Chapter Nine: Hills and Valleys
The road they took closely followed the Loire river, its trickling melodies accompanying the light rustling of trees' leaves and delicate birdsongs. The morning chill could be bracing at times, but otherwise, it was the start of a beautiful day.
Whenever their surroundings became worthy of appreciation, Lumière and Nicolas would mutually let their conversations drift off. Normally, a prolonged silence between others would prompt Lumière to keep talking, but he never felt the need with Nicolas. Their silences, especially when riding, felt comfortable and natural.
As the sun rose above the treetops, they watered their horses at a stream that drifted off the main river. While sifting through his saddlebag for the usual bread and cheese, Lumière rediscovered his leftover macaroons and tossed one to Nicolas.
His eyes widened. "Are these from Mrs. Potts?"
"Perhaps," Lumière teased, smirking at Nicolas' sudden elation.
He took a bite of the cookie and a look of ecstasy crossed his face. "Oh… magnifique."
Out of the goodness of his heart—and after Nicolas kept asking for another one—Lumière handed over the rest of the bag. The vicomte was nibbling on them to properly savor their sweetness as they passed through Nevers.
The Loire river strayed temporarily to the west as they continued on the road, but its familiar song returned within a few miles. From their right, the tang of grapes would waft on the wind during stretches of the occasional vineyard that would occur in between a field of wheat, wildflowers, or rolling hills.
Since Nicolas had neglected to mention what had happened outside of his courtship with Babette, he recounted the highlights of the week his family had spent in Versailles the previous November to Lumière, who went between shock and mirth at the stories of various aristocrats and their escapades. Though Nicolas wasn't one for gossip, he was not above regaling what he had witnessed to those close to him, especially when he thought it ridiculous or entertaining.
This made time pass all the more quickly. When they finally reached Briare, the sun was rapidly setting. Even after a filling meal at one of the town's taverns, they enjoyed a few pints before bed, their laughter blending right into the rest of the tenants' chatter.
They were up just as early the next morning, this time with Nicolas being the first awake. While Lumière dressed and readied the horses, Nicolas walked the letter he had promised his mother to the post down the street. By the time he returned, they were on the road again, their water skins full and their bread and cheese restocked.
The sky had some sparse clouds, but it was still as pleasantly temperate as the day before. Unfortunately, the Loire river had taken its currents and its song westward. The rhythmic clops of their horses' hooves on the trail attempted to fill what the river had left vacant.
When the sun had reached its peak, they approached a small village that sat on the Loing river. They stretched their legs only briefly before continuing into the forest beyond, both anxious to reach a warm fire and feather beds.
From the calm of the countryside to the cacophony of the city, it certainly was telling that one did not have to be able to see to know that they were in Paris. Chirping birds turned into shouts from the open windows of apartments above, and the rustling of leaves turned into the creaks of wooden wheels on wagons that carried their owners' wares. Amidst the boisterous conversations of a hundred voices, glass would shatter here, a soprano's lyric timbre would sail above them there, and a baby's cry would pierce through it all anywhere.
As they followed the Seine north, horses and pedestrians walked passed them, many on their way home from their jobs. The gentlemen curved through the cobblestone streets toward the center of the man-made metropolis, where the upper classes resided.
Off rue Saint-Antoine, they turned into a long archway that opened into a courtyard at the center of the de Créquy's Parisian property, Hôtel de Beauvais.
Both men eagerly dismounted their horses as their footman ran up to them from behind.
"Bonsoir, messieurs!" he called cheerfully.
Lumière turned to grin at the always upbeat footman. "Ah, Marc! I am glad to see you made it here in one piece—and on such short notice."
"Oui, Marc," Nicolas sincerely agreed, "I very much appreciate your speed, and for agreeing to race out here so quickly."
"Oh, I was happy to!" Marc professed, bouncing on the balls of his feet. "There's not a more pleasant surprise than being told you must go to Paris. A lovely time of year for it, too!"
"Indeed," Nicolas said with a fond smile. He glanced around at the ivory stone walls and arched windows. "Was she in bad shape?"
Marc fervently shook his head. "Oh no, nothing a little dusting couldn't do. After I arrived, I was able to contact the team of maids that normally keep this place sparkling. Do you remember Pauline?" he addressed more to Lumière than Nicolas.
