after the party

[heartbeneathastone]

It's quite late by the time the Twelfth Night party finally, fully ends-- and the exhaustion of hosting (much as Marius left that burden to rest on Cosette's shoulders) makes it feel even later as they at last step out of the darkened tent to head back to their room, and to bed.

Marius waits just outside the tent, peering in to make sure Cosette is really following, arm already lifted to offer to her as soon as she appears.

Comments

[lark_in_flight]

Cosette feels as if perhaps she ought to supervise the clean-up -- surely there's something she ought to be doing, surely there's one last thing -- but there's nothing she can think of, and the rats are making little shooing motions at her, and Marius has just gone through the door. So it's with a vague sense of giving up -- surely there's something she ought to be doing? -- that she follows after her husband.

And, oh. Darkness. Darkness, and stars, and the chilly night air, after the dazzle of the evening. It's surreal, and very welcome.

And there, her husband is there. Offering her his arm, after their party, their very own party, which was a brilliant success. Cosette tucks her hand into his elbow and rests her head against his shoulder, just for a moment, more from giddy happiness than any need for warmth or support.

[heartbeneathastone]

"I suppose no one will mind if the tent is not taken down until morning," Marius says, tucking in his arm to press hers closer. "Or perhaps the rats will do it. Though--" Oh, he's definitely tired, he's starting to laugh. "They seem awfully small for the task, don't they?"

[lark_in_flight]

"Oh no--"

She shouldn't laugh about this, not so close to the rats where they might hear; they might be offended, they might find it rude, she really shouldn't. But Marius is laughing his rare laugh, and she's tired too, and the words are already coming through giggles.

"Oh no, oh -- can you imagine, the poor things --"

[heartbeneathastone]

"Should-- should--" He feels guilty now-- how mortified he would be to know someone was laughing at him in such a way! But he can't help smiling, even when he bites his lip to try and keep it back, it sneaks back into place. He glances back over his shoulder, towards the tent. "Perhaps we ought to offer to help--"

[lark_in_flight]

"Oh, but--"

No, she's still giggling, she can't help it.

"Can you imagine us, either, that -- that -- that whole big tent, like petticoats, floomp--!"

[heartbeneathastone]

He laughs out loud at that (and blushes-- petticoats, really!).

"We'll leave it for the morning, when we needn't do it alone. It--" He hesitates. "It did go well, didn't it?"

[lark_in_flight]

(LOOK SHE'S VERY TIRED she wouldn't be this scandalous otherwise)

"I think so," she says, with her giggles fading at last.

She reflects on that, with a quieter contentment.

A little wondering: "I really do."

Their very own party, just theirs. Not Grandfather Gillenormand's or anybody's, theirs, for friends and strangers and the unlucky folk who had never experienced a Christmas at all, and it truly did go well. Tonight, everything is wonderful.

[heartbeneathastone]

"I cannot imagine a finer hostess than you," Marius says, with the usual mix of pride and love and wonder that descends upon him whenever he considers how lovely, how kind, how charming (how good at social interaction) Cosette is.

[lark_in_flight]

Cosette rests her head against his shoulder for a moment, glowingly happy.

And then another moment, because it turns out leaning her head against a convenient warm husband is quite comfortable. Perhaps she's a little bit tired, after all; just a very little bit.

"You were wonderful too, husband. An excellent host! And so many people came, did you see them all laughing? And the music, and -- oh, everything. What a beautiful night it was. I'm so happy."

[heartbeneathastone]

"I suppose you will want to become a great society hostess now," he teases.

(but also please don't want that)

[lark_in_flight]

Cosette laughs.

Then, more seriously, and with a little mostly buried edge of uncertainty, she says, "Well -- I would like to host more parties, I think. Wouldn't you? You enjoyed yourself, didn't you, husband?"

Right?

[heartbeneathastone]

"Yes, of course I did."

He answers at once because he knows it's the only answer he can possibly give-- but he realizes that he means it, too.

"I think it would be very nice to have a party in Paris."

[lark_in_flight]

Cosette, relieved and pleased, smiles up at him in the nighttime dimness.

"I am glad!"

"No, I don't think I would like to be a great society hostess. This was lovely! It was wonderful, it was grand. But I wouldn't want something like this every day. It's not a special treat if it happens all the time. And I like having a quiet life, you know, I do. I used to not realize how quiet it was. Now I do. Sometimes I--" feel so young and ignorant, she's going to say, but that's not what she wants to talk about right now; she changes course midsentence. "--but I do like it, you know. That way a party is a wonderful exciting thing."

And she only somewhat realizes this, since she hasn't experienced it before, but she's going to have to spend a couple of days recharging her social batteries from all of this.

[heartbeneathastone]

"I think it was the finest party I have ever seen."

Which... isn't saying much. "Parties in Paris will be rather different, I suppose. With my grandfather there. His parties are--" Not as nice. "Different."

