Time Faces Strange Changes {Cosette}

[Deleted]

Valjean sighed. He and Cosette had been living in the convent for a time now, and the girl he had adopted and loved had been carefully sequestered there. That was the way that he wanted to keep things. Though he doubted that the Thenardiers were going to come after the girl they'd for whatever reason agreed to keep for a time (they had probably just been making money off her poor mother, not spending a franc of it on caring for Cosette), he did worry about Javert still. And frankly, he didn't want anyone looking at Cosette at all. She was still a little girl. She was always going to be his little girl.

That was why he was reluctant, even when he realized that she was outgrowing her dress, to buy her a new one. To buy her an actual corset to go with it. The thought made him shudder. She wasn't old enough for that. It was just another reason why he was grateful and relieved that not many men came through the convent. No one really came in other than people who might need help; mostly the nuns kept to themselves, and he stayed out of their way. They prayed together, they ate together, they lived in pleasant silence for the most part. They taught Cosette, and so did he. It was easy, fluid, quite. A content and peaceful lifestyle.

One that he did not want disrupted by her actually... growing up. Things were changing, whether he liked it or not.

He didn't know how to go about asking the nuns for help with her dress. If he had his way, then she would be wearing the same loose, modest habits that they wore. But he wanted Cosette to have the best of everything, just as he had always given her, and he knew that she would want fashion and... support. Sigh. He didn't want to think of it. It wasn't that he gave her everything she might want, because she might want foolish or unhealthy things, but... well, come to think of it, she had never asked for anything unreasonable. He had just given freely out of love.

Love would have to sustain him through this. Mustering his courage, he approached her, clearing his throat. “Cosette,” he began, “I wish to take you into town. We will have a new dress made.”

[Deleted]

(ooc: omg. He’s so cute. Also, excuse the bad post. I was in a bit of a rush and, unlike you, I can't make amazing posts in 20 mins <3)

If asked, Cosette would have honestly said that she felt blessed for the first time in her life. It wasn’t like one of those times when Madame Thénardier pulled on her blonde locks and demanded that she “be as grateful she ought to be” for the food they put in front of her everyday—scraps from the Thénardier’s supper and, if she was lucky, a small loaf of bread. Back then, she tried to convince herself day and night that she was blessed—not to avoid beatings, but just to keep herself as optimistic as humanly possible in such a situation. She was alive, after all.

In those days, Cosette would have never imagined receiving the love and care that Jean Valjean had given to her. From the moment they met, he had been the kindest person to her, and now he was the best father anyone could ever ask for. Ever since he lifted that water bucket off her shoulders, she knew he was a great man. He had raised her as his own, provided her a nurturing home, given her an education… He had fulfilled all of her daily needs as a growing young woman. For this, she was truly blessed.

One thing she was not too happy about, however, was her favorite dress. It had become a tad bit too tight on her small frame. She shifted uncomfortably on the bench where she sat, tugging on its bodice delicately with two pinched fingers. During the past few years of their stay at the convent, Cosette had been noticing a few… changes in her body. Something she did not completely understand. All she was really sure of was that her height had grown noticeably along with the width of her body. She could not bring herself to complain about this to Papa. He had given her everything she could ever want, and she never really asked for anything unless it was absolutely necessary. The dress wasn’t too tight, so she did not consider getting a new one to be “absolutely necessary” at that point. Just… something that would be nice.

As her father approached, she straightened her posture, meeting him with a warm smile. “Cosette, I wish to take you into town. We will have a new dress made.”[/b]

Cosette grinned even wider. True to form, her dear Papa had noticed her need before she had even said anything. And, if there were anything she wanted more than a new dress, it would be going into town. Now that was something that she could never ask her father. “Oh, thank you, Papa!”[/color] She exclaimed, jumping up to embrace him.
[/size]

[Deleted]

No one could accuse Jean Valjean - here known as M'sieur Ultime Fauchelevent, brother of the man (whose life he had saved) who resided here at the convent, and had now joined him with his daughter - of neglecting Cosette. The first time he had seen the girl, she had been dressed in worn rags of the wrong size, faded in color, dirty and askew on her thin frame. Never again would he allow her to live in squalor. But she was growing so quickly now that she was actually getting a decent amount of food to eat, and it was nearly impossible to keep up at this rate. He had always taken care to get her dresses a little big, and the nuns were excellent when it came to altering the hem slightly, but now there was no more helping it - it was time to get a new dress. He had watched until her little ankles were nearly exposed - unacceptable - before determining to make good on his resolution.