The maître d' furrowed his brow as he guessed, "Red hair and charming freckles?"
Marc grinned. "Just the same. She has agreed to work during your stay to make the beds and such. I also thought she might be of help to Mlle de Chantemerle if need be, though I am sure mademoiselle must be bringing her own maid."
Lumière felt his insides freeze. He was still trying to process if he had heard correctly while Nicolas replied, "I believe so, too, but Pauline's services would be most welcome. Could you be sure to pay her the wages deserved at the end of the week?"
The footman nodded. "Naturally! I will make a note of it, monsieur." He gestured to their horses. "Would you like me to stable them for you?"
"That would be wonderful, Marc, thank you," Nicolas said while taking note of how pale Lumière suddenly seemed.
"And do not worry about your bags!" Marc insisted as he went to take the reins. At his five-foot-six stature, the horses appeared a great deal bigger in comparison. "I can take them up to your rooms. Go inside and rest!"
Nicolas inclined his head to him, watching the footman take the horses to the stable just off the courtyard only briefly before stepping near Lumière to murmur with concern, "Are you all right?"
Lumière started, his mind having been reeling at a panic-stricken rate. At Nicolas' expression, he cursed himself for allowing his internal distress to show.
He attempted to smooth it over with a cavalier grin. "Of course! Just a bit of fatigue." He patted encouragingly on his friend's shoulder and strode to the entrance as he prompted, "Come, let's do as the man said."
Nicolas blinked, a bit taken aback at his recovery, but followed suit.
In the salon outside the dining room, a fire in the hearth was already ablaze. Lumière busily took off his coat and collapsed on the chaise, all the while trying to figure how to casually ask about what he had heard, despite how desperately his question was poised on his tongue.
Nicolas had joined him in the salon, setting his own coat over an armchair before sitting in it.
Lumière cleared his throat. His heart was beating unusually fast. "Nicolas?"
He glanced up from removing his gloves. "Yes?"
The maître d' crossed his arms. "Did I… hear Marc correctly? That Mlle de Chantemerle will be joining us?"
"Oui…" Nicolas arched an eyebrow, giving Lumière the once-over. "Why? You look unsettled."
Lumière huffed a laugh. "Well, this is the first I've heard of it."
It was Nicolas' turn to be confused. "Didn't I tell you?"
A flint of anger sparked in his chest, but Lumière said coolly, "I certainly would have recalled such a significant detail."
"Oh." Nicolas ran a hand through his hair, mumbling, "It must have… slipped my mind."
Lumière sighed, making sure to keep himself calm. "Given the state you were in the other night, that is not a surprise. But how, may I ask, did you extend her an invitation?"
Nicolas shrugged, not quite meeting Lumière's eye. "I happened to mention our trip after a couple glasses, and she seemed quite interested. She said it had been ages since she had visited Paris, so I offered her to join us." With some caution, he finally watched Lumière, looking contrite. "Are you disappointed?"
"Non," Lumière assured, not wanting to worry his friend. "It is only a little… unexpected."
The vicomte sighed, realizing his mistake. "You wanted it to be just the two of us."
Lumière adamantly shook his head. "That would be selfish of me to want to keep you from your fiancée. Besides, this is your family's hôtel. You are entitled to invite whomever you wish. Who am I to deny that?"
When Nicolas still seemed unsure, Lumière went on to say, "If she is bringing a maid of her own, then at least our numbers are even."
His friend laughed. "That is true." Encouraged by this, he added with a sly grin, "Who knows? You may even take a liking to her."
Despite his doubts, Lumière gave him a one-sided smirk. "We shall see."
With his thoughts still anxiously whirring, the maître d' glanced at the mantel clock before he stood. "Well, if mademoiselle is to arrive at any moment, I will make sure there is a meal prepared."
Leaning on the armrest closest to Lumière, Nicolas stopped him. "I know you have always insisted on playing the cook whenever we come out here, but if you like, I am sure we can find one to hire for the week."
"That is kind of you," Lumière replied sincerely, "but, though it may be hard to believe, I rather enjoy playing the cook on these visits. In fact, I do not find much opportunity to otherwise, even at the château."
