A/N: Thanks to those who've stayed with this story so far!
Chapter 10: A Situation in Short Order
Fantine knew that it was imperative that she 'get their situation together', which meant not only furnishing the small room but also seeking gainful employment. "You'll find hard going of it," Zephine warned later that evening when Fantine asked for a word or two on possible workplaces. "No one wants rusty services."
Fantine felt her face burn at this jibe; she had not been a proper needlewoman for some years now. "Better than none, so I'll try my chances!"
So the very next morning, despite the bitter cold weather and the fact that it was a Sunday, Fantine put on her warmest clothes and bound up her still tender ankle. For her breakfast, she pocketed two crusts of bread. 'I can eat just as well while walking,' she decided as she headed to the neighbourhood of the Place de l'Odeon. Although she was sure there were places closer by, in the environs of Saint-Etienne and the Polytechnique, this was Zephine's province. Fantine knew better than to trod on the train of a queen, however self-styled. 'Anyway there are always costumes and little things to be done at the theater, Sunday or not,' she reassured herself. Who knew, perhaps some prima donna or patroness would ask for her services, and she would be on her way to becoming someone's dressmaker?
However the Odeon and its neighbours were still slumbering when she arrived; the backdoor of the theater was closed, the square was empty, and only two carriages passed by in the span of ten minutes. "Why does this part of Paris keep a different clock?" Fantine asked herself exasperatedly. The habit of rising late had not bothered her too much when she was seventeen and blissful, but were vexing now that she was twenty-five and careworn. She pulled her sleeves more tightly over her gloves, anxious to better cover her wrists against the chill lest she feel her own blood freeze in her veins.
As she looked around, wondering if she should head down the Rue Racine, the Rue de Voltaire or the Rue de l'Odeon, or perhaps go instead towards the Rue de Conde, she heard a friendly shout in the square. "Mademoiselle Fantine!" This voice belonged to an elderly man who was dressed a little like a peasant, that is to say clean but with some of the soil still lingering in his clothing. He limped, as if one of his knees had gone a little stiff.
Fantine laughed when she recognized this man. "Father Fauchelevent!"
Fauchelevent made a gracious bow. "It's good of you to remember me! What are you doing all the way here in Paris? And all alone?"
Fantine shook her head. "I brought my little girl with me. Monsieur Valjean-I mean, Monsieur Madeleine the mayor is with me too."
"What, him too!" Fauchelevent said. "What a terrible winter this is! Why did you leave that old town?"
"It's a terrible story," Fantine replied, unsure how to explain the circumstances of the sudden flight from Montreuil-sur-mer. It occurred to her then that there was a serious question she had yet to address: that of Jean Valjean's difficulty. "Father Fauchelevent, you're the very friend we need now in Paris. Monsieur Madeleine needs help."
"Help him! I'd like nothing better than to do that!" Fauchelevent cried. "Where are you staying?"
"At the Estrapade."
"Ah that is some way back. I will go with you; it is a bit out of the usual path back to the convent but as long as I am back by dark the prioress will not mind. I am only out on errands today since the vocal mothers and the claustral sisters are a little ill. I'm a gardener there at Picpus, if you remember."
Fantine nodded, though no recollection of this fact sprung to mind. "Where are you going?"
"I'm making a visit to the Church of Saint-Sulpice."
Fantine smiled at the mention of this church for it was in a neighbourhood she was also familiar with. "I've been there."
"It's good you know the place," Fauchelevent answered cheerily. "I am a friend of the warden. It is a lovely church; now if only those kind Lazarines could see it!"
This mention of her old friends Sister Simplice and Sister Perpetue brought a slight pang into Fantine's chest, but she bravely smiled instead. "Maybe I will tell them about it someday," she said.
It was not a long walk to the Place Saint Sulpice, even though more than once Fantine deliberately slowed her steps to allow the stubborn Fauchelevent to catch up. Eventually she let him lean on her arm, and it was in this manner that they finally came in sight of this church. The morning Mass had just concluded, so the square was crowded, but nevertheless Fantine and Fauchelevent had little trouble entering the church nave. Fauchelevent found a place in the rear, where he crossed himself and began to mutter a few prayers.
