If Lumière and Babette had met in town rather than the castle...

Under the Rain

August, 1739

After such a dry month, it seemed only right that rain would finally sweep over the French countryside. But of course, it had to be just as everyone was heading home for the night. In anticipation of rest before another day of work, craftsmen and shopkeepers held their hats or coats to their heads as they hurried down the streets from the tavern, cutting between anything that could serve as an awning for protection from the formidable downpour.

Waiting by the window, Nicolas de Créquy kept an eye out for his family's carriage while Lumière, an old friend in town for his annual visit, finished off the rest of his ale.

After a moment of listening to the rhythmic patter of rain on the warped glass, Lumière asked, "Have you ever plunged into a storm like this?"

Nicolas quirked an eyebrow at him and briefly glanced at the drink in his friend's hand as Lumière clarified, "Of your own free will?"

"I can't say I have," the viscount replied with a one-sided grin. "There was never enough motivation for me to voluntarily be made into a drowned cat, but that's because you have dragged me into enough impending rainfalls to deter me forever."

Lumière laughed as he set his empty stein down and shrugged. "I find it rather exhilarating, depending on the circumstance."

"What kind, pray tell?"

"Well… I suppose it would heavily depend on the events preceding it. And company kept can be a viable factor."

"So… if a mademoiselle is involved."

Lumière smirked. "Preferably one who does not mind being made into a drowned cat."

"I can't imagine there have been many."

"You're right. Normally I am alone when caught in the rain, but after a fortunate turn."

"The irony is certainly not lacking," Nicolas noted with a laugh, "but I'm glad you choose to ignore it."

Their carriage pulled to a stop across the road, and with coats donned, Nicolas and Lumière were prepped to hurry to it before the rain soaked them through.

The viscount was the first one out the door, and as Lumière followed, a movement from his peripherals caught his attention. Turning his head, he saw a woman in a cloak with a fine silk dress peeking out from beneath. Her back was to him, since she was granting the alleyway a parting gesture. Curiosity having induced him, he watched her for a second longer to catch the face hidden under her hood, and he would later be thanking heaven for having given him the inclination.

An utterly charming visage with a bright red pout upturned into a broad smile and light blue eyes that still sparkled with mischief was revealed as she faced the street. Her cheeks and breast were flushed from activity, which based on where she was coming from, Lumière could decipher all too clearly the very kind.

She glanced up at the clouds overhead, the streetlamps revealing that the chocolate wisps which framed her face were stuck to her forehead. She hurried to duck under the measly cover of the tavern's doorway, visibly inspecting the road ahead for the driest route possible.

Despite whatever she might have been doing in an alley, this was a lady of noble birth. Her dress, posture, and walk gave that right away. Not to mention she was without an escort, but something about her air of confidence told him that she didn't necessarily need one. Propriety already didn't seem to be one of her concerns, yet he somehow could not fault her for it. In fact, it was altogether… rather attractive.

Then he realized, he had seen that face. It had been a brief glimpse, but he could remember that a couple weeks ago, at the start of his stay in town, she had left the tavern before he had come out of his self-pity to introduce himself.

Like a knee-jerk reaction, Lumière called, "Mademoiselle!"

Resurfacing from her thoughts, she faced the only pedestrian in sight striding towards her purposefully. She blinked, arguably wary of this stranger, but a coachman was present, and upon further inspection, this monsieur did not seem to impose an immediate threat. Though he was tall, he had a wiry frame, and he allowed a respectable distance between them as he came to stand before her.

His grey eyes held her steadfast as he spoke not only with decorum and tact, but in a timbre she found pleasing to her ear. "Forgive me for imposing, but might my friend and I spare you from facing this weather alone?"

He gestured briefly behind him, and her eyes followed, but she did not reply immediately. She was struck slightly dumb by his offer, which he took for hesitation, and so insisted with a one-sided smirk, "The sooner you might accept or decline, the sooner either of us will be the drier."

A sly smile of her own appeared, humored by his reason, but she quirked an eyebrow. "Though I am a stranger?"

"Oui, for I am a Good Samaritan," Lumière revealed, as though it were a grand secret, and stepped aside for her to precede him. The young lady mirrored his grin before she hurried past him to the carriage, but not without a quick and curious sweep of his person.

Nicolas opened the door as she approached so she could hop right in, taking the vacant seat across from the viscount. They managed to acknowledge each other with a polite nod and smile before Lumière poked his head in to inquire her with mock formality, "Place of residence, mademoiselle?"

Though she seemed amused by his carefree demeanor, awkwardness crossed her expression as she replied as modestly as possible, "Le Château de la Clayette."

