Chapter Eight

Time is the eternal visitor that always leaves as soon as it arrives. In a flash, the warmth of summer swept over the valley, and the leaves aged their short life. The last heat wave singed their soft green hues, turning them red, orange, yellow. In a very short while, they would be ready to fall.

Nearly a year since her arrival, Babette realized. As the clock struck the morning hour, she looked out her open window. Exhausted, she forced herself out of bed, and walked to close it, clutching the blanket around her shoulders. The heat wave would end soon, according to the morning chill.

What would her mother have said if she saw her today? She could not help but wonder when her eyes caught a vague reflection in the dew frosted panes. Physically, nothing had changed; she did not look or feel a year older.

But common knowledge tells us that there are two sides to humans, and the second side, emotions, is divided between two bitter enemies: the mind and the heart. She betrayed her heart and followed her mind, and Babette turned away when she could not endure the sight of herself any longer.

The thought of the feelings that had taken hold over the past year was too much. Babette was undoubtedly in love despite the number of times she denied it, but she was too afraid to allow herself to act on these affections. Never again would she let herself be tricked onto a road that only led to heartache.

She took a brush to her hair when she found the strength to look at the mirror. After what she had done to him the night of the gala, she would never have the chance to reconsider changing her mind. Lumière's words rushed back to her. "Until when next we meet..." It seemed the longest "until" since they met. If the pair did see or speak to one another, it was a brief glance in the hallway or an order for her to carry out. Babette sighed, frustrated; the man had at last given her what she asked for in the beginning: a strict, clearly defined superior/employee relationship.

If only that was actually what she wanted now. That glorious night, he had allowed her to be right, let her have the final word, admitted that he was wrong. He was not a braggart or pest, and she had found the man she hoped he was. A kind, open heart that would welcome her in whenever she needed a friend; a shoulder to cry on when she was upset. Arms that would gladly remind her that she was loved...a kiss that would warm her on a morning like this.

But she banished the dreamy vision quickly, taking a deep breath and focusing on the mirror. It did not matter anymore, sitting in front of the glass, thinking about what could have been. Opportunity was tired of waiting for her to answer the door. It was too late.

The entrance hall's marble floor, the only reason worth being there was seeing the beauty of the room as one worked. All servants of the cleaning rank hated washing the massive sea of tiles, and Babette was definitely not an exception. Alas that is where Mrs. Potts found her, bent over a bucket of soapy water, sleeves rolled up, and scrubbing away.

Always the cheerful soul, the woman smiled sympathetically. "Why on earth do you only have a bucket and a scrub brush for this floor?"

Babette turned attention to her and sighed as she wiped away any beads of sweat from her forehead. She took a deep breath, readjusting her hair, pushing it inside her cap; only two cumbersome loose curls presented any proof of its true length. "Someone must have gotten the last mop before I did. Too slow this morning, I guess, but it was not my fault. Veronique, the little con artist, conveniently asked for the afternoon off when it is her turn to clean it."

Mrs. Potts sat with her, taking up another brush. "May I offer any help then?"

Babette smiled. "Gladly, I could use all the help I can get. But please, Mrs. Potts, in the future, remind me to kick myself if I ever agree to take on her duties aside from my own."

The English woman laughed amused. "She has been known to plan her days off very well. Ever since she was a child, she could find her way out of anything she did not want to do."

Babette smirked. "She will get hers one day; I can promise that."

Both shared one more laugh before a knock came at the door startling them both, and they rose instantly. Babette shook her head as she moved to answer it. "I will never get used to that."

As she opened it, she moved aside to allow the visitor in; the woman was dressed so extravagantly that Babette curtsied out of instinct. Jewels adorned her throat and immensely aristocratic styled hair, and her shapely figure was encased in the most beautiful dress the girl had ever seen. Thankfully Mrs. Potts was the first to speak as she found herself speechless, and both elder women embraced like giddy schoolmates.

"My dear friend, what are you doing here?" she asked happily, "We thought it was back to the opera? You did seem to miss it so!"

The woman gave a hearty soprano laugh, and one could have sworn that she preferred to sing her words rather than speak. "Of course I did, but that was then and this is now. I've made my return to the stage, but 'twas time to come home. My stars, I wrote to Cogsworth a week ago saying that I would be back. Things must have certainly changed in this old place if everyone did not get word of it yet!" She gave a dramatic heave of a sigh, and smiled. "But it is good to be here; I will surely want to be on the stage again soon but for now, this is the place to be."

"Thank goodness! Sakes alive, we missed you!" Mrs. Potts replied gleefully before she noticed Babette standing back respectively. "Oh dear, where are my manners? This is Babette, our newest addition; she joined us almost a year ago."

Babette slowly came forward, "Enchantée, it is a pleasure."

The woman replied kindly, "Likewise of course!"

"And this," Mrs. Potts continued, "Is Madame de la Grande Bouche. She was lady-in-waiting to the master's late mother as well as the resident court singer. Left us for a time though to perform at the opera house in Paris."

"Madame for short, dearie," she added.

