Chapter Two

The prisons of France, damp holes whose single purpose was to degrade the humanity of wrong doing people. It was an ironic thought that so many people feared death when places such as this proved to be much worse. Auguste had chosen wisely the day Vincent returned Jacques to face his judgment; death would have been a privilege.

No one would have recognized the last son of the de Crochet line. While he was evil in every definition of the word to those who knew him well, Jacques de Crochet never once displayed less than a true aristocratic, majestic aura in public. He was well groomed and admittedly handsome in face, displaying authority and presence in every situation he faced, hence earning him the respect or fear he deserved.

But all that remained of him now was a fallen shadow of a powerful man. His dark hair was matted, his once curious eyes bloodshot and on the brink of insanity, and the clothes on his back were shredded rags that only the scum of the streets ought to have. Worst of all was his horribly scorched right hand, destroyed with scarred burns from the battle in the cemetery.

Thankfully, Arnaud and the prison guards had been the only people to see him in such a state, and that is how his treacherous toady found him yet again that night.

"Jacques? Where are you? Are you in here?"

"Where else would I be, you imbecile?" Jacques wheezed, the years taking their toll on his voice. "All of them have seen to it that I be caged for the rest of eternity."

Arnaud knelt down on one knee next to the shackled man, glaring at the crest he was forced to wear as the captain of the palace guards. "I do not choose to stay with those you hate; you have asked me to stay on your unknown behalf."

"Did I say I hated you for it?"

"No."

"Then end your useless whining, and tell me what you know."

Arnaud nodded, and continued. "I have given the escape order to my most trusted men, ones that despise royals enough to wish nothing but despair on Vincent and his family for their rich blood alone."

"Oh, wonderful!" Jacques snarled sarcastically. "More idiots like you."

Arnaud let the insult slide in his one ear and leave the other. "The most opportune time for your freedom is the eve of the upcoming new year. Vincent and his wife, Belle, are planning a grand masque ball; everyone of great importance will attend. All Vincent's allies who might stand in our way will be at the ball, and therefore no hindrance to us."

"And the prison warden?"

Arnaud smirked proudly. "He can be easily, shall we say, persuaded to see and know nothing of our plans."

Jacques nodded his approval of the plan. As stupid and careless as he could be, Arnaud did manage to retain a bit of intelligence, and when he used it, he was nothing short of a genius.

After a silent moment, he asked, "And…what of Babette?"

Arnaud growled slightly. After everything the cursed slut had done to this man, he could not get her off of his mind. If the thought of her distracted him then, the plan was certain to go wrong. "What does she matter? How could you still think of her now and like this?"

Jacques turned his blazing eyes up at him. Even then, he could still send chills up any spine he chose with his stare alone. He did not need to speak.

Arnaud shook his head with a defeated sigh. "My apologies. She is well, as typical a mother as one could imagine."

The eyes only grew darker. How many times had he tried to forget that Babette had betrayed him? Him, the man who was willing to give her anything she wanted, a servant or not; he who was desperate to love her like no man ever would. After all those years he had longed for her, wanted her back at his side, he had found her with another man in her heart and carrying his love child. More than that, a few weeks after he was imprisoned, Arnaud had brought the news that she had married her affectionate fool, and for so long, Jacques felt himself unwilling to fight to go on. She had completely given herself to her little court jester, first with his child and then in marriage…the night of that first new year…New Year's Eve…

"Arnaud…" Jacques whispered, deep in thought.

"What is it, Jacques?"

"Remember one thing the night I escape."

"Anything."

Jacques felt his cracked lips, dry as the sun, break into a grin, the first time he truly felt like his old self in five long years. "Bring me a fresh change of clothes, only the best; Adele will still have them undoubtedly. And also…a handsome mask."

Arnaud looked at him puzzled. "Why would you need that?"

Jacques closed his eyes, reveling in his newfound disturbing pleasure. "I shall be accepting an unwritten invitation to the grandest ball of the year…and I must offer my fondest wishes on a friend for her milestone anniversary."

-----

Babette grinned gently, standing in front of the mirror as she gathered her hair neatly. Lumière constantly vowed that one day he would be able to startle her from behind as she often did to him. The problem was he never chose the right time to make his attack as proven when she caught a glimpse of him in the glass.

Nonetheless, she humored him, pretending she saw nothing, as she lifted her arms to pin her maid's cap in place over her curled locks.

Taking full advantage of the position, Lumière slowly wrapped his arms around her waist, leaning to place a gentle kiss on her bared shoulder. "Bon anniversaire, ma plumette," he whispered, grinning wildly at their reflection. The more she playfully tried to escape, the closer he drew to her, ordering his lips to grace her throat with the same subtle passion.

"I am not quite ready yet," she gasped, but it was not long before she was too busy swooning in delight to make any attempt to stop him.

Locking her wrists behind her back in his hands, Lumière teased, "Do I look like I care?"

Babette leaned her forehead to his, a smile fleeting across her lips. "You never could fight fairly."

"Would you rather I did?"

