The Unknown Past and Untold Future *Les Miserables Romance (Enjolras)*

Chapter III: Clarence

Chapter III: Clarence

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“Ladies and gentlemen, the Baron and Baroness d'Enjolras and their son.” The announcer proclaimed to the large dance hall. People turned, they looked them up and down with respect, bowing their heads, some even clapped. His mother smiled prettily, his father only simpered and nodded slightly. Enjolras stood behind them, awkwardly tugging at his choking cravat. He could feel eyes on him and scowled at the ground in embarrassment.

 “Marc, I expect you to be nice. Please, for me at least.” His mother gave him a sideways whisper and a small gentle smile, then immediately turning away to greet a couple. 

“Socialize. We’re doing this for you.” Was his father’s only remark, the glare in his familiar blue eyes met his own. Before Enjolras could retort something back, the older man had swiftly joined his wife in the steady conversation she was having. Enjolras sighed heavily. He did not know the formally dressed strangers who greeted his parents, politely acknowledging him before turning away to talk about this and that. He sighed again and fidgeted some more. It was an uncomfortable situation. How much I hate dances and ballrooms and socializing…He thought, gazing lazily around the hall. The ceiling was high, decorated with all sorts of art, mostly of the gods in brightly dressed garments. In the middle was a humongous golden chandelier, sparking as the candlelight hit each separate crystal and mirrored the light to the walls and windows. The hall in general seemed to have a magnificent glow to it, almost heavenly. There was lively, tasteful music played by an orchestra in the corner, the conductor waving his arms around in beat, the couples dancing in circles to his order. Every person he saw was dressed in garments of the most fashionable taste. Men in their black and white coats and suits, women in their beautiful gowns of colorful silk and lace. What Enjolras was looking for was non-fashionable taste. There was none so far.

Out of the corner of his eye he saw a group of girls chattering away with one another in hushed voices, looking at him. Occasionally they squealed. Enjolras groaned. Rich young ladies were so…typical and annoying. That was one of the reasons why he didn’t like being shown off like some prized pig, he did not want to be a suitor! These girls didn’t know how to take care of themselves, too much trouble. He hardened his bored gaze looking from his conversing parents to the large marble stairs down to the dance floor where couples twirled and weaved around each other. He sighed miserably and, ignoring the girls that had inched closer to him, took to the stairs; his blue eyes scrounging the hall for his friends. They had to be somewhere. He needed their comfort and advise on his plan. He needed to tell them he saw Joleigh. This is why he was looking for something unfashionable. He was looking for Jehan. See, at these balls young Jehan stood out like a sore thumb. He felt bad for thinking it, but…well, his clothes weren’t the most appealing. He liked prints, bold and bright, things that didn’t match – Jehan was a strange young man in general. But he was a friend, a close friend. Enjolras made his way to the bottom of the stairs, and then moved behind the crowds of people, searching. Where Jehan is, is where Courfeyrac and Combeferre are likely to be. He mused to himself as he tilted his head politely to some more girls. They giggled; one with black curls and in a pretty blue gown even looked him up and down, biting her lip hungrily. Enjolras went pale and hurried away.

Around the drinks is where he found them. Well, two of them. He greeted Combeferre and Jehan accordingly. 

“Hello, brother!” Combeferre clasped him on the back, and then pushed his spectacles up his nose. “This truly is a surprise!”

“Yes, I remember you saying that you hate balls with an up most passion and damned everyone who went to one to hell.” Jehan chirped, brushing his braided red hair off his shoulder.