Chapter 2
Fantine sat patiently, waiting to be shown into either the office of the factory owner or the door. A man burst out of the office and glared at her as he made his way out of the building.
"Mademoiselle?" asked the woman she had spoken with before.
Fantine stood up and took a deep breath. "Will he see me, Madame?"
"He will. He asked to see you right away."
"Thank you so much, Madame," she said with a smile as she turned towards the office. She knocked on the door a few times and waited.
"Come in," a voice from inside called.
She opened the door and looked around the room. There was nothing expensive or priceless, merely four walls, a window, and a desk with neat stacks of papers, a few quills, and an ink well. Behind the desk stood a man about middle age, dressed presentably.
"Good morning, Mademoiselle. My name is Monsieur Madeline, or Monsieur le Mare, if you so prefer. And you are?"
"My name is Fantine." She felt like an idiot standing there. Not only was she speaking to the owner of the factory, but the mayor as well! Two titles she had been offered to call him, and she hadn't a last name to give him to address her by. Still, he didn't seem like a man who would pry or ask questions about it.
She could have used Felix's last name and no one would have known, unless perhaps Felix came back. Oh, he wouldn't, but fate was tricky that way. Fate always had a way of coming around at the most inopportune times. Still, that point asides, every time someone would address her as 'Mademoiselle Thomolyes,' she would cringe, or even worse, cry.
Likewise, she didn't want to inform her potential employer that she was an orphan. Businessmen didn't take kindly to hiring people who couldn't say where they had come from or what they had done in their lives. It placed a black mark on business as well as the employer. She didn't want a reputation, nor did she want to give anyone else one.
"Well, Mademoiselle, I understand you're in search of a job. Why don't you take a seat?"
"Thank you. Yes, Monsieur, I am looking for work."
"Yes, we'll get to that in a moment. First, tell me about yourself."
She froze. "What about?"
"Why don't we start with where you come from?"
"I really don't come from much of anyplace. I go where I can find work. I never really stay in one place for long."
"In other words, you do what you can to get by?"
"...Yes." It felt as if he could read her mind. And if he could, he surely wouldn't hire a woman like her. "But please don't think ill of me, Monsieur. I will take this job to heart. I do need this job."
"I understand that times are hard, but don't worry. I fully intend to give you a job. But if I am to hire you, I will need to know a little bit about you."
She breathed a sigh of relief. She was going to get hired. She would be able to send money to Cosette. This wouldn't be as bad as she had imagined it to be.
"Oh, thank you, Monsieur. Of course. Ask me anything."
"Your parentage?"
He had practically given her the job, hadn't he? Surely not having parents wouldn't prevent her from working in the factory.
"I couldn't say. I was orphaned at a very young age."
"As was I. It's a terrible tragedy to lose one's parents. My sister and I had problems getting by. Many problems..." He began to trail off, as if lost in the past. He suddenly jerked back and offered a smile. "Siblings?"
"None."
"Are you ... engaged? Or married?"
"...No."
"You aren't a whore are you?" he asked with a chuckle.
"No, Monsieur."
"Good, very good. Do you have any questions for me?"
It was over. She was employed now.
"When do I start?"
"Report to Madame first thing on Monday morning. She'll have your assignment ready then. And seeing that you're new to Monseuil-Sur-Mer , I'll give you the name of a very good inn and they'll be happy to take care of you until you can get back on your feet."
"Monsieur, you are too kind."
"Everyone needs help sometimes. Never be too proud to ask for it."
"I'll remember that, Monsieur. Thank you so much."
He rose to shake her hand. His grip was firm and strong. His hands were rough and cracked, as many hands were after years of hard labor outdoors.
"Madame will show you out and direct you to the inn. Good day."
She walked out of the office and listened to Madame's directions. She was well on her way to a better life, not only for her, but for Cosette as well.
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"She seemed quite respectable."
"Well they all do at first, Monsieur le Mare."
