Chapter Eleven: Allegations

During cleanup after the masquerade, the majordomo burst into the kitchen. "Where on earth have you been?"

Lumière glanced up in mild surprise. "All right, Cogsworth, what could have possibly been your most recent hallucination?"

Despite being a head shorter than the maître d', Cogsworth stood toe-to-toe with him. "Do not mock me, Lumière, and don't play dumb! A little bird informed me you went off with some girl during the latter half of the ball."

Lumière turned to the meek server, whose cheeks were flushing. He called the server out with a finger. "I will speak with you later." The server grimaced, shying away to hide behind other working staff.

Cogsworth became more infuriated as he spoke. "In the middle of a gala event, I cannot believe you would shirk your duties again to fly on the wings of your fancy! I expect a very good explanation for such incompetent, irresponsible behavior!"

"If it would please your headly-ness," Lumière countered coolly, "should we not continue this enthralling lecture outside?"

"I do not appreciate your tone, Lumière, and I will not stand—hey!" Lumière began to push the majordomo with a matter of ease toward the kitchen doors as Cogsworth, being unable to put up a resistance, cried, "Stop it, stop it, I say!"

As they came into the hallway, Cogsworth's face was a bright red. "Are you mad?" He straightened his maroon tailcoat. "Unbelievable! You cannot jostle me in front of other servants in that manner! I will not tolerate my authority being challenged!"

"Do you want an explanation, or would you rather listen to yourself ramble for the rest of the night?"

"I—" Affronted, Cogsworth wanted to retaliate, but bit his tongue and crossed his arms. He waved at Lumière to continue.

Lumière gave a short, sarcastic bow in thanks. "The girl you speak of, who was a server, had run out of the ballroom in distress because of one of the guests. I simply went to retrieve her from the gardens so she would not become ill from the cold."

"I see. And who was the girl?"

"In regards to the girl, I would rather you use your imagination."

"Lumière!"

"Truly, it is such an insignificant detail. What matters is she is safe and out of the cold; a problem solved that never needed your attention." He inclined his head with mock humility. "You're welcome."

Cogsworth drummed his fingers on his arm for a moment. "You know, there was someone in particular I did not see in the kitchens that should be present."

Feigning surprise, Lumière asked, "Really? I cannot say I agree."

"Naturally," Cogsworth muttered. With unwavering eyes narrowed, he questioned, "Lumière, if I may be so bold, are you trying to protect Babette or your own skin?"

As though suddenly remembering, he cried, "Ah! Yes, of course, I forgot to mention: Babette had a sudden dizzy spell during the ball. She almost dropped an entire tray of champagne flutes. Luckily, I happened to be passing by, or there could have been a disaster on my hands, and your neck," he emphasized, discreetly adding, "Again, you are welcome," before resuming. "So, being as she could drop a platter of expensive glasses at any moment, I dismissed her to get some rest, as she so obviously needed it." He clasped his hands behind him and challenged with a smirk, "Do you have any more accusations in store?"

"I will admit, your story hardly sounds outlandish, but that doesn't mean it's not poppycock. I especially refuse to accept it if you do not disclose the identity of the girl who ran out to the gardens."

"Cogsworth, she is embarrassed enough as it is," Lumière chastised lightly. "What transpired is now in the strictest confidence between me and her."

A silent battle of wills occurred as they stared each other down. Cogsworth then said casually, "Over the four years I have had the misfortune of working with you, I gained the insight that you only help a lady if you have certain intentions: that is, to romance them until they swoon. As of now, the only girl you have been trying to charm is Babette."

Lumière had to laugh. "Your 'insight' is rather misguided."

Cogsworth arched an eyebrow, and responded with all the sarcasm he could muster, "Oh, really? Please, Lumière, do tell."

In an offended manner, Lumière said, "I do not have ulterior motives when I assist a woman. I am first and foremost a gentleman, and if it is ever within my power, I will come to a mademoiselle's aid, whether or not it results in an affair." Giving it some more thought, he annexed with a small smirk, "Although, that does seem to be a common outcome."

