Chapter Twenty-One: Overcome

"I… I have a confession to make."

Babette's heart beat against the inside of her ribcage. He softly traced a circle with his thumb on the top of her hand, though she gripped his fingers tightly.

Lumière's grey eyes became intense at her words, but his tone continued to be as comforting as hearing a songbird at the break of dawn. "Say what you must, ma chérie. I am all ears."

She knew what she had to do: Stop this… this romance before it went too far. It was dangerous and reckless and…

Wonderful.

Such a warmth spread through her when he was with her, one that was uplifting and brilliant. If she felt this way merely by being in his presence, then how would it feel to…

Fierce desire erupted in her. Giving way to her natural impulses, Babette met Lumière's lips with hers. She caught him off-guard, which she found both worried and amused her, but he received her embrace willingly and with a passion that rivaled hers—just what she had hoped for.

Dieu, she had been right.

Babette sharply inhaled, forcing herself back into the present. Her eyes registered that the dense forest had turned into sprawling rows of prosperous French wine country.

With a heaving sigh, she fell against the back of her seat, the slight swaying of the post-chaise as persistent as ever. She glanced over at her traveling companion, Bernadette, to find her unsurprisingly as asleep as she had been before Babette's mind had drifted.

Ma foi, why am I torturing myself? she wondered as she pinched the bridge of her nose.

After leaning against the side of the carriage, the air she blew from her mouth disturbed a few wisps of her hair, causing them to tickle her forehead. She angrily swept them back and adjusted herself in order to watch the surroundings they were passing with any kind of interest. However, unless the sky suddenly expunged a fire-breathing dragon, she was less than enraptured.

With a growl, she nodded against the carriage door's window. Forget a few hours, she conceded. I cannot do this by myself for another minute!

Babette looked at her maid again but hesitated. Bernadette appeared so adorably peaceful, with her hands folded neatly on her middle and her chin bobbing gently to the carriage's motion.

Biting her bottom lip with remorse, she reached out to lightly shake her shoulder. "Bernadette?" she murmured.

Eyes fluttering open, the maid slowly shifted herself back into a proper sitting position, groaning a little from the exertion. "Oui, mademoiselle?" she mumbled obligingly as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes.

"I am sorry to wake you," Babette said sincerely, "but I could very much use the company. Would you indulge me a while?"

"Bien sûr!" Bernadette exclaimed with surprisingly alert enthusiasm. "Oh, I am hopeless when I'm put in a carriage this comfortable. It is like I am in a giant cradle!"

Babette smiled. "A very apt comparison, amie. Except I do not think any baby has slept as well in a cradle as you have in here!"

Bernadette had to laugh. She took her hands away from her flushed face. "I suppose if I am caught in so humiliating a position, I am glad it is you of all people."

The viscountess quirked a curious eyebrow. "Even though I tease you for it?"

With a shrug, Bernadette replied, "I know you do so because you care."

Touched, Babette took her hand. "I am glad it is obvious enough."

Trying to hide her embarrassment, she asked not too eagerly, "Do you happen to have a story to tell? Any kind of story? I only require it to be nice and long. I will even help if need be, if only you will begin it."

Bernadette was pleasantly surprised by this request but saw no reason to question it. "Hmm…" she hummed in thought as she poked her own chin. "Have I ever told you about my first kiss?"

Babette inwardly groaned. Oh, anything but that.

"Uh, yes, you have," she managed to kindly fib. "Perhaps something new, if you do not mind."

"Oh! Of course. Let's see…" Her eyes lit up. "How about when my cousin and I caught a thief in the tavern?"

Babette's eyes widened. "Caught a thief?" Her mouth curved into a delighted grin. "Ah, oui, this I must hear! Proceed, s'il vous plaît!"

Bernadette straightened in her seat and went directly into her tale: "Well, that very summer—I believe it was… six years ago? Yes, that is right. That very summer I was helping my uncle with the tavern to earn a bit of extra money, but also to spend some time with ma cousine, Marion. I hadn't seen her in months, the longest time we had ever really been apart…"

Settling cozily into her side of the post-chaise, Babette listened tenaciously to her maid's story, having to smile when Bernadette would scrunch up her lips and furrow her brow when she was trying to remember a specific detail. This was already putting her in better spirits.

