"Well I see you know Paris quite well," Bertrand said later as I walked he and Liliane home. "You're a good chap to take us, I'm sure I could have found my way."
"It's no trouble," I said, catching Liliane's eye and trying not to laugh. Betrand had already attempted to lead us down three wrong roads. "I would have taken a fiacre…"
"Oh, no," Liliane protested, "It's so nice out. I'm glad to be walking after that dinner as well. The food was delicious but I fear I ate too much."
"Welcome to my parents' parties," I said with a grin. "They learned from my great-grandfather, or so I've heard. He was very old when I was born and died shortly thereafter, so I don't remember him. Anyway, apparently he was very extravagant."
"Your parents hardly seem that," she said, backtracking. "Rather, generous."
"They are extravagant when they have guests over, but they only invite their good friends. So it ends up cutting rather even, I'd say."
"We must be nearly there," Bertrand said, whining. "We've crossed the river ages ago."
"It's just a few blocks more," I said. "Look, see the church at that far block? They are just round the corner."
"Ah," Bertrand said, straightening his glasses. "It's been quite the full few days, eh, Liliane? I'm dead on my feet."
"I'm sure," I said, and then looked at Liliane. Upon closer inspection, she did indeed look tired. I suddenly felt ashamed for insisting we walk; I know she agreed heartily, but her eyes looked weary.
"We've been travelling, and with the baby in the house it is hard to sleep. I can't complain, though. I am just visiting; Monsieur and Madame Fabre won't be sleeping for many months."
"They only just hired a nurse for this baby, as well. Neither of their other children had a nurse," I said. "They were not going to send their babies away to be nursed, since Marie was able to stay home, but they weren't in a position for a live-in nurse until now. Of course, the two of them also have quite strong personalities. They were insistent on doing everything for their children themselves, even when they nearly collapsed from exhaustion."
I grinned, remembering my parents' shaking their heads at Marie and Jacques' hands-on parenting.
"It's admirable," my mother said, "But unhealthy for them. They have no one to help them, but Jacques is working full time—"
"Marie is working too," my father had reminded her.
Technically, Marie and Jacques worked together. Knowing Marie had sharper and more comprehensive research skills than any young man he could hire, Jacques used Marie to research for cases. Since he was writing his arguments and speaking to his clients he did not always have time to go over all of the facts himself and read up on every newspaper article. Marie did the research for him and helped him write his arguments.
Of course Jacques' clients did not know this. People would be horrified if they knew a woman was winning cases around Paris. Jacques, who was quickly developing a reputation as one of the best lawyers in Paris, would be shunned if this bit of information got out. Both of them were just fine with the arrangement. Jacques, who had the charisma, charm, and wit, was perfect to argue the cases. Brilliant on his feet and good at getting people talking, he really was the better lawyer. Marie, the quiet, shy, pensive one, was perfectly designed to comb through papers and line up facts. As long as they were a team she did not mind that he got the credit, because he always mentioned the "unimaginable support" of his wife. Unimaginable indeed.
Occasionally Jacques would be published in political papers and notices, and I knew half the words—at least—were Marie's. I have to say I was proud of them; I did not have half the gall either of them did separately, and together I did not stand a chance. I wanted a much quieter life.
I was sure the Fourneir's did not know this, and I was not going to be the one to tell them.
"Anyway, they did not want a live-in nurse they did not know, so Jacques' sister helped them out, until she married last year."
"Oh, yes. It's such a shame we could not go to the wedding," Liliane said, her eyes downcast.
"I know," I said, agreeing.
Sophie Fabre had married a Protestant, an Englishman who worked at the British Embassy in Paris for a year. They went back to London and married at the end of this time.
Because of her fiancé's religion, no one in the family could attend the wedding; it was against Catholic doctrine. It was very bold of her to marry this man, Benjamin Hamilton, but she fell deeply in love.
Jacques was broken-hearted over his sister's decision to leave the church. He was very devoted to his religion. Worse, however, was her decision to leave the country.
