Les Mis: The Gossip

It's Not All Bad

Enjolras and Grantaire are having a somber lunch in the kitchen when Elisabeth finally walks in, stopping at the end of the table.
They look to her with wide eyes as she clears her throat.

"I have been thinking about it. I will have to marry one of you."
R puts down his drink and Enj stares at her.

"What?" R says.

Elisabeth scowls. "I cannot have a child outside of wedlock. You may as well just throw me to the streets as a whore."

R flinches back at her words and Enj snaps.

"Will you stop speaking of yourself like that?! As some kind of woman of the night! We both love you, and you told me you love us both. You have done no more wrong than us and I implore your forgiveness. Elisabeth, I love you. And I am so sorry."

"As do I. As am I," R says.

Elisabeth feels tears once again threatening to rise in her eyes and steels herself. She felt she was being so cruel and she wanted to stop desperately, but she knew that she would unavoidably hurt one of them in her decision. She would be a liar and a fool to say she didn't love them both. That she didn't love them so much that it made her sick to the stomach to have to choose between them.
"I can only marry one of you. It seems we have a decision to make. We cannot let love get in the way of this child's future. It must have the best chances available to it and I will leave you to discuss who will give it these chances, should they be it's father in the eyes of the law."

Elisabeth puts a hand over her mouth at a wave of nausea.
"Excuse me."

She turns to leave the room but suddenly doubles over, emptying the contents of her stomach onto the floor. She colours in embarrassment at the mess and shudders, sinking to her knees as she continues to retch.
But she feels gentle hands pulling her hair back from her face and this time doesn't refuse them.

"I'm sorry," she gasps. "I'm sorry."

Enjolras shushes her, stroking her hair soothingly as R runs in with a bucket.
She tries to look up at R gratefully but the simple action sends another wave of sickness over her and she spills the rest of her guts into the bucket, tears pricking at the corner of her eyes as her throat burns.

When the final shudders have run through her body, she looks up at the two men, both pale with concern. She goes to wipe the tears from her face, still in pain, but pauses at the smell on her hands. It makes her gag again but this time nothing worse happens.

"I love you," she croaks, looking into R's sad eyes.
"And you," looking up at Enjolras as she leans against him. "And I do trust you both. I was just confused and afraid... I am sorry. I'm so sorry. Please don't leave me. Please, I hated sleeping alone last night. I felt so cold. I'm sorry, I'm sorry."

Enjolras rocks her back and forth as she sobs.
"We're not going anywhere Beth."

"I don't want to choose between you. I can't choose between you."

R crouches down so she can see him more easily. He kisses her gently on the forehead.
"No matter which one of us marries you, that will not mean the other loves you any less. You understand?"

Elisabeth pauses, then nods.
"And I will only marry for practical reasons," she croaks back. "Who I marry will not be who I love more, for I love you both equally, in a hundred different ways."

Enjolras helps her to feet.
"Of course, mon amor."
He guides her to a chair and hands her his water. She drinks from it greedily.

Elisabeth fondly acknowledges the life growing inside her then for the first time. She puts a hand on her stomach, frowning in thought.
"It does not matter whose child I am carrying. The babe will grow to have two fathers."

Enjolras nods from across the table and R slips his arms around her.
"Of course," R says. She reaches up to hold his hand, leaning back against him with a smile.

Perhaps she wouldn't die, after all. Perhaps there was a chance of a good life for her and her baby. Enjolras and Grantaire certainly seemed to believe it, so why shouldn't she?

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It was decided over the next week that Elisabeth was to be wed with Enjolras. He was richer and therefore could provide the child with a greater start in life as well as a greater inheritance later on. If the baby was born with black hair and was clearly Grantaire's, they would say in wider society that they had adopted it. This way, they all agreed, the four of them would be considerably more secure than if R was to marry Beth.

And though R knew the decision was purely financial (Elisabeth and Enjolras had made a point of this in an effort to reassure him) he could not help but feel it was personal too, despite Elisabeth's earlier words. He couldn't help but think he was second best to Beth and Apollo after the decision. That he was just there in the background, a third wheel that they didn't love as much as they loved each other. He could never live up to their expectations of him. Enjolras was a god and what was he? A failure and a drunkard. He should've always known Elisabeth would choose Apollo over him because who wouldn't? Part of him hoped the child would grow up to only call Enjolras father, for what sort of father would Grantaire be?

His heart twists in on itself that night, as he once again takes his side in the bed by Elisabeth. She lies facing him, looking beautifully serene in her exhaustion. However, Enjolras' arms are wrapped around her and some of his hair falls onto her neck. He was probably just being protective, R supposed. But a niggling voice in the back of his head told him that the action was Apollo saying, 'she is mine alone.' And she would be, in the eyes of the law at least. They could leave him without a second glance back once they married and, though they say they love him, R feels dread pooling in the pit of his stomach at the thought. After all, he would've abandoned himself years ago, if he could've.
He tries and fails to fall asleep.