Lumière and Nicolas followed the ladies' post-chaise on their horses without speaking. Both were admittedly tired from their late night out, but also, Lumière felt no inclination to converse with his friend for the duration of their ride back to La Clayette. As petty as he knew he was being, he was upset with Nicolas. It hadn't helped that the vicomte had tried to maneuver out of him what had happened the night before. The irony that their positions had been reversed the last time they had departed Paris only left Lumière worse for wear.

Nicolas was just as frustrated, especially since he wasn't used to Lumière being so withholding. He had a stronger suspicion by the minute that his behavior had something to do with that girl he had fallen in love with at Château du Lac, but his promise to bury that subject for good deterred him. His goal hadn't been to make Lumière bristle, after all.

Even so, he couldn't find it in himself to tolerate in silence the obvious cold shoulder he was receiving when he hardly felt he deserved it. The pleasant weather and fair prospect of the countryside around them was not enough to keep him preoccupied from that fact for longer than their trip home.

Gathering up his gumption, Nicolas addressed the maître d'. "Enjoying the quiet?"

Lumière merely flicked his eyes in his direction. "Trying to."

Wearing a sardonic grin, Nicolas nodded. "As am I."

Lumière's jaw tightened. "You have cause for disturbing it?"

"Yes," Nicolas countered sharply. "I'm failing to enjoy it."

"So you would rather talk."

Nicolas shrugged. "Perhaps I would."

With an exhausted sigh, Lumière shook his head in acquiescence. "Come, then. What is it?"

Nicolas was trying to meet his eye, but Lumière refused. The viscount replied with conviction, "Your behavior last night has something to do with that girl you worked with."

Lumière acted like this idea was brand new to him. "And what makes you think that?"

"You have not been yourself," Nicolas retorted. "And based on what I know, falling in love has been the only anomaly, and therefore, the only explanation I can determine."

Lumière was silent. He hoped that could be enough to end the conversation, because in truth, he didn't trust himself to speak and stay composed.

When Lumière clearly wasn't going to respond, Nicolas added rather indignantly, "I don't understand why you insist on torturing yourself."

"I am not playing the martyr for my own amusement," Lumière snapped.

"I would hope not!" Nicolas replied. "All the same, it is very unlike you to accept defeat. But if not even the distraction of Fleurettes was enough to quell thoughts of her, whether you mean to or no, you are clearly keeping yourself from being happy."

Though he was managing to keep his tone calm, Lumière's cutting gaze was a warning. "Mon ami, I say this with the love and respect I have for you as a brother, but you do not know what you are talking about."

"Then please, help me to understand!" Nicolas encouraged sincerely, undaunted. "You say that she no longer works there, so why not ask around? Someone at du Lac must know where she went!"

He waited for the maître d' to say something, but Lumière was in the middle of trying to restrain himself. On the reins, his knuckles were white.

"Explain to me why," Nicolas went on, oblivious, "if you care so much about her, do you not go out and try to find her?"

"Because she is engaged!"

The words escaped in an outburst before Lumière could catch them. His friend's immediate expression of shock made Lumière want to bite his tongue off, but he couldn't prevent himself from saying, "I have made my peace with that simple fact of life, Nicolas, but I would be eternally grateful if you did not mention her again."

Nicolas barely nodded before Lumière jabbed a finger at him. "And if you ever look at me like that again, I will slap the pity out of you from where you stand!"

He ducked his head, doing his best to comply. "Understood."

Lumière faced forward in his saddle, but out of his peripherals, could see Nicolas peeking over at him still. He could feel that scornful and nauseating sympathy as though it were radiating off of him, but allowed Nicolas his moment to absorb it all. Despite how much he hated to be pitied, he knew Nicolas felt it out of concern for him. His former master had always been idealistic by nature and was fond of the idea of happy endings. Though Lumière had helped expand his world view, Nicolas was still a touch sheltered from reality. Truthfully, when it came to what love could be, Lumière had been sheltered as well. Ignorance was surely bliss.

"I can't imagine what you must think of me."

