Chapter Four: Over Luncheon
As much as Lumière wanted to give into his frustrations, he couldn't let the sight of the woman he adored on the arm of his best friend get to him so easily. He had to develop a much thicker skin in the matter of a minute before he had to greet Nicolas' parents. Was it improbable? Yes. But never impossible.
He took a deep, lung-filling breath and looked eagerly beyond the couple walking in front of him to see the Comte and Comtesse de Drée handing their cloaks off to Renaud.
The countess, Augustine, lit up with delight at the sight of them. "Ah, Babette! So lovely to see you again, ma chère." She took Babette's hand and kissed her cheek.
"Same to you, madame," Babette replied with a charming smile.
To Nicolas, Augustine gave his cheek a peck and simply but lovingly greeted, "Hello, darling."
"Maman," he acknowledged similarly. "You are home early."
His mother waved her hand dismissively. "There was a miscommunication with the Jacoblliot. It seems they forgot to send us a messenger to reschedule our meeting."
As she noticed Lumière, he saw Babette curtsey politely to the count, Étienne, but Augustine approached him, blocking her from his view.
"Jean-Luc Lumière," she addressed with an amused shake of her head before bringing him in to kiss both cheeks. "It always seems like an age before you deem to grace us with your charm and wit. How are you?"
Cuing his famous, debonair smile, he answered smoothly, "Much better after hearing I am still in your good graces, ma belle-dame."
"I heard that!" Étienne called, stepping away from the couple to approach, appearing chastising. "The fountain of flattery is still ever-flowing, I see."
Having grown much accustomed to the count's dry sense of humor, Lumière nonchalantly offered his hands in surrender. "I am afraid so. But if you wish, I can always be sure to make you an exception."
Étienne shook his finger at him like he wanted to cleverly retort, but let out a defeated sigh before offering his hand for Lumière to shake. "I almost forgot how good you are with the back-handed compliment."
"An easy mistake for one your age," the maître d' assured.
Gripping his hand a little more tightly, Étienne eyed him in warning while Lumière smirked. "Don't push it," he muttered before giving him a slap on the shoulder disguised as a fatherly pat.
Lumière made sure not to wince or he wouldn't hear the end of it from the count, and most likely his son. He glanced over to see Babette rejoin her arm with Nicolas', both of them still too enraptured with each other for Lumière's liking.
At the same time, Augustine said, "Let's proceed to the dining room, shall we? Unless I am the only one who has been craving a luncheon this past hour. Although," she said to Lumière as she walked with him down the hall behind the rest, "you must be famished most of all from your trek here. You've arrived so early! Did you even allow yourself breakfast?"
He allowed her to take his arm as he smiled at her concern. "Mais oui, madame, though you are not far from truth. Rest assured, I managed to keep myself sated along the way."
With a hint of doubt, she checked with surprise, "Thinking ahead this morning, were we?"
Lumière chuckled. "Not quite. It was a gift from our housekeeper. I believe I've told you of her generosity before."
Augustine's eyes lit up. "Oh! Yes, you have. The Englishwoman, correct? Mrs.…"
"Potts."
"Oui, of course, confound my memory," she self-chastised quietly. "Well, I'm always glad to hear there are others looking out for your well-being. Heaven knows what kind of trouble you'd get yourself into otherwise!"
"I am sure you know as much, if not more, than heaven would of that," he pointed out with a smirk.
The countess had to laugh. "Perhaps all too well!" she agreed.
The table was already set with potato bisque waiting to be eaten. Lumière led Mme de Créquy to her seat at one of the heads of it, sliding her chair out for her like a gentleman.
Charmed, Augustine smiled at him. "Merci, cher."
As he pushed her chair in as she sat, Nicolas cocked an eyebrow and wry grin at him, clearly referring to the "spell" Lumière was able to cast on his parents. His friend replied with a cavalier shrug.
Nicolas performed the same courtesy for Babette while Étienne was seated at the other end of the table, his humored expression showing he had noticed their silent exchange.
Before Lumière could take a seat opposite Nicolas, Augustine gestured pleasantly to Lumière to sit at her right, directly across from where Babette was already seated.
The two made eye contact, and Lumière felt his gut clench. With lips tightened, she looked to the small floral arrangements on the table instead.
He took a discreet breath to calm himself, hoping his discomfort wasn't obvious, and sat to the countess' right.
While a servant on standby—Thibault, if Lumière's memory served—returned the spare bowl of soup to the kitchen, Augustine took note of the weather outside their windows as the rest started on their meals. "Oh, these dreadful showers have almost succeeded in dampening my humours completely. I had thought we had seen the last of rain for a good while! I hope you made it here in time before this one had begun," she said to Lumière.
