Chapter Two: Clearer Skies
In between his work, Lumière spent the next day preparing the meal plans for the duration of his departure. He had never felt so focused since… well, he couldn't remember when he had been so determined. Not only that, he was anxious for a fresh start. Time with Nicolas would be the perfect cure. Perhaps they could squeeze in a trip to Paris. The future Comte de Drée was still a bachelor, after all. One last weekend steeped in wine and beautiful women wouldn't hurt. In fact, Lumière believed it healthy, purging those indulgences before becoming confined by marriage vows. He was not quite sure how his fiancée would take it, but if she was all Nicolas had said she was, she would understand.
If not, Lumière would be more than happy to explain.
Engaged. Even though his friend had written that it had not officially been announced, it seemed practically inevitable. Of course, Lumière was very glad for him. He sounded in love by just his brief letter, which was more than Lumière could ask for after their most recent venture to La Fleur Noire almost five years before.
However, the slightest feeling of loss and resentment tugged at his gut. He didn't want to think he was losing his partner-in-crime; there was more to their friendship than their antics with myriads of women. It was more of the uncertainty of how this girl would affect their dynamic. After they were tied and bound together in the eyes of God, she would always be there. Would there be another time after this when he and Nicolas could still maintain their confidentiality with each other, brother to brother? Nicolas was the closest to family he had left.
He knew that Nicolas would never abandon him for a girl, even if that girl was his wife. But Lumière at least knew that the obligations of marriage changed a man's priorities. Where would he stand after the church bells had rung?
Lumière shook the thoughts away. This was too deep of thinking when all of that was in the distant future. He had to smile though as he looked forward to how much better he would surely feel after he was back to normal. Never again would he want to be the life-draining presence in any circumstance.
He managed to pack all of the belongings he would need into two saddlebags. It was only about a four hour ride on horseback to La Bazolle, so in normal circumstances, he would sleep in and start his ride around noon. This time, he planned to make it there before lunch.
At around nine o' clock, he was setting his luggage aside before getting ready for bed when a rhythmic knock came from his door.
Upon opening the door, he grinned. "Ah, bonsoir, mon ange!" Having glanced at his mantel clock, he raised an eyebrow reprovingly. "Cutting it a little close, aren't we? Visiting hours are almost over."
Angélique could not resist allowing a little smile to show at his teasing. "Do not worry, I won't be long."
Like a gracious host, he swept his arm to allow her passage. "Then, by all means, grace me with your presence! I would draw up the tea but, being so late, I am afraid it's gone cold!"
She crossed her arms, amazed. He looked practically giddy. "I would wager to guess your meeting with Cogsworth went well?"
Turning from shutting the door, Lumière's face lit up with that definitive twinkle in his eye. "Oh, it went better than 'well'! You would hardly believe what I had learned from our favorite old pocket-watch."
Her eyes widened in feigned disbelief. "More than a summons from Monsieur de Créquy? I cannot even imagine."
"Then you will deign to hear, ma chère mademoiselle," he insisted, inviting her to sit on the end of the bed, facing the blazing hearth. As she sat down, he followed suit, and began by reminding, "You recall the argument Cogsworth and I had, non?"
Her eyes widened. "Ah, oui, who could forget. Did he mention it?" she asked, though her tone was doubtful.
He confirmed the doubts with a dismissive wave of his hand. "Of course not. I was the one who brought it about, as uncomfortable as it was. But—" At this he leaned in conspiratorially. "He spoke the simplest words that I never thought he would ever arrange into order, and not only that, he directed these words to me."
Having no clue what he could be building towards, Angélique held a mixture of skepticism and wonder. "What were they?"
"Well, after reading Nicolas' letter, he made a show of congratulating me on my improved state of mind. I took full advantage of that, and managed to coerce this phrase out of him." He held a hand over his heart. "This is in absolute verbatim, I swear by the very scraps of honor I hold dear," Lumière promised with the highest amount of seriousness he could muster. Looking the decorator dead in the eye, he emphasized each syllable with complete clarity. "'I am glad to have you back.'"
Not seeming surprised in the slightest, Angélique rolled her eyes, but a smile was creeping onto her mouth. She knew full well he was exaggerating, though she was aware of Cogsworth's true feelings. "You really are reprehensible."