"Hmph, 'gentleman' indeed," Cogsworth harrumphed. He suddenly checked his pocket watch. "Bravo, Lumière. I no longer have the time to listen to your equivocating answers." He threatened with a finger, "But don't think you have successfully avoided the issue. Whatever you are trying to hide will be revealed eventually." He then swiftly spun on his heel and made his way toward his next appointment.

Lumière smiled triumphantly. Cogsworth was lying through his teeth; he always forgot to interrogate Lumière again after he runs off to perform other errands. Lumière was simply not that important to the majordomo, which suited both of them perfectly well.

On the other hand, Cogsworth seemed to be awfully concerned with what Babette might or might not be doing with the maître d', and Lumière could not discern the reason why. In any case, Lumière would let Babette know what he had told Cogsworth and to be prepared to be questioned in the likelihood that Cogsworth goes to her for confirmation.

Going over the night's events in his mind, Lumière realized he discovered much about Babette that confirmed many of her actions. They had come to a profound understanding of each other. She was a mystery that was about to be solved. And yet, he did not want to stop. He only wanted to dig further, to find out her wishes, her ideals, her passions. His vow to himself to walk away when he finally completed the puzzle was starting to look empty. She was a startlingly interesting person with layers that seemed miles deep. He strongly felt it would be worth the effort to get to know her better.

Despite himself, he thought back to Cogsworth's warning a week before the masquerade. As much as Lumière might have expressed it, Babette does not show any sign of romantic interest in him, and he doubted she would in the future.

And still, one wanted what they could not have.

The next morning, Babette found herself moving more slowly, being more lost in thought than usual. She could not recall what happened exactly, but she knew Alphonse, who had often frequented her dreams as she slept, hadn't haunted her that night. After coming to terms with it, she finally felt she could begin to let go of Alphonse.

What the future vicomte had spoken of at the masquerade, though, had left Babette unnerved. She was still the gossip of the town, and their opinion of her hadn't improved. In fact, it seemed to have worsened. Was that the impression she had really left behind?

Also, how did the rumor that she was sent to a convent procure itself? It didn't make any sense. Were there aristocrats talking to her parents about it? How were they responding?

Becoming more flustered at the thought of it, Babette became firm on going over in her head the method of folding those ridiculous napkins.

As she was prepping her hair for a bun, a rap came from the door.

Shaken out of her reverie, she called hastily, "Entrez."

Seeing who it was, Babette imparted, "I am sorry, Mrs. Potts, I was a little distracted this morning. I only need a few more minutes."

"Oh, that's quite all right, dear," Mrs. Potts replied, waving away the unnecessary apology as she approached the maid. "I heard you had a rough night and I just wanted to check on you. How are you feeling?"

"Much better, merci," Babette replied, blushing timidly. "I appreciate the thought."

Mrs. Potts spoke to her through the vanity mirror, openly concerned. "Of course, dearie! After Lumière told me what happened, I couldn't believe that man's nerve!" She shook her head and tutted. "That's no way for a viscount to behave in public, besmirching a lady's reputation."

Babette fumbled with her bun and her hair fell around her shoulders. Mrs. Potts began to fix her hair for her. Babette tentatively asked, "How much did he tell you?"

"Oh, love, you need to know that he only told me because I asked where you were last night," the housekeeper reassured. "All I know is that horrible viscount is the reason you ran outside in tears."

"I have no qualms with you knowing," Babette explained quickly. "It is only that… I am very embarrassed of the entire ordeal. I wish I had not caused a scene."

"Please, don't worry your darling head on any of it. Your secret is safe and sound." Mrs. Potts set the opal hair comb in Babette's bun to finish. She placed a comforting hand on the maid's shoulder. "I want you to know that if ever you need to talk to someone, I am always here to listen. Don't feel that you have to bottle it up. It's not healthy for a girl your age to keep such burdens and worries like that."

Babette could only nod and attempt a smile. She put on her maid's cap and stood. Before leaving her chamber, she finally was able to say, "I am grateful for your offer, truly. I was merely…"

Mrs. Potts smiled, nodding keenly. "I know, dear, I know."

