Chapter Text
Marinette winced as her finger got caught on the needle of the sewing machine, licking what little blood may escape her wound. After realizing her finger was okay, she went back to sewing. She began to hum a melodic tune as she mended the fabric in her hands into sections of a dress. The room was filled with a rainbow of colors, rolls of fabric scattered around shelves and the single bed by the window accompanied by the noise of the sewing machine filling the cluttered room.
“DUPAIN-CHENG!” A piercing screech cut through Marinette’s ears.
The seamstress ceased her work, making way across her room to the door. She opened it, only to be greeted by more screaming.
“DUPAIN-CHENG!!”
“Yes, yes, I’m coming,” Marinette whispered as she readjusted the messy bun atop her head.
Briskly making her way down the hallways of the mansion to the foyer. Marinette entered the room, putting on her best smile and bowed. “Yes, Mademoiselle Bourgeois?”
“Oh, finally! Tell me, what is this tacky rhinestone doing on the front of my bag?” Mademoiselle Chloe Bourgeois pointed out.
Marinette examined the bag. The rhinestone truly had no place being there. She looked back at Chloe. “Pardon me, Mistress, but I didn’t design your bag.”
“What?” Chloe wrinkled her nose. “Aren’t you the one who designs and makes all of my clothes? That’s what you were hired for.”
“Yes, you hired me to make your clothes, and I did make the dress, but-” She was cut off.
“But WHAT? I’m going to a special political dinner! there’s going to be many important people there, including my Adrikins! I have to look stunning but this bag is throwing off my whole attire!”
“Um, Chloe?” Sabrina, Chloe’s best friend, “If I remember correctly, you commissioned Monsieur Brodeur to make you that bag to go with your dress.” She smiled and pushed up her large, round glasses.
“Did I?” Chloe crossed her arms, giving Sabrina a snooty tone. “Well then, Dupain-Cheng, take this awful bag and do something with it. Sabrina, make sure I never commission Monsieur Brodeur again.”
Sabrina nodded, jotting down Chloe’s request in her little notebook that she always carried around...Marinette felt sympathy towards the girl. Sabrina was always doing Chloe’s dirty work. She turned to Marinette still standing. “Why are you still here?” She snapped with just as much snob as Chloe used on everyone else.
Yes, Marinette felt bad...Until Sabrina talked to her as if she was somehow above the seamstress. ‘We’re both Chloe’s servants’ she thought to herself as she made her way back up the stairs, Chloe’s comments about the incompetence of her workers growing fainter. She stepped into her tiny bedroom which was tucked into a far corner of the house. Carefully and cautiously, Marinette tip-toed around the supplies scattered along her floor.. She glared at the bag. “I can’t believe she dumped this onto me! I didn’t even make it!” Tossing the bag to the side, she decided she would fix it later.
She sat back at her desk where she usually spent her nights hunched over drawing. She couldn’t help but reminisce about her life before becoming a seamstress. Marinette Dupain-Cheng was the daughter of two bakers, Tom and Sabine Dupain-Cheng. Her father was a simple Frenchman, dedicated to his work, while her mother was a Chinese immigrant who came to France in search of a new life. The two fell in love in the summer of 1860 and eventually had Marinette. The girl was raised around buns, baguettes, and croissants; bread was her life. But Marinette had other dreams: she wanted to design clothes and be a seamstress. She never thought this dream would come true, as she was always helping her parents in the bakery. She had endured many sleepless nights sketching and sewing, determined to perfect her craft. Eventually, at the age of 22, Marinette felt confident enough to use her skills for work. She wanted to get on her own two feet and support herself while still living her dream. But everyone had shut the door in her face, saying they had no need for a seamstress. Marinette wandered Paris, eventually finding herself in the higher part of town. Everywhere she looked she was astounded by the grand homes that were twice the size as her own, her mind gaining inspiration from the classy ladies walking down the street.
Feeling inspired, she took a stroll through the park and sat down on a bench to sketch out her ideas. The weather was pleasant, a sunny day with hardly any clouds and a gentle breeze caressing her freckled cheeks. Marinette opened her sketchbook to draw, but noticed out of the corner of her eye a flyer hanging on a nearby post. Piqued by curiosity she decided to check it out, reading: Seamstress Needed!
The requirements were fairly simple and the pay was amazing, it was almost too good to be true. The flyer said to head to the Bourgeois estate if interested, and so she went. The girl had trouble getting into the doors - she was, after all, lower class. She was in luck, however, because the only daughter of Monsieur Bourgeois was coming home from an errand, exiting an automobile, a short girl with red hair following behind. She spotted Marinette.
“And who are you?” She asked, practically spitting out the question.
Marinette stumbled for words, showing the daughter, who she would come to know as Chloe, the flyer and her sketchbook of designs. Chloe snatched the book and almost tore the pages out while flipping through it. After a minute of analyzing, Chloe looked back up at Marinette. “Did you read the terms?” She asked.