He knew what it was like to be poor. God help him to ensure that Cosette would never know it again. She saw the people on the streets when they gave alms or someone asked for sanctuary in the convent, but he did not want her own feet to be cold or her own shoulders to shake or her own belly to grumble with want. But it was God to whom she should be grateful, her Heavenly Father rather than her earthly one, because it was He who had saved her soul and not just her body. God had allowed Valjean to make money as a mayor and then to find Cosette so he could adopt her and provide for her.

That was why he merely gave a faint, paternal smile as Cosette leapt to thank him. "It was time," he answered simply; there was no need for such excitable gratitude, but it was right, of course, that his daughter should be thankful for all she had. Food, shelter, and love, more than frivolous dresses. Holding her briefly in his strong arms, he kissed the top of her head before setting her down again. "Have you said your vespers?" She was always good, the little angel over whom God had given him stewardship just for a while; he felt he scarcely had to do anything more than a reminder here or there. Perhaps he led by example. "God has been very good to us and we must thank Him before we ask for more." He gave her tiny hand a squeeze. With her answer, they could go to the carriage that would be waiting outside.

[Deleted]

Cosette always felt safe in her father’s arms. There was no other place that she felt so loved and cared for. She loved her Papa and strived to be the best daughter she could ever be. God willing, she would at least come close to that standard someday. There would always be room for improvement. "It was time.”[/i] She nodded, embraced him tighter as he kissed her head, and allowed herself to be lowered down onto her feet. “Have you said your vespers? God has been very good to us and we must thank Him before we ask for more."[/i]

Earlier that morning, before her studies had started, Cosette joined a few others in a brief morning worship, thanking the Lord for their daily blessings: for food, for health, for shelter, and for the beauty in life God has made and given to the world. Although she had recognized all these things whilst in daily prayer, it had been quite a time since she had thanked Him for what she considered to be the biggest blessing in her life thus far: the blessing that was Jean Valjean. Her papa helped her escape such a harsh life. She understood as she grew older that God had helped her father in saving body from such a wretched place and her soul from evils that would surely have tainted it. With that, He had given her life and hope, and that was more than she could ever ask for.

So truthfully, the answer to Papa’s question was a no. Cosette shook her head, “Regretfully, I have not been gracious enough.”[/b] She released her father’s aged hands and daintily excused herself from the premises so that she may give thanks in front of the church altar. After some time, Cosette rejoined her father, with a bonnet placed neatly atop her head and white gloves pulled delicately over her thin hands. A brief hour of prayer was definitely not enough to thank the Lord for a lifetime, but she was sure to give thanks daily for all of her blessings from then on. “I am ready, Papa.” She took him by the hand allowed herself to be escorted out of the convent and into the carriage.
[/size]

[Deleted]

Though he was somewhat surprised to hear that she had not finished her prayers, Valjean did not doubt that she had done some praying, and she just did not think it sufficient. After all, what sort of praise could ever be adequate to thank the God who had given them everything? Not only their earthly blessings, but eternal salvation. That was even better. But for now, as hard as things were, as much suffering as he saw around them, he could be content enough when Cosette was near. It reminded him that he was of use in this world.

Not that he hadn't helped others. It was just that he did not always see them again, while in Cosette, he saw a need every day which he could fill; she was a little rose around which he carefully patted soil to support her, that was all; she did the growing on her own. And she was growing tall and strong. When she returned, he offered her another smile. He had spent some time on his own, saying more prayers, making sure that everything was in order. He prayed for their safety. That could always use more prayer. And, on a practical level, he surveyed the perimeter of the convent to make sure that there were no people who appeared to be of suspicious intent. Of course, he knew that he could not judge people by their looks – the bishop of Digne hadn't him – but he was always on alert.

“How grown-up you look,” he commented, his voice light even though the sentiment weighed heavily on him. Sometimes he forgot that as she aged, so did he. It was like he was stuck in time in the convent and her maturing surprised him. He squeezed her hand gently within its little glove, using it as a brace to help her into the carriage. It was not a long ride, but he preferred to keep her sequestered.

