Chapter Ten: Deal with a Devil

The sun had finally begun to peek over the horizon one morning as Babette sat up in her bed, tired yet dizzily blissful. On the side table next to her bed, she found a small note waiting for her. Although she could not read it, she discovered that the ink had not completely dried; Lucien must have presumably left a few minutes before she woke up. But even that realization could not upset her now. She had his romantic farewell on paper, and once Odette read it to her later, it would forever be engraved in her memory.

Babette could not help laughing at herself for how giddy she had felt since Lucien became her lover. Cliché as it sounded, he was her very dream come true, like a prince out of a child's fairytale that one could only wish for. Yes, he would bring her gifts and spoil her with attention like the men before him, but there was so much more to him than that. No other man had such an emotional hold on her before or made her feel weak in the knees when he walked into the room. For once in her life, she was truly, completely happy, and with a girlish smile, she cheerfully rested back into place. It was still early in the morning, too early to get out of bed, which left her with plenty of time to think of her beloved.

For a short while, Babette was content to lie there, remembering their previous night while imagining how glorious the next would be. Unfortunately, it did not last as long as she would have hoped; living at Le Fleur Noir was not as quiet or private as a true home would be. The paper thin walls did not cover the sounds of agonizing illness that were coming from Brielle's room a few doors down the hall, and Babette sat up alertly upon hearing her friend in pain. Rising again to dress in a simple camisole and pantalets, she immediately rushed to Brielle's side.

The poor thing was obviously hurting something terrible, and one look at the chamber pot beside the bed answered any unspoken questions for detail. With a sigh, Babette curled up next to Brielle, caressing her back, maternal and soothing.

"No wonder you finally sent Claude away last night," Babette whispered gently.

A few months earlier, D'Araignée had at last demanded Brielle begin dancing, very much against the girl's will. More recently, she had captured the attention of her first admirer, Claude, the son of a local shopkeeper. Although shy, Brielle was quite taken with the young man, who showered her constantly with flattery and tiny trinkets, the usual routine. Within a week of the "love affair," as the girls playfully called it, she had allowed him access to her room, despite any discomfort.

Always the protective one when it came to her young friend, Babette thought it was far too soon at first, considering that she herself had not taken on her first lover until long after she began dancing. But after much consideration, she came to accept the idea. After all, Babette thought with an amused grin, maybe it would be the best cure for Brielle's intense shyness, and sure enough, Brielle was much less timid after her first night of passion. It was just what she needed.

Or so she had thought until now. Lately, every morning Babette would find Brielle in her room, sick to her stomach. Maybe it had been too soon; maybe it was too much for her.

"Obviously you had quite a morning," Babette said lightly, trying to keep the mood in high spirits. "How do you feel now?"

"How do I look?" Brielle groaned, wincing as she swallowed, tasting the awful effects of her sickness.

Babette smiled gently. "Do you want the truth?"

Brielle did not suppress a tiny grin. "Horrible, oui? There is the answer to your question."

"I do not doubt that," Babette agreed, helping Brielle sit up a bit. Taking the ribbon from her own hair, she used it to tie back Brielle's as she added, "I will cover for you tonight; you are in no condition to dance."

"No," Brielle argued. "I will be better later, really; I always am. Not even this is worth hearing Madame's complaints about how I am 'not worth having around if I don't earn my keep properly.' If I take a night off, she will be unbearable to live with."

Babette sighed. "But the sicker you are, the worse she will be," she emphasized. "Your main concern should be to get well as soon as possible. It is Saturday; Madame will be gone all day, as usual. You can see a doctor, find out what is wrong, and be back long before she returns."

Brielle rubbed her stomach as though the simple action itself was the miracle cure. "It…would be nice to feel good again."

"You think so?" Babette sarcastically asked with a playful laugh, satisfied to see Brielle genuinely smile at her teasing. Serious once more, Babette gave her friend a gentle hug, resting Brielle in place again before she stood. Stroking the girl's hair tenderly, Babette ordered gently, "Get some sleep now; everything will be all right."

ooo

The sound of applause would never grow old, and Babette, as always, reveled in the elation of a performance well done as she closed the curtain behind her. Returning to the dressing room, however, the feeling vanished when she heard someone crying, and she found Brielle sitting in front of a mirror, her face hidden in folded arms.

Pulling a chair next to Brielle, Babette gently touched her friend's shoulder, but retracted it immediately when Brielle startled.

"I'm all right," Brielle snapped quickly before Babette could ask the inevitable question. Wiping her eyes, she repeated. "I'm all right, really."