As for Fantine, she remained a little way off and closed her eyes, but prayer was the last thing on her mind. 'Zephine, Dahlia, and I used to go here on Sundays because of Listolier,' she thought. For some reason this young man had been the only real churchgoing one of their double quartet, and not even Dahlia's cajoling or the jibes of Favourite, Tholomyes, Blacheville, and Fameuil could sway him from this habit. Dahlia made the concession of meeting Listolier here after Sunday mass, in order to make the best of their one shared free day. It happened so often such that Fantine could almost hear her friend's giggles in the arches alongside the nave, or see her smile brighten at the sight of her beloved. In those days Dahlia had been beautiful, and judging perhaps from Zephine's contemptuous tone, had remained almost that way to the very end.
A plaintive, half-choked sound like that of a man weeping drew Fantine out of this delightful haze of memory, and she turned to see a bowed figure half-concealed in the shadow of a pillar. He did not seem particularly old, but he was worn by care and the deepest grief that tore his breath from his throat in heart wrenching sobs. Fantine realized that this unfortunate had his eyes fixed on a young boy seated outside the chapel of the Virgin. This boy of about twelve or thirteen years was placid and shy, with black hair and amiable features that promised to turn out handsome. 'Why doesn't the gentleman go to him?' Fantine wondered, now moved almost to tears at this sight. Before she could move she saw another man, clearly the churchwarden, approach the gentleman behind the pillar. They seemed to exchange a few words before they stood together in the same attitude of sad and longing contemplation, up until the boy started at the sight of a severe, almost snappish looking woman emerging from the chapel. This lady looked about before she and the boy quitted the area, hardly looking about for anyone else.
"Monsieur Mabeuf has a guest," Fauchelevent remarked as he limped over to Fantine. "It is a lay confessional of sorts; what one cannot tell the cure, one can always tell the warden," he mused before waving to the warden. "Good morning Monsieur Mabeuf!"
The warden bid goodbye to his friend before going to Fauchelevent and Fantine. "Good to see you Fauchelevent," he greeted the old gardener heartily. He bowed courteously to Fantine. "A relation of his, no doubt, Mademoiselle?"
Fauchelevent shook his head. "Mademoiselle Fantine, may I introduce Monsieur Mabeuf," he said. "Mademoiselle has just arrived in Paris."
"Welcome to Saint-Sulpice," Mabeuf replied kindly. "Is there any way I can help you, Mademoiselle?"
Fantine paused to summon her courage; if she did not broach a certain query now the opportunity would be lost forever. "It's nothing to do with church, Monsieur. I'm looking about for a situation," she replied. "Not for me, since that could take care of itself I believe, but for a friend," she clarified when she saw Fauchelevent's confused look.
Mabeuf nodded though his eyes were sparkling with curiosity. "This is a church, Mademoiselle Fantine. It is not the usual place for employment."
"My friend isn't the usual gentleman either," Fantine said, feeling a strange rush of pride on saying these words. "He's a benefactor to me and my child, and a good man, a saint walking on this earth if there ever was one. He's of the retiring sort but he is still so helpful."
"You will never meet a more worthy man in France than Monsieur Madeleine," Fauchelevent chimed in. "He's learned, far more than I can say for this," he added, rapping his own head with his knuckles.
"A good hearted scholar," Mabeuf said. "Where is Monsieur Madeleine residing?"
"At the Estrapade," Fantine replied. As soon as she said this, she realized that there was a sudden difficulty that Fauchelevent's helpfulness now presented and that Mabeuf's solicitude made impossible to deny. "He's renting his room under the name Fabre, just to avoid some difficulty."
Fauchelevent stared at her for a moment but a sudden light of comprehension came into his eyes. "Madeleine was father to an entire town, but Fabre is your father and the grandfather of the girl," he finally pronounced. "See how good he is, not to expose Mademoiselle to undue questioning."
. "Will Monsieur Fabre be home later today?" Mabeuf asked.