They arrived shortly thereafter at their destination, and an attendant appeared to serve them. “My daughter requires a new dress, si vous plait,” he began, inclining his head respectfully to the little woman. There was a nod of agreement and the little gloved fingers were handed off. “I will be right outside,” Valjean felt the need to say, realizing rather forlornly that they were to be separated now; he could not very well watch as she was undressed to be fitted. “I am right here. This kind madame will take care of you. It will just be a moment.”

[Deleted]

Cosette grinned at her Papa, and nodded in response as he exited the shop. The seamstress took the young chosette by her hand and escorted her into an area separated from the main room by two pearl-colored, lace trimmed curtains. “Merci, madame,”[/color] she said. She turned and allowed the woman to unlace her tight-fitting dress, leaving her in her undergarments. Soon after, another woman—whom Cosette assumed to be an assistant to the seamstress—entered the room holding… quite unusual measuring equipment. She learned but moment after that the “assistant” was actually a corsetiere who was there to fit Cosette for her first corset.

The two women kept talking about how excited Cosette should have been about one of her first steps towards adulthood. And as they asked her question after question, all she could do was nod politely and say, “I’m not sure…” She was incredibly overwhelmed, no doubt, but she could not think of why. Her slender hands subconsciously glided over this new dress that the seamstress pinned together fit her petite frame. Her fingertips traced the faint flowers sprinkled all over the dark fabric of its skirt. She decided that she was a little unsure of this. It was all rather beautiful—a sensible, modest dress—but she didn’t quite feel right wearing it. She was used to whimsical garments she could run around in through the convent’s gardens. They radiated childhood and innocence. This dress was for a woman. Cosette wasn’t sure if she could walk with the as much confidence and grace as a woman—someone usually in this type of dress—surely would.

The seamstress, as if reading the young woman’s mind, placed her hands reassuringly on Cosette’s shoulders and guided her towards a large mirror so that she may see her outfit properly. At first, Cosette expected to be greeted by a stranger. Instead, she met a face and a body she knew and accepted to be her own—this was someone she was comfortable being. She was elated to find that she was able to feel completely like herself—no, maybe more like herself, actually. “Wait!” The seamstress said suddenly, unlacing Cosette’s bonnet. While both women disappeared into the main shop, swayed in place, admiring her new garb. The seamstress came back in with a lilac, lace-trimmed bonnet, placing it atop Cosette’s head for a finishing touch. “Parfait,” the seamstress exclaimed.

Cosette grabbed her skirts and walked out into the main room. “Papa,” she called out. “Won’t you come in? I’d like to know if this attire suits me.” She straightened her posture and awaited her father’s verdict in front of the shop's entrance.
[/size]

[Deleted]

For the majority of his life, Valjean had been alone. For a time, he had preferred it that way, since when he had been looking for a place to stay after nineteen years in prison, no one had looked kindly upon him anyway. But then the bishop had changed his life, and he had gone on to become a worker, a mayor, and from there, his most important role: a father. It was what defined him now, his relationship to another person, his adopted daughter. Though he supposed he was capable of doing something else besides parenting, he hadn't given it much thought; taking care of Cosette consumed him. Rarely, if ever, was she gone from his side, and in those few moments, the man who went by Ultime Fauchelevent felt rather perplexed as to what to do.

He wandered the little shop, listening to the voices of the faces he could not see, his eyes making a lazy but careful sweep of the store as his fingers brushed across silks and muslins. His mind drifted briefly to his factory days. One might think he looked lost, but he was as apt in his surveillance as ever. Briefly, he stepped out, checking the street, though he never went far from Cosette, just to be safe. All was well. His reveries took time enough for his child, no longer so much a child, to emerge.

Though she asked about her clothing, his eyes went straight to her eyes, his mouth softening, the lines around his eyes crinkling. "It suits," he allowed, the voice gruff but the sentiment tender. How could he tell her that she looked beautiful and grown-up when he wasn't sure that he wanted her to? He could not explain how doing his job of raising Cosette into a woman could be so painful and gratifying at the same time. Perhaps someday, years from now, she would leave him. That had to be some while off, but how their years together so far had flown! For now, she still waited on eggshells for his affirmations and approval. He gave a curt nod to the saleswoman whom he paid, and then it was back into the carriage.

