sitting in a chair and sewing.  Ismérie cleared her throat and curtsied, "Mademoiselle Lefevre," Jeanne looked up with a smile.

"Ismérie, we are to be sisters soon! Please call me sister and there's no need to curtsy! I heard a knock at the door! Who is it?"

"Monsieur Jean Prouvaire. He wishes to court Mirielle."

"How splendid! What do you know of this young man?"

"He's a student and a poet. He's a kind soul, M-- sister."

"Very good, I'll go meet with him. Send Mirielle into the sitting room."

"Of course."

She followed Jeanne down the stairs, only pausing briefly to give Jehan a nod and smile before hurrying towards the back of the house to the kitchen. Mirielle was paying the water bringer when Ismérie entered the room, her back turned to her. As she turned around, she jumped, "Ismérie! Don't sneak up on me like that!"

"Sorry, Mirielle! But, Monsieur Prouvaire is here!"

"Monsieur Prouvaire? But why?"

The younger girl sighed and crossed her arms, "Really, Mirielle? At every meeting, he was practically fawning over you! He has come to ask to court you!"