The ball lasted late into the night, and once the last guest had left, Vincent was indeed ready to deal with the girl who had made a complete fool out of him. His search was less successful than Lumière's was as he looked in every room.
Turning knob after knob, he stumbled inside the den. Not what one would normally consider a victorious discovery, but in this case, that is exactly what it was. He found himself in a state of amazement as he entered. It had been a long time since he had seen it, and with what little interaction he had with his lower servants, the last he knew was that no one had touched it.
Placing his candlestick on the mantle, he looked around, very impressed with the care someone had taken with it. The wood of the fireplace appeared brand new, and he saw that it was cherry wood, something he had never known before. The gold and glass shimmered as the flame of his candle danced off different surfaces, and he knelt to touch the rug, soft once again after being cleaned thoroughly.
And then he saw his father's chair, the one that he had always sat in whenever his father invited him in. So many fond memories were there, and he was pleased to see it in such good condition. Slowly he approached it, sat down, and bit his lip. Men did not cry, but it felt so wonderful to be back in this room. The heart everyone thought was made of stone would melt long enough to thank the person who had done all this work.
With a firm, loud voice, he called for Cogsworth, receiving the usual response of his running into the room.
"You called, master?" he asked as he caught his breath.
"Who has been responsible for this room?"
"No one officially, sir, but Babette has seen to it for some time now."
"The girl from this evening?"
"Yes, master."
Vincent rose from the chair, glancing around the room once more before he stood. "We must find her; come."
Cogsworth showed no hesitation in obeying.
"She had the nerve to get rid of you that very same day?"
The voices traveled out into the hall from the servants' quarters as Lumière listened to Babette's story.
"The very same," she replied, "She had the ridiculous thought to 'get it all done in one day', thus I was gone just moments after."
"She is very lucky she is not a man, or else she would be hearing from me."
Babette laughed. "Not much you would be able to do, but I appreciate the thought. But...what about you? I've been the only one telling stories."
Lumière shrugged as he looked up at her from his place on the floor, while she made herself comfortable on the chaise, much resembling a child ready to hear a story before going to sleep. "There is not much to tell."
"Not much but a small something at least?"
He thought for a moment. "Well...a lot like you really, born into this life and raised on it. Worked very hard to get up to the ranks I am now; that is honestly all there is."
Babette snorted a disbelieving laugh. "Oh come on, a man like you not have stories to impress a woman? Show her what a glorious creation you are? Why do I seriously doubt that?"
Lumière smirked. "If the woman in question can not see that without such tales, there is no hope for her."
Both could hardly believe that she was finally mirroring the expression she commonly despised the most. It had turned into something familiar that could always be depended on to happen... not so annoying anymore...
"To quote you, monsieur, the woman in question is, how did you say, 'something else'?"
He sat up to be somewhat at her eye level, holding her eyes in the stare that made each of them desperate to look into the other's for eternity. "Completely true in a number of ways."
Babette took a deep breath; different emotions racing as he drew closer, she could scarcely speak coherent thoughts. "And...how so?"
As she moved to allow him onto the chaise, Lumière hardly believed what he was feeling. He was ready to confess it, at least to himself...he loved this woman, worshipped her...wanted her more than any he had ever known. Slowly, he let his hand touch her cheek, stroking coaxingly to calm her when she startled nervously.
"There are ways to tell you...but there are better ways...to show you."
Part of her was screaming to stop him, but she could not seem to listen. Letting her eyes slide shut, she felt his lips form a smile before stealing a long awaited kiss. All rhyme and reason gone, she melted into his arms as he held her intimately close.
Only the door opening across the room brought them back to any sense of reality. Babette pulled away, racing to get as far away from him as possible but dying to be near him again, while Lumière stood incoherently, seeing no one else but her.
Vincent and Cogsworth stood in the doorway, the first immediately clearing the sight from his mind, while the latter glared at Lumière. He was quite familiar with a scene like this, for he had witnessed a handful of them before. When none of the three spoke, Vincent began questioning instantly. "Your name...it is Babette isn't it?"
Babette could not take her gaze from Lumière's. "Oui, master; 'tis an honor you remembered."
"Look at me when I speak to you," he commanded firmly, in which she gave not one moment's hesitation in obeying, returning quickly to reality. "I've heard that you are the one that continuously works on the den, is that correct?"
She nodded.
"Then...I simply wanted...to thank you," he replied quietly. Showing courtesy and gratitude to a servant was not the easiest thing to do. "Should you continue to work at it, then...forget what I said earlier this evening."
Babette could not contain a small grin. "Of course, master, I am truly grateful..."
Vincent held the authority tone. "You should be; now all of us, along to bed before I realize my actions were not uncalled-for and change my mind." With that he left, followed by Cogsworth, who gave them both one last look of disapproval.
Silence hung in the air for a minute or two when she felt Lumière move closer again after being assured that both were gone. "Well now...as I said, you do not appear to be going anywhere...merci le bon Dieu..."
Babette smiled as she met him halfway. "For once, you have guessed correctly; will you ever cease to amaze me?"
He reached to embrace her again, allowing his lips to meet her own once more before answering, "I hope not..."
A sighing breath escaped her as she allowed him access to her hands, cheek and throat. Never had she felt anything so wonderful that she ached for more...love...ache...hurt...pain...
"Lumière. Don't...just...stop."
He stopped instantaneously. "Babette? Ma cherie, what's wrong? What is it?"
She turned, taking as many deep breaths as she needed to cool herself down. "I...can't do this. I just can't. I...am happy for your friendship; it is appreciated." She swallowed, having to order herself to look at him. "But that is all we can have; I don't want what you want."
"What? I don't understand..."
"Do not try. This is not meant to happen, it can't. Love cannot happen to me, not again. I don't want it. All I want is to stop before either of us is hurt." Why was this so difficult now? "You have your place, and I have mine, remember? Nothing less, nothing more."
Lumière could not believe this. He thought this was it, she was the one to share everything with, that he could tell her how he really felt. "Then...what was before...before they came?"
"A moment of infatuation...it will not happen again," she replied quickly. "I am very glad you were able to show me that we could be good friends if we try, but that is all I want...and all you have to know."
In all the time he had known her, he learned one simple thing. He could read her every thought through her eyes, and right then, they were frightened. What of, he still did not understand; all he knew is that he would give her anything she requested, and hence, he walked closer until there was hardly any room between them. He had to try one more time to see if this was what she truly wished. Listening as her breathing deepened, trying to stay calm and composed, he kissed her thoroughly, waiting to feel her reaction.
Why did he have to do that? Babette tried to conjure every bit of will power she had inside, no matter how incredible this was. She had made a vow to herself first never to allow such strong feelings into her life again, and this love was stronger than anything she had felt before. The pain of losing her mother would be tenfold if she ever lost this man. It had to end now, and she moved her hands around to push herself away.
Lumière obeyed her silent demand reluctantly. Her gorgeous eyes now showed fear, longing, and want, but he knew it was over. Retreating entirely, he held her hand, heartbroken, watching her tears flow, and had to repeatedly remind himself that this is what she desired.
"Very well, mademoiselle," he said quietly. "I bid you good night...until when next we meet."
Once he walked through the door, he did not turn back.