"Did she say anything to you that may have suggested otherwise, Madame?"
"Well, no, Monsieur, I barely spoke with her."
"Then why do you question my judgment?"
"Something about her just doesn't sit right with me."
"Are you telling me that you're in cahoots with that idiot assistant of mine, Martin?"
"Of course not, Monsieur. Martin takes things one step too far. I'm merely saying that I've seen many women come and go through these factory doors for many reasons, and that girl will too."
"I don't agree with you, but I won't ask you to prove me wrong. All I ask you to do, Madame Pascal, is to find her a place in the factory where she can fit in easily and work efficiently."
"Yes, Monsieur."
"You're dismissed."
He watched Madame Pascal leave the room. He picked up his quill to pen a letter, but he found himself distracted. Something about that woman, Fantine, mesmerized him. She wasn't beautiful, she just wasn't unpleasant to look at. She seemed sincere, kind, and able-bodied.
'This is insane,' he told himself. 'She's a worker now. Rules have been put in place. No workers shall interact with workers of the opposite gender because it might ruin them. The last thing I want to do is tarnish an innocent girl's reputation.'
He put his thoughts aside long enough to write his letter. He handed it to Madame on the way out, grabbing his hat and coat. He walked around town, saying 'Hello' to nearly everyone. Since he had arrived here some time ago, everyone had taken kindly to him. He had enjoyed starting over and making a good name for himself.
As he reached his home, he remembered that a new police inspector would be arriving within the next few weeks. Memories of Toulon flooded back and he put his hands to his face. All those years in prison were so perpendicular to the life he was now living. He would have to make do with what he had now by living in the moment.
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A/N - Thanks to the first 3 reviewers!
AmZ - I love having Valjean like that! It's comical and yet so annoying! Kind of like in the 1998 movie.
LesMizLooney - Yes, it is, isn't it? I will stray from the movie and the musical for your entertainment. You make it sound as if my story were punishment. LOL
nebulia - Yay! Thankies!
Fantine sat patiently, waiting to be shown into either the office of the factory owner or the door. A man burst out of the office and glared at her as he made his way out of the building.
"Mademoiselle?" asked the woman she had spoken with before.
Fantine stood up and took a deep breath. "Will he see me, Madame?"
"He will. He asked to see you right away."
"Thank you so much, Madame," she said with a smile as she turned towards the office. She knocked on the door a few times and waited.
"Come in," a voice from inside called.
She opened the door and looked around the room. There was nothing expensive or priceless, merely four walls, a window, and a desk with neat stacks of papers, a few quills, and an ink well. Behind the desk stood a man about middle age, dressed presentably.
"Good morning, Mademoiselle. My name is Monsieur Madeline, or Monsieur le Mare, if you so prefer. And you are?"
"My name is Fantine." She felt like an idiot standing there. Not only was she speaking to the owner of the factory, but the mayor as well! Two titles she had been offered to call him, and she hadn't a last name to give him to address her by. Still, he didn't seem like a man who would pry or ask questions about it.
She could have used Felix's last name and no one would have known, unless perhaps Felix came back. Oh, he wouldn't, but fate was tricky that way. Fate always had a way of coming around at the most inopportune times. Still, that point asides, every time someone would address her as 'Mademoiselle Thomolyes,' she would cringe, or even worse, cry.
Likewise, she didn't want to inform her potential employer that she was an orphan. Businessmen didn't take kindly to hiring people who couldn't say where they had come from or what they had done in their lives. It placed a black mark on business as well as the employer. She didn't want a reputation, nor did she want to give anyone else one.
"Well, Mademoiselle, I understand you're in search of a job. Why don't you take a seat?"
"Thank you. Yes, Monsieur, I am looking for work."
"Yes, we'll get to that in a moment. First, tell me about yourself."
She froze. "What about?"
"Why don't we start with where you come from?"
"I really don't come from much of anyplace. I go where I can find work. I never really stay in one place for long."