He shrugged, conceding as he fell back on the bed with hands behind his head, "That was my favorite part of the conversation."
"Clearly," she observed, painting a picture with her hands as she added theatrically, "because in your excitement, you forgot to create this tapestry of drama and suspense that always accompanies your storytelling." With a smirk of her own, she bantered, "I think you're slipping, chéri."
"Oh, Dieu help me if I have not slipped to the bottom of the slope already," he remarked.
Taking a moment to ponder on that, she shook her head. "Quite the contrary; I believe you are on your way back up." She glanced at his bags. "You leave tomorrow?"
"Oui, bright and early." He stood up and walked to stare out of the window as he continued, attempting to sound nonchalant, "And hopefully by the time I return… I will be back to normal." He tried to prevent the words from pouring out, but if he had to be honest, that was the main reason he was looking forward to his time at La Bazolle. Though Angélique couldn't see it clearly, his expression had sobered.
She remained seated, sighing. She had told him before that it was okay to miss Babette, and that it would not hinder him from overcoming his love for her. The same went for how his efforts to forget about her completely would not hasten the process. There were only so many ways to say them, and frankly, it was best she no longer endeavored to add her wisdom when Babette came up in conversation.
Looking out at the night, and actually seeing it instead of using it as a backdrop to his abounding thoughts, Lumière saw the stars for the first time in days. The clouds and rain that had plagued the skies had finally vanished to let pinpoints of light shine through the darkness. He could not allow the clouds to brew over him any longer. In fact, he was confident that after these next three weeks, blue skies would be the only thing in his sight from then on.
With a deep breath, he turned to see Angélique watching him warily. He quietly hummed a laugh as he approached her to give a reassuring smile. "There is no need for you to look at me that way anymore. I will be fine."
Again, she arched a dubious eyebrow as she stood. "Are you sure?"
"More than sure."
She pursed her lips in consideration, but then appeared comforted as she smiled. "Bien. I will take your word for it." Seeing the time, she imparted facetiously, "It seems I have overstayed my welcome. I shall not be the reason you do not leave before breakfast."
Following her eyes, he adopted her tone as he led her to the door. "Ah, oui, mademoiselle! A quarter past nine? What will dear Cogsworth say at your lack of awareness?"
Spinning with a referring hand as if to say, Moi? she replied, "To the favorite of his staff? Simple. I only need to mention your name and the problem solves itself."
As he held the door open for her, he tried to appear disapproving but a one-sided smirk found its way to his lips. "You have far too much faith in his intolerance for me."
"Nonsense. I believe he will remain as fixed as the country he presides from."
"If by 'fixed', you mean 'stubborn', then that is something to fear," he replied with a foreboding nod.
Angélique laughed quietly. "Good night, Lumière." But as she went to leave, a sudden thought came to her. Looking to the carpet hesitantly for a brief second, she offered, "If… anything happens, remember that you can write to me." She then shrugged indifferently. "If you need a woman's touch, that is."
"Oh, I plan to get a woman's touch in other ways," he suggested with a sly grin, but added sincerely, "But I will think of you if I cannot find comfort anywhere else."
"Let us hope you don't need it."
"Agreed," he prayed.
"Bon voyage, cher, and bonne chance."
He inclined his head gratefully. "Merci, Angélique. Bonne nuit..." As she began her way back to her quarters, he called to her playfully, "… la petite ange sur mon épaule."
"Oh, shut up," she snapped as he chuckled at her, but he knew she was grinning despite herself.
It was impossible to count how many times Lumière had cursed the location of his room in the morning, the only reason being the sun always found its way to shine its beams directly on him through the smallest break in his curtains. Sleep had always been one of the major needs of living he had most prized, and in more recent times, he found it much too easy to indulge in its bliss and comfort. But this day, he had an all too different attitude. It was a day that would hopefully be the beginning of his heartbreak's end.
The sun was most welcome as Lumière climbed out of bed at the crack of dawn to prepare for his journey to La Bazolle. Despite the now clear skies, the ground was still damp from the recent rainstorms that had blown through the countryside, so he equipped himself with his boots and heavy traveling cloak should another storm happen to surprise him. With his luck of late, he could not be too careful.