"You are such a terrible liar," Babette replied, a hint of a laugh in her voice to ease the situation, even if for a moment. Lifting Brielle's face gently by the chin, she continued calmly, "You are all right, yet you are also sick to your stomach every morning and crying whenever you find a free moment. Are you going to tell me the truth now or not?"

Not even on the night of Brielle's debut had the girl resembled a deer at a hunter's mercy. Her face had paled, white as a sheet, and her eyes were clouded with anxiety and fright. She attempted to speak a number of times, but the only words that Babette deemed decently understandable were "Not here."

Babette looked at her, puzzled, but whatever it took to make Brielle comfortable enough to talk, Babette would agree to it. Gently, she took Brielle's hand and led her to the door. After deciding that the coast was clear upon taking a cautious glance into the hallway, the pair made their way to a private backroom where most of the kitchen supplies were kept. No one ever came this far down the hall unless they were ordered to fetch something or other, and whatever Brielle had to say, it would be a secret kept safe for eternity in there.

Sitting down with Brielle behind a shelf of various mugs, glasses, and pitchers, Babette held her hand comfortingly in both of her own.

"Now tell me what happened," she said encouragingly. "What did the doctor say? What is wrong?"

"Wrong is not a strong enough word," Brielle said, her voice shaking as tears once again began rolling down her cheeks.

"Brielle, what did he say?" Babette urged.

Brielle tried desperately to keep her emotions under control; she bit her lip so hard that she swore it had begun to bleed. But she could not hold back any longer, breaking down into hysterical fits of sobbing. Babette must have held her for quite some time before Brielle found the courage to speak the truth.

"He…sent me to a midwife when he was done with the examination," she explained. "Said I would be better off there to find out what was the matter. So I did."

"And?"

Looking up into her friend's eyes, Brielle whispered, "Babette…I-I'm having…a baby."

Babette felt her blood run cold in horror. Normally, those few words were supposed to bring great joy to a woman's life as well as to those around her. They were meant to bring loved ones together in a celebration of new life. But those precious moments were only given to an average woman, and as everyone knew, Fleurettes were far from average women. When a Fleurette was found with child, she might as well be dead.

Babette knew that many of the girls had been in the same situation before, considering the number of lovers they had taken to their rooms, but what precisely D'Araignée had forced them to do was unknown to her. In Babette's early days at the dance hall, there was one girl – she could not remember her name – who had found out she was expecting, one of D'Araignée's favored girls even. But only days after the secret spread amongst the others, the girl was nowhere to be found.

What had happened to her, Babette was never told. All she knew was that once a child was involved, apparently no one was safe from D'Araignée's wrath. God help her, she would not let the same thing happen to Brielle.

"Does…anyone else know besides me?" she asked slowly. "Does Claude know?"

"Of course not," Brielle replied. "How could he if I only found out today? But no one can know! Babette, please, don't tell anyone!"

"Hush!" Babette cried, nodding to the door. "Everyone will know if you do not keep it down, and truth be told, petite, in another two months, you will not be able to hide it anymore."

Brielle hid her face in her hands. "Dieu, what am I going to do? What will Madame do with me?"

Babette shook her head. "Absolutely nothing, because we will fix this."

"How?"

Babette sighed, wanting to kick herself. It was one thing to be reassuring; it was another thing to be reassuring when you did not have a plan. "I do not know, but we will," she said, hugging her friend tightly. "Whatever it is, nothing is going to happen to you, I swear."

The poor girl in return clutched onto her as if Babette was the source of her salvation. Her grip tightened, however, as they heard D'Araignée in the hallway.

"Brielle!" she barked. "Where are you, you clumsy wretch? Get out there on that floor before I find you and throw you out there myself!"

Brielle nervously trembled as she tried to stand, but Babette stopped her.

"Listen to me," she said firmly. "Stay here, and do not move or make any sound. I will cover for you; you are in no condition to face Madame or be out on the floor. When I get back, we will think of a plan. I will only be a few minutes; just stay here and wait for me."

"Brielle! God help you if I catch you slacking about back here!"

Babette jumped to her feet, squeezing Brielle's hand comfortingly and offering a smile before she ran for the door. All there was left for Brielle to do was pull her knees up to her chest and wait.

If only she was as alone as she thought she was. When she lifted her head to wipe her eyes dry, Brielle gasped, backing away as she found Fifi kneeling down next to her.

"What are you doing back here, petite?" Fifi asked. "Did Madame order you to bring back some mugs as well?"

"I-I'm sorry!" Brielle responded immediately. "I d-didn't know that anyone w-was back here!"

"Shh, it is all right, relax; no harm done," Fifi murmured, with uncharacteristic sweetness. "All of us need some time away, but not all find the nerve to ask Madame for it."

