Chapter Ten: Foolproof
Nicolas was unpacking his things in his usual bedroom at the front of the hôtel when he saw a post-chaise come to a halt below. With all due swiftness, he dropped what he was doing and headed downstairs.
His fiancée and her maid had only stepped from the carriage when he greeted them. "Bonsoir, mesdames!"
Babette looked down from the hôtel's ivory facade, her features immediately brightening at the sight of him. "Bonsoir, monsieur. How are you?"
"Very well, thank you." His smile warmed from her glowing expression. "We are just settling in. We only arrived about an hour ago." He nodded to the petite brunette beside the viscountess. "And you must be Bernadette."
"Oui, monsieur," Bernadette acknowledged, curtseying. "Enchantée."
"Likewise," he replied with utmost sincerity. "I hope your ride was pleasurable?"
Babette shrugged, wearing a rather beguiling smile. "What else could be expected from driving through the countryside?"
Marc approached from behind Nicolas, a little breathless. "Good evening, mesdames!" he acknowledged with a bow.
"Nice of you to join us," Nicolas teased before gesturing to the ladies, "This is Marc, our head of house for the week."
A bit of color rose to Marc's ears as he made a face. "My apologies for the delay. I was prepping your room, mademoiselle," he said to Babette. "I hope it is to your liking."
"I have no doubt it will be," Babette assured. "Merci."
Marc curiously watched Bernadette for a moment, but her attention was caught in the detail of the property's architecture. He casually recovered with, "I shall attend to your luggage then."
While he went to take their bags from the driver, Babette eyed Bernadette to see if she had noticed his regard, but she seemed perfectly oblivious.
At Babette's prompting, Nicolas showed her and Bernadette around the hôtel. He was delighted by her eagerness to see his family's Parisian home, and it showed how happy he was to have her there. This made Babette's heart flutter, but then her stomach was tying into knots at the other presence she knew occupied the place.
On the night Nicolas had visited le Château du la Clayette, Babette had the intention to mention her favor, but once the offer to join them in Paris had been laid on the table, how could she refuse? It kept her from the awkwardness of asking Nicolas to do the work for her; she could keep an eye on Lumière herself.
She had wondered on the way there if she had seemed too fervent in voicing her desire to see Paris again, but Nicolas, especially after a few glasses of wine, had not seemed to notice then or now.
Babette breathed a slow sigh of relief as she admired the rooms and galleries Nicolas presented to them. As long as Nicolas' opinion of her remained steadfast and good, she could be content.
Nicolas walked a full circuit with them up and around the hôtel before concluding in the dining room, where the glass and silverware had already been set. Although Babette wished she could decline, it undoubtedly would seem suspicious if she went to bed after refusing supper. She knew she should eat, but the knots in her stomach were keeping her preoccupied. She was going to have to sit across from Lumière all week, so she might as well become accustomed to it.
When Nicolas went to pull a chair for Babette next to the head of the table, Bernadette tried to excuse herself.
"Wait, wait," Babette halted with a stretched-out hand. "Please, join us! I give you all of my permission."
Bernadette's eyes widened, stunned. She glanced between her mistress and the kitchen doors before she blinked. "Well… if you insist, my lady."
"I do!" Babette said, smiling as she referred to the seat next to her.
Nicolas stepped to pull the chair out for Bernadette also. Babette didn't think her maid's eyes could get any bigger.
"Mademoiselle?" he offered in a most gentlemanly manner.
Bernadette realized her jaw was unhinged and promptly closed it. "Oui, monsieur," she breathed. "Merci beaucoup!"
She slowly sat as he pushed her chair in, seeming quite star-struck.
Babette laughed behind closed lips at her maid's endearing expression. However, she couldn't help but think how tragic it was Bernadette could be so shocked she was given consent to sit with nobility.
It was true that Bernadette nor any of their servants had ever been indulged to sit with her family even when no company was with them. Though her parents were more progressive than the majority of their class, it was simply a line that was never crossed. The help remained separate from them, despite how esteemed and cared for they were under her parents' employment.
After working for several weeks in a servant's shoes, Babette thought the divide rather unnecessary in circumstances like this. With neither sets of parents being present, why shouldn't Bernadette be allowed to dine with them?
As Nicolas took the spot at the head, Marc came out of the kitchen with a bottle of white wine in one hand and a covered tray in the other. His eyes lit up in surprise at seeing Bernadette sitting next to her mistress. A slight smile crossed his mouth.
