Chapter Five: The Sin of Partiality

With Babette gone, Lumière allowed himself to relax, though only by the smallest margin. He wished he could talk more freely than he trusted himself to.

Even when Babette was not around, he had to give false impressions of his opinion of her, all the while concealing the truth. He had the most certain feeling in his gut that this was just the beginning of a very nasty end. Could they keep pretending until her and Nicolas are wed, or did she expect to maintain this secret for the rest of her married life?

I will be damned if she believes I would carry on like this for as long as these next three weeks, Lumière swore. She has already expected too much from me.

It was incredibly difficult for him to keep these reflections at bay through dinner, so he made sure to consume enough wine to remain in the present without sacrificing his awareness.

It was a few hours past sunset when they decided to turn in, and after trading "bonne nuits" with Augustine and Étienne, Nicolas and Lumière walked side-by-side down the halls to their respective rooms as though the maître d' had never left. But in the back of Lumière's mind, he was constructing how he would phrase his questions to Nicolas about Babette so they revealed nothing of his residual feelings toward her. After the trial he had just endured, any love he held for her was easier to temporarily set aside, especially for a friend of almost two decades.

When they reached their wing, they paused at Lumière's door. After a glance at it, Lumière was about to begin leading into his argument, but Nicolas got to it first. "You aren't too exhausted from socializing to maybe do a little more, are you?"

"If by 'socializing', you mean only you and I, then you read my mind, mon ami," Lumière replied with some relief at his willingness.

Nicolas smiled at his consent. "Let us talk in my room, then. My curiosity cannot last until tomorrow."

"Your curiosity? Now I know you must have read my mind!"

Upon rounding the corner of the hall, Nicolas opened his door. "After you."

Lumière slid between him and the door, grandly gesturing, "Oh no, after you, Monsieur Fiancé."

The viscount glared, but obliged him. "Why does it only sound insulting when you say it?"

"Because I am the farthest from having my own wedding as a confirmed bachelor can be," Lumière replied with ease as he shut the door.

"How can you sound so confident?" Nicolas had to ask while he made his way over to the chaise. "Do you really doubt you will meet a woman worthy enough to marry?"

"It was never a question of worth, Nicolas. I have met plenty of women who would make charming wives. I merely happen to enjoy my freedom, and getting married would put an end to all of that." He gave his friend an apologetic shrug. "It is a pity you will soon lose your own."

"You will change your mind someday," he concluded, wagging his finger at him as Lumière joined him in the armchair across from him. "I'm sure of it. All it would take is a mademoiselle who could keep your ego in check rather than feeding it."

Crossing his ankle over his knee, Lumière countered, "I know I am only agreeing with you by saying this, but that would certainly take a very rare woman, which even if such a woman existed"—Of my rank, he had to note to himself—"marriage would not be necessary."

Nicolas made a movement to retort but he held up a hand. "And before you say anymore, I did not realize I had agreed to discussing my way of life with you. I hope that is not what you had in mind."

Nicolas deflated back into his seat. "You're right, of course. My apologies."

"There's no need, mon ami," Lumière dismissed encouragingly. "You are betrothed, after all."

With a grimace, he corrected, "Well… not publicly. We are both taking our time coming to terms with that fact, but if you asked either of our parents, they would say we are engaged."

An eyebrow shot up. "Have you proposed?"

"That is one of the downsides to an arranged marriage, I suppose; a grand, romantic proposal would seem redundant."

Lumière froze. He had forgotten that Babette had precisely told him this fact on Christmas Eve. Still, he went on, "I… did not realize this was arranged."

Nicolas jumped forward in his seat, chastising, "No, no, no, don't take that tone! Your pity can come later. I have agreed to the arrangement. We all have."

Lumière nodded, but his mind was still whirring. "Bien, but… she is the Élisabeth de Chantemerle, the infamous coquette of La Clayette."