Nicolas contemplated that as he skeptically said, "The head of the kitchen does not have the opportunity to cook…"
"Trust me, I have long since recognized the irony," Lumière acknowledged as he exited the salon. "You could say I live with it."
He heard Nicolas chuckle before he took the hallway to the kitchen in determined strides. Taking a deep breath, he tried to soothe his trepidation.
So, his assumed time away to ascertain how to establish a truce with Babette was completely obliterated. For at least once in his life, he had wanted to truly take the opportunity to consider a plan rather than have to think on his feet. With how delicate and vital their situation was, he did not want to resort to the risk of improvisation, no matter how skilled he was at it.
Though he wouldn't have minded cooking anyway, Lumière was glad for the chance to be alone and have something to do while he brainstormed. Despite how angry he wanted to be with Nicolas, it was not his friend's fault. Lumière should have expected this to happen and drawn up a plan B instead of wasting the day before they had left on the harpsichord.
He paused in the middle of grabbing ingredients from the pantry to shake out the regrets. Time is wasted thinking on the past, he reminded himself.
As he let the simmering, sizzling, and smells of the cooking food keep his attention, he waited for some idea—any idea—that could be his answer.
When a tall mass of stone buildings and clay rooftops appeared on the horizon, Babette rubbed the shoulder of her napping maid. "Bernadette," she called. "We are almost there."
Bernadette slowly sat up and stretched as the post-chaise hit a bump on the road. Both bounced on the cushioned seats and she squeaked in surprise mid-yawn.
Recovering quickly, she tried to peek around the driver and horses. "Ooh, how close are we?"
"About thirty minutes, miss, give or take," the driver said over his shoulder.
Bernadette slumped. "Oh."
In contrast, Babette's back had hardly touched the chaise the entire day's ride. She smiled apologetically at her maid. "I am sorry to have woken you so soon."
"Oh, there is no need to apologize," Bernadette hurried to assure. "I'm sorry I haven't been much company! Carriages always make me sleepy." To emphasize her point, she sang through another yawn.
Thinking of how little she normally talked while riding, Babette said, "I am hardly adequate company either." She glanced at her, smirking. "What fine traveling companions we make."
Giggling, Bernadette looked at the clear blue sky. "This has been the most amiable ride I can remember. Such beautiful weather, too!"
Babette had to grimace as she remembered the few rides she had made with her family last year. "We were rather inclined to argue, weren't we? My parents and I."
Her maid gave her a meek shrug. "Perhaps, but…" She covered Babette's hand encouragingly. "Things have certainly improved since you returned home."
Babette tried to mirror her smile, but it fell short. Bernadette withdrew her hand as they mutually looked off to watch the countryside begin to fade into the outskirts of Paris.
She could feel Bernadette making sidelong glances at her as the silence progressed, and Babette patiently waited for her to say what she must.
As predicted, Bernadette tentatively said, "Mistress, forgive me for asking, but… have you been feeling well?"
Babette closed her eyes for a moment, breathing deeply as the maid continued, "You've seemed… out-of-sorts this past week."
The viscountess hesitated. She wanted to let someone she trusted in on her secrets, especially for this trip, but how much should she really tell? Bernadette still answered in some respects to her parents; could she make Babette a promise to keep what she told her in the strictest of confidence?
The answer came to her quickly. Yes. Babette needed a true ally and confidante while in Nicolas and Lumière's company, and Bernadette was not only the singular candidate, but she was an ideal one. When she thought on it, all Babette really needed was someone loyal and honest, qualities Bernadette had in abundance.
She turned in her seat to face Bernadette, her gaze earnest as she took the maid's hand in hers. "Bernadette, I… have a confession to make."
Bernadette gripped her hand, sensing the urgency immediately. "What is it, my lady?"
"You do remember I mentioned Nicolas had a guest staying with him?"
"Oui, of course."
About to shiver from nerves, Babette took another deep breath. "Well, this guest… is a very old and dear friend of his." She arranged her words carefully, implementing enough truth to be convincing. "I had been looking forward to meeting him, but… I realized that we were already acquainted."
Bernadette's eyes grew wide. "Really? Who was it?"