After setting the tray at the table's center, he began to fill their glasses. "Lumière is putting the finishing touches on dinner and should only be a few more minutes."
At Bernadette's side, Marc seemed about to prompt her as he poured her wine, but Nicolas said to him, "Marc, when you're finished in there, you are more than welcome to join us."
Similar to Bernadette's look a moment earlier, Marc's eyes widened. "Oh! I will most certainly take you up on that offer, monsieur, merci!"
"Is, erm…" Nicolas stumbled on the name. "… Pauline still here?"
Marc shook his head. "No, monsieur. I gave her permission to go home for the night."
The viscount nodded. "Bien. I only wanted to be sure the invitation was extended to everyone."
"Of course," Marc acknowledged with a broad grin. He went to leave, but abruptly stopped himself and reached for the tray's cover. "Excuse me, I almost forgot!" he mustered before scurrying back into the kitchen.
Under the removed silver dome was a varied tray of canapés set into neat and colorful rows. Suddenly, Babette realized how hungry she really was and took to taking a piece for herself, but at longer inspection, it struck her that the hors d'œuvres arrangement had a familiarity to it.
Babette briefly pursed her lips. She had definitely seen this same tray multiple times before while she had worked in Château du Lac's kitchens. She had even laid out this array herself before, as Lumière had taught her.
Will those days never cease to taunt her?
Managing a deep breath as she chewed, she turned to Nicolas. Only conversation was at her disposal to rid her of this severe sense of déjà vu. "I see you have recovered well from the other night," she noted with false innocence.
Nicolas grimaced in defeat while trying to hide a smile. "Perhaps with some difficulty." He glanced behind him to make sure the boys hadn't emerged from the kitchen, and whispered begrudgingly to them, "Lumière had to wake me yesterday morning."
Babette arched an eyebrow, a smirk appearing on her scarlet lips. "From your tone, I am assuming he was not very kind."
He shook his head, his exasperated expression saying it all. "One of his signature characteristics is that he always takes advantage of a good opportunity."
Dieu, I know that too well, Babette thought as she sipped her wine.
Feeling more confident in her inclusion, Bernadette inquired, "What did he do, if I may ask?"
Nicolas released a chuckle and absentmindedly scratched his chin before he replied, "It involved a chaufferette, a stoker, and plenty of clanging."
Babette had to laugh. That was all she needed to hear to picture precisely what Lumière had done, and his actions came as no surprise to her.
"I am sorry for your rude awakening," she said sincerely, though the image was humorous.
"Oh, you are not the one who needs to apologize. I plan on making him feel sorry for it later," Nicolas murmured forebodingly.
Babette giggled, secretly hoping it would be while she was sleeping in the same home with them. If Lumière deserved anything, it was the taste of his own medicine.
Speaking of the devil, the maître d' himself swept into the dining room, a bottle of red wine in hand. Marc, a large serving platter in his arms, began setting beautifully garnished plates of tender pork with side dishes of salad and bread.
"Bonsoir, mesdames et monsieur," Lumière suavely greeted before he began filling each tenant's second glass, starting with Nicolas. "You all are gifted with the patience of saints! I hope, despite it being a rather humble dinner, it is worth the wait."
Babette tried not to tense as he neared her, but he moved on to Bernadette quickly after pouring her wine.
"And, mademoiselle, for whom do I have the pleasure of serving?" he addressed to the maid.
At his charming smile and sonorous tone, a rose color brightened her cheeks. "Bernadette, monsieur," she quietly replied.
"As M. de Créquy has graciously informed you," he said with a teasing glance at his friend, "I am Lumière." He inclined his head. "Delighted to make your acquaintance."
Nicolas scowled at knowing he was overheard as Bernadette responded kindly, "As am I, monsieur. Merci."
Babette saw Lumière smirk to himself as he went to fill his and Marc's glasses across from the ladies. He must have noticed her maid's blush. Though her jaw tightened, she kept from gritting her teeth. If he gives me one more thing to worry about…
The vicomte bitterly pointed out to Lumière, "I am glad to have spared you the trouble of telling that story yourself."
Between setting the bottle down and taking the seat at Nicolas' left, Lumière paused to act offended. "As though I would intend to embarrass you. And in front of your ladylove, no less! Non, mon ami, you do that well enough on your own without my help."
Nicolas looked at the girls, his face prominently reading, See what I have to deal with?