Marinette nodded. “Yes! I have no problem moving in, though I would need to let my parents know…”
Chloe scoffed and shoved the sketchbook back into the girl’s arms. “What’s your name?” She asked, her eyes sharp and intimidating.
“M-Marinette! Marinette Dupain-Cheng.” She stammered. “My father is a baker, along with my mother who came from China. My dream is to-”
“Oh please, Dupain-Cheng , I don't need your life story.” Chloe walked past Marinette, snapping her fingers to the red headed girl who retrieved a notebook from her skirt pocket. “An automobile will arrive at your home by 9 A.M. tomorrow. Bring anything and everything you need to begin working as soon as possible.” She stepped inside the doors where a butler greeted her. “Tell Jean here your address and he will make all the arrangements.”
“Tomorrow?! B-but that’s so soon, I need to get packed and-”
“Do you want this job, Marinette Dupain-Cheng?” Chloe challenged, her baby blue eyes seeming bored.
Marinette had no time to ponder, this ‘Chloe Bourgeois’ didn’t seem to play any games. “Yes!” She blurted out.
Chloe smiled. “Good. See you tomorrow.” And the doors shut behind her.
Marinette had reflected on how easy getting the job was, but she never thought it would be so difficult. Chloe Bourgeois was one of the pickiest people Marinette had ever met, but she had to admit the woman had good taste. Chloe’s father was a nobleman and her mother was the current face of fashion, so it was no wonder she had to keep up with appearances, but the seamstress was always piled with work. Chloe often slammed Marinette with multiple projects at once, giving deadlines to when a certain garment had to be finished. She had only been working at the Bourgeois house for a little over a month and she already had gone through two sketchbooks and had used an entire paycheck to update her sewing kit.
Miss Bourgeois didn’t seem to need all the clothes she required Marinette to make, but she sure did use them all on outings and dates with a man she called “Adrikins”. Marinette had no idea who he was, but from her experience with Chloe, she felt bad for any man the woman fancied. With a sigh, the seamstress looked around her room, which was piled with clothes and fabric of all kinds. She then looked at her watch; 8 o’clock. Rrrrrr ...Marinette felt her stomach rumble, and she realized she hadn’t eaten anything since earlier in the afternoon. “Well, guess I should go get dinner.” She said to herself as she made her way carefully through her room again.
She walked down the hallways and stairs, entering the servants’ quarters. The smell of cooked onions, potatoes, carrots, and yeast wafted into Marinette’s nose.
“Marinette!” A high voice rang in the girl’s ears, breaking her from her trance.
Marinette turned to the owner of the voice, a small blonde girl holding a stack of plates. “Rose!” She called out in delight.
“So good to see you out of your room, Marinette! You’re not overworking yourself, are you?” Rose inquired with wide, kind eyes.
Marinette chuckled. “I think Chloe overworks everyone here.”
“Oh, she’s not so bad!” Rose walked past Marinette to set the plates on a long, wooden table. “Besides, she pays us well.”
“That’s because she has all the money in France,” another feminine voice cut into the conversation.
“Alya!” Marinette cried with glee.
“Hey girl! Hope the witch isn’t pushing you too hard.” Alya held Marinette with one arm as the Marinette closed in for a hug.
“Psh, no way. It’s hard work, but nothing I can’t handle,” Marinette said confidently.
Marinette and Alya met when the seamstress first moved into the Bourgeois household. Marinette had been eating alone on her first night and Alya, who had been working for the Bourgeois family for nearly two years as a maid, decided to make the first move and shared bread with the new girl. The two immediately hit it off, and Alya introduced Marinette to the other workers of the house: a shy but kind maid, Rose Lavillant; her very close friend and cook, Juleka Couffaine; the head cook, Le Chien Kim; housemaid Mylene Haprele; footman Alix Kubdel; and butler Ivan Bruel. All were in agreement that they were overworked and underappreciated, but nowhere else could beat the pay.
“So,” Marinette left Alya’s side, “What’s for dinner?”
“For us? Stew,” Alya bitterly replied.
“Ahh, if only Marinette could go get some of her parents sweet macarons,” Rose whined, “I’m so tired of plain bread.”
“Hey! I bake good bread!” Alix called out, coming into the dining room.
“You do, but I want something new! Something fresh!” Rose began to chant with her hands locked together, “Macaron, macaron…!”
“Are you going to pay for the ingredients it takes to make them?” Alix set the table with glasses and cutlery.
Rose’s excited expression fell, knowing she didn't want to spend her own hard earned money on baking ingredients. Everyone in the room broke out into laughter. Kim came out of the kitchen with a huge pot. “Alright everyone, Kim’s famous stew is ready for eatin’!”
All of the other servants working at the Bourgeois household gathered around the long table, taking their fill of stew and bread. Marinette sang and laughed with everyone. She enjoyed the people she worked with, it made her usually harsh working conditions worth all the while.
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“A masquerade ball?” Marinette asked, getting Chloe’s current measurements in front of her mirror in the woman’s bedroom.
“Are you deaf? That’s what I said! Monsieur Agreste is holding a ball to see which eligible woman in Paris is fit to marry his son.”