"Only in the nick of time, madame," he soothed.
She huffed a laugh. "If only we had been so lucky!"
Étienne straightened to pause from eating. "Ah, yes, between the Godard's, the coach, and here, we may have spent the whole of twenty seconds to the rain's exposure. How very unlucky indeed."
"Père, you are too cruel," Nicolas lightly admonished.
But Augustine was unphased. "Don't worry, my dear. He said similarly in the coach."
"And she knows I speak rationally," his father informed, returning to his food. "She only hates getting wet."
All but Augustine grinned at that as she rebutted, "Which you are completely unsympathetic to."
"No," he corrected. "It is because you are so concerned that rain will ruin your dress, your shoes, your hair, and whatever else, when it's really of no consequence, especially during such an ordinary shower as today's. With or without rain, you always look lovely. Must I remind you every time the weather is not in your favor?"
Nicolas and Lumière briefly caught each other's eye at that moment, smirking, and managed to keep firm caps on their laughter while Augustine blushed. "Of course not, dear, but even you must admit to having a bias in regards to me."
"Bias or no, I would give you my honest opinion if you only asked."
"Would that mean, then," Lumière chimed in, "that your opinion would differ on another occasion? Apart from madame looking 'lovely,' that is."
"Naturally," Étienne responded, ever composed. "I could think she looks charming, or radiant. Perhaps even exquisite." He eyed the maître d' cunningly, knowing he had been trying to make him stumble, and Lumière gave him a respectful nod of approval.
The servants took their bowls away and brought out the entrée, cuts of seasoned veal with crudités, while they continued to chat.
"So, mes enfants," Augustine addressed, turning to the betrothed pair, "how were your mornings?"
"Quite pleasant, I would say," Nicolas replied.
"Rather quiet," Babette added with a glance at her fiancé.
"Oui, that as well," he agreed with a smile. "We were only studying in the library."
"The books or… other subjects?" Lumière playfully inquired, watching for Babette's reaction.
Babette knew better than to deign him with a response, but it seemed Nicolas rolled his eyes for the both of them. "We were reading, Lumière. I had a copy of one of Madame de La Fayette's novels, and Babette was reading—sorry, re-reading Ovid," he amended when she corrected him with a sly look.
"Perhaps I misunderstood," Lumière teased to Nicolas. "Was it not mademoiselle who was reading the romance novel?"
"Are you suggesting that I could not be reading Roman philosophers?" Babette sharply countered.
Lumière had expected her to reply as such, and was eager to have her become more active in the discussion. He opened his mouth to respond, but Nicolas promised her, "Not at all, Babette. He only meant to tease me."
"He is right, mademoiselle," Lumière confirmed. He placed another meaning behind his words that she was sure to catch. "I am sorry that you were caught in our volley, but I must warn you that there may be much more incidents like that in store while I am here."
Babette stared back resentfully, though her poker face was quite concealing from the rest, especially since Augustine was remarking with jest, "Gracious, Lumière, we happen to like Babette's company! There will be no need to attempt scaring her off."
He placed a hand over his heart to double his words. "I promise you, madame, I would not dream of it. But…" His eyes shifted to Babette. "… it seems to me mademoiselle is not so easily intimidated."
Babette arched an eyebrow, slightly inclining her head to him. "You flatter me, monsieur."
His gaze was steadfast. "It is not flattery if it is fact."
Her expression was unreadable, and she was the first to look away to her veal, but he believed he saw that marvelous shade of pink he had loved to indulge in before appear on her cheeks. He returned to his meal as well, but he could feel Nicolas eyeing him with curiosity from across the table.
Again, that course was removed and replaced by dessert: small, colorful bowls of fresh fruit.
"Where were we?" Augustine thought aloud, having become engrossed in the course prior. "Ah! Of course," she turned to Lumière. "What news is there to report from le Château du Lac?"
"I never wish to disappoint, madame, but I am afraid business at the château is as usual as before."
Étienne swallowed his bite of strawberry to answer swiftly, "Still, I imagine even if it really were so dull there that you would have gone out of your way to entertain yourself."
"True, but you would be surprised how little of risks I take under Their Majesties' employment. You haven't forgotten that we have an English majordomo, have you?"
"Does he still keep his eye on you?"
"Oui, and not merely one, but both."
As Étienne chuckled, Augustine said, "I remember we discussed him during your previous visit."
"I always have much to say about him, madame," Lumière insinuated. "But you can trust, despite Cogsworth, I have much to keep myself entertained."
"Somehow, Lumière, I find it difficult to be reassured by that," Nicolas alluded.