As Bernadette giggled behind a hand, Babette gave him a small empathetic smile. She understood this was how the two of them functioned, especially since she had been on the receiving end of Lumière's teasing more times than she could name. But after her last encounter with the maître d', his prods seemed far sharper. Crueler, even.
How better to hide his cynicism? she argued as she took up her knife and fork.
Across from her, Lumière watched Babette turn her eyes to her plate. As before, she must intend to keep to herself. At how he had goaded her at their last shared meal, he could hardly blame her. No, he intended to respect her wishes this time. As much as he wanted to reclaim her good opinion through his usual art of persuasion, his charm was more fit to annoy her than appease. He was betting that carefully chosen words and subtle approaches were going to do the job. Since they would be in constant company for the next few days, he was counting on those opportunities when the moments presented themselves.
"So, mesdames," he addressed, though mostly to Bernadette, "am I right to assume monsieur gave you a tour of our humble lodgings?"
Babette barely deigned him a glance. But with a stifled laugh, Bernadette smiled and replied, "Mais oui, but I would never dare call any part of this place humble! I am sure monsieur is tired of hearing my compliments, so I will only say once more how marvelously well kept it is, and for a holiday home!"
"Oh, mademoiselle, that is certainly high praise! Alas," Lumière said with a showman's remorse, "Nicolas nor myself are deserving of such accolades, and we would be remiss to accept them when the one man responsible for our glistening hôtel is seated among us."
He looked to Marc as the footman ate a mouthful of bread that made his cheek protrude. Marc blinked at being addressed, eyeing Lumière and Bernadette in turn before swallowing his bread with some difficulty. Bernadette pressed her lips together to prevent a laugh from escaping.
Marc cleared his throat and straightened in his seat. "I suppose I can take some responsibility," he managed with modesty, nodding to Bernadette. "Merci, mademoiselle. I shall relate your compliments to the maids who helped when I see them next."
Bernadette's eyes brightened. "Would you? That would be so kind, thank you!"
Marc smiled back, but soon flitted his eyes back to his food. Lumière thought he saw the footman's ears flushing.
After a generally pleasant meal, Lumière and Marc began cleaning up while the rest headed to the salon, but Bernadette stalled at the doorway.
"Actually, messieurs," she asked after exchanging a parting look with Babette, "would you like my assistance?"
Surprised at her offer, Lumière hesitated in replying, but as he was about to, Marc exclaimed, "No, no, please, go rest!"
At the maid's uncertain expression, Marc checked himself. "You are very generous to offer, mademoiselle, but truly, I would not wish to make you work after the long hours you drove to travel here. I'm sure you're exhausted!"
Bernadette grinned. "True, but really, I do not mind! Here…" She walked up to Marc and took the stack of plates and silverware from his hands before heading to the kitchen. "I will start washing these!"
As the door shut behind her, Lumière glanced at a stricken Marc staring after her. The footman quickly averted his gaze to see Lumière's smirk.
Marc narrowed his eyes. "This is still between us," he whispered.
"Naturally," the maître d' agreed. "And soon it will be between you and her."
Marc took a deep breath, as though the thought of that made him anxious. Lumière gave him an encouraging clap behind his shoulder before returning the bottles of wine to the pantry.
After the gentlemen had cleared the table, Marc went to stand next to Bernadette at the water basin, taking up a towel to dry what she had cleaned. At seeing this, Lumière quickly snatched three glasses for drinks and made himself scarce.
Upon entering the salon, he saw Nicolas and Babette sitting close together on the chaise, but if either had been doing something they didn't want others to see, neither showed it. Based on all Lumière knew of both of them, Nicolas certainly would have been the one to react upon his entrance. That managed to put Lumière at ease, if only by a slight margin.
As Lumière walked by them to the armchair, Nicolas eyed the bottle in his hands. "What is that? Hoping to get me into a more drunken state than the other night?"
Lumière playfully balked at the accusation. "Nicolas, such suspicion! What purpose could I have to put you in a stupor when mademoiselle has already been a witness to it?"
"In truth," Babette corrected rather pointedly, "he carried himself quite well after…" She regarded Nicolas. "What was it? Seven glasses?"
Nicolas shrugged, the glow of the hearth muting the blush that Lumière knew had grown on his cheeks. "Admittedly, I don't recall the exact number."
"Either way," Lumière continued as Babette giggled, "it is not wine I have here, but champagne."
"Champagne?" Nicolas furrowed his brow in confusion. "What could we be celebrating?"
"Mon ami, we have plenty to celebrate!"
"Do we?"