“Wow, sounds amazingly dull and pointless.” Alya said under her breath as she made the bed.
Chloe glared at the maid, causing Alya to shut her mouth. “Yes, it will be, because I know I’m going to be the one for Adrikins.”
Marinette looked up when she mentioned that name. So it was this “Adrikins,”the one Chloe was always going out with, who this grand party was for. She wasn’t surprised. If he was Chloe’s friend then he was sure to be a pampered rich snob as well, and the mistress seemed to be madly in love with him. “Every unmarried woman in Paris is invited, so long as her outfit is passable enough to get through the doors.” Chloe snickered, “Monsieur Agreste has a strict dress code.”
“Every unmarried woman?” Marinette perked up. A masquerade ball would be a wonderful chance to get more inspiration and see gowns made by the best designers in all of Europe! The very thought made her heart flutter.
Chloe glared at Marinette. “And what are you thinking, Dupain-Cheng?” She asked condescendingly.
“I was thinking-”
“Well don’t!” Chloe cut her off. “A commoner like you doesn't belong at such an esteemed party. Besides,” she flipped her blonde hair, “you’ve got enough on your plate.”
“Enough on my plate?” Marinette tightened the measuring tape to hug Chloe’s waist, still attempting to do her job while listening to the other woman’s remarks.
“Yes, I’m giving you two more projects for the ball.”
Marinette and Alya gasped in unison. “Two!? B-but, Mademoiselle Bourgeois, how can I finish two dresses by the time of the party?! When is it?”
“In three weeks. I want an evening-party gown, an evening-dinner gown, and my own personal mask. I want them to be PERFECT!”
“You can’t slam her with two gowns on such short notice!” Alya shouted.
“Cesaire! I’ll have you beheaded if you talk back to me again!” Chloe barked back.
Alya clenched her fists and finished making the bed. She walked past the two women, giving Marinette an apologetic glance as she left the room. There was nothing she could do so long as she worked for Chloe Bourgeois.
“With all due respect, Mademoiselle, but…” Marinette fidgeted with her fingers.
“‘But’?” Chloe interrupted, something she often did. “You came to me for this job, did you not? You even agreed to move in, which should’ve been a sign that this job wouldn't be easy. I’m a busy woman and I have lots of places to be that require a new dress every time. I need someone who works efficiently. I’ve been through multiple seamstresses. Are you saying you’re not fit for the job like the others?”
Marinette downcast her eyes and bit her lip. No, she was not like the others, she would prove Chloe wrong. “I understand, Miss Bourgeois. I’ll get your dresses and matching mask to you in three weeks.” She said with resolve. Her mistress had won this round.
“Good, make those your top priority. Now go, I have to get dressed for a date with Daddy.” She looked herself up and down in her full length mirror, dressed in nothing but her undergarments.
Marinette packed up her things and left, feeling a weight on her chest. Later that night, she skipped dinner, sketching out ideas and figuring out what she will need. Chloe was ruthless and Marinette just wanted to curl up into a ball. But she was determined to pull through, she would make Chloe the best ball gowns she’d ever seen. As she was sketching, she kept getting sidetracked on a dress she would wear, not her boss. She couldn't stop thinking about going to a masquerade ball, the sea of dresses ready to be studied.
Marinette sighed in defeat and tossed her sketchbook onto her bed. She leaned back in her wooden chair that was much too harsh on her back, pondering what she should do. She glanced at her watch. Only 9:30 P.M. It was too early to go to sleep, especially when there was so much work to be done. She heard a knock on her door. “Come in.”
In stepped Alya with a tray of steaming potatoes and bread. “Long night?” She asked her friend, shutting the door behind her.
“Not long enough,” Marinette mumbled.
Alya set the tray of food down on Marinette’s desk. “Eat up girl, you’re gonna need energy.” She smiled.
Marinette poked at her food, huffing that she wasn’t hungry. “Oh no,” Alya wagged her finger. “You’re not going to overwork and starve yourself, you’re going to eat!”
Marinette smiled at the other woman. “Thanks Alya… I just can’t seem to concentrate.” She slumped over in her chair. “What I would give to go to a party as grand and fashionable as that one. Imagine, ladies sitting waiting around to see ‘Adrikins’.” She air quoted the man’s nickname. “The lights gleaming off of their jewelry and their gowns swaying across the polished floors. Layers of silk, lace, and satin all cluttered together in a pool of fabric! Oh, I can see it now. I can almost taste the inspiration!”
Alya giggled at her friend’s enthusiasm. “I can certainly see why you’re excited. But Chloe said you can’t go, and you know if she saw you there, you would lose your job. It’s not like you could just go without her knowing.”
A light went off in Marinette’s head. “Alya, you’re a genius!” Her eyes shone bright with excitement.
“I am?” Alya asked, confused, then her eyes went wide. “No, girl, don’t do it! It’s too risky!”
Marinette leaned in, grabbing her sketchbook from her bed. “So here’s my plan…”