[lark_in_flight]

"I think I'll like ours better."

...Oh dear, she is overtired, or over-giddy, or something. It's true, but there's no call to be so rude about Marius's grandfather, who's always tried to be so kind to her. She straightens up a little. "That is -- I'm sure Grandfather Gillenormand's parties are nice too, in their way."

Um.

Oh, she already said it, and so did he, and it's night and nobody's around. It's almost as if they're in their own garden -- or back in the garden of the house at the rue de l'Homme Armé, where they spent so many hours in silent loving reveries or whispering together, in the first blossoming of love.

"But this was ours. That's all. Our very own, yours and mine, with good company."

Not all of it exactly proper by Grandfather Gillenormand's lights, either.

[heartbeneathastone]

Perhaps Marius is feeling some of that same sense of privacy, of daring, because he says, rather more frankly than he ever has dared to say out loud, "No, they aren't nice."

--he immediately feels quite guilty. After all his grandfather has done for them? But the stubborn part of his mind reasserts himself: will he allow a sense of debt to his grandfather to make a liar of him? This is why one oughtn't contract debts, clearly.

"It was ours, and all the better for it. I think-- I think it shall be a shame, to have to go back to letting him arrange our parties." Because they will of course, even if he insists that it's all up to them.

[lark_in_flight]

Cosette bites her lip for a moment. What do you say to that? What should she?

But she's already reflexively pressed Marius's arm with both of her hands, in a quick rush of warmth and something that she doesn't quite know how to acknowledge as concern.

"Perhaps we can arrange one. Perhaps he'll see it as a favor to us."

But the words ring a little hollow, and unsatisfying besides. On the heels of this triumph, this wonderful evening of glamour and joy and the pride of having brought it about all themselves (okay, with Bar), it feels astonishingly bitter to hope for the favor of being allowed to plan a party, with bombastic well-meaning advice, the continual worry of having it taken away, the continual gifts and jokes and arranging to be deflected.

She hastens to say, "But anyway soon we'll be traveling. So it will be just us and Father then, just the three of us again. And that will be nice?"

It will be, they've said it as they planned, but --

but maybe that's not quite enough? But what more could there be? Grandfather Gillenormand has done so much for them, he does always mean the best, and a trip is something special, something outside of ordinary life.

[heartbeneathastone]

"Yes, it certainly will," Marius says quickly. He didn't mean to sour the lovely evening with such thoughts, and he feels badly about it now. "I have never left France! I look forward very much to seeing somewhere new."

He has become used to pushing thoughts of his grandfather away ever since the wedding. No, before that-- ever since he agreed to let them wed, since he took such care not to speak ill of Napoleon or Robespierre, since he began acting so continually hearty and kind, and left Marius with nothing at all to object to. Nothing except memories of their great falling-out, of his childhood certainty that the old man despised him. But it seems absurd, even childish, to continue to carry anger (or sadness, though he'd never admit to that) from things so long ago. So push it aside-- it's easy to do. His grandfather thinks the world of him and Cosette, he wants only the best for them.

[lark_in_flight]

"As long as I'm with you, I could be anywhere and be happy."

She feels almost fierce about it suddenly. She's said this a hundred times, and she's meant it every time, but suddenly, without quite knowing why, she wants to be very sure Marius really believes that she means it.

"If I'm with you and with Father, that's all I need. It could be a, an attic without any servants at all. I'd make it our little home, I'd be happy."

"But I am looking forward to the trip. It will be lovely."

[heartbeneathastone]

He squeezes her arm closer and says, "Why, I would say just the same of you. Perhaps-- perhaps we will never come back. We-- we could live in a hut on an Italian island and never be troubled by anyone at all."

He blushes and ducks his head. Right, he's not good at spontaneous flights of fancy out loud-- really, it's surprisingly different from just having them in your head-- but he's tired and he did have a bit to drink and he loves his wife more than any of the words he knows to describe it can possibly contain.

[lark_in_flight]

Cosette is surprised into a giggle. "A hut on an island! Why, it sounds -- lovely."

Here's something else she's surprised by: halfway through that sentence, she started really contemplating it, and the word lovely comes out soft and just a little wistful.

"If we had a door to Milliways still, we could see friends, and still live in a cozy little hut on our own quiet island."

And eat... uh... well, Marius could fish! And her father could keep a garden, and she would help him and keep the house clean and pretty! And okay she knows enough to know that she doesn't actually know the practicalities at all and there's no way this would really work, but right now it's a beautiful fantasy to contemplate.

[heartbeneathastone]

He smiles. At their leisurely pace, they've only just reached the door, and he disentangles his arm from hers so that he can open it for her.

"I suppose we would not need to go so far away. The countryside in France would do just as well. Or even-- even a house in Paris, like yours in rue de l'Homme Armé, with--" He's blushing again, just a little. "With your garden. It was so close and quiet, it seemed to be another world entirely."