At hearing this, Lumière tried to avoid exchanging glances with Nicolas while also keeping his easy composure, but her reply, along with the cumulative though extremely brief observations he had made thus far, led him directly to the conclusion of who she so happened to be.

Hiding his revelation with a pleasant nod of having understood, the maître d' climbed halfway to the coachman's perch to inform him of their first stop. At least the driver did not show having had any shocking implications come to his mind, but Lumière's still whirred with amazement, along with… excitement.

He managed a deep, nerve-reducing breath, then, appropriately drenched from his prolonged exposure, sat beside his friend, shut the door, and knocked on the ceiling to cue them start. The coach rocked as the horses began their trot, yet the clops of their hooves on the cobblestone blended almost seamlessly with the rattles of the enduring downpour outside.

A few beats of this were the only sounds that pervaded between them, during which Nicolas spotted rivulets dribbling onto the seat and inconspicuously wiped them away before they could reach his own trousers. But the beguiling brunette, bold enough to wander town by herself and thrill-seeking enough to play behind taverns, had suddenly found it difficult to meet either of the men's gazes. She pulled at the edges of her cloak to cover her sloping neckline and lily-white arms.

Since she had opted for the view out the window, Lumière looked to Nicolas, who seemed content to remain silent, and rounded his eyes in the girl's direction to imply, Say something to her.

Nicolas furrowed his brow and quickly jutted his chin back at him, stubbornly replying in kind, Why not you? With a widening of his eyes and tilt of his head, he added, You invited her.

Lumière did not care to make his eyeroll discreet as he turned to her and addressed, "So… I notice that all of us were only partially equipped for such a storm. I seem to leave my hat at home only when I might need it," he noted as he swept a hand over his wet hair, almost prompting him to wring it out, it was so damp.

"It's a good thing, then, that you enjoy the rain so much," Nicolas reminded with a clever smile before Lumière singed him with a searing deadpan.

A brow rising, she eyed the pair before her, a ghost of a smirk vaguely on her lips. "Do you truly?" she asked Lumière.

With a shrug, he conceded, "I do."

"But it depends on the circumstance," Nicolas informed her in a cunning aside that Lumière saw right through.

"Oui, such as ours," Lumière went on, annexing with nonchalant gallantry, "I will happily endure buckets of rain if it means a mademoiselle may be spared."

"And happily drag men into it for his own pleasure," Nicolas said, perfectly mimicking his friend's tone.

The sight of Lumière's piercing glare to Nicolas' resigned and innocent smile caused a laugh to escape her. They faced her at the pleasant sound, though she was trying to hide the fact with her delicate fingers. Pursing her lips in an attempt to erase her grin, she inquired thoughtfully, "How long have you two been friends?"

"Friends?" Lumière acted mildly surprised at such an insinuation, and snorted with derision. "I am only obliged to this monsieur, and not even by my choice!"

Dimples appeared on Nicolas' cheeks. "What gave it away?"

"Well, the…" She drew a direct line between them with her finger. "… mute conversation that occurred tipped me off, but the way you tease gave it away, Monsieur…" she inquired the viscount.

"Nicolas de Créquy," he finished, charmed by her intuition. He inclined his head. "At your service."

Recognition brightened her intelligent eyes, and they soon alighted on Lumière, whom was found transfixed on her delightfully sly smile. "And the 'Bon Samaritain?'"

The maître d' ignored the disbelieving stare Nicolas was directing at him and composed himself to suavely respond, "The title I prefer is Lumière, if it pleases you, mademoiselle."

She eyed him carefully, but not unkindly, and he did not shirk from her gaze. A mutual understanding of what the other was about passed between them.

As the carriage slowed, she broke the contact to glance out the window. Outside, they were indeed the Chantemerle's familiar walls that bordered their property. The coachman was felt hopping from his perch to open the gates.

As the carriage moved again to ascend the drive, she straightened in her seat and humbly addressed to them, "It is a pleasure to have made your acquaintances, messieurs, and I heartily thank you both for escorting me home safely."

"Of course!" Nicolas concurred most congenially. "We are only too happy to have been of use."

She bestowed him with a sincere grin, approving of him and his manner—not to Lumière's surprise. There was no one, especially female, who disapproved of Nicolas.

The coach came to a stop, and before she could let herself out, Lumière took the liberty of opening the door. "Allow me," he appealed with that twinkling look in his eye that caused a small line to appear between her brows.