"She's just had a baby, you know," Liliane said.
"I heard. A boy." What was the child's name?"
"John Anthony Hamilton," Liliane mused. "Apparently in Britain the nickname for John is 'Jack.' So there you are."
"Huh," I said, thinking that it was not enough to name her child after her brother after accepting her dowry and leaving for England, abandoning her family. She'd hardly made Jacques proud with this. I remember he was rather unpleasant for months afterward; Sophie, who he had always consulted with everything, had not asked for his blessing. But since she was marrying in another country and in a different church, she did not need his permission. Essentially it was an elopement, but he and his mother knew ahead of time. It was a rather unpleasant affair all around.
"Here we are," I said as we reached the Fabre building. The porter knew me, and nodded when he opened the door for me. They owned the parlor and first floor, so we only had to go inside the foyer and knock.
Jacques opened the door for us almost immediately, and I saw that the whole family was assembled in the front room with a doctor.
"Hello," my brother-in-law said, his eyes betraying his exhaustion. "I'm so glad you are here, Jean. Thank you for bringing my cousins back safely."
"It was no trouble," I said.
"We're having a bit of trouble," he grumbled, looking at Lucia, sitting obstinately on a stool with her arms crossed.
"Lucia Euphrasie," Marie sharply reprimanded, "Be a big girl and let the doctor wrap your knee."
"No!" she said, her eyes filling with tears, wrapping her arms around her bleeding knee.
The doctor, a large, old man, loomed over her.
"Now, little girl, it will only hurt a bit," he said gruffly, reaching in his bag.
"No!" she cried out, trying to remove herself from the stool, but her mother held her still.
"I promise it will be over faster if you just let him wrap your knee," Jacques pleaded. When he was very angry with the children he could be a disciplinarian, but it was clear that for the most part he was the softer parent.
"It hurts!" she cried.
"I know, darling, I know," he said, stroking her dark curls.
"Don't let him," she said, burying her face against her mother's chest.
Marie sighed, looking at her husband.
Jacques shook his head, and then looked at me.
"Jean…?" he asked.
"I'm not a doctor," I said immediately.
"Don't be ridiculous, you're nearly there," he said, walking towards me and reaching for my hand. "And you'll just look at her to make sure she doesn't need stitches."
"I don't think this is the best idea," the doctor said. "If he isn't a doctor—"
"I would trust him with my right arm," Jacques said sharply. Despite myself I felt a tickle of pride. "And he's the cleverest young man I know."
Liliane smiled at me and I felt my cheeks color once more, remembering her kind words from earlier in the evening.
"May I just look at you, dear?" I asked my niece, getting down my knees so I was eye level with her.
Her tear-filled blue eyes opened and she pouted at me, giving me a piercing stare. Then, slowly, she nodded. She released her knee from her grasp, allowing Marie to immediately wipe the blood from her daughter's arm with a wet cloth.
"There we are," I said, taking her little foot in my hand. "Could I have a cloth please? And something to clean it with?"
Jacques produced a cloth wet with water, one with alcohol, and a dry one. I started to clean Lucia's knee, concentrating on the break in the skin rather than her little mewing cries as the alcohol stung her.
"There we are," I said when the cloth was clean. "She won't need stitches but she'll need to keep it clean and wrapped up tight so it does not become infected. You were right to call a doctor."
"Very true," the doctor said from behind me, observing Lucia's knee. "I would agree."
I shook my head and grinned and caught Liliane's eye, who grinned back. Despite being of such a sweet and quiet disposition, she was rather good at noticing the bravado and ridiculous behavior of people.
"Do you have bandages?" I asked the doctor, who produced them out of his bag.
Carefully, I began to wrap up Lucia's knee tightly, but gently.
"There we go," I said once I was done and had fastened the bandages off. I kissed her knee over the cotton. "All done. That was not so bad, was it?"
She shook her head, her breathing returning to normal.
"Thank you," Marie said emphatically, embracing me when I stood up.