"You look as pretty as your doll," he said finally, giving her a smile when he had helped her into the carriage. He didn't want her to think he had disapproved of her appearance. He folded her tiny hand into his and glanced out the window. "I suppose you are too old for dolls now." A soft exhale. "You are growing up, my child, and that will bring challenges and... questions." He had never been one for long, soul-searching conversations with his daughter, because that might lead to questions about him. "I want you to have someone. A maid, a sort of governess. She will be living with us when we move."

[Deleted]

(ooc: I wasn’t sure if he left the shop in your last post. Sorry if he wasn’t meant to! I was half asleep! I should stop writing these in the middle of the night ^^’’ Also, omg, I completely forgot about Toussaint. Is she not in this AU at all?)

Cosette was happy to hear that her father seemed to approve of her new clothes. She smiled and thanked the saleswoman as her father guided her back to the carriage. She blushed at Papa’s compliment. It was among the highest that she had ever received; she perceived her doll was beautiful, not only because of the great care she had given it throughout the years, but because of the love that came with it when Valjean gave it to her that faithful Christmas morning. For her, that made it the handsomest doll of all. However, her doll lately sat, though prettily, untouched on a shelf in her bedroom. Though she did not allow dust to collect on its pretty little head, she could not deny the fact that she never did play with it. She comforted her Papa as he sighed softly, placing her other hand over his leaning her head against his shoulder.

When we move… Cosette thought about their impending departure nearly everyday now. Her Papa had explained that his brother—late M. Fauchelevent—had left enough money in Valjean’s name so that the pair may live comfortably even if he was without a job. Cosette was nearly done with her education and Papa was about to leave his post as the convent’s gardener. She couldn’t think of a reason to question her father’s decision to move. Papa worked hard every moment of everyday. And although his job consumed the majority of his time spent without the young chosette, he still tried to help the poor and the ailing as much as he could. He had taught her that to love God is to love others. She understood—though she would prefer that he take a much needed rest more often—that he had a duty as one pair of the Lord’s hands on Earth to help those in need. He may have aged physically, but his spirit was still young and lively, giving His love to those who needed it the most.

As for Cosette, she was rather excited to leave the convent—but not because of hate or anything of that nature. It was a place and a people that she would be forever indebted to. She quite literally learned everything she knew in the convent; She was given an excellent education—domestically, scholastically and spiritually. She learned to love and not fear, to give when as she could, and—quite reasonably the most important lesson of all—to accept the joy life brings each day. It was there where she allowed genuine laughter to escape her lips for the first time in her whole life. No, she wouldn’t have parted with the convent in anger. Instead, she welcomed the future with her heart wide open, and as much hope and optimism as she could carry in her arms. This would not have happened without her Papa, and she was truly grateful.

She did often wonder about their past. About Papa’s past. Though it was not more than 5 years prior, her memory had gotten a bit hazy. Still, her curiosity was not enough for her to ask Papa about such matters. Perhaps she would wait until she was fully grown. She had enough of its memory to recall that their past—at least, her past—was very dark and cruel, and she did not want to upset Valjean with memories that could be just as unpleasant. If they were anything but, he would have told stories of his life by now. She lifted her head from her Papa’s shoulder, “Where do we plan to move to, Papa?” Her eyes sparkled with wonder.

[Deleted]

(OOC: Yes, he left the shop ^^ And we actually had her once upon a time but she went inactive. I figured we could just mention her or NPC her, whatever you want!)

Valjean gave compliments rarely because they were genuine; his words were not wasted on insincere flattery. As a man of few words generally, most of them were spared on his daughter. Some might have found his comment to be insulting, but he believed that, as much as he did not want to admit that Cosette was becoming a young lady, she epitomized what a young lady ought to be. She was ladylike, polite, and virtuous. Her clothing was modest and tasteful, and she was delicate and poised, just like her doll seemed to be. He would not ask for her to be made of porcelain, because they had faced trials, even in her youth, which had required much strength to overcome. Of course he protected her as best as he could now, but that did not mean that she was lifeless glass.

Though, he would prefer for his daughter to remain untouched and pristine, he knew that he could not keep her in the convent forever. This was why, some time ago, he had made the decision that they should move to a larger home, a place where Cosette could grow into womanhood with a governess. The house would be hers to command, because someday, likely a long ways off, he would be dead, and though he hated to think of it now, Cosette would have to run the household. Perhaps she would even marry, but the idea of a man taking her from him still made him tense. Even if she had no husband, Cosette would be well provided for, her whole life, because of the money he had earned from his factory and his time as mayor. He had saved it scrupulously for that purpose.