A brawny mare could carry the weight of his luggage, and with the help of a stable hand, the maître d' had one saddled and dressed for the morning ride. He was walking the horse to the front of the château as a portly, middle-aged woman approached him with a cloth tied into a small sack in her hands, a gentle yet assured smile on her face. Lumière grinned and shook his head, having a very good idea what the sack contained.
"I had hoped to catch you on your way out," Mrs. Potts explained, intentionally making no notice of his light chastisement. "You couldn't very well leave without some snacks to tide you over on the road."
"I had thought with an early departure, I would finally be able to prevent you from spoiling me with your treats! I shudder to think you slave in the kitchen after the rest of us have finished dinner."
Becoming peeved, though very mildly, she ensured, "Oh, posh, Lumière, I'm a woman with hobbies, and one of them happens to be baking for those who need a little something sweet. And you of all people deserve a little extra," she added with meaning.
He received the small bag with grace, despite his attempt at modesty, which always failed when confronted with the generosity of the castle's housekeeper. Exaggerating the weight of the sweets, he panted, "Perhaps, but I will not be able to consume it all without help!"
"What about Monsieur de Créquy?"
"He already had an infatuation with your cooking the last time I shared it, and this time he might be convinced to come steal you away as his own personal chef."
Grinning at the compliment, Mrs. Potts assured, "I'm willing to take that risk for a good friend of yours."
He put all joking aside to say, "You really are too kind, madame, to think that I am worth this much trouble."
"It was no trouble at all, Lumière."
"Are you certain you're content with running the kitchen while I am gone? I could always ask Louis to take over—"
"Don't worry another minute about it. I am all too happy to take over for you while you're gone. Your job now is to relax and enjoy yourself however you can. And remember…" She brought up her hand under his chin. "… you're going to be just fine."
Lumière's heart felt as full as it could feel at that time. Mrs. Potts was undoubtedly the closest to a mother since his own had passed away when he was only a boy. Not only did he hold her in that respect, but she had made it mutual with her kindness, open heart, and selflessness towards him. Though it was rare, she even knew how to discipline him, and it never took more than a look and a word for him to recognize his poor choice in action. He realized it was in her nature. She had an uncanny ability to see a need and fill it with merely her time and effort.
Cradling the treats in one arm, Lumière took her hand and kissed it reverently. "I shall inform the Church to consider you for a sainthood, madame."
Mrs. Potts chuckled. "You can try, bless your heart, but I doubt I'm what the Church has in mind."
Straightening, he reasoned with a smirk, "With me speaking on your behalf, they would soon be demanding to name you a saint."
She shook her head teasingly at the image. "What a sight it would be, you trying to charm the Church!"
"Charm would only be part of it. You make quite a convincing case on your own, ma chère Madame Potts," he vouched sincerely.
As he gently packed the sweets into one of his luggage and stepped onto his horse, Lumière glanced back at the housekeeper now at his feet. Recalling from memory the long, revealing, and uplifting private discussions they had undergone recently, his voice was soft and vulnerable as he imparted, "Again, thank you for all you've done."
Visibly touched, Mrs. Potts gripped his hand on the bridle and gave it a squeeze. "You're more than welcome, child." With a pat on the horse, she gave it room to tread on while she waved. "Happy travels! Mind any rivers and streams, they're bound to have flooded!"
"I was just having the same thoughts!" he called behind him in jest, laughing as she set her arms akimbo in mock disapproval.
"And have fun!" she replied, turning it into a command.
"By your order alone!" At that point, he was crossing the bridge over the ravine and cantering out the open wrought iron gate.
The rhythmic clopping of hooves accompanied by the tweeting of birds and rustling of the forest's leaves made for an all-too-soothing symphony as the sun quickly began its voyage across the sky. The various shades of green that canopied the path combined with nature's sounds were an ideal combination for Lumière to daydream to. The air remained brisk and clean, but even with the sun's rays, it was still cool enough where his heavy cloak was necessary.
Once out of the forest, he rode past the same lonely, abandoned cottage through the little town of Molyneaux, which had just begun its morning routine. The main street was heavily populated by the villagers running their errands, but they hardly paid him any mind. They maintained their foci on their destinations and simply went around his horse, parting like the sea does for a ship's bow.