"Never," she breathed, stealing the desperate kiss she longed for, short as it would be. Feeling something tugging at her skirts, Babette shrieked as she tore herself away. Stitches had found her once again, the poor cat still living in a dream world that the maid had remained a feather duster.

Babette quickly looked to the door, her eyes going wide nervously. "You did not close it?" she hissed, moving to do so.

Lumière took a deep breath; their moment had ended a little more abruptly than he could handle. "I…thought I did."

Babette sighed, "Well it could have been worse…"

"Maman!" Lina's voice screeched from the hallway. "Maman, I have to get the cat!"

Babette ran a hand over her face in frustration. "I rest my case!" she muttered, returning to open the door again, this time with a smile. "All right then, come in."

"And hurry, ma petite," Lumière added. "You know how Maman feels about cats, and she gets most impatient when they need to be taken from the room."

Babette raised an eyebrow at him. "Do I now?"

Lumière nodded casually. "Absolument."

Lina rolled her eyes discreetly, gathering the small animal in her arms. "Come on, Stitches! Maman does not like you too much." In a whisper, she added, "Plus, Papa's in trouble; we have to go."

As the door shut with the girl's exit, Lumière made his way to his wife's side again. "Now…where were we?" he asked fervently, but stopped when she turned from him. "Babette what is it?"

When she faced him again, the tone of her irritated smile told him he was supposed to regret something. What it was, he had no idea.

"You are such an expert on patience then?"

That was it. "I did not mean that."

"Oh but I think you did," she nodded. "Let's see it then. Our official anniversary does not start until midnight, which gives you…" She took his watch from his vest pocket. "Oh, quite a long time!" With a smirk, she placed timepiece in his hand, and walked to the door, glancing back only once to smile sweetly.

"Suffer."

-----

"Come on!" Lina hissed as she sat at the top of the grand staircase that led to the ballroom.

Alexandre, Vincent and Belle's son, peeked out from behind the curtain where the pair had started their quest. "You are crazy!" he growled. "You know that they will see us!"

Lina put her hands on her hips, adorably indignant. "You're just scared!"

The boy stomped his way to her, standing at his full height (an entire inch taller) before her. "You can't say that to me!"

"Why not?"

"'Cause I am a prince!"

Lina gave him the once over, unimpressed, for she did not yet understand the true authority her best friend had over her in life. Aside from her parents and the other adults in the castle, she listened to no one. In her eyes, he was no more important than she was. "So?"

"You have to listen to me!!"

"Shh!" she hushed him, covering his mouth before he gave away their plan. "Do you want them to see us?!"

He mumbled through her hand what she interpreted as a "No."

"Then be quiet and come on!"

This time, Alexandre did follow her as they peered through the bars of the railings to watch the spectacle and splendor of the masquerade ball. All that they could do was gaze in awe at the scene below, for they had never seen so much color, such merriment…so many grown-ups in masks and dressing up!

"It looks like a picture in that book your maman read to us!" Lina whispered.

"Yeah…" Alexandre agreed. "I want to be like Chip…he gets to stay up for the party!"

"'Cause he's a big kid, stupid!" she replied, annoyed that she obviously had to explain everything. "He has two numbers in his age!"

"I know that!" he muttered angrily. "I just wish we could see it closer!"

Lina looked over at him, the expression on her face a clear reflection of her father's infamous smirk of foreboding disobedience. "Why can't we?"

He looked at her and shook his head. "You are crazy!" But the curiosity to see more dispelled his fears in a record two seconds. "Let's do it."

Slowly but surely, the two friends slinked down the stairs, preferably behind the gigantic dresses many of the women were wearing, until they reached the long dinner table where they made their hideout. For the time being, they were safe.

"Are you sure they can't see us?" Alexandre whispered as he followed her lying down stomach first and peering out from the waving tablecloth.

"I don't think so," Lina answered, quite sure of herself. "Grown-ups are big, they don't look down too much."

For the longest time, neither could believe how well their luck was going; for once, Lina's insanely childish schemes were working! But she had forgotten one minor detail, and she gasped as she looked over to see a big, wet nose sniffing its way towards them.

"Oh no!" she hissed, trying to back away. "It's Sultan!"

"What is it, boy? What have you got there?"

Now they were done for. Lumière's distinct voice and footsteps grew louder as they followed an excitedly barking Sultan to the dinner table. The next thing they knew, he lifted the cloth to find them there, the bright mask he wore startling them for only a moment.

"Papa, don't get mad!" Lina pleaded.

"It was her idea!" Alexandre pointed out.

Lumière could not contain a laugh as he offered each of his hands to help them out from under the table. "Oh so you were a tad later than I thought you would be! No reason to fuss!"

Wasting no time in gathering Lina onto the back she loved to ride, kindly asking her to loosen the grip she had on his neck a bit, Lumière took her and Alexandre by his hand over to Belle. Despite the master's changed ways, she was bound to be the more understanding of the couple.

"Begging the mistress' pardon, but I seem to have found something I thought may belong to you," he smiled.

