On May twenty-fourth, Marie-Jeanne-Lucile Fauchelevent was born, a healthy and beautiful baby girl. Cosette was ecstatic, and instantly taken with being a mother. She recovered quickly physically from the birth - but her recovery was overshadowed by the painful knowledge that a far greater trial was yet to come.
One month to the day after Cosette was delivered, Jean Valjean died, with Cosette and the baby at his side. From that day onward, Cosette vowed that her daughter should only be referred to as "Jeanne", eschewing the more elegant name, Lucile, that she had taken such delight in choosing. She thought it only fitting that, having so neglected and abandoned her father in life, she could offer him this commemoration in death.
During the middle of July, Cosette was bustling about the rue plumet, cleaning up the house and getting lunch ready for herself, chattering away to Jeanne, who was laying awake on a blanket in the middle of the living room floor, kicking free from her swaddling.
"Shall we go out into the garden later, my lovely?" Cosette said to her as she wound the stray ends of her yarn back into their spools. "Maman's going to make herself something to eat and then we can go outside."
Cosette grinned at her baby. If she did not have her, there would be nothing that brought her joy after her father's death. She had no Marius, no father, and only pitying looks from passersby on the street, who took her as a single mother. People yelled things at her, insulted her, and yet she was able to keep her head high.
"What are you thinking?" she asked her daughter, who let out a tiny little laugh. Her blonde curls, inherited from her grandmother, made her look like an angel, her sparkly blue eyes even more so. "I would give anything to know what you think, my love."
Cosette went into the kitchen then and cut a baguette in half, spreading some cheese and sliced meat onto it. Then she poured herself a glass of water from the clean water they kept, that she'd boiled that morning.
A knock sounded at the door right when she was setting her lunch down on the table in the living room.
"Who could that be, ma petite?" Cosette said out loud. "I'll get it, shall I? You stay right where you are. I'll be back before you can miss me."
The door was not out of her daughter's sight, so the little baby did not cry when Cosette walked away.
Humming to herself, Cosette looked through the peephole. She nearly fainted, but, getting her wits about her, she opened the door.
"Good afternoon, Monsieur Pontmercy," she said, her voice stiff because of her confusion.
"Hello, Cosette," he said, taking her in. He knew he'd addressed her inappropriately, but the sight of her arrested him. She looked absolutely, heart-wrenchingly beautiful. Her skin was glowing, her hair lustrous. She was heavier than she'd been a year ago when he'd last seen her, but the weight looked good on her. Obviously not expecting him; she was dressed in a white peignoir, making her look like a goddess to him.
"Marius," was all she said, somewhat coldly. "What are you doing here?"
He got a hold on himself in enough time to realize she was probably completely shocked to see him. Her father had not told her, obviously. "I am very sorry for your loss," he said. "I am here to settle the claims with you. Your father left your money in my care."
"Oh," she said, surprised. She had not expected her father to do that, whatever she had suggested.
Marius was hopeful for what this opportunity might bring- he'd gotten the letter in the mail, and left for France straightaway, telling the Warwicks he had urgent business in France. His contract was up, and he did not renew it for the next year. Cosette's father had written to him- that meant something, hadn't it? He had not heard from her in more than ten months, and he thought best to respect the distance she obviously wanted.
But her father left all their money in his care. Meaning they trusted him, meaning she must have been talking about him. Perhaps most importantly, it meant there was not another man in her life to hold the money for her. Not least of all, Marius could now see her on a regular basis. He was fully intending to make the most of this opportunity and would try as hard as he could to make her fall in love with him again. God knew he had not stopped. His anger had dissipated, and now he only wanted her back.
"Come in, please," she said, shaking her head to clear her thoughts. "One minute, please."
She bustled about before he came in.
"Would you like something to drink?" she asked.
"No, thank you," he called back.
Cosette could hardly breathe. Marius was here. He was as honorable as she thought- he had care of her money, and was doing his duty, just as she knew he would. He was a good man. He did not seem angry anymore.
But Cosette was not so easy to forgive. If he had only wronged her, she could have forgiven him. But he had shunned Jeanne, like she was nothing. He knew she was pregnant, and did not care. So she would show him the baby, and that would be his chance. If he shunned her again, he would not be welcome.
Marius walked into the house, shutting the door behind him. Cosette was stooping in the middle of the living room, picking something up. She turned, and he blanched.
"This is Jeanne Fauchelevent," she said stiffly. "My daughter."
Mine, she thought selfishly, She could have been ours. But you gave her up.
Marius could not breathe again, but this time it was not because of Cosette's beauty. He stared, shocked and uncomprehending and angry.
"Your..." he trailed off. The baby was adorable, but he did not notice. He saw the blonde ringlets, and instantly grew suspicious. "How old is she?"
"She was born May 24th," Cosette said.
Marius counted back in his head, and deduced that the child must have been conceived right in the middle of the relationship with Kennedy.
It had to be Kennedy's baby- if Jeanne was his, surely she would have written him and told him. Cosette would not have kept a baby from him, if it was his. So surely, she was not his baby. The blonde curls satisfied the rest of his suspicions- Cosette had slept with Kennedy, and now she had his child.
"I see," Marius said coldly, hurt once more. He wanted to start over, but what he found made him recoil. He wanted a life with her, but he found that Kennedy had already made more of an... impression on Cosette than he ever would. "Now, onto business."
Cosette flinched.
"I think it best for most to receive an allowance, rather than all your money at once. I think an allowance of a hundred and fifty francs a month would be more than enough, would it not?"
"Err- yes," Cosette said, taken aback.
"I have moved back to Paris," Marius said, taking a pocketbook out of his jacket. "Here is my address. If you need any more money, feel free to write and we will fix the sum."
"Right," Cosette said, angry that he did not even look twice at their baby.
"It's your money, I'm just holding it for you. So feel free to write for more. I couldn't care less either way. You needn't be too personal with your requests. It's purely a business arrangement, this."
She stepped back and recoiled as if he'd slapped her.
"Fine then," she said curtly. "Since our business is finished, I think we are done here."
"I suppose we are," he said coldly. "Good day, Mademoiselle."
"Monsieur," she nodded, and he saw himself out.
Sorry for so long without an update! Reviews please?