"Of course!" Lumière popped the cork of the bottle before filling the flutes he had set on the side table next to him. "I have not properly congratulated you—both of you—on your engagement, so here I am in the hopes that these will make up for it," he said as he handed them each a glass.
Nicolas took his drink with a shrug, but he looked pleased with the gesture. However, Lumière was keen to watch Babette's reaction. Though she accepted her flute willingly, she looked like she was trying to hide her skepticism behind a veil of politeness. While Lumière grabbed his glass, she went to raise the drink to her lips.
"Ah-ah, mademoiselle!" Lumière stopped. "It would be bad luck to drink before I have given my toast."
"Here we go…" Nicolas muttered with an eyeroll. Babette bit her lip to keep herself from laughing.
Lumière stood straighter, defending rationally, "If I am to bring out a fine bottle of champagne, I must use it properly. Otherwise—"
"It would be a waste?" Nicolas finished knowingly.
"Precisely! You like to deny my influence, but you cannot always hide it." He smirked at his friend. "I knew I taught you well."
"At the rate you're going, we will be drinking flat champagne instead. Then it will really have been a waste."
"I will keep it brief," Lumière promised, his gaze straying to Babette. As he raised his glass, his nerves sent the slightest of tremors through his arm, but he managed to say smoothly, "To a happy engagement, and an even happier life together after."
"And to you, that you may be willing, when the woman is right, to allow your own engagement," Nicolas offered with a genuine grin.
They drank, but Lumière did so in one gulp. He wanted to immediately fill his glass again, but he knew he had to pace himself. Rushing to get more alcohol into his system as much as he felt he needed it wouldn't look well. He stifled a grimace. Why had I not grabbed something stronger?
"So," he went on as he took a seat, leaning back into his armchair in an attempt to calm his racing heart. "Before I had interrupted, what was the topic of intrigue between you?"
Unable to meet Babette's eye, he directed his question more toward Nicolas, who replied, "Nothing as salacious as you might have hoped."
Prompted by a glance from Nicolas, Babette began to explain, and Lumière forced himself to watch her. "On the way here, I saw posters for a Concert Spirituel tomorrow night." She shrugged rather meekly. "I don't know about either of you, but I have not had the pleasure of hearing concert music in quite some time."
"Those are normally done at Tuileries, oui?" Lumière asked, trying to even his gaze between them.
Babette nodded as Nicolas said, "Yes, at six o'clock. If it's a nice day, we could spend it taking a promenade around the gardens." He referred to Lumière with his champagne. "What do think? I'm happy to go if you are, unless you had something else planned."
Lumière laughed. "You know perfectly well that when in Paris, my itinerary is completely improvised." He raised an amused eyebrow at his friend. "What did you think I would be doing?"
"Catching up on gossip along Saint-Honoré."
Remembering, Lumière added with a sly smirk, "At precisely two o'clock on Sundays."
As he poured himself another glass, Babette hesitated but inquired anyway, "And what would happen at two o'clock?"
The boys exchanged mischievous looks. As Lumière sipped his champagne, the viscount shook his head and chuckled, saying to his betrothed, "Before their salons, the women would visit the shops there."
This time, the maître d' watched the viscountess willingly, daring her to criticize. But she looked to be humored at the thought. "To partake in more than gossip, I imagine."
Despite her knowing look, Lumière asked, "I wonder, has Nicolas told you too much, or am I really so predictable?"
Babette arched an eyebrow paired with the smallest of wry smiles that clearly read, Which do you think? He figured she thought as much. If only she were as easy to predict.
"Saint-Honoré is not far from Tuileries," she noted. "If you so wish, you could wander there of your own accord."
Lumière eyed her, catching on to her ploy immediately. "I suppose Nicolas had left out that little detail."
Babette furrowed her brow, miffed that she had to take the bait. "Which one?"
He tried to keep the triumph from showing in his smile. "He would normally join me. Oui, I could go on my own, but it is never as much fun."
"At least you can admit it," Nicolas teased. "But this time, as you can probably guess… I am less inclined to seek out the company of other women."
"It is almost counterproductive to come to Paris thinking that way." As Lumière finished off another flute, he saw Babette minutely roll her eyes behind her own glass.
He took a discreet breath to ease himself. Her obvious intolerance of him was cutting more deeply than he had expected it to, than it had previously. It needed to end.
"Perhaps," the viscount conceded with a grin, "but in any case, do not let us keep you from taking in the usual sights. I would hate to be that man for any monsieur that's unattached, most of all you."