"He will," Fantine said. "Thank you, Monsieur Mabeuf. You're far too kind." She quickly withdrew to let the men finish their own discussion on Fauchelevent's original errand, and also to give herself the time to ponder her own situation. 'Maybe I shall have better luck with finding something to do tomorrow,' she resolved.
A quarter of an hour later, Fauchelevent and Fantine took their leave of the warden and made their way to the Estrapade. At the house they were greeted by childish laughter; Cosette and Victor were already up for the day and were playing on the floor. Jean Valjean was seated nearby with a book on his lap, but his attention was clearly on the two children. On the stairway, Zephine was chatting with a broad shouldered young man who seemed undisturbed by the fact that his striped yellow waistcoat seemed too thin and brash for the winter weather.
Zephine laughed when she saw Fantine. "Any success?"
"It's a bad day for sewing, but I met an old friend," Fantine said, indicating Fauchelevent.
Jean Valjean set his book aside and got to his feet while Fauchelevent hobbled forward. "What are you doing here?" Jean Valjean asked the gardener.
"What, don't you remember? You were the one who sent me to Paris!" Fauchelevent chortled before embracing Jean Valjean. "Mademoiselle and I have also a friend who can help you."
"The warden from Saint Sulpice wants to meet you," Fantine explained. "He's a good man who may help with finding some situation for you here in Paris."
Jean Valjean's expression was both stricken and incredulous. "What about for yourself?"
"I'm sure I can find a place. No one would want to go about naked this winter," Fantine said blithely, all the while aware of Zephine's mocking look.
"Better naked than unfashionable," the imposing young man quipped.
"Monsieur!" Zephine said reproachfully. "I thought I was the one you preferred."
"I will not be ungallant to a fellow lodger," the man said. "You must be Mademoiselle Fantine, Cosette's mother," he said, taking Fantine's hand to kiss it. "My name is Bahorel."
"A pleasure to meet you," Fantine said, feeling both tickled and discomfited by such chivalry. It did not help that Bahorel was clearly younger than either her or Zephine. She saw Fauchelevent draw Jean Valjean aside, clearly in an attempt to speak more about Mabeuf's visit. She took off her hat and her fichu before looking again to Bahorel. "I hear you are a student?"
"When I have the temper for it and when events allow me to," Bahorel replied gleefully.
"He comes from very far away, from outside Paris!" Cosette chirped as she tugged on Fantine's skirt. "It's further than Montreuil-sur-mer!"
"I'm from the Midi," Bahorel explained. He cocked his head as a carriage drew up to the door. "It's early for such grand callers."
Fantine snatched up her fichu again, but to her surprise the callers turned out to be the three Thenardier females. All of them seemed to have just thrown on velvet cloaks over the same dresses they had on since the day before. "Good morning Madame Thenardier. I didn't expect to see you and the girls so soon again," she greeted.
"They need dresses," Mme. Thenardier huffed, speaking to Fantine as well as Zephine. She stopped to ruffle Azelma's hair and retie Eponine's hair ribbon, but she did not even look at her little son. "The ones they have are not warm enough for winter."
"Where is Monsieur Thenardier?" Fantine asked.
"Speaking to some playwright friend of his," Mme. Thenardier muttered as she sat in the chair that Jean Valjean had occupied earlier. "I do not see why he has to go off and meet them, when they can very well call on our lodgings. They are far nicer."
'Probably too lavish for them to keep for long,' Fantine wondered worriedly. "Zephine, will you need some help?" she asked her housemate.
Zephine cast a cautious eye on the two Thenardier girls, who were pulling Cosette as well as Bahorel into some little game of their own. "Help me keep them still," she said before going upstairs to fetch her sewing supplies.
In the meantime Eponine stole up to Fantine and tugged on her sleeve. "Is there still breakfast here? I'm so hungry!" she whispered.
"Didn't you have anything to eat today?" Fantine asked as she searched her pockets for the remaining crust of bread.
"It wasn't enough," Eponine said as she took the piece of bread, broke it in half and scurried back to slip it to Azelma.
Little did Fantine know that this scene would be repeated, only in varying ways, over the coming years.