"Any time," I said, kissing my sister on the cheek.
"Where would we be without you, Jean?" she asked, shaking her head and picking up her daughter. "Come, my sweet, let's get you out of this dirty nightgown and into bed."
Jacques kissed his daughter on the top of the head and then Marie took the little girl up the stairs to her bedroom.
I waited while my brother-in-law paid the doctor, mostly for the inconvenience of coming out and not being used, and turned to speak to Liliane and Bertrand, who was sitting distractedly on the couch, looking out the window at the passing traffic.
"It was lovely meeting you both," I said, and was glad when Betrand awarded me with nothing but a bland nicety, shaking my hand. He went back to his post on the couch, looking exhausted.
Her brother preoccupied, Liliane turned her full attention to me. "And you as well Monsieur Pontmercy," she said, smiling her kind smile. "I look forward to the day when we all call you doctor."
"I hope so," I said honestly.
"You were so gentle with her," Liliane marveled.
"Well she's only a little girl, no wonder she was afraid."
"Still, you were very good to her."
Again, I flushed, marveling at how candid this Mademoiselle Fourneir was. She seemed to mix innocence with the strength of a country woman. It was clear she was used to helping run her household and doing work, but did not have the slick sophistication of a city lady. She was authentic but gentle. I found the easy comfort of her presence soothing and stirring at the same time.
"Thank you, Mademoiselle." I wish I could say something about her, but I did not know what to say. I cursed myself for my shy, blundering demeanor. Why was it I could speak to any stranger or child with upmost kindness but when it came to complementing a woman I was utterly tongue-tied?
After a moment when I awkwardly searched for words, Jacques interrupted.
"Really Jean, thank you so much," he said, taking my hand emphatically. I recognized that easy authenticity that Liliane had in Jacques' gaze, and then I realized it was the same easiness my mother possessed. Perhaps it came from a humble upbringing.
"It's no trouble, you know I'd do anything for any one of you."
"My daughter has a mind of her own, that is for sure," he said, shaking his head. "I am so glad you were here, or else we'd have been up all night pleading with her."
"She was frightened," I said.
"And who wouldn't be? That doctor was not exactly sensitive," Jacques said, his face clouding over. "Honestly, did he have to speak so roughly to such a little girl?"
"I agree," I said. I hadn't been there very long, but it was enough to see that this doctor was not helping the problem.
"Would it be possible for you to come tomorrow and check in on her?"
I brightened. "Of course," I said. "How does around lunchtime sound?"
"Perfect," Jacques said. "Eat with us!"
I brightened again and glanced at Liliane. "I'd love to."
She caught my eye and turned red, which made my heart skip a beat. Why did she turn red? Was that a good thing?
Jacques looked at Liliane, and then at me. I turned even redder when he smiled at me.
"Perhaps we can arrange for you to show my cousins your medical school?" he added lightly. "I'm sure they would find that interesting."
"I'll be busy with my books and figures," Bertrand interjected, to my delight.
"Well," Jacques said. "Perhaps we'll have Marie come along, she hasn't been in a long time. Would you like that, Liliane?"
"I would love to," Liliane said. "I've never seen anything like that before."
"Perfect," my brother-in-law said, grinning at me.
I felt a rush of affection for him; he did not make a fuss over me, but jumped in to help when he knew I needed assistance. As I've said before, I was very fond of him.
"Well," I said, reaching for my hat. "I should be on my way. Again, it was a pleasure meeting you both."
I bowed to Liliane and then her brother, and shook Jacques' hand again.
"Goodnight," he said.
"Goodnight Monsieur," Liliane said.
"Goodnight, Mademoiselle."
I caught her eye for a moment longer than usual, blushed once more, and fumbled with the doorknob on my way out. Before my feet had crossed the threshold I knew I was in trouble.
Reviews please? Tell me what you think I really like to know! Though if you are going to take my stories as an opportunity to tell me about Eponine, without having read the book, and then criticize me for liking Cosette better… go home. I can prefer whichever character I want.