Abruptly cut from his musings, Lumière turned to his friend, confused. "What do you mean?"

Nicolas looked as though he wanted to shrink to a quarter of his size. "Here I am, contently engaged to be married, and I invite you here to observe it up-close and in-person." Suddenly self-conscious, he pleaded, "Did my—Did my letter seem commanding or… insistent?"

Taken aback at such a turn in the conversation, Lumière finally found his voice to reply, "Nicolas, my current circumstances are the furthest from being your fault. How could you think I…?"

But he stopped himself, knowing exactly how. He internally kicked himself. "Any aloofness I have shown, particularly to you, has everything to do with my wish not to discuss it. Believe me, mon ami, this trip has afforded me an opportunity to overcome my feelings for her," he assured truthfully. "I am more indebted to you than not."

The vicomte watched his old valet for a moment before seeming to accept the sincerity of his words. "All right. In that case… you're welcome."

The maître d' huffed a laugh, taking in the relief of having let go a portion of his secret. Nicolas smiled back.

A warm, amicable sense of peace pervaded the air between them, and Lumière managed to enjoy it for a minute before a thought occurred to him. "Let us agree… this remains between us."

Nicolas pursed his lips but affirmed with a nod, "Of course," and then he returned to looking out across the fields and farms in the distance. Lumière attempted to do the same.

… When I truly consider everything since I arrived, I suppose myself to have been disillusioned. The reality of Babette's engagement to Nicolas had not seemed wholly real until the moment I saw them locked in an embrace. Even now, it is painfully difficult to put what I saw into words.

But if I were truly honest with myself, as cruel fate has bid us be separated by such a trivial border as social class, there is no other man I would trust with Babette's happiness and well-being more than Nicolas. When I think on it more, I am glad they have found each other.

However, I have not decided if my involvement in her marriage to another is fortuitous, for I can be assured that she will be in good hands, or calamitous, because I must learn to conquer feelings that may not ever be conquered. What if I never do? What will become of me then? Of my lifetime friendship with Nicolas? If I can never see her without my heart aching with every beat it makes, how can I ever return to La Clayette again?

Lumière paused, realizing what he was writing, and shook his head at himself.

I apologize for my ramblings. Whether they are coherent enough for you to understand, I must ask of you now for that "woman's touch" you offered what seems like an age ago. As circumstance would have it, I have no one else to confide in:

In your honest and forthright opinion, what can I possibly do or say to allow a positive outcome to emerge from this mess? I am at my wit's end.

As a friend and confidante, for you have seen me at my best and at my worst, please reply swiftly, mon ange.

Yours always,

L.

He laid down his quill, his forehead resting on his palm as he skimmed the completed letter. He had tried to hide it, but alas, he sounded desperate. He was desperate.

Resigned, he dried the ink, folded, and sealed the parchment before he left the library.

Though the four of them had spent two days traveling together, Lumière had refrained from participating in any substantial conversation. He had pleaded fatigue and gone to bed early at the inn in Briare.

Before they had gotten on the road again the next morning, even as he wracked his brain about his situation, he had caught Babette watching him at breakfast. She had also been awfully quiet throughout their trip home. She hadn't given Nicolas or Bernadette more than monosyllabic responses, at least based on what Lumière had seen. From what he could gather, she was suffering from the same fits of stern contemplation, but that did little to ease him. He would rather see her be her usual vivacious, beguiling self.

All he could think to do for the time being was to be amicable and supportive. More than anything, he wanted to shower her with his love, but as that was impossible, the next best thing was to be a friend to her. Perhaps if her thoughts had anything to do with him, he could prove to her he was fine; that they were on good terms still, despite their history. Though he hadn't fully accepted her marriage to Nicolas yet, he wanted to show her he already had. What mattered most was granting her peace of mind.

Returning to his room, he opened the drawer where the other letter to Angélique was stowed.

"There you are!"

Undoubtedly, being so absorbed in his solemn reflections, Lumière started at the sound of Nicolas' voice at his doorway and shut the drawer with a bang.

"Oui! Here I am!" he replied jovially to offset his surprise. As casually as possible, he put the piece of parchment at his back as he faced his friend. "I hope you have not been searching for me long."