Now they had enough to have three homes, actually, varying in size and location, in the event that one became unsafe. “The Faubourg, child,” he answered her question simply. It was a wealthy area. A safe area, he believed. “You must understand that the home there will be different than that to which you have grown accustomed. We will have help. Mam'selle Toussaint will meet us there. You will always treat her with respect and kindness, understood?” He knew that she would. No change of fortune had hardened Cosette's heart. “And we will not remain there out of reach of the poor. We must continue giving alms, giving freely to others just as God has done for us.”

[Deleted]

(ooc: not muh best. Physics takes its toll on da brain ^^’’)

The Faubourg, Cosette repeated to herself. A well-known, wealthy district, almost solely inhabited by the high nobility. What a blessing to have the means to live in such a distinguished area of the city. She nodded in response to her father, knowing that she would never treat Mme. Toussaint as anything but her equal or, perhaps at times, her superior. And of course she understood that they would continue to aid the underprivileged. What better way to thank the Lord for His kindness than to offer kindness and respect to others: His children and brothers. This was a gift from God, no doubt. But of course, God does not simply give a man his desires. He gives the opportunity and the means to pursue a goal, and as long as a man works hard enough, he will eventually reach it. Papa surely must have done something in his past to be so deserving of His blessings.

Cosette was, indeed, no longer the child that Papa found in the wood. As she came of age, she began to formulate thoughts of her own. There were questions about the past—More specifically, of her father’s past. There was no doubt in her mind that he must have been a great man—he was still a great man. She wondered of his life before theirs, and if that had anything to do with the small fortune they had today. Surely not all of it came from her uncle Fauchelevent; Papa must have saved some of his money earned as a gardener, and some must have saved from long before.

That wasn’t the only thing that Cosette thought of when it came to Papa’s history. She had this whole back story invented that was often swirling in her subconscious. There were bits and pieces from what she already knew, of course. She hoped that someday he would fill in the gaps, and replace or affirm stories she had made up while she considered his life leading up to today. Someday, she would be older, and Papa would tell her stories of years ago.

When carriage rode over a few rougher bumps, Cosette was suddenly broken out of a trance she didn’t even realize she was in. Her whole body was faced entirely towards the window, though she had no recollection of positioning herself in such a matter. She had been silent for the majority of the ride home, missing everything he had said while she was lost in thought. She didn’t even realize when they arrived at the convent’s gates. She awkwardly turned towards her father, her cheeks flushed, “I apologize, Papa. It has… been a long day.”[/color][/size]

[Deleted]

Valjean looked at his daughter in some concern as she spoke, wondering if the carriage ride was more unpleasant for her than usual. Was it her new dress? Perhaps it was too tight. Perhaps he had been wrong to suggest to the ladies that she be fitted for a corset. What a fool he was... It was too early. She was still a little girl, wasn't she? Well, so she always would be, in his own mind, but perhaps he should have waited a few more months to have her fastened into this womanly clothing instead of a simple dress. Or a few years.

“Has it?” he asked gently. Cosette had always been a thoughtful child, and a compassionate one. He would never call her unintelligent or intentionally ignorant. She had been well-educated in the convent in everything in which a young lady ought to be educated. He just didn't know what it was that she could be worried about – what it was that could make her feel like the day had been long. Time had passed somewhat slowly for him as he'd waited for the fitting and tailoring to be complete, but his time had been engaged in fretful worrying and watching, as it usually was; he could never be too careful about the man who had been hunting him for nigh fifteen years. But surely it had not been so long; had they not just completed vespers before coming here?

There were only a few things which he could imagine would weigh on her mind. Perhaps she was worried about going to the Faubourg, going to a new place, one that wasn't as sheltered as the convent, one where they would be surrounded by rich and glittering nobles. Perhaps she felt guilty about getting a new dress and moving away from the poor in this area of the city. She might even feel guilty about having Toussaint, who would be a servant as much as a governess.

Folding her smaller hand in his, his thick brows knit together over stormy hazel eyes, he attempted to reassure her. “Cosette. Do not feel guilty to receive God's blessings. You have always shared freely with others.”

{OOC: Don't worry about it! Sorry for the wait!!}