His friend seemed to be well-aware as he inquired, "Is she what you expected?"

The maître d' still eyed him with uncertainty. "Not… based on what I had heard."

"Precisely," Nicolas confirmed with a smile. "She is not what the rumors have told."

"Rumors are founded in truth, Nicolas."

"Perhaps, but clearly she has put that part of herself behind her."

The maître d' rested his chin on his fist in mock-thought. "Which part? The open flirting in taverns or the amorous meetings behind them?"

With his friend's cynicism on display, Nicolas furrowed his brow. "Lumière… I am surprised you are reacting this way. She and you are not so different in that regard."

Straightening with muted indignation, he replied, "And for that reason, I should be considered responsible for vowing to never marry. She clearly has not done the same."

"Because it is rather impossible in her position," Nicolas reminded with growing passion. "She has an obligation to marry, as do I, so that our bloodlines can continue. You are fortunate enough to have a choice at all, and you know it."

Lumière couldn't argue, despite having plenty of reasons against this match, but frankly, he didn't want to pick a fight. Not this soon.

Taking this as his yielding, Nicolas resumed more contently, "Now, putting all prejudices aside, what did you think of her?"

He tried to be as honest as he could be. "She was… very guarded."

"I agree. She seems to become especially reserved around new acquaintances. I don't think she trusts very easily… perhaps for good reason." Nicolas eyed him with a bit of a smirk. "You were cautious in your own way."

"How couldn't I be?" Lumière replied like it was obvious. "I recognized her name in an instant. Not to mention, might I add… she clearly has your heart."

"That is an exaggeration!" he staunchly defended. "I am very fond of her and care for her deeply, but my heart is still my own. You must be confusing it for fascination."

"Or you are keen on denying it." As Nicolas gave him a look of warning, Lumière continued, "Either way, I am only trying to remain impartial. Is that not why you asked for my opinion in the first place?"

Wearing a disgruntled pout, he muttered, "I am not used to you being the one between us to speak sense. I don't like it."

"If it is any consolation, neither do I."

They both laughed, and Lumière felt his tension inside ease ever slightly.

After a pause, Nicolas watched him with expectation. "Is there… anything else you noticed about her?"

Lumière didn't anticipate another round of this question. What else could he say? If they had actually met that day, what would he have gathered from such a brief and concealed glimpse of who she really was?

As the maître d' stumbled for an answer, Nicolas stared at him in disbelief. "Please tell me you are joking."

Lumière glanced up at him, sincerely confused. "What do you mean?"

He became incredulous. "You didn't even take notice?"

Even more perplexed, Lumière could only offer an innocent shrug.

"Unbelievable!" Nicolas cried accusingly. "Who are you and what have you done with my friend?"

Glaring back, he retorted, "And you say I can never get to my point!"

With the grand hyperbole that sometimes accompanies a dumb question, Nicolas asked, "How did she look, Lumière?"

He gapped like a fish for a moment until he realized Nicolas was absolutely right. How did he not think to mention that, of all things? Babette's beauty had been the first feature of her many fine qualities that he had noticed. It had even struck him dumb upon meeting her.

Lumière fell back against his chair, shaking his head at his own stupidity. He covered his eyes. "Oh mon Dieu… I am so sorry, Nicolas."

"For you, I should say so!" Nicolas agreed, having to smirk at his friend's shame.

Still bewildered, he stared at the floor. "I had committed my attention to everything else… Incroyable." Lumière looked to his friend. "Allow me to rectify that immediately."

He pulled up a vision of her in his mind's eye, and permitted himself to be taken in by her curves, ruby red smirk, and bright blue stare full of mischief. He took a deep breath as though he could breathe her in.

Do not get carried away, he warned himself before complimenting in the utmost seriousness, "Nicolas, I may have never seen a more alluring creature."

The dimples in his cheeks appeared. "Isn't she beautiful?"

"In that regard, I do envy you," he added without thinking.