Trying to put Babette's malice out of mind, Lumière mirrored his friend's expression. "The words of a true ami de cœur." He fingered his empty glass, feeling humbled. "I suppose my company would all but depend on your will to keep it. Both of yours," he added with a nod to the viscountess.
Nicolas seemed baffled by this statement. "Why wouldn't we?"
Taking this as a welcome distraction, Lumière replied, "Hmm, I'm not sure, Nicolas!" He brought a facetiously thoughtful hand to his chin. "Maybe you should ask the woman beside you if my presence would ever be deemed unfit in certain situations."
Lumière's sarcastic façade broke as he laughed at Nicolas' embarrassment. "You are very lucky naiveté looks so endearing on you, mon ami. It would seem not half as flattering on me."
At that moment, Babette covered her mouth as she yawned. "Excuse me," she sincerely said, setting down her empty glass. "I know it is still early, but…"
Nicolas nodded in agreement, standing to lend her hand off the chaise. "I think I am finished for the night, too. Lumière?"
The maître d' stood from his armchair, having to stretch what he realized had been tension in his back and shoulders, but he knew who was its cause. "I am finding the past two days of travel have caught up with me as well."
Babette tentatively glanced at the doorway toward the kitchen but led the way upstairs otherwise. Lumière kept himself busy gathering their drinks to avoid parting exchanges with her, but thankfully, that formality also was dropped on her end. Nicolas followed her out while Lumière took their empty flutes and the leftover champagne back to the kitchen.
Bernadette and Marc turned to face him as he pushed the doors open, but again, at least he hadn't interrupted anything more than innocent conversation. He assumed both would have been startled upon his entrance.
He kindly nodded to Bernadette. "Mademoiselle, your mistress has decided to retire for the evening."
The maid jumped from her position leaning on the counter. "Oh, mais oui! Merci, monsieur." She inclined her head to Marc, granting him a meek smile that the footman returned.
"Bonne nuit to you both," she imparted as she scurried out of the kitchen.
As Lumière set the glasses by the water basin and replaced the bottle's cork, he eyed Marc. "Well? How is she?"
Marc maintained a casual veneer for the whole of five seconds before his mouth broke into a grin. "She is… quite lovely. I do not believe I have yet met a woman so pure and good."
"Really?" Lumière balked, proceeding to wash the glasses in the basin. "I thought such angels on earth were a dying breed!"
"I'm serious!" Marc assured as he came to the maître d's side, his passion tangible. "She did not say a cross word about anything! Not of her mistress, or her position. There is no part of our conversation that seemed she is the least bit aloof or dishonest. Such sincerity!" he sighed like the word was a breath of fresh air.
"Calm yourself, Marc," Lumière lightly warned. "Becoming too enthralled too soon, no matter how wonderful the mademoiselle may seem, is dangerous."
"I suppose, but—"
With the attitude of a father, Lumière insisted prudently, "Non, there are no exceptions, even for a sweet girl like Bernadette. One private discussion does not tell you all you need to know. You must keep your mind active. You must doubt who she presents herself to be, as much as you may want to believe her." He then granted with a shrug, "At least in the beginning."
Marc observed Lumière for a thoughtful moment as the maître d' returned his attention to cleaning the flutes. He crossed his arms. "That seems like heavy-handed advice from someone who has made women a hobby."
Lumière chuckled, grabbing a towel to dry the glasses. "I have had many years to acquaint myself with their ways. I thought like you once, truly! But I have made sure to learn from my mistakes. You are fortunate enough not to have fallen for a woman's charms so easily until now. Most messieurs cannot speak to having such restraint, myself included."
"But… not all women are the same."
"And I praise His name as often as I remember that fact!" Lumière set the last sparkling glass down before giving the footman his full attention. "But think on it, Marc… Imagine if Bernadette was a man instead of a woman."
"What?"
"Play along! My point will become clear," Lumière urged, smiling at Marc looking aghast. "Same features, same charms, personality… A petite garçon with dark hair and large brown eyes, who is as polite and heartfelt as any you would come across. How would you react to him?"
Marc looked downright puzzled, but managed to respond, despite his uncertainties, "I would… not be very sure of him."
"Precisely! You would need to take the time to see if he is to be trusted."
Marc shook his head as he countered, "But being petite, polite, and heartfelt are not as admirable in a man as it is in a woman."
"In our society's eyes, yes, this is true, but that is my point exactly! Those qualities in a man would spur your instinct to be critical, so why should they not do the same when endowed to a woman?"