"Not long enough to be of consequence," Nicolas said. He stepped into the room, a shadow of a wry smile on his lips, and eyed the way Lumière was standing. "What have you got there, mon ami?"

His grin souring, Lumière grumbled as he revealed the letter, and decided on a half-truth. "A note to the château, to check in on things."

"Well, it is certainly not addressed to Cogsworth," Nicolas determined with a smirk. He stroked his chin in thought, which made Lumière roll his eyes. "Is it to… non, I know!" he exclaimed, his eyes wide with discovery, and pointed an accusing finger. "Is it to Angélique?"

Offering a nonchalant shrug, Lumière simply said, "She is a trustworthy informant."

Nicolas blinked as though he was surprised to have been right. "You are on letter-exchanging terms with her now? Since when?"

"Clearly since I saw you last," Lumière muttered. "We made amends last autumn."

"Wow," the viscount voiced, clearly impressed. "Let it go to show no woman can stay angry with you forever, frère."

"I would not speak too soon," Lumière corrected with a smile. "But it is amazing what a swallowing of pride can do."

"So, you two are… friends?"

Lumière gave his friend a reprimand in a look, emphasizing, "As platonic as they come."

"Hm." Nicolas pouted, still on the brink of doubt. "I don't know… When have you ever been merely friends with a young and pretty mademoiselle?"

"Never," the maître d' granted. "Angélique, however, is different. She is much more than a pretty face, and I respect her insight."

Nicolas seemed to be assessing his old valet in a new and even more positive light. "This is certainly progress!"

Lumière smirk verged on cocky. "How much pride do you feel in your oldest friend?"

Clapping his shoulder, Nicolas admitted, "Just enough to be considered 'pride.' I am glad there is another you can call a companion." He shook his head in exasperation. "After twenty years, the burden has become much too great."

"And so have you!" Lumière dismissed with a wave of his hand, but like Nicolas, he couldn't keep a straight face for long. "Now, what is it you wanted to see me about?"

"Ah, yes!" Nicolas remembered. "I came to ask if you would like to join Babette and I for a ride through the woods tomorrow afternoon. She has sent back her acceptance."

"Will Bernadette be joining you as well?" he had to ask. As of now, he would always look forward to that adorable maid's company.

A flash of excitement crossed Nicolas' eyes just as quickly as disappointment replaced it. "Unfortunately not, though I offered. Bernadette is not very confident in the saddle, it seems."

Lumière nodded, as it didn't necessarily surprise him. "Then the question becomes… do you want me to join you?" he inquired, raising a dubious eyebrow.

Nicolas chuckled, but he fidgeted a little. "I hardly think my parents would be keen on letting me and my fiancée run off into the woods without a chaperone."

Taking mental note of this reaction, Lumière reasoned, "I hardly think your parents believe you still need a chaperone, since you are the epitome of a gentleman. I might as well add that they—well, your mother—would rather see you two run off together alone."

The smile slid from the viscount's face. "You're joking."

With a grimace, Lumière informed uncomfortably, "She asked me to help you be more… 'romantic.'"

"Oh, Dieu," Nicolas groaned, hiding his flushing face for a moment in his hands. "Then it's decided: You are coming out riding with us."

Seeing this as an opportunity to reassure Babette of their friendship, Lumière complied with a cavalier salute. "Oui, mon capitaine!"

The next day was a cloudless one. Upon opening a window, a fresh breeze caressed Babette's face and the sun warmed her skin. She could have stood on her balcony all day.

This began to make Babette look forward to riding much more than the previous night. She had accepted Nicolas readily, but out of obligation. They were too far along in their relationship for her to purposely avoid her betrothed without giving good reason. Besides, she respected him far too much to do him such an insult.

In truth, that kiss could have been a fluke. She had done it out of jealousy and spite. She was attracted to Nicolas, appearance and personality alike. Despite how their embrace had lacked a certain spark, it had been wonderful to be enveloped in his arms.

But had it been wonderful only because she had long had a craving to be intimately touched by a man? Any man?

Dieu, she was pathetic.

