Chapter Text
It is a truth universally acknowledged that a single man in possession of a good fortune must be in want of a spouse. When such a man appears suddenly in a country neighborhood, it can be expected that his arrival will be the cause of great conversation and preparation in the vicinity. All families begin to gather up their eligible sons and daughters, and make arrangements to ensure that they are the first to welcome the newcomer to the neighborhood, without seeming presumptuous. One such family is headed by Jean and Fantine Valjean, two prominent members of the community who were well known for their slightly nontraditional family. In addition to their own natural born daughter, Cosette, they took in other children from the orphanage in Paris, and as a result have a much larger family than they had bargained for. Three of their sons, Grantaire, Bahorel, and Feuilly, are of an age, Cosette and her sister Eponine are younger, and Jehan is the youngest, only having been presented into society a year before. Both Valjean and Fantine were retired to the front room with most of their children, reading or pursuing other forms of entertainment, when Jehan flew in from the hall, recently returned from visiting with some neighbors across the way, the Baudins.
"Mother! Father! Have you heard?" he cried, "There is a new tenant at Courtemanche Park!"
Valjean hardly lifted his eyes from his book and replied, "Oh, is that what all the commotion has been? I had not noticed. Have you learned the name of our impending neighbor?"
"Irma said she was told by her father, who heard about it while he was in town on business. His name is Monsieur Marius Pontmercy, he's just moved from Paris and intends to make Courtemanche Park his seasonal residence. His servants have been here for the past two months, but he arrived less than a fortnight ago. He is supposedly planning a ball soon, as a manner of introducing himself to the new neighborhood."
Valjean's expression was one of suspicion, and he asked, "Mademoiselle Baudin volunteered all of this information? It appears that the entire neighborhood is more well informed than we are."
"They are! The entirety of the county is talking about it and we have heard nothing of him, much less of his ball." Speaking sweetly, Jehan attempted to curry favor with his wide brown eyes and pronounced pout. "Which is why you should call on him, to make his acquaintance and secure us an invitation to his ball. How can you say you want your children to be happy if you will not take this opportunity to expand our social circles to allow us to find acceptable partners?"
Valjean blinked and turned his attention to his wife, "Do we want our children to be happy?"
"Yes dear," Fantine replied without looking away from her painting. By this point, most of the children had abandoned their studies to focus on this new conversation.
"Oh," Valjean returned to his book, "Well, that would be why I called on our Monsieur Pontmercy earlier today."
The entire room was rendered speechless for the moment, which was a decidedly uncommon occurrence in the Valjean household.
“Well, Father, why did you not put forth that information earlier?” cried Cosette, “You let us all believe you had nothing to do with the matter! And you should certainly let us know if we are going to be entertaining a guest in the near future.”
“Well, I did invite him to visit tomorrow to see our grounds,” Valjean volunteered with a raise of his eyebrow. “Does that count as the near future?”
----
To the disappointment of all of the Valjean children, Monsieur Marius Pontmercy’s visit the next day was very brief, and provided no opportunities for introductions. He arrived on time, toured the grounds briefly with Monsieur Valjean, and then had to take his leave to collect a few of his friends from Paris. However, he was gracious enough to extend an invitation to the Valjean family to attend the ball he was throwing in a fortnight. As he left, Grantaire, Cosette, and Eponine were able to catch a glimpse of him as he waited for his horse to be brought from the stables.
Grantaire squinted at him from the window, “Well, our Lord of Courtemanche is certainly not what I had expected.”
Eponine frowned at him, “What could you possibly mean?”
“He rides in the manner of a gentleman, but he speaks like a schoolboy. Did you hear him talking about the income of his lands when he and Father came back from their walk? He sounds like the headmaster has asked him to answer a question he is clueless of the answer to. I’m sure he’s not even half of Father’s age, how can he already run a manor? It’s a strange happenstance.”
“There’s more to a person than their experience,” Cosette pointed out, “Maybe he’s a perfectly lovely man. He cannot be too terrible, or you know Father wouldn’t have put up with him for the entire visit. And either way,” She paused, glancing out of the window again, where they could see Monsieur Pontmercy ascending his horse, “It must be said that he is a fine looking man, whether he is arriving or departing.”
Eponine and Grantaire murmured their assent, and the three moved away from their vantage point.
