Disclaimer : I don't own them, they belong to the God that is Victor Hugo.
Author's Notes : Ooooo two updates in one day! This chapter has the first appearance of Baby Enjy (awww) and a bit more Madame Thernardier. And I can't believe I have three reviews! I'm glad you guys like my story : ).
There's a child…
My first week was terrible. I had assumed there would be more people from my sort of background, but Marie and I stuck out. The other errand-girls with whom we shared our barn were nice enough, but Estelle and her friends had a bet on to see how long we would last.
"I want to stay here a month just so she'll lose twenty francs" I told Marie, who giggled.
The barn was a pleasant enough place to sleep. It was full of straw, which kept the room warm and along the wall were four sets of bunk beds. Opposite these beds was a small table with two chairs. A knee high wooden wall separated our living area from the milking cows – who were in stalls on the other side.
Marie and I were feeding the horse of an important visitor in the stables near the house when we heard shouting and the sound of wheels on the path outside. Above it all was the sound of Estelle calling for a nurse.
I hurried to the door. "She must be having the baby" I told Marie.
She wrung her hands. "Should we go and see if we can help?"
I was about to reply when Estelle burst in. "You two" she snapped. "Wet some cloths and bring them up to the house."
"Is Madame having the baby?" I asked.
Estelle ignored us and hurried back to the house.
A few moments later Marie and I (carrying bundles of wet cloth) entered the main hall of the house. It was the first time either of us had had the chance to look around properly and we spun about looking at the paintings and rich furniture. People bustled back and forth down the grand staircase from a room above us. Occasionally a footman would run down the staircase and to the front door, where he would glance around outside – then return.
"He should be here" the footman muttered, mostly to himself.
"Are you talking about Monsieur Enjolras?" I asked.
"Yes" the footman returned to the door. "He's late, he knows she's having the baby…wait! There's his carriage now". He glanced back up the stairs before hurrying out of the door.
A baby's cry came from the room, and the footman reappeared.
"Where is Monsieur?" I asked.
"He says he has business to take care of first" the footman exclaimed. "Business! His wife is upstairs having a baby, and all he can say is "I have business". When Paulette had our children I was there, all eight times!"
"Eight!" I exclaimed.
The footman continued. "And all he say's is "I hope it's a boy". That poor baby"
A nurse appeared at the top of the stairs, carrying in her arms a small figure wrapped in red cloth. She walked slowly down the steps as she addressed the footman.
"Michael dear, where is Monsieur?"
"Taking care of something Paulette"
Paulette rolled her eyes. "Will you go and fetch him? Madame wants to see him."
Michael obeyed, and Paulette approached Marie and me.
"It's a boy" she said. "And the mirror image of his mother if you ask me."
I stood on my toes and stared at the sleeping baby. He had a head of blonde hair, and pale skin. "He's beautiful" I told her.
"Is it a boy?" a voice asked from the doorway. We turned to see Monsieur Enjolras.
"Yes Sir" Paulette replied. "Your wife wishes to name him –"
"His name is Marcelin"
"But your wife – "
"Marcelin" he barked. "He'll run the farm when I'm gone."
"That can't come too quickly for me Sir" Paulette muttered.
Monsieur awkwardly touched his son's head, then turned on his heel and walked out of the door.
We stood there, shocked.
"He didn't even glance at him!" I exclaimed.
"That poor woman" Paulette said. "She dotes on him, and he doesn't deserve it. Marcelin! What kind of a name is that? With a name like Marcelin he'll be dead before he's thirty." She smiled absent-mindedly at the baby. "He's going to be handsome though. I'll take those cloths my dears" she took our bundles. "Must go and tell Madame her baby has a new name." She gave us a broad smile.
"I think Marcelin is pretty" Marie said, when Paulette has disappeared up the stairs. "It's poetic."
"His father couldn't seem to care less" I observed.
"I wonder what he'll be when he grows up" Marie wondered.
"Nothing, he'll stay on this farm – you heard his father. Unless he rebels."
Marie smiled. "Yes, he looked the rebellious type."
We both laughed, and made our way back to the stables.