When doubt crossed Marc's expression, Lumière added, "Ladies have as much capacity to be cunning as men, maybe even more so. Not to mention they are much better at hiding it." When he thought of whom embodied this idea, he was sad to see Babette was amongst the first. He withheld a sigh that accompanied a wave of melancholy. "Trust my word as an eyewitness."
With a grimace, Marc sighed against the counter. "Bien, I can see what you mean." He rested his cheek on his fist. "It ruins the romance of it all though, doesn't it?"
Lumière paused as he hung the flutes back in the cupboard. "Not necessarily. You could take… well, me for example. I am constantly anticipating what a woman will do, yet both parties will find something to enjoy, whether it's engaging conversation, a bit of banter, or… more passionate pursuits. If done well, neither of you will ever find the romance wanting."
Marc was silent, his mouth in a contemplative pout, before he began tentatively, "I imagine the four of you will be going about Paris fairly often."
Lumière arched an eyebrow at the intent his observation was leading toward. "So it would seem. In fact, we will be around Tuileries tomorrow all afternoon and evening."
Marc nodded, his gaze unwavering. "While I am to stay here."
Lumière sighed. "Marc, you know you must manage the hôtel while we are not home."
The footman jumped to assure, "I know, I know! I was not about to ask if I could join you."
Lumière scrutinized him. Marc had been hired after Lumière had left for his position at Château du Lac, and though he liked the footman and thought he was a good worker, he wouldn't say they were particularly close. This was actually the first time Marc had tried to ask him for a favor, whatever it was. "All right… Then what are you asking?"
"Well…" Marc was starting to look nervous. "Since you will most likely be spending more time with her than me… could you…?"
Based on previous experience, the maître d' guessed, "Put in a good word for you?"
"No. I mean…" Marc shyly grimaced. "Not yet."
Lumière had to smile at Marc's struggle to articulate. "Is there more?"
"D'accord," Marc breathed, looking resolved. "Lumière… based on what I know, you seem to be a good judge of character."
Lumière chuckled. "This must be a most crucial favor for you to open it with flattery." When Marc bit his lip, he assured, "I am teasing! I appreciate that you think so."
Though this was supposed to relieve Marc, it didn't appear to have any effect on his agitation. He gripped the edge of the counter he was leaning on. "I was hoping, seeing as you will be in Bernadette's company, if… you could perhaps—"
Lumière completed his thought with a smirk. "Make sure she is as angelic you describe."
Marc greatly exhaled now that his favor was in the open. "Yes! If it's not too much trouble. I know this is your holiday and all, but… I would trust you to be certain she is all that she appears to be, especially if what you say is true."
Lumière made a show of turning it over in his mind. Truthfully, he already had much to concentrate his energies on in not only clearing his name to Babette, but confirming she loved Nicolas alone. Then Augustine's request was also on the table, but luckily, their goals coincided toward similar ends. What Marc was asking would complicate things, and had little to do with his other priorities.
On second thought…
Having an excuse to become close with Bernadette may help me to win over Babette again, he realized. Who else would know her better than her maid, after all? Once the idea was sown, Lumière found he couldn't deny he was able to make it all work.
With a shrug, Lumière said, "I do not see what trouble it would cause."
Marc's face brightened with excitement and relief. He hurried to clasp his hand. "Ah, Lumière, you have my unending gratitude!"
"Nonsense!" Lumière waved off, finding Marc's enthusiasm contagious. "If it may lead to your happiness, mon ami, I am only too glad to play a small part."
"Thank you, thank you!" Still wearing a huge smile, Marc went to the kitchen doors, but stopped short to inquire, "You will let me know of anything you learn, oui?"
"Simply ask, and you shall receive," the maître d' answered with grandeur.
Marc laughed. "Wonderful! I will be speaking with you tomorrow night then. Bonne nuit!"
With that, Marc hurried to check on his master before bed.
Lumière swept his eyes over the pristine kitchen, his craving for something stiffer to drink having passed. He was certain—more than certain—that Bernadette would be the key to slipping behind the viscountess' collected, evasive, and sardonic guises. Her secrets would be revealed, and then he would know exactly how to proceed thereafter.
Perhaps he had been too quick to despair at her unexpected presence, and to doubt his own nimble ingenuity. How dare he!
Now he had a plan, a concrete strategy.
Lumière strode to the door with purpose, wearing the smile of a man who had already won.