Nicolas let out a laugh. "From pity to envy. My, your opinion of her changed quickly!"

"Not quite," Lumière corrected, determined to keep a steady head. "Beauty is far from the most important quality in a wife."

"C'est vrai," he acknowledged with a nod. "But in all honesty, her appearance complements her character extraordinarily well. I have found her far more attractive as I have gotten to know her. I only hope the same will happen to you."

The maître d' leaned his chin on his hand thoughtfully. "Then we must make opportunities so that it might."

Noting his conniving grin, Nicolas prompted, "What did you have in mind?"

"The next time she visits—with weather accommodating—let us join her and madame for their garden stroll. With your help, I am sure we can arrange it so that you are walking with your mother, leaving me to be a willing escort for ta chère mademoiselle."

Nicolas pursed his lips. "I don't know, only because I know she will suspect our intentions."

"Then we make sure she does not notice them until a moment too late. Besides, I only need the few minutes a turn in the gardens provides. What's more, you will practically be within earshot. Trust me, she will have nothing to object to."

"If you are sure of it, then I have no objections. I think that will be a good start." He gave his friend a nod of approval, but then eyed him with teasing accusation. "That is, if you aren't as obnoxious as you were at luncheon today."

Lumière looked at him like he had grown another head. "Obnoxious?"

"Yes! It was like you were… testing her," the viscount said, seeming baffled at the notion. "So oui, I think it a rather apt word to describe the way you were acting!"

Lumière crossed his arms. "Well, I wouldn't call that my most subtle work, but I certainly wouldn't call it 'obnoxious.' Does it occur to you that maybe had you not been so intent on criticizing my behavior that—if you had removed the stars from your eyes and heart from your ears—you would have noticed her testing me?"

Nicolas waved it off. "She was not nearly as bad. I definitely don't recall any eye-rolling to anything you may have said, though plenty deserved that response."

With a breath, he acknowledged with some remorse. "All right, I admit that was a rather poorly checked reflex on my part. I did not mean any offense."

"Of course you didn't," Nicolas eased, "but… I'm too curious not to ask what caused it in the first place."

"You say that I can put an enchantment on your parents, but she made it very clear I am only the first."

Nicolas smirked. "Is she impeding on your territory?"

In a manner of speaking, but he denied, "Of course not. Like you said, we need to become better acquainted. Then perhaps I will not be so quick to judge."

The viscount sighed as he glanced at the hearth. "I suppose I can see where you're coming from. A reputation can precede the best of us."

Eyeing him curiously, Lumière checked, "Are you referring to me?"

"Well… Before I had agreed to meet her, I was as skeptical as you are now," he admitted. "But then I remembered those petty rumors with the Levís' maid."

It took him a second to remember, but Lumière shook his head at the memory. "The product of a scorned woman's tongue."

"Exactly."

He jumped on the opening to ask his long-desired question, "Are you trying to say that what has been said about mademoiselle is not true?"

Nicolas then looked flustered. "I… have not had them confirmed. I just have chosen not to pay them any attention."

A sinking feeling crept into Lumière as he stared. "Nicolas, do you really think that is wise?"

"Maybe it's not," Nicolas acknowledged as he sat straighter, "but I felt it only right to give her a chance, and so far, she has proven the gossip wrong. On Monday, I can promise you will start to see for yourself."

His friend sounded so sure of this that, though he craved a more thorough interrogation, Lumière felt he had no choice but to resign, at least for now.

With a determined nod, he assured Nicolas, "I will take your word for it."

Without the risk of Babette's presence the following day, Lumière would have hoped it would be like she had never been a part of their lives. But after the previous night's discussion, he was finding it hard to concentrate on little else.

He knows nothing, Lumière kept thinking in bewilderment. It is worse than I thought.

It was Nicolas' choice to be ignorant. That baffled him beyond comprehension. It even made him wonder if Babette had done something to make him avoid the issue. What could she have possibly said for him to be content to remain ignorant about her numerous affairs? Was he that blinded by her charms?