Babette looked back at the woman suddenly. "Oh mon Dieu, now I remember! You did look familiar! My mother had to escort our former mistress to the opera once. I was young and wanted to follow, so I climbed into the back of the carriage." She smiled again, clearly star struck by the time she revealed her childish act. "You were wonderful!"

Madame looked at Mrs. Potts proudly. "I think I like this girl already; knows the finest when she sees them. But I say, how about we three get my things to a room and then enjoy the last heat wave of summer outside?"

Babette quickly grabbed any bag she could. "Yes, let's!"

Mrs. Potts gave her a puzzled grin. "Dear, are you certain you want to leave the floors as they are?"

Babette gave them smirk that screamed vengeance. "I know that Veronique took the afternoon off; I never said that Cogsworth knows. She made me swear not to tell, and when she comes back with an unfinished hall and unexcused absence, revenge is mine. Let's go."

Onlookers who happened to notice the picnic that followed would have thought the three women lifelong friends. Laughing, jesting, and enjoying themselves, no one could have imagined the reunion and introductions happened only minutes before. At last, Babette thought, she could feel content and relaxed for the first time in so long as she started in on an apple. This was just the thing she needed to forget...

"Lumière!" Madame announced through a slice of melon. "How has that boy been? Still as love crazed as ever?"

Too good to be true, that is what it was; too good to be true and a conspiracy all at once, she thought chewing apple fiercely. With a silencing gesture from Mrs. Potts, Madame nodded in realization. "Another victim, eh?"

Babette rested on her stomach, arms crossed, feet swinging high in the air, the perfect gossip position. "Thankfully stopped before I could be, merci." She bit into her apple. "The man is a self centered, annoying, womanizing Don Juan." Now if only she could believe her words.

Madame concluded knowing, "And you could not have a bigger interest in him."

Babette sighed, "Is it that obvious?"

Mrs. Potts agreed. "Beyond obvious, you have the wistful eyes."

Madame grinned slyly. "More than that, I think. She is long gone, which is impressive. Not one young lady has made it to long gone when it comes to Lumière."

Babette went at the apple brutally and rolled her eyes. "Don't I just feel like the most lucky girl in the world! Turned him down so I do not have a prayer of seeing him now. Besides, love is always out to get a person, fading over time, risk of losing the one you care for in any means. I've learned that the hard way."

Madame nodded and looked at Mrs. Potts, a look of scheming in her eyes. "Do you remember his parents? Remember anything at all?"

Mrs. Potts grinned a bit, following along. "Indeed, a situation much like this in fact."

Babette glanced from one to the other with a knowing look. "I know that tone all too well; just come right out with it."

Madame laughed, "And she is smart too!" Minimizing to a smile, she continued. "To be perfectly honest, the man is just like his father. Louis, was as much of a charmer as his son is today, mirror images in personality. His mother, Mercedes, still took the risk of loving him. She was always telling us that she was worried she would lose him, but deep down, she knew she did not have to...to have and to hold as the vow goes. Never losing him to any one or thing, not even death."

Mrs. Potts nodded. "Like father like son, he has his eyes set on someone...all she has to do is concede."

Babette was silent as she finished. "He...he really is still interested?"

"From what I have heard."

"Then...then I guess I will...will..." Stuttering was all she could do until something caught her eye. Her gaze fixed passed the ladies on the topic of their conversation...with a woman at his side, Veronique to be precise...no wonder she wanted the afternoon off! Babette could feel her face burning and her eyes grow menacing before she finished, "I will just let him keep looking."

By the time the ladies had turned, the pair had made their way close enough for a greeting.

Lumière laughed brightly. "Never mind what I said before, chérie; it seems I am in the presence of not only one lovely lady but four." He reached his hand out to Madame. "Et quelle surprise it is to see you home, mon étoile d'opéra."

"Lumière, you have every young female in the castle waiting on you," Madame laughed, "Why try for me as well?"

"Every woman is in good company with me, Madame, you know that," he said with a polite kiss to the hand. "I just may not be in good company with them." Looking up again, he caught Babette's gaze, the infamous smirk entering in full force.

Trying to be as kind and courteous as she could, Babette offered, "And which might those be? Surely monsieur does not mean me?"

Lumière bluntly laughed. "You know very well I mean you, my silly girl; just now, your expression gave away a hint of jealousy, I think. You would not be jealous of someone you could care less about, yes?"

He had the nerve to openly embarrass her in front of everyone? "For once, you are right. Jealous! Why on earth would I be? When one does not want love, the thought is simply ridiculous," she attempted nonchalantly.

"And yet, your defense suggests that you are!"

Babette bit her lip to quell her harsh words as long as she could, but one more look at her female opponent, her manner of dress and appearance, and how he could so suddenly want her instead was enough to shatter everything. To hell with courteous, being the better person; not after this!

She stepped forward, her eyes blazing vehemence with a tone to match. "Two can play your game, you have said so yourself, but now you are playing against me. Consider yourself challenged."

Excusing herself, Babette stormed inside searching for the sewing box in her room as well as every dress she owned. Soon finding a pair of thread scissors, she picked up a dress, placing the skirts in her lap. Lifting the scissors to it, she knew she had a long night ahead of her. It did not matter though; this was war.