As Babette was stepping out of the kitchen when breakfast was finished, Lumière called to her as the doors shut behind him. "Babette, I need a quick word with you."

The maid glanced back nonchalantly but kept walking. "Coming from you, 'a quick word' is quite the paradox, but I believe I have a moment or two."

Not expecting such a response, Lumière could not help but grin at her remark. He stared after her, confused. "Then where are you going?"

She halted and said impatiently, "I have work to do! Surely, you can walk and talk? I am certain you have the capacity."

He rolled his eyes and muttered about her absurdity, but caught up with her before they resumed their path down the corridor. "I was only going to tell you that Cogsworth tried to get the truth about what happened last night, but he only received a story I concocted off the top of my head."

Babette furrowed her brow at him. "What did you tell him?" she questioned suspiciously.

"Honestly, chérie, this is not my first time lying about where I've been," he informed exasperatedly. "In fact, I am an expert in improvisation."

"Good. Then what did you tell him?"

Trying to ignore Babette's somewhat patronizing tone, he replied, "Cogsworth suspected it was you that fled the ballroom and wondered why you were not in the kitchens last night." He shrugged. "I told him you had a dizzy spell and had to go rest."

Babette raised an eyebrow. "A dizzy spell?"

Lumière smiled at her expression. "Do you not approve?"

"No," Babette replied unconvincingly. "I only thought you would be a little more creative than that."

"Well, my apologies for not meeting your standards," he said with playful sarcasm. "My intention was to be believable. As my lie is not spectacular enough, pray tell, what would have been your preferred alibi?"

"If anything, you could have depicted me in a more elegant manner," Babette teased. "Besides, I am not nearly as delicate as you made me seem. I have never fainted in my life, not by any margin."

"I think we can suspect Cogsworth has less than an inkling of that minor detail," he remarked. "I only wanted to keep you informed in case he asks about what transpired. It tends to be more convincing if the stories are the same."

"Then I can assume that you have done this before, oui?" she inquired with a bit of coquettish interest. She was finding she was in the best mood since arriving at the château.

Lumière gave her his mischievous smirk. "In circumstances not dissimilar to this one."

"Such as…?"

He laughed as a kaleidoscope of examples popped into his mind's eye. "There are so many, I could hardly pick which one to mention."

"Hmm, liked to get into trouble, didn't we?" Babette quipped coyly.

"More than I dare say, although I was not always alone in my misadventures."

"You had a partner-in-crime," she guessed, musing. "That would definitely make things more interesting."

"Oui, every time," Lumière confirmed. "My previous master happens to be my best friend, and we got ourselves into all kinds of disasters. Most of them were my ideas, of course, but no matter how idiotic, he was there to fight or fall with me."

Babette pouted adorably, a touch of jealousy showing. "I wish I had one of those."

Lumière gave her a look. "You do not mean to suggest you got into some trouble of your own?"

Babette replied to his expression with a laugh. "Why is that surprising?"

He blinked at the question, glancing away as he said, "From what I have seen, you tend to avoid… how to say… getting your hands dirty." However, that would explain many things, he wanted to add, but held his tongue.

An elfish smile played upon her lips. "Well, monsieur, it seems I still remain elusive to your understanding." She giggled impishly. "Non, I am afraid trouble and I are old acquaintances. Oh, the stories I could tell you… I am sure you would be shocked at what I have accomplished on my own."

"We shall have to see," came his response, captivated by her show of frolic. "Naturally, you must enthrall me with a few of them soon."

"We will trade," she suggested, her eyes bright. "Story for story."

"You need only say when."

"I will keep that in mind." With a departing flick of her feather duster, she strutted off to meet the other maids, giving him one last sly glance before rounding the corner.

Lumière shook his head in disbelief. She just had to be toying with him now.

Taking a break from dusting, Babette met Angélique in a private cove in the library where the decorator often spent her time. The maid found her reading one of the many volumes of L'Astrée, Angélique's most recent venture.

