Fifteen years later.
He snuck in through the back entrance, knowing full well he had been banned from the ball. He had to be there, though, to save a fellow volunteer's life. Surely they would excuse him for that?
He hurried through the crowd, costumed as a bullfighter, to find his sister. She was dressed in a skimpy Genie's costume that showed off her slightly curved belly and Dewey had a supposedly magic lamp attached to the belt of his Middle Eastern urchin garb. The three of them looked great together. He walked up to them, not wanting to interrupt the insane conversation Dewey was carrying on with his offspring.
"You'd better be a girl," he said, stroking his wife's stomach gently. "If not, I'm afraid I'd be forced to kill you. I really don't want to do that, because it took Mommy and me over five years to concieve you and we love you a whole lot already, but I will. Be a girl, please. It's for your own good." Kit laughed.
"Did you know," Lemony said coming up behind them, "that the father determines the gender of the baby? It'd be your fault if it was a boy, Dewey."
"Lemony?" his sister asked in amazement. "How'd you get in?"
"Through the back. Listen, where's Bee? I need to find her."
"She's dressed as a green dragonfly. I haven't seen her in a while. Last time I did, though, she was on the balcony with Bertrand."
"Thanks." He rubbed her belly. "Be a girl. Uncle Lemony doesn't want Daddy to go to prison for murder." He felt it (her?) kick.
She was still out on the balcony, sans husband. "Beatrice?"
"Bertrand, sweetie, you took long enough. I was starting to won—Lemony?" She took her hand off his chest. "What do you want?" Hostility and distrust had become an integral part of their relationship. He hated it.
"Bee, please listen to me. You and Bertrand need to go home. Now. I heard O. talking about—"
"Beatrice, who is that?" Her beloved Bertrand walked up behind him. He turned to face the man who'd replaced him. "Oh, hi…Lemony. Is…everything alright?" He looked to his wife, a questioning expression on his face. An expression that oh, so clearly said "WTF?"
"I don't know. Is it?"
"No. I heard O. and his associates talking ab—"
"There he is! Get him!" Security guards. Crap.
He went on in a rush of words. "Beatrice, you have to go back to the house and get the kids. Olaf is going to—" A gag was shoved in his mouth, preventing speech. Hands pulled at him, dragging him off the balcony, away from Beatrice. The gagged slipped for a moment and he managed to scream "Count Olaf is—!" before they turned a corner and knocked him into unconsciousness.