They're still half-joking, right? He's not entirely sure now.

[lark_in_flight]

Cosette steps into the light of the hallway -- it dazzles her eyes, but only a little -- and turns to smile at him. Perhaps it's only the slight floating haziness of being tired, of being happy, of being dazzled by winter darkness and then warm light, but right now that seems the loveliest prospect imaginable, and utterly possible.

"Oh, Marius!" she cries softly. "That would be so wonderful."

And why shouldn't it be possible? Her father never seemed to have any difficulty in renting a new house, and they have plenty of money. For that matter, does her father still have the house in the rue de l'Homme Armé? She's not sure. It never occurred to her to ask.

[heartbeneathastone]

"Yes," he agrees slowly. "Yes, it would be, wouldn't it?"

His grandfather would be terribly offended-- or perhaps he would just make a show of being offended. But seeing Cosette like that-- smiling, glowing golden in the light, his grandfather's anger seems only a minor inconvenience, not worthy of mention.

[lark_in_flight]

"Could we really?"

Her very own house. Not Aunt Gillenormand's house, which has been given into her hands but which still has all its furniture, all its servants with their ideas of how things ought to be, all its weight of history. And Aunt Gillenormand, who never expresses an opinion about the running of the household, but Cosette has never been able to shed the feeling that she might, and that she ought to be free to. But in her own house, she could do everything just as she liked. She could make everything lovely. She could hire servants who would listen to her, who would listen to Marius. Their own house, really and truly theirs.

"But why couldn't we? Why couldn't we, husband? Perhaps Father even has that very house still! But even if not, we have money, we could rent the nicest little house, just you and me and a set of rooms for Father to live with us."

[heartbeneathastone]

"I, well I-- I can see no reason why not." Can't he? Somehow it seems like it should be impossible, but he can think of no real reason why it would be so. "It-- it would be very nice, would it not? To have somewhere a bit-- a bit smaller, a bit simpler than my grandfather's house."

And also with the key benefit of not being his grandfather's house, not being the place he grew up.

[lark_in_flight]

They probably ought to be going along to their room, but the hallway is empty; Cosette catches up Marius's hands and beams at him, caught up in the beautiful prospect.

"Our own little place. Something humble, something sweet, that's all we would need."

And then she falters a little, as a little more reality catches up.

"Do you think your grandfather would be very upset? We'd be in Paris still, we could visit very easily."

[heartbeneathastone]

Oh, he doesn't want her to stop smiling like that-- so he smiles and cries, "Why-- why, to the devil with him! It is your inheritance-- if you wish for a house, you must have one!"

[lark_in_flight]

!!!

Such language, she's a little aghast. And against his good kind -- well, well-intentioned, mostly kind -- grandfather!

But he's smiling, too, and he's so earnest, and overflowing with that decisive generosity she loves in him. Cosette claps a hand to her mouth, blushing -- and then the tension breaks, and she's giggling, giggling, out of exhaustion and delight and the release of tense uncertainty.

"Oh," she manages, "I'm sorry, I'm only tired, it's only -- yes, my Marius, yes, please yes, let's do it. When we're back from Italy, let's do. Our own little house. Let's do. Even -- even if your grandfather's upset, I'm sure he'll come round, won't he?"

[heartbeneathastone]

He's blushing a little at having spoken so in front of her. But his smile broadens when she laughs.

"Yes, of course he will. He adores you, he would deny you nothing." And him, too, supposedly, but-- even now he doesn't quite believe it enough to say so. But if he calls him father, if he promises they will dine with him every week-- then, he thinks, his grandfather can be brought around.

[lark_in_flight]

They're quite alone in the hallway. It's late. No one is around; everyone sensible must be asleep. It really is like the old days (of a year and a half ago), when it was just the two of them in the darkness of the garden, when they made so many fantastical plans and shared so many dreams and never needed to think of the outside world.

Cosette, feeling daring and scandalous, darts forward to embrace him.

"Oh! Then everything would be wonderful. Marius, I do love you. I'm so happy!"

[heartbeneathastone]

Marius holds her close as he says softly, "And I do love you."

And maybe, because it is late and dark and because they are alone-- and because they are married, after all-- he will even bend to kiss her, just quickly.

[lark_in_flight]

Cosette blushes to be kissed, right in public -- even in an empty hallway by her husband. But she tilts her face up for his kiss, all the same, and smiles in glowing contentment, even if her cheeks are flushed pink.

[heartbeneathastone]

He's looking a touch abashed too as he pulls away. And, being Marius Pontmercy, quite genuinely means nothing untoward as he says, "It is very late. We should retire."

[lark_in_flight]

"Yes."

She tucks her hand into his elbow, and herself against his side.

"What a wonderful evening it's been!"

It's a dreamy, distant murmur -- and, to her own surprise, she yawns right afterward.