"I didn't mean it!" Alexandre cried. "I wanted to see the party and she made me get up and follow her…!"

Belle sighed, but smiled nevertheless. "Hush, little one," she said, hugging him close to calm him down. "I do not see any harm in visiting for a few minutes."

"Really?"

"Really really?" Lina added from where she had climbed to her father's shoulders.

"Of course." She looked to Lumière. "Unless Babette or yourself think it a problem?"

"Not at all! I have wanted to dance with a pretty young lady all night!" As the music started once again, he placed Lina down on the floor before him, bowed gracefully, even a little silly, and offered her his hand. "May I have this dance, mademoiselle?"

Lina giggled in delight and curtsied as if she were wearing a splendid ball gown instead of her bedclothes. "Oui, monsieur," she replied, her young voice gliding over their native language perfectly, and took his hand, following him to the floor.

Across the room, Babette placed down a tray of glasses, having actually been trusted with them again even after incident at the first ball she served there. After glancing at the clock—almost midnight, she thought with a smile—her eyes caught the sight of her husband and daughter's dance, and she shook her head in both amusement and adoration. They were quite a sight to behold. Lumière was a tall man, and Lina was still no bigger than his knees. But that did not stop father or daughter as they glided along with the rest of the couples.

"I knew it! He is a natural!"

Babette turned to see who had spoken, rolling her eyes as she did. "You never could just say hello could you, oh most honorable lady of the décor?"

Even through her mask, Babette could recognize Angelique, castle decorator and her closest of friends, in a second. Angelique, however, seemed ready to fall over in shock.

"What kind of hello was that?" she asked. "You no longer have any worthwhile comments to challenge me?"

Babette laughed. "Give me a few more minutes to watch them, and then I will see what I can do."

Angelique pouted before she mockingly raised her hands to cover her face. "My own best friend has forsaken me! She has let me down and not too easily!" she cried. "Marriage has made her soft! I only hope…it doesn't do the same to me." She parted her fingers to see if Babette took the bait.

"Don't worry, it—" Babette stopped and looked at her suddenly. "You…you're…?"

Angelique smiled and held out her left hand that bore a simple little gold band on her finger. "Engaged actually, but will married soon enough. I could not let you have all the glory."

Never in her life had Babette been so quick to hug someone. "Mon Dieu, this is wonderful! But who…?"

The girl nodded over to the musicians playing, focusing a smile at the conductor, Fife the court composer. He had adored Angelique from afar for as long as anyone could remember, but whenever he asked her for a date, she would find any and every excuse to say no.

Another moment of shock, and Babette knew she would collapse. "Are you serious? And you did not tell me? I have it in my right mind to beat you senseless!"

Angelique smirked. "Not all of us want to display our love so obviously for the world to see; we wanted to wait until the time is right."

"But…when?"

"I gave in after the Christmas gala last year. Interesting really, I said yes to a romantic rendezvous to stop his incessant begging, but I actually enjoyed myself. The rest is history."

Babette laughed, gleefully embracing her friend once more. "Only the best to you then."

"Merci, mon amie," she replied, before they both turned to watch the dance come to a finish. "To think that you had so many doubts about him as a father; you must be so happy."

Babette smiled, a mischievous glimmer in her eyes as Lumière saw her watching them and grinned. "Happy is not a strong enough word."

"Ah oui, I forgot," Angelique teased. "Tonight is your anniversary as well. You must be thrilled then with such a—how should I put this—ravishing night ahead of you."

A playful smack silenced her, as Babette blushed a furiously bright red, "Louder, I do not think my daughter's innocent ears heard you!"

"True," Angelique nodded, "Best that she does not find out how she came to be until she is older then." She grew serious though her smile remained. "But really, everything has turned out to be just as you hoped. Nothing could possibly go wrong for you now."

As if her words, however, could cause what she said to happen, the massive door leading to the terrace burst open and a ghastly wind blew out the majority of candlelights in the room.

"Papa, what's going on?" Lina cried over the guests' screams of terror, holding tight to Lumière as he gathered her in his arms, racing to Babette and Angelique.

"Just the wind, my darling; that is all," he assured her. "But right now, I think it best if you stayed right here with Maman. I will be right back, I promise."

It took all the strength of Vincent, Lumière, and Cogsworth to fight the door shut until the wind died down. As they could then easily close it, Cogsworth shouted, "Wait! There, look at the latch from the terrace side."

"Unlocked," Lumière concluded. "It was opened from the outside."

"Then this was not an accident," Vincent added.

"Indeed your highness!" a voice shouted mockingly from the middle of the room, and the crowd parted to reveal a man, dressed in marvelous red garments and wearing the mask of a skull. "Your skills of deduction are unmatched!"

Vincent glared at him. "You wish to taunt me? Remove your mask then sir, and reveal yourself!"

The man simply laughed, clearly amused. "Gladly!" Slowly, he removed the skull, to reveal none other than Jacques de Crochet, once again his former regal self.