Amidst all of the earthy tones of the town's denizens, a spark of red caught Lumière's eye. In front of the tavern were two boys, who couldn't be older than ten years of age. The tall black-haired boy in a red tunic had a bow and arrow in his hands, while his shorter and stumpier friend was balancing an apple on his head. It wobbled from the shaking in his stocky legs.
"Come on, LeFou, hold still!" the black-haired pre-teen demanded in a rather deep voice for a boy so young.
Timidly, his short friend squeaked, "But—But shouldn't we practice somewhere… less full of people? We could hurt someone!"
"No one shoots better than Gaston!" With that announcement, the boy dressed in red shot his arrow right through the apple's core into the barrel behind his friend. Its juice started to drip down the wood.
Even though he had ducked as the arrow was released, the boy named LeFou jumped in jubilation, any fear dissolving in his huge, toothy grin. "You did it! That was amazing, Gaston, you were right!"
The black-haired boy's eyes lit up at his accomplishment and his friend's praise, but he soon hid his excitement, bragging, "Of course I was! You heard what I said!"
"Let's do it again!" And in a strange kind of camaraderie, the young archer brought his meek friend in a playful chokehold, laughing all the while.
Lumière shook his head, smirking at the unlikely friendship, and jolted the reins, spurring himself past the provincial village.
Vast fields of wheat and produce replaced the shops and apartments of Molyneaux for the next mile. Perched on the mare, Lumière could watch the breezes create rippling waves through the grain as he dug into Mrs. Potts' gift of dried cakes and macaroons.
While delved in another ocean of pines and maples, the sun began to be blotted out by clouds. The wind was picking up and blew more pinecones, leaves, and maple seeds onto the road.
Lumière kicked his steed's sides, sensing the impending rain, and ducked his head against the wind as he galloped through the woods.
The skies were grey as he approached La Clayette, but La Bazolle was on the outskirts of town. He was very keen on avoiding the storm, however severe, and swiftly made his way through its paved streets.
He thought to bypass it, but he convinced himself it was less convenient to try another route out of the town. His gut twisted in anticipation as he approached the recognizable stone walls surrounding the property of the Chantemerle manor.
When he became level with its iron gate, he glimpsed the lawn and drive that stretched to the château's fine and respectable façade.
Lumière hadn't given much mind to it before, only that it held one of the province's most esteemed families, but the manor's significance had changed so drastically since his last visit. His curiosity of what the walls enclosed held far after it was no longer in his sights, but why? Had he been hoping to spot Babette taking a stroll through the gardens, or some other ridiculous notion?
He quickly put that to rest. Sure, she had been somewhat of a catalyst to this journey, if to only overcome his residual feelings and sense of loss, but this trip had nothing to do with her. He looked ahead once more to what laid ahead and put the manor behind him for the better.
A light drizzle began to fall as La Bazolle could be seen from a distance. Assuming this was nature's way of punishing him for his snooping, he gritted his teeth and spurred the mare back into a gallop.
La Bazolle's grounds were open, not being confined to the city's limits, but no less manicured and taken care off than any other mansion. The château itself was visible before the gate was, though the rain was starting to fall heavily. As he approached it, he familiarly took a right turn toward the stables.
Lumière pulled the reins to a stop as the stable boy ducked into the rain to greet him.
"Ah, bonjour, Monsieur Lumière!" the teen exclaimed, blinking into the rain to look up at the maître d'.
"Romain!" he addressed in surprise. "Why are you working in this weather?"
"I promised to keep look-out." The sandy-haired teenager shrugged. "My master has been expecting you to arrive with or without any word ahead."
"What a disappointment!" Lumière lamented, stepping off of his horse as the stable boy held the bridle. "After all these years, I thought this was my best chance in surprising him."
Romain returned a genuine smile. "It is good to see you again, monsieur."
Lumière patted his shoulder. "Merci, my boy. You as well!"
As the young man took the mare to be stabled, the maître d' gripped his hat and made his way through the stables to the front gardens. He tried to avert from the downpour as much as possible, skimming the edge of the stables to stay under its roof before striding through the flowering parterres to one of the three front doors underneath a second-floor balcony. After swinging a knocker a few times, he assessed the rain's damage and found his cloak and boots had taken the brunt of it. Only his hair and part of his trousers seemed to have been sprinkled on. As he was silently congratulating himself for his proper preparation against the elements, the door opened to have the future count himself answer it.