It wasn't like his friend to be this careless. Lumière had to remind him somehow. But as much as he wished he could, it wouldn't be effective in the slightest to try to snap Nicolas out of his trance with her. He would have to ease him out of it, little by little.

But was that a betrayal against Babette?

Perhaps… but then again, it is well-deserved, Lumière argued. Any allegiance to her could be disregarded in this circumstance, a circumstance in which she was the sole cause. In fact, it felt like this all was an act of betrayal against him and what they had shared. A careless, conceited undertaking that seemed tinged with vengeance, as though he had been to blame for the pleasure and pain that had occurred between them.

He was getting more furious with her the more he thought about it.

By Monday morning, Lumière was resolute in his reasoning that Babette was completely at fault for their predicament.

The Chantemerle's open-air coach arrived at La Bazolle promptly at noon. Renaud ran out to assist the viscountess down its steps while the de Créquy and Lumière gathered in the foyer. As hoped for, blue skies had returned and the temperature was mild, the most ideal for a garden stroll.

The boys had confirmed following through with their plan only an hour before, but Lumière glanced at Nicolas to make sure of it right before Babette walked in. The viscount gave him a firm wink.

Lumière took a deep breath through his nose to calm his jitters. His anticipation to finally corner Babette was at its peak.

Typical greetings proceeded amongst everyone, and all the while, Lumière couldn't take his eyes off of Mlle de Chantemerle, though she seemed determined to look anywhere but him. At this observation, he had to grin.

"Now, Babette," Augustine began with a glint in her eye, "I hope you have not forgotten your promise to me from the other day."

With a tilt of her head, Babette replied with a coy smile, "Forgotten? That was all that was on my mind on the way here!"

Augustine laughed, enthused by her answer. "Ma chère, you could not have said better! Come! I will give you the grand tour of my gardens."

Before the gentlemen followed, Lumière took that moment to cock an eyebrow at Nicolas to wordlessly say, Didn't I tell you? Nicolas had to concede with a small shrug.

But halfway down the hall, Étienne paused before the first floor study to impart, "Enjoy the great outdoors, mes enfants."

Augustine spun around, looking disappointed. "Must you check the accounts this very moment?"

"My dear, you know I've been putting them off," her husband astutely reminded. "I will not be far; I can watch over you all from this window. So when you see it, do think of me."

With an expression of light reprove to his mocking sentimentality, Augustine picked up her skirts again and countered with poise, "I think there will be too much to see in the gardens to deign your window a glance, darling."

Étienne cracked a smile, clearly pleased. "Why, I would agree most naturally, Your Grace, but only because you will be a part of them."

With Augustine clearly delighted, they shared secret smiles before Étienne moved to lock himself in his study. As he passed the count, Lumière managed to catch his eye, inclining his head to him as though to say, You have done well, my pupil.

Étienne shook his head at his ridiculousness and shooed him off, but he looked about to laugh as he closed his door.

Turning his eyes forward again, Lumière saw Babette appear to have loved observing such a rare interaction between the Comte and Comtesse de Drée. She looked to Nicolas with teasing wonder, giggling when Nicolas jokingly rolled his eyes and shook his head. Her fiancé smiled as she laughed.

After witnessing that display, the step out of doors was most welcome. Lumière breathed in the scents of the grass and gardens' blooms to keep himself steady.

Augustine called Babette forward to her side and walked very leisurely through the parterres as she pointed out the flowers in their beds. Babette looked to be a willing participant in the countess' enthusiasm, asking questions on where Augustine had found some of them and remarking on their beauty. It was quite a contrast to the aloofness she had maintained since Lumière had arrived.

"She really brightens out here, doesn't she?"

Nicolas' comment shook Lumière out of his close observations. With a brief glance at his friend, he replied with some quick thinking, "Are you sure it is not merely the sun at work?"