"In other words, you do what you can to get by?"
"...Yes." It felt as if he could read her mind. And if he could, he surely wouldn't hire a woman like her. "But please don't think ill of me, Monsieur. I will take this job to heart. I do need this job."
"I understand that times are hard, but don't worry. I fully intend to give you a job. But if I am to hire you, I will need to know a little bit about you."
She breathed a sigh of relief. She was going to get hired. She would be able to send money to Cosette. This wouldn't be as bad as she had imagined it to be.
"Oh, thank you, Monsieur. Of course. Ask me anything."
"Your parentage?"
He had practically given her the job, hadn't he? Surely not having parents wouldn't prevent her from working in the factory.
"I couldn't say. I was orphaned at a very young age."
"As was I. It's a terrible tragedy to lose one's parents. My sister and I had problems getting by. Many problems..." He began to trail off, as if lost in the past. He suddenly jerked back and offered a smile. "Siblings?"
"None."
"Are you ... engaged? Or married?"
"...No."
"You aren't a whore are you?" he asked with a chuckle.
"No, Monsieur."
"Good, very good. Do you have any questions for me?"
It was over. She was employed now.
"When do I start?"
"Report to Madame first thing on Monday morning. She'll have your assignment ready then. And seeing that you're new to Monseuil-Sur-Mer , I'll give you the name of a very good inn and they'll be happy to take care of you until you can get back on your feet."
"Monsieur, you are too kind."
"Everyone needs help sometimes. Never be too proud to ask for it."
"I'll remember that, Monsieur. Thank you so much."
He rose to shake her hand. His grip was firm and strong. His hands were rough and cracked, as many hands were after years of hard labor outdoors.
"Madame will show you out and direct you to the inn. Good day."
She walked out of the office and listened to Madame's directions. She was well on her way to a better life, not only for her, but for Cosette as well.
------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------------
"She seemed quite respectable."
"Well they all do at first, Monsieur le Mare."
"Did she say anything to you that may have suggested otherwise, Madame?"
"Well, no, Monsieur, I barely spoke with her."
"Then why do you question my judgment?"
"Something about her just doesn't sit right with me."
"Are you telling me that you're in cahoots with that idiot assistant of mine, Martin?"
"Of course not, Monsieur. Martin takes things one step too far. I'm merely saying that I've seen many women come and go through these factory doors for many reasons, and that girl will too."
"I don't agree with you, but I won't ask you to prove me wrong. All I ask you to do, Madame Pascal, is to find her a place in the factory where she can fit in easily and work efficiently."
"Yes, Monsieur."
"You're dismissed."
He watched Madame Pascal leave the room. He picked up his quill to pen a letter, but he found himself distracted. Something about that woman, Fantine, mesmerized him. She wasn't beautiful, she just wasn't unpleasant to look at. She seemed sincere, kind, and able-bodied.
'This is insane,' he told himself. 'She's a worker now. Rules have been put in place. No workers shall interact with workers of the opposite gender because it might ruin them. The last thing I want to do is tarnish an innocent girl's reputation.'
He put his thoughts aside long enough to write his letter. He handed it to Madame on the way out, grabbing his hat and coat. He walked around town, saying 'Hello' to nearly everyone. Since he had arrived here some time ago, everyone had taken kindly to him. He had enjoyed starting over and making a good name for himself.
As he reached his home, he remembered that a new police inspector would be arriving within the next few weeks. Memories of Toulon flooded back and he put his hands to his face. All those years in prison were so perpendicular to the life he was now living. He would have to make do with what he had now by living in the moment.
------------------------------
A/N - Thanks to the first 3 reviewers!
AmZ - I love having Valjean like that! It's comical and yet so annoying! Kind of like in the 1998 movie.
LesMizLooney - Yes, it is, isn't it? I will stray from the movie and the musical for your entertainment. You make it sound as if my story were punishment. LOL
nebulia - Yay! Thankies!