All save for the viscountess next to him, laughed. Babette had not reacted to Lumière once since they started on dessert.
Then, an idea jumped into Lumière's head and out of his mouth without any prudent regulation. "Now that I think on it more… I suppose I have something worth mentioning from the château."
He was watching Babette, who did not look up, but hesitated in her eating. They all listened as he continued, "A few months ago, we had a new resident join our staff."
As he desired, she met his eyes. Threatening and deadly, hers were filled with the blue fire that had ignited his passion for her from the start.
A shadow of a smirk appeared on his mouth that only she saw. He quickly erased it as Augustine asked, "A new resident? It is rather uncommon to often take one in, I assume."
"C'est ça, since the last one was hired over a year ago. Interestingly," Lumière went on as his eyes passed over Babette, who was definitely putting in effort to maintain her calm, "at least from what I had noticed, we did not have an open position available, yet we accepted her readily. Then again, I believe I was one of very few who took notice."
Augustine appeared delighted at this intrigue. "It does sound peculiar… You say this was a woman?"
"I thought of her more… as a girl," he voiced, again peeking over at Babette for her reaction. Her eyes flashed to his very quickly before she took a deep breath discreetly through her nose.
"Is there really a difference with you?" Nicolas taunted.
"Come now, mon ami," Lumière spoke loftily, "you know I maintain a set of standards when it comes to my unique brand of shenanigans."
"Which happen to include women," Nicolas added matter-of-factly.
"Oui, women. Not girls." He said this exclusively to Nicolas, but even out of his peripherals, he could see Babette minutely shake her head as she quietly ate her fruit. Her clear aggravation of him that only he could detect was just adding fuel to his fire.
"What was her position?" Augustine inquired, never allowing their short digressions to distract her.
He glanced at Babette, who was stubbornly attentive to her dessert, before saying cryptically, "One that was discreet and concealing."
Her mind figuring, Augustine furrowed her brow in thought before she guessed, "She was a maid, wasn't she?"
Lumière smiled. "Certainly, madame. A face in a crowd, as I imagine was her intention."
Out of the corner of his eye, he thought he could see Babette's jaw tightening. He almost wished he could laugh at her exertions from—more literally than not—biting her tongue.
Finished with his dessert, Étienne set down his spoon as he prompted sarcastically, "Well? Have you managed to discover her intentions? Is there a conspiracy you're perhaps leading us towards?"
"Unfortunately, her stay was very brief," Lumière admitted. "Barely three months, but… I did manage to observe her, as she also was on my staff during that time."
At this point, Lumière knew he had Babette's full attention, despite the lack of its appearance. She was taking in every word.
"Are you any nearer to your point than five minutes ago?" Nicolas asked as drily as his father would have.
Lumière laughed. "All right, all right, I concede. I mention this because…" He lowered his tone to emphasize his words. "I have reason to believe this maid was not who she claimed herself to be."
All of their reactions were different. Augustine, who always enjoyed the way Lumière told stories, was astonished at hearing this revelation. Nicolas looked to actually be about to take him seriously, but his father still looked skeptical.
Babette, meanwhile, had finally allowed herself to watch him, and appeared silently resigned.
While Lumière had been observing them, he had decided to take the second bite of his dessert. But as soon as he closed his mouth to chew, a sharp pain out of nowhere shot into his foot.
He started in his seat, his leg automatically recoiling from the attack. His hand flew to his mouth to keep his food in it, and as his foot began to throb painfully, he couldn't stifle part of a groan from being heard.
The de Créquy were now looking at him in alarm.
"Lumière!" Augustine exclaimed. "Are you all right?"
At her address, he glanced up immediately across from him to see Babette wearing the ideal expression of surprised concern, but her miniature smirk gave herself away.
He stared at her in disbelief. There was no doubt: She had stomped her heel into his foot. Hard.
I should have seen that coming, Lumière scolded to himself. Even when believing that he completely understood her, he hadn't been aware of having surpassed the limit of Babette's patience. Of all things, that should have been most obvious to him.
But her message was received, and a little too well.
He didn't take his hand from his mouth until he had swallowed the rest of his food. He cleared his throat and composed himself, waving off their concern. "Oui, oui, I am fine." Exchanging a pointed glance with Babette, he lied, "I only… bit my tongue."
Étienne had to smile as he suggested, "Perhaps you were overusing it."
Nicolas chuckled in agreement. His fiancée couldn't help herself either. A little laugh escaped her lips, but she quickly silenced it behind a secretly triumphant grin.
As his friend gratefully moved the discussion to another topic, Lumière agreed with the count, and kept himself silent for the remainder of the meal.