In a low voice, Babette told her, "I worked beside him at Château du Lac."
The maid's jaw dropped. "Oh no! Does—Does M. de Créquy know the truth now? About you?"
"As far as I know, this friend of his has not revealed anything," Babette admitted, a lump forming in her throat. "What is worse is that I was… quite close with him while I was there, and… I have told him about… my past affairs. I believe, despite that he knows those days are behind me… he does not think me worthy of Nicolas' hand."
Bernadette gasped, looking personally offended. "Yes, you are!"
To assert how serious she was, she fully turned her body to face Babette, her gaze unwavering. "Mademoiselle, I am sorry I have not congratulated you before now, but may I say I have watched you grow into such an elegant lady. I have seen the looks M. de Créquy gives you, and there is no question he adores you. If a gentleman like him not only approves of you, but is eager to marry you, then no one can deny your worth." She furrowed her brow with determination. "Who is this friend of his? What is his name?"
Babette pursed her lips, having felt an unexpected pang in her heart at Bernadette's words before she whispered, "Lumière. He was Nicolas' valet before he left to become maître d' at the château."
Bernadette blinked as she looked away in thought. "Lumière… why does that name sound familiar?"
With a groan, Babette pleaded, "Please do not tell me you have met him, too."
Bernadette slowly shook her head. "I do not think I have… Oh! Yes, oui, from Marion!"
"Who?"
Bernadette tilted her head, insisting, "You know my cousin, Marion! From the tavern?"
Her confusion cleared in a blink of an eye. "Ah, oui! I suppose that would make sense for them to be acquainted." A curious eyebrow raised, Babette asked, "She mentioned him to you?"
"At some point, yes. She seemed to like him from what I recall."
"The majorities tend to," Babette granted, though she was unable to suppress an eye roll.
"But wait…" A small, doubtful line appeared on Bernadette's forehead. "If Marion likes him, and Nicolas considers him a close friend… how bad could he really be?"
"Bernadette…" Babette began to warn. Her maid was always more inclined to see the good in others, but that couldn't be the case this time. She needed her completely on her side.
She glanced at the driver before murmuring gravely, "He tried to reveal the truth about me in front of Nicolas and his parents. I would bet even now he is trying to persuade Nicolas against our marriage."
Bernadette looked sadly dismayed. "You really think he would do that?"
"Why not?" Babette argued, her tone turning cold. "He does not trust me, nor I him. That is why I need your help."
Without hesitation, her maid gave a fervent nod and gripped her hands more tightly. "What can I do?"
Every beat of her heart felt dismal as she spoke her commands, but Babette knew deep down it was the wiser thing to do.
"First," she instructed, "I beg of you, never allow me to be alone with him. He managed to isolate me from Nicolas the other day and…" Her fury was almost rekindled at the thought of Lumière's words, but she stifled it, sighing, "Oh, never again!"
Before Bernadette could ask why, she pushed on, "Second, as much as discretion will allow, I would like you to make sure he is not alone with Nicolas for too long. I want to prevent any accusations he has of me from being voiced to monsieur in private, as much as I can help it."
When she saw Bernadette purse her lips, Babette inquired, "What do you think?"
"Well…" The maid perked up to say, "The first shall be easy! I will be sure not to leave your side unless at your request. The second, however…" She grimaced. "I cannot guarantee how I could stay in a room with them after you leave without seeming suspicious."
"I understand." Babette pouted her mouth in thought before saying, "I know I am asking for more than I should be, but I promise, I will help you as much as I can."
Bernadette seemed nervous at the prospect, but nodded compliantly.
After patting her maid's hand, Babette boldly straightened. "But let's not forget we are in Paris! We can still have our fun."
Bernadette brightened as she grinned. "I certainly hope so! It would be quite a shame if we didn't!"
As they looked to the towering apartments and shops that now surrounded them, their laughter blended in with the chatter of the townspeople meandering by their chaise.
I know I said I would be updating more quickly, but I'm afraid my workload is still quite unyielding. I apologize! Hopefully once my summer class is finished (it's a screenwriting class, wouldn't you guess), I can direct all of my creative energies here. I would love to keep this story moving!
Thank you again for your support!