Nicolas stared at him with bemusement. "I never could have dreamed it would be this hard for her to extract a compliment out of you."

Lumière checked the distance between them and the women before he reminded, "I agreed she was beautiful, did I not?"

"Oui," the viscount said in a dry tone. "As easily as pulling teeth from a tiger."

Lumière chuckled. "Only in regards to you am I this hard to please." He tried not to sound as dubious as he felt. "If she succeeds, my approval will have been more worth the earning."

Relenting a little unwillingly, Nicolas quietly sighed.

Arriving at the core of the gardens, the four of them stood before a wide, circular fountain. At the center of the pool, neoclassic sculptures of twin men sat on rough stones facing opposing sides. One bore an ornamented shield while the other held up a ladder horn seashell. A Grecian urn at their backs showered water over them, and the fish lounging at their sides also had spouts at their mouths.

"And who might these gentlemen be?" Babette inquired as she admired the craftsmanship.

Nicolas stepped forward to her. "Have I really never told you?"

With a playful reprove, she countered, "Have you been remiss in your hosting duties?"

"It is almost as if they blended in with the statuary," Nicolas attempted to quip with a grin. Lumière openly cringed while Babette bit her lip in an attempt to stifle her laughter.

Nicolas eyed the maître d' past Babette as though to say, She laughed, didn't she?

Lumière subtly shook his head, replying with only a look, Not at the joke.

Babette looked curiously over her shoulder at him, but he had already moved on to murmur similar thoughts to Augustine.

Choosing to ignore his friend and his mother's giggling, Nicolas continued, "Well, allow me to introduce you then to Castor and Pollux."

Familiarity lit up her eyes. She looked between the two sculptures. "Which one is which?"

Nicolas shrugged, as much at a loss. "I still have not been able to figure that out. I do know that my grandfather had commissioned this fountain to be specifically of Castor and Pollux, since in classic times, they represented skilled equestrians."

She glanced to him to confirm. "A family tradition, oui?"

Nicolas smiled at how she remembered. "Right."

"I remember reading that story to you two as boys," Augustine recalled. "It was quite the favorite of yours."

Lumière smirked. "We found it rather relatable."

Confused at this answer, Nicolas said, "I think you're mistaken. The concept of bride-stealing hadn't occurred to us until we were well in our teens."

With a roll of his eyes, he corrected, "Mon ami, I was referring to their willingness to sacrifice themselves for each other. Obviously."

Though Nicolas tried to seem annoyed, he couldn't keep his dimples from showing.

"I certainly hope it would be the latter," Augustine annexed with a motherly glance at the two of them.

Babette lofted a skeptical eyebrow only long enough for Lumière to see. His jaw tightened as he thought, If she doubts I would sacrifice myself for Nicolas—

"Oh my!" Augustine exclaimed, reminiscence on her features. "I find myself strolling down memory lane! Darling," she called, reaching for Nicolas as she took to his side, "why don't you muse me for a while. I cannot seem to recall the other stories I read to you when you were younger."

Taking his arm, mother and son began a path toward the rest of the gardens. Nicolas glanced over his shoulder and gave Babette a helpless shrug, but exchanged a look with Lumière that clearly said, Have at it.

Of all the ways their plan might have been executed, this was certainly the least expected. Had Nicolas told his mother about it?

Brilliant job, madame, Lumière admired.

He deliberately made his steps resound on the gravel as he came next to Babette, who suddenly seemed paler than a moment ago.

Calling on his cavalier grin that he knew would cause Babette to fume, Lumière offered his arm. "Mademoiselle?"

Babette met his eyes, and he saw the frightened doe that she had once been as a newly employed servant.

But in an instant, they turned cold and steely. Lifting her chin, she turned her head away from him and began to follow after her fiancé with hastened steps.

Lumière took a deep breath to steel himself. "Have it your way," he muttered.