When they had finished, they retired to Augustine's favorite petit salon, which faced the front court and gardens. The weather had been what it was; still rainy with no clear breaking in the clouds.
Lumière was obliged to sit on the long chaise next to Nicolas, since the only other seats were two armchairs, and the count and his wife always took their places there. Babette sat on Nicolas opposite side, completely obscuring her from his view. At this point, however, he was far from complaining. His foot still ached, and when they had stood from lunch, it had been harder than he had expected to keep any sign of a limp from showing.
Even if her attack had been warranted, he still felt justified in his reasoning for making her squirm. The pain in his foot would pass, but his pleasure out of watching her reactions to his words would outlast his visit. Of that, he was certain.
Plus, despite how stomping someone's foot under a table in front of future in-laws wasn't exactly unheard of, his shock at it dwelled. He was naturally incensed by Babette's attack. Not only because it was definitely going to leave a rather sensitive bruise, but she had expected him to cover for her actions. He almost felt like an advocate to her and this web of lies they must spin to protect Nicolas.
And that was the rub: He wasn't even entirely sure of her motives. Did she really love Nicolas, sincerely and truly? It was clear she was a fine actress, both in her natural society and otherwise, so why couldn't that also be the case? He didn't want to peg her as conniving and manipulative, for she was far from it. But for concern of his friend, he had to take that into consideration. The stakes were very high for Babette, he understood that. But to what end would she go to make sure she won out?
He knew in regards to her time at Château du Lac that she had been under orders to keep her identity a secret. It had almost seemed necessary in that circumstance. Here and now, it was different. If she had told Nicolas from the start where she had been before Christmas, Lumière would have been the first to hear about it from the viscount, and therefore this all could have been avoided. But Babette had chosen to conceal everything and hide behind another story involving a convent. A convent!
Lumière had to grip the arm of the chaise to keep from face-palming himself. The irresponsibility and selfishness of it all made him wish he could pull her aside and shake an explanation out of her.
But the truth of it, as much as it ate him up inside, couldn't be revealed now. He had to wait ever so patiently for the right opportunity to corner her for the answers he knew he deserved.
Like the end of lunch, he had not trusted himself to contribute too much more to the conversation, but he still made himself snap out of his thoughts. Since Augustine was always readily able to initiate and renew any discussion, she would be expecting him to offer his witty remarks. He only did so this time when directly spoken to.
He might have glanced at the mantel clock too often, but he was anxious to get Nicolas alone. At least he would be able to satisfy a few of Lumière's burning questions to what Nicolas did and didn't know about Mlle de Chantemerle. Though the notion would have never occurred to him before this, he desperately wanted Babette to leave, if only so that he could talk privately with his friend.
After a couple more agonizing hours, the evening was fast-approaching. Augustine entreated Babette to stay for dinner, but thankfully—in Lumière's case, that is—she declined, saying she was expected home. They all walked her to the foyer, and as they waited for the coach, and for Renaud to fetch her cloak, the countess expressed how she looked forward to seeing Babette in two days.
"Hopefully, the weather would be clear by then," Augustine went on. "I am rather desperate to take a walk through the gardens."
"I share your feelings, madame," Babette replied sincerely. "If the weather does clear, I would be more than happy to join you."
I am no longer the only one casting enchantments, Lumière noted as Augustine smiled at her affectionately.
"Who was it you said you were dining with tomorrow?" the countess asked.
"Monsieur Accary and his wife."
"Oh yes, right. We've had them dine with us as well." She tried her best to not seem imposing. "Now I am sure your mother knows this, but make sure during their visit that the conversation is dictated. Monsieur Accary has a tendency to digress."
"Often," her husband annexed in a bitter tone. "I almost believe he can make time stand still."
Babette pursed her lips to keep from laughing. "We wouldn't want that. That would mean I would be delayed from returning to your company."
The compulsion to roll his eyes was too strong for Lumière to resist. Nicolas happened to notice and cocked his head at him, his eyes full of inquiry.
The maître d' grimaced with regret at his slip, and inclined his head towards the stairs, signaling that they would talk later. Nicolas affirmed it with a nod.
During their silent conversation, Renaud had retrieved Babette's cloak and the coach was waiting in the drive. Babette curtseyed to her hosts, but gave a special smile and wink to Nicolas, who basked in it based on his broad grin.
Only out of politeness it seemed, did Babette incline her head to Lumière. For her higher social rank, he gave her a small bow.
They held their gazes for hardly a second, but because they were meticulously reading each other, it seemed for much longer. With some defiance, Babette broke the connection and walked out the front door.
In vain, Lumière had only gathered what he had already known: her determined stubbornness, self-righteousness, and pride.