----
The next fortnight seemed to take twice as long to pass, as time always seems to crawl when one is awaiting an event of great importance. During that time, clothes were put into order, and friends visited and consulted about who would be attending and what could be expected at the widely anticipated ball.
When the date of the event finally arrived, it was to much excitement and impatience. The Valjean children arrived at Courtemanche Park and entered the ballroom, eager to renew old friendships and begin some new. For hours, they circled the room, dancing when the opportunity arose and making note of who danced and talked with whom. Monsieur Marius Pontmercy was a popular partner, and the entire room was covertly watching who he chose to accompany. He appeared to favor the women of the event, leaving many a young man disappointed. In fact, he danced with Eponine once, to her delight, and with Cosette twice, to her surprise (and no one else’s). During a break between sets, Grantaire was leaning against a wall, recovering from his last dance, which had been with a particularly enthusiastic partner. He was nursing a glass of wine and talking to Cosette, and he could hear Monsieur Pontmercy talking to someone behind them. Cosette left suddenly, called away by an acquaintance from across the hall, and Grantaire’s attention was pulled to the conversation going on behind him.
“Do you not wish to dance Enjolras? I’m sure we could find an appropriate partner, even for you.”
Ah, that answered the question of whom Monsieur Pontmercy was talking to. Monsieur Enjolras was among the group that Monsieur Pontmercy had gone to Paris to retrieve before the ball, a widely admired group whose arrival had caused much excitement in the country. Monsieur Enjolras was an old university friend of Monsieur Combeferre, who was married to Monsieur Courfeyrac, who in turn was a childhood friend of Monsieur Pontmercy. Together they made quite an intimidating group, and it was no wonder Monsieur Enjolras had no partner for this dance, in Grantaire’s opinion. Though very attractive, Monsieur Enjolras had a certain manner about him which exuded efficiency and intensity, and condemned frivolity. Monsieur Combeferre and Monsieur Courfeyrac had spent the night engrossed in each other and the atmosphere, dancing and socializing by turns, but Monsieur Enjolras had stuck to the wall and with Monsieur Pontmercy, entering little into the conversations and having all the appearance of being terribly out of place.
“No, thank you, Marius. Even if I wished to dance, you’ve occupied the only acceptable partner, and I have no desire to take her from you.”
“Who, Mademoiselle Cosette? Oh yes, she’s quite lovely, if I do say so. But how about Monsieur Grantaire? He’s certainly striking, even if more masculine than my usual partner.”
Although he knew it was not possible, Grantaire would swear later that he could feel the heat of Monsieur Enjolras’ glare on him while he was considered. He attempted to appear very absorbed in his wine, in order to avoid suspicion.
“Who, him? He is tolerable, I suppose, but not handsome enough to tempt me, and far too engrossed in his drink for my taste. If this is the best the country has to offer, I will be glad to be rid of it.”
Grantaire’s ears burned with the rudeness which was being tossed at him, and turned to meet the eye of his accuser. However, when he met the gaze of Monsieur Enjolras for the first time, he was struck absolutely dumb.
For all his social faults, the man was absolutely breathtaking. Mortal words could never describe the vision he made, dressed in his finery and lit by the golden light in the ballroom, and Grantaire despaired of ever being able to accurately transcribe it onto canvas or paper. It was an effort of strength to hold the steely glare he wanted on his expression, especially when it was met by two deep blue eyes.
As first impressions went, it was certainly miraculous. However, once one looked closer, they could begin to see faults in the façade which comprised Monsieur Enjolras. Grantaire noted the downturn of his mouth, which made him seem constantly displeased, and the crease that appeared between his eyebrows, giving him a decidedly argumentative air. When Grantaire’s glare met his own, Monsieur Enjolras appeared briefly surprised and abashed, before his face settled back into a mask of indifference and condescension. Holding his gaze steady, Grantaire carefully set his glass down and turned away from both Monsieur Enjolras and Monsieur Marius, who was stuttering unattractively at the rudeness of his friend, especially when the subject to his rudeness was only a few feet away (and closely related to the new object of his own affections).
Grantaire found a young girl, a friend of Eponine’s, and requested of her a dance, attempting to drive away the ghost of Monsieur Enjolras’ scorn.
He was largely unsuccessful.