Brielle looked at her, uncertainly. "I am…not feeling well enough to dance tonight."

Fifi laughed gently. "Indeed, having a baby will do that to you."

Brielle's eyes widened fretfully. "Y-you heard that?"

"Loud and clear," Fifi said quietly. "And I pity you, poor thing. There is no crime worse around here than being found with child. Madame will send you right out into the cold, lonely streets if she finds out."

Brielle grasped onto Fifi's arm desperately. "Oh Dieu, Fifi please no!" she cried, tears flowing freely. "Please! I will do anything you want; name it and I will do it! Please, just don't tell her! Please!"

Fifi clamped her hand over Brielle's mouth. "Shut up, you idiot!" she hissed. "I swear, no one will have to tell her if you do not keep quiet! You will give yourself away." When Brielle had quieted, Fifi added, her harsh tone calming, "And then how will I be able to help you?"

Brielle furrowed her brow in confusion. "What did you say?"

Fifi smiled. "I said, I am going to help you."

"Why?" Brielle blurted out, not even realizing what she had said until she said it. "I mean, why would you want to help me?"

"Because I am the only one who can," Fifi replied matter-of-factly. "As kind a friend as she is, Babette is the last person who will know how to take care of this."

"But Babette said she could help," Brielle said uncertainly.

"The best way she could help is to go with you to the angel maker. You don't want to go alone, do you?"

"The what?"

Fifi looked around to be sure no one was nearby. "The angel maker, or so she is known only to those who need her," she said conspiratorially. "A midwife who lives just outside of Paris, not too far from here. She will help you get rid of the baby and save your neck."

"Wait," Brielle said cautiously. "What do you mean 'get rid of the baby'?"

"Surely you did not expect to go through with having it?"

"No, but…"

"Then this is the only way," Fifi interrupted. "You have to end this now before you start to show. By then, it will be too late. D'Araignée will throw you out and you will have no place to live."

"But…you mean…it must be killed?"

Fifi heaved a great sigh, patting the girl's shoulder. "It is a hard price to pay, I know, but it is either the child…or you. You will not survive one day out there in the streets, and if you die, the child will too. Either way, the baby is doomed; best to put it out of its misery now, oui?"

Brielle felt as though her heart had sunk into the depths of her stomach, which began turning even more at the idea of what Fifi was suggesting. Kill an innocent child who had absolutely no choice in the matter? A child who never asked to be conceived? But on the other hand…it did make sense, in a sickening way. She could not take care of a baby on her own, especially if she had nowhere to go. No matter what she chose to do, the baby would not survive. Doing away with it now…it almost seemed fair.

Taking a deep breath, Brielle asked, "What must I do?"

Fifi smiled innocently. "Leave everything to me. I will personally go to the angel maker myself to arrange everything for you. The minute I have every bit of information, you will be the first to know."

When Fifi held out her hand, Brielle considered it for a moment before taking it into her own in agreement. Perhaps Fifi did have a heart after all.

"Très bien," Fifi said with a nod. "You are doing the right thing, ma petite, I promise."

And with those parting words, Fifi rose from the floor, mugs in hand, and made her way to the door…only to come face to face with Babette, who overheard everything.

"What is it going to take to keep you silent?" Babette asked darkly, staring her rival down threateningly.

Fifi shrugged casually. "Absolutely nothing; I meant exactly what I said."

"She does not need any 'help' that you can give her."

Fifi smirked. "What did you have in mind then? How would wise Saint Babette be able to help her?"

Babette's expression grew more and more deadly. "At least my first concern would be that she is all right in the end."

"That is all well and good, but I ask again: what did you plan to do?" When Babette fell silent, Fifi sneered, "Just as I thought, nothing at all. Face it, whether we like the idea or not, I am the only one who knows what to do. Brielle needs me; you need me. If I were you, I would just be the security blanket, stay at her side, and let me handle everything. Do we understand each other?"

Babette had to force herself to swallow an awful taste in her mouth at the thought of having to rely on this woman. Fifi was right; she hated the idea, but she had no choice but to trust her. It was the only way to help Brielle.

"Oui, I understand," Babette agreed weakly, but when Fifi began to walk away, she gripped her arm tightly, almost causing the mugs to fall. "But I swear, if anything happens to Brielle, if Madame finds out, I will personally see to your death sentence myself."

Fifi shoved her hand away, but the smirk remained. "You have my word; nothing will happen to Brielle, I assure you."

Babette lowered her head in defeat after Fifi had disappeared down the hall. Pride would be suppressed; it had to be, for Brielle's sake.