Babette gasped as Bernadette tugged on the ties of her corset, cutting her self-rebuke short.

"Oh, I am so sorry!" her maid cried. "Is that too tight?"

"It could be looser," Babette politely croaked.

"Of course." Bernadette hurried to pull more of the ties out, frowning at herself. "Watch as I one day strangle you to death without knowing it!"

A laugh escaped Babette, but it pained her slightly as though her ribs were bruised. "I shall be sure to write in my will, 'Bernadette shall not be convicted for murder.'"

The maid giggled at that. "Oh, no, I will turn myself in despite you!"

"Merci. Now I know to add, 'Do not let Bernadette willingly go to prison.'"

With her corset set, Babette faced her friend. "How about, in the likelihood of my death by corset—I am serious!" she objected as the maid laughed even more. "These things are more likely to kill me than any human being!"

Grinning at Bernadette's mirth, she continued in a serious tone, "As I said, if you feel you absolutely must repent for my death, how about you instead say… three 'Hail Marys' and that 'Contrition' prayer every day? A fair compromise, oui?"

Her hands on her hips, Bernadette gave in with an impatient sigh and clipped curtsey. "Whatever you say, mademoiselle."

It hurt to laugh, but Babette couldn't prevent herself from doing so. "Oh, chérie, I wish you were riding with us today."

Infinitely pleased, Bernadette took her mistress's hand. "As do I. But you will enjoy yourself without me."

If only that were certain, Babette thought morosely.

"Come," the maid insisted, grabbing the skirt of Babette's new outfit. "Think of how queenly you will look atop a horse in this!"

The viscountess smiled, but it didn't reach her eyes. Her stomach had started to churn.

Since again, she had no choice in the matter, Babette cooperated and donned the burgundy riding habit. As she walked out into the gardens, the lace cravat at her throat fluttered and the heeled boots that hugged her calves shifted the gravel under them.

Clarisse glanced up from the flower bed she was tending, tossing her most recently pulled weed in the pile beside her. Seeing her daughter, she beamed, wiping her hands on her soil-covered apron. "Oh, my darling girl, how stunning you look! And how regal! The de Créquy will be very impressed," she hinted at in the least subtle way.

"Maman," Babette whined, letting herself smile at her mother's enthusiasm. She hadn't seen her mother so consistently happy in a long time—longer than she can truly recall. "I beg of you, do not make my looks a topic of conversation. I will refuse to stay for dinner if you do!"

Clarisse clutched at her breast in mock-offense. "And I cannot boast of my daughter's beauty? Grant me the only privilege I have as a proud mother."

Babette eyed her mother anxiously, on the verge of stating her reasons, but Clarisse quickly conceded, "Fine, fine, you have my word… Though they will probably bring up the subject on their own," she predicted with a smile. "How could they not?"

Her daughter resisted the urge to roll her eyes and eagerly changed the subject. "Well, how could you not have told me you were going to be in the garden today?" she accused. "I would have asked to meet with Nicolas at a later time."

Clarisse looked appalled. "And allow yourself to become covered in dirt before you see him? Non, of course not!"

"But…" Babette felt a pang of regret and want as she timidly said, "It has been so long since we have tended the garden together."

The corners of her mother's eyes crinkled. "I know it has. Perhaps tomorrow."

"Is that a promise?" she demanded with a pout.

Clarisse nudged Babette lovingly under her chin. "One I would stake my honor on, ma fille."

Satisfied, Babette nodded. "Bon. Tomorrow it is then." As she spoke the following words, a feeling of dread couldn't be prevented. "So I will see you in a couple hours?"

"At La Bazolle, oui," Clarisse confirmed, grinning. "Au revoir, chère."

"Goodbye, maman." And Babette went to give her mother a hug.

"Oh!" Clarisse put her hands up, recoiling from her. "No, no, dear, I'm filthy. Here."

Without touching her, she leaned in to kiss both her daughter's cheeks. Babette meekly smiled at the gesture.

"Off you go! Enjoy yourself!" the countess bid, and her daughter obliged reluctantly.

"I will see you soon," Babette imparted as she headed for the stables, her nerves making her tremble. She twisted the gloves she was carrying in her hands.