Catching up to her with ease, she had slowed to a leisurely stride. The path that Nicolas and Augustine had entered was only wide enough for two.

After taking into account the few meters of distance between Nicolas, his mother, and them, Lumière matched his volume appropriately low. "I hope you were not planning to run."

Babette refused to look at him and stared ahead. "Did you really expect me to run in what I am wearing?"

"I imagine you could find a way if you really wanted to." In a modest attempt to be civil, he added, "You look well."

She remained unphased. "You know I can tell when you are not being sincere."

"I would like to assume so," he replied with a sidelong glance at her, "but lately it has become difficult for me to assume anything when it comes to you."

"Then do not make assumptions."

Anger flared inside him, but he managed to keep his voice down. "How about I become engaged to your best friend without any warning? Then you can tell me how to not make assumptions in my current position."

Babette's eyes fell as she breathed deeply. "What do you want?"

"Answers." Lumière checked ahead of him before asking, "How long have you known he was my friend?"

"Since February."

He stared at her deliberately to make her meet his eyes. "And you did not think it worth sending a letter of any kind to let me know?"

"I was only thinking of Nicolas." He received a tiny glance in his direction. "You of all people should understand that."

"I am afraid I don't see the lack of selfishness in refusing to give me warning," he sneered.

"If you swallowed your pride for once, then it would be easy," she snapped.

"Forgive me then," he said with an exasperated shrug. "The logic behind any of your actions thus far has evaded me."

She finally looked him in the eye. "You are his best friend. He talks of you like a brother. If you had refused to come and meet me, he would have been so disappointed."

"Nicolas is a grown man," he reminded, doubting the sincerity of her intentions. "He was taking care of himself long before you came along. And apparently, he has become so enamored with you that you have convinced him to forget all of the scandals you left behind."

"I did not convince him to do anything," she retorted vehemently. "It was his choice, and he insisted."

"He does not realize the cost of his own charity. With the amount of secrets you keep, it is as if he hardly knows you at all."

As self-righteous as ever, she said, "That is where you are wrong."

He had to look away. She was so convinced she was in the right, yet all he was hearing sounded like nonsense. "Do you honestly expect me to maintain this ridiculous… charade about a convent for you?"

Her gaze seemed to grab him by the throat. "I do, because if I fall, then I am taking you with me. And if you dare try to reveal anything about me, especially of the château, I can guarantee the consequences will be much worse than a bruise on your foot."

During her words, Lumière had felt the urge to shy away at the intense hostility of her expression, but he refused to bend.

His teeth clenched. "This all could have been avoided if you had trusted me to make up an excuse not to come."

With less heat but with no less bite, she countered, "You have made it quite clear that you do not trust me, so why should I have returned the favor?"

Lumière narrowed his eyes, wanting desperately to refute her, especially since Babette was daring him to say more. But any coherent thought he had was lost in his agitation.

He broke their stare, tightening the hands at his back into fists. Impossible woman!

They had all rounded back to the main path by then, and Nicolas and Augustine paused to check on them. Lumière hurriedly relaxed his features as Babette tried not to look as though she wanted to place distance between her and the man at her side.

Augustine rubbed her fingers as she looked at them in turn. "It seems a bit cooler than before, don't you think? How about we head in for some tea?"

They each gave their own affirmations, with Lumière's being particularly reserved, Babette's grateful, and Nicolas' content. Augustine seemed curious about the maître d', but didn't say a word about it as she took the lead back into the maison.

Making sure to stay at the back of the party, Lumière had to allow himself to wallow in his own frustration. He had felt no relief, not even the slightest hint of satisfaction that he had so longed for, from interrogating Babette. On the contrary, he was incensed by her overconfident replies.

Was this all he had to look forward to these next three weeks? Deceit and concealed hostility?

For the rest of the evening, dread settled in his stomach, where it remained and began to curdle the hopes for deliverance he had dared foster.