Babette had found she had much in common with her after multiple discussions of books they had read, which included fiction, romances, and philosophies, and many of their opinions were similar, especially on topics they felt strongly about. What had impressed Babette so much about Angélique was that she was incredibly self-taught. She sought knowledge and wanted to learn. The only reason Babette knew so much about literature and philosophy was because she had been forced to take lessons. She never knew she would be able to appreciate those lessons until she had met Angélique.

"You know, Babette," Angélique had stopped to say after a deep discussion of Ovid's views of women. "You are the first person I have been able to talk to about literature. I have never met another—especially a woman—who has even a vague idea of who Ovid was, or has actually read Shakespeare." She had smiled gratefully. "I guess I want you to know that I am really glad you are here."

Babette had not been able to call another girl a friend in so long, she had forgotten how wonderful it felt.

This time, Babette had a certain topic in mind that she had to discuss with her, but had never wished to bring up since the morning of the Spanish's arrival. She understood completely that Angélique was still hurt because of Lumière's crassness. However, after hearing what he had to say, Babette had to persuade Angélique to move past what had occurred.

"Bonjour, Angélique," the maid greeted with a smile.

The decorator glanced up from the novel she was thoroughly engrossed in. She grinned instantly. "Babette! A pleasure as always! Sit, s'il vous plaît."

Babette gracefully took a seat in the comfy armchair across from her and crossed her ankles out of habit.

Angélique noticed Babette's thoughts seemed to be elsewhere. "Is something on your mind?"

"Oui… in fact, there is," Babette replied, her mind racing to determine how to begin. "As much as you may want to ignore what I have to say, could you please… listen?"

Perplexed but intrigued, Angélique set her tome aside, and nodded. "Of course."

Babette intertwined her fingers. "Well… last night, in the middle of the ball… after the course of some events, I had a… revealing conversation about past relationships with Lumière."

As was expected, Angélique stiffened. She was about to berate her, but Babette immediately held up a hand. "Please, let me finish." Angélique crossed her arms sullenly and stared attentively back, her delicate pink lips in a thin line.

Babette pushed onward, "One of the things we discussed was his regrets with what happened with you."

Angélique then crossed her legs and turned her head away. She was no longer listening.

But Babette was determined. "Angélique, he sincerely wishes to make peace with you."

She rounded her gaze on the maid, her bright blue eyes like ice. "And you believed him?"

Knowing logic was the only way to win her over, Babette insisted, "Angélique, you know I look at him very critically. My view of him is not distorted. Last night, I saw a man who realizes he made a mistake and is suffering because you are still suffering."

"Really?" Angélique asked with severe doubt. "Then why are you telling me this and not he?"

"Because you are still upset with him, so you do not want to accept his apology," Babette replied plainly.

Angélique uncrossed her limbs and leaned forward, interrogating, "Babette, what even led to this… confession? What happened last night?"

Babette sighed. She recounted the events concisely from when she ran out of the ballroom to when Lumière left her chambers, leaving out any minor details that might hint even slightly at romance. Although, the memory of his hand locked in hers as he tenderly kissed it caused her heart to skip a beat. When she was finished, Angélique looked very stern with her.

"Babette, he is still trying to charm you! And you do not even see it!"

"He was doing no such thing, especially because I told him I am not in the least bit interested," Babette countered firmly. "He was simply doing what any proper gentleman would have done. But this is not about me. Mon amie, I beg of you to give the circumstances a critical glance. Can you not see it is only hindering you to carry this anger much further?"

Angélique looked away in thought for a moment, before returning, "I wish you had not mentioned any of it. To be frank, Babette, this is none of your business."

Babette bit her lip. She was absolutely right.

As the decorator grabbed her book and was about to leave, Babette stopped her. "Angélique, wait."

She stood in front of her, staring blankly at the maid with her thick book clutched to her chest.

"I need you to know that… I was only trying to help you because I do not think you should keep this weight with you any longer than you should."

Angélique pursed her lips. "Are you really trying to help me? Or are you doing this for him?"

With Babette rendered unable to answer, she strode down the stairs and out of the library, the periwinkle blue skirt of her dress swishing out of sight, leaving Babette to ponder her accusations.

Angélique had a valid point, as much as Babette hated to admit it: Who was she really trying to help?