"Arriving before lunch?" Nicolas admired with awe, jesting, "Were you finally able to witness the sun's rising?"
"After glancing at my crystal ball and tea dregs," Lumière explained factually, "I knew I had to sacrifice my late-night antics to beat the storm, so here I am, at your beck and call," he added with a gallant bow.
Lumière laughed as Nicolas scowled. His friend had always despised any humility that those of lower rank showed him. He had never thought he was above anyone in his life, and it truly had torn at his conscience when he had come to terms with that simple fact of society. He only had accepted it when his family convinced him that it was merely a sign of respect to call them "master" and "mistress" and serve the family through cooking and cleaning. And this was all when Lumière had first become Nicolas' valet.
Nicolas had always treated Lumière as an equal, as any friend would, despite their respective social rankings, and insisted the maître d' never bow to him and only refer to him by his first name. That didn't stop Lumière from bowing and calling him "master" just to tease him.
Wearing that aggravating smirk of his, the maître d' gave a pouting Nicolas a friendly pat on his back as he crossed the threshold. "Come on, old friend, you must have missed me to send so urgent a letter! Do you expect any less of me?"
"You mean 'any more?'" Nicolas corrected. "You taught me not to raise my expectations for you long ago, yet I somehow like to fancy the idea of le Château du Lac actually teaching you some manners!"
Lumière shrugged as he took off his cloak. "Like you, they realized quickly that I am a long-lost cause."
"And yet, despite that, my mother loves to ask when you plan to return for another visit." Nicolas rolled his eyes. "I think she merely misses your entertaining side comments you used to whisper in her ear during tedious parlor prattling."
Laughing at the memories, Lumière admonished, "We both know you are jealous of what your dear mother and I have, Nicolas. Your attempts to dismiss it are only getting feebler." As Nicolas shook his head at Lumière's ridiculous remarks, though smiling all the while, Lumière sincerely asked, "Where are your parents? Entertaining the masses?"
Nicolas shrugged with a nod as if to pose rhetorically, What can you do? "They are in town for the afternoon, but they should be back for dinner. You can renew your enchantment on them then."
"As though you believe it is that easy!"
"I have seen you do it for years! You have a natural talent with people, which I truly do envy you for."
"You do not give yourself enough credit, mon ami. Contrary to me, you appear quiet, reserved, and thoughtful. My outgoing and arguably boisterous self can bring people in, but qualities like yours are what make them stay, especially women. Speaking of which…" Lumière gave him a suggestive grin. "… you have not brought out your betrothed. I would like to see for myself if the magnificent creature you wrote about matches your description."
Uncharacteristically, Nicolas became bashful. He glanced at the ground with a secretive smile on his lips. "My words could never do her justice," he professed. "She will meet us in the drawing room in a minute. She is a little, well, shy at the thought of meeting you."
"What did you tell her?"
At Lumière's expression of a disapproving father, Nicolas grimaced. "I'm afraid I may have spoken too heavily of our… excursions. And when it came to you… I think I unwittingly gave her a bad impression."
"Nice going."
"Trust me, I made sure to overcompensate," Nicolas assured. "I would not have sent out that letter if she hadn't been open to meeting you."
Lumière had to shake his head. "I do not think even Cogsworth is capable of making me sound as unappealing as you must have made me seem, though I am sure he has tried! And here, when I speak of you, she had nothing but praise."
Nicolas raised a questioning eyebrow. "'She?'"
Mentally kicking himself for the slip, Lumière sighed. "Now that, my friend, is a story for another time, when we are not expecting company."
Hardly recognizing what he saw, Nicolas murmured, "Non, impossible. You did not…?" But a single glance from his friend was all the confirmation he needed. The future count patted him on the back. "I won't press you on it now. Come, I'll get you a drink."
Before Nicolas could lead him off the foyer, Lumière happened to look to the top of the staircase, where the balcony became a hallway, as a pair of blue eyes and the skirt of a plum satin gown spun out of sight.
This fiancée was shy indeed.
Hesitating for only a brief moment to see if she would appear, he resigned to follow his friend into the drawing room.