I come to fight. Or at least, to listen.

chapter 25

Chapter 25

~Fauchelevant's Part Two~

December 12, 1832

It was quiet in the apartment. The curtains were still open, letting dusky light into the main room. Soft snow fell silently, sticking to the windows. Enjolras didn't bother lighting his fireplace, so the room was almost uncomfortable cool.

It was Winter in Paris. The Gillenormand annual Winter Ball was in two weeks. Evelyn had already been taught polite discussion and table manners; all that was left was dancing. Which Musi and the gang had so graciously forced on Enjolras.

Both Enjolras and Evelyn were a little excited, but wouldn't let the other know.

"So you put your hand here," Enjolras picked up Evelyn's hand and placed it on the outside of his shoulder. "And you hold this one," he picked up Evelyn's right in his left and held it up to shoulder height. He hesitated, knowing where his remaining hand went. He tentatively put it on her waist and pulled her closer. She could feel his body heat. Evelyn immediately felt a little tingle where his hand was.

"Just follow my lead."

"Back" He slowly stepped forward with his right foot, Evelyn filled in the space with her left.

"Quarter turn to your left."

"Quarter turn to your left again."

"And spin." Enjolras lifted his hand up, allowing Evelyn to slowly turn under him. He brought his hand back down and replaced his hand on her waist, drawing her close once again.

They both paused for a moment, looking into each other's eyes. "Uh it's cold, isn't it?" Enjolras said quickly, breaking the silence. "I should probably light a fire. I mean it is snowing after all," Evelyn dropped her hands. Enjolras strode away and tended to the fireplace. Evelyn hugged herself and rubbed her hands on her arms. She was disappointed and, worse, questioning if she was the cause of it.

The flame lit and Enjolras stood up, brushing his hands on his knees. "So, we'll begin again?"

Evenly looked up from the floor quickly with a vaguely surprised expression. "Sure," she said softly and brought her hands back to dancing position.

...

December 13, 1832

Evelyn twiddled her thumbs in the carriage, alone. It jostled back and forth on the uneven cobblestone, occasionally splashing through a puddle of slush. The horses whinnied when they stopped.

Evelyn stepped out of the carriage and onto the sidewalk just in front of Fauchelevant's tailor shop in Paris. She let herself in, a little bell signaling her arrival. "Bonjour!" cooed the older woman at the counter. With her finger, she traced down the list of names and appointments in the book. "Evelyn Delacroix and Musichetta Joly?"

"Yes, well just Evelyn for right now. Musi should be here any minute," Evelyn answered.

"Good, good. Now, come here and let me measure you." Madame Fauchelevant walked down a corridor and motioned for Evelyn to come stand on a low, circular pedestal in front of a three-fold mirror. Madame Fauchelevant unlaced the back of Evelyn's dress and let it fall to the floor before moving on the to petticoats. Madame picked up each garment and hung them over a paper screen. Just then, the entry-bell tinkled and Madame left to greet the customer.

Evelyn took a moment to inspect herself in the mirror. This new lifestyle had treated her well. Her skin had a healthy glow to it and her figure had filled out, for the most part. Good thing I don't look like a street waif anymore... Street waif. Eponine. Damnit. She blinked hard a few times to clear her mind.