Without hesitation, he hopped back into the rain to stand at the rung and offer his hand. Her lips were slightly pursed in what seemed like a critical, contemplative way, but she took his hand after she pulled her hood back over her up-do, the multiple loose tendrils poking out slightly from underneath its lip.

He grasped her fingers firmly to keep her balance as she stepped down, insinuating to her, "I do not believe I caught your name."

Her eyes turned to blaze at him. They were cold as ice yet burned like the hottest flame, intimidating him yet drawing him in. What an enchanting paradox!

Then a corner of her mouth rose. "I assumed you already knew."

Though the rain continued to pour heavily, Lumière felt none of it. He was stunned at having been so easily read by this—well, though she had a maturity and insight beyond her years, she was only a girl! Had he really been so obvious in giving away his assumptions?

She smirked at his ill-concealed shock, those scarlet lips upturned in such a coquettish way that he almost felt encouraged to—

And then it clicked: Without realizing, he had fully submitted to her charms and beauty. My guard must have been too much at ease, he concluded begrudgingly, though he could not truly fault himself too much by it, for he did not particularly mind the distraction its cause brought.

In the middle of his racing thoughts, Mlle. Élisabeth de Chantemerle had slid her hand from his grip. "Au revoir, M. Lumière," she imparted in such a sweet and rich tone that made him want to fabricate an excuse, that they need not part ways yet.

But he resigned to it with a quiet sigh as she turned to head inside. "Until we meet again."

Without a pause in her strides, her eyes flicked back to him, smiling at his phrase that rung with hope, though he had diminished it with a casual intonation that seemed to come naturally to him.

When she no longer bestowed him with her gaze, Lumière made sure to finally take shelter in the carriage once more, though at this point it might not have mattered. Water had seeped down his collar, and he felt the dampness of his shirt as he leaned against the coach's seat. But that was not nearly as bad as his shoes, which felt completely waterlogged.

Nicolas chuckled at his friend's grimace. "Nothing like a cold shower on a summer night, oui, mon ami?"

But Lumière was peering out the back window to catch the last of her cloak disappear inside the grand maison. "I will regret not seeing her again before I must return to du Lac."

"I will empathize with you on that count," Nicolas granted amicably. "Your impulses served us well this time! She certainly intrigues me… but perhaps not as much as you."

Lumière flashed in a wry grin as he conceded with a shrug, "You will not hear an argument from me."

Watching his old friend smile while he still looked like he had been dipped into the lake made Nicolas laugh. "I wonder, has your opinion of plunging into rainstorms changed in the last hour?"

Lumière had to give that a moment of thought, but the mademoiselle had so brightened his spirits he could honestly say, "Not at all!"

"As I suspected." Nicolas nodded as his eyes passed over the rain-streaked passenger window. "Despite how I'm pleased to have finally met the infamous coquette of La Clayette in person, let's not make a habit of escorting damsels home, shall we? I can't imagine our luck in regards to company could hit us twice."

Lumière lightly backhanded him on the knee. "Come now, Nicolas, what use is it to look at the world that way? If it happened once, it most certainly could happen again! I will admit that we can fare no better than Mlle de Chantemerle, but I am sure it would do you good to have some more spontaneity in your life, especially in the company you keep."

The viscount huffed a laugh. "Maybe… Though I just might feel inclined to reduce the company I keep instead," he replied with a pointed glance at his friend.

"Frankly, mon ami, that would not leave you with any options," Lumière bluntly countered. "Unless you count your parents, or your staff."

"What can I say? Good, honest people that lack ulterior motives are hard to find. You had to do," Nicolas admitted with a shrug.

Clutching his heart, Lumière uttered with mock rapture, "How flattering, monsieur! With such charm, how are eligible women not forming a line at your front door?"

"If my parents ask what took us so long, you're taking the blame."

"Happily! Meeting her was worth any reprimand."

At Lumière's blissful smile, Nicolas chuckled and allowed him his daydream. His friend enjoyed being taken by beautiful and charming women, but he had always maintained a self-control that kept himself immune to keen infatuations such as this one. After some thought, he realized it really had been years since he had seen the maître d' so star-struck.

Being as Lumière was only in town for four more days, Nicolas doubted this fascination would last beyond that. Let the Lothario fantasize, he thought with a smirk. What harm could come of it?

This short fic is meant to be an AU of my current series' universe (Noble Sentiments and Noble Intentions). It's too soon, especially at my stagnant rate of publishing, to be thinking about AUs already, but for the purposes of the prompt, I thought it was a fun idea to pursue. I hope you liked it!

Thanks to the members of Bittersweet & Strange who responded to it so positively at our prompt reading!