Chapter Six: Misunderstandings

Though he fought long and hard to prevent them, Lumière's attention was bogged down by Babette's words as the evening went through its progressions.

Stubborn, irrational, and conceited! he defined them. And she has the audacity to call me proud. It's laughable!

She must think that her threats held some weight to react in the way she did. But in all honesty, what could she do that did not compromise herself in this arrangement? There was nothing she could really say that would hurt him without running the risk of giving herself away. And wasn't that precisely what she was trying so hard to prevent? Like the majority of her social counterparts, her words had no substance.

Unfortunately, that left him stuck in the same conundrum. He had made the decision to lie about his relationship with Babette from the start, so there was no turning back now. The one thing Lumière could do to make this vacation any worse was to tell his best friend that he had been deceived by his former valet and his fiancée. Their friendship could take a great amount of pressure, but that would certainly push it to its limits. He did not want to test it when he needed Nicolas on his side more than ever.

Even in the midst of trying to be sociable, an attractive idea occurred to him: Why not another boys' night at the local tavern?

Heaven knows how badly I deserve a stiff drink, Lumière rationalized. Not to mention Nicolas' reasoning can be more malleable after he's had a few himself. Now was a better time than any to try and convince him that this was an imprudent match.

His mood lifting a little at this new plan, Lumière participated more heartily in the de Créquy's passionate debate on Étienne's brothers. Though they certainly tried to include her despite her ignorance of the subject, thankfully, Babette was easy to ignore.

Mlle de Chantemerle did not leave until after dark. Fortunately, that was when taverns came alive.

It did not take much to persuade Nicolas for a night out, but Augustine insisted they take the carriage, and that they would be sent for around eleven.

"I have never heard a more stupidly dangerous act than riding on horseback while inebriated," she reminded them. "I have heard far too many stories of someone getting trampled to think that consequence uncommon. When it comes to you boys, I would much rather be safe than sorry."

"If using the carriage grants you peace of mind, then we are the last to object, madame," Lumière gracefully said.

"Merci, Maman," Nicolas said as he gave her a goodnight kiss.

"Good night, my dears," Augustine replied, imparting the same gesture to Lumière. "Enjoy yourselves, but not too much, comprenez? And do not keep Zacharie waiting."

"Oui, Maman." "As you wish, madame," they promised before they bowed out of the parlor.

After fetching their coats themselves, the boys met the coach out front. With appreciative nods to Zacharie, they hopped in and were soon rolling down the drive toward town.

"So," Nicolas began as he played with his leather gloves, "is there an occasion we are celebrating, perhaps in regard to a more agreeable evening?"

The shadows in the coach came and went with the swinging lanterns attached to its exterior, but he could still make out Nicolas' expectant expression. "I know what you are implying," Lumière smartly replied. "But I am afraid this trip was only prompted to cure my restlessness."

"Has your opinion of her still not changed?"

"After a few mugs of ale, I will be more than willing to tell you what I thought."

Nicolas groaned. "I do not like the sound of that."

Lumière had to laugh, though it was done bittersweetly.

The more pronounced clops of horseshoes on cobblestones were soon heard, and a few minutes later, the coach came to a halt.

With a reminder that he would return promptly at eleven, Zacharie shook the reins and went off to roundabout back to La Bazolle.

The raucous laughter and chatter of bourgeoisie greeted them upon entering the warm tavern. Large groups had taken up the majority of the tables, but they were able to claim their usual one in the corner.

After taking off his coat, Lumière offered to grab their drinks. As he approached the counter, a raven-haired barmaid's eyes lit up.

"Well, look who it is!" she called with a teasing smile. "Taking another break from serving royalty?"

"For a time, oui," Lumière went along, smirking. "All the more reason I came to see you."

Marion laughed. "It's good to see the château hasn't changed you either. Is Monsieur de Créquy with you?"

"Mademoiselle, I am surprised you have to ask!" he lightly chastised.

She lifted her chin proudly. "That is 'madame' to you now."

Gazing at her askance, he gave her a wry grin. "Non, it cannot be! There is a man in this world deserving of your heart?"

Marion brought her left hand from the stein she was drying to show him the simple silver band now looped around her fourth finger.

He took her hand to appraise it. "As though it was meant to be there. My sincerest congratulations, madame."

"Merci, Lumière," she glowed, then waved away her felicity. "But you came up here for drinks! What did you want?"

"Two ales, and make them strong."

Marion grabbed two fresh mugs and filled them at the barrels before handing them over the counter. "There you are, chéri. Enjoy!"

"Santé, madame," he toasted, sliding a livre to her as payment.

With drinks in hand, he returned to the table to be greeted by a smirking Nicolas pretending to act impatient. "Now I remember why the last few times you've visited, I went to get the drinks myself. How's Marion?" he asked as he accepted his ale.

"Recently shackled in the binds of marriage," Lumière replied after a sip from his stein, but then shrugged. "She seems happy."

"That's wonderful news," Nicolas acknowledged sincerely, drinking some of his ale as well. "I hope Babette and I can be as lucky."

Lumière's hand clenched briefly around his mug to stifle his frustration. He did not nearly have enough alcohol in him to talk about her.

As Lumière was taking more of his drink, Nicolas came out of a brief reverie to inquire, "So tell me, mon ami, how did our plan fare?"

The maître d' eyed the bubbly, brown liquid in his glass, which now looked half-full, before he mustered, "That certainly depends. I learned more than I knew before." That her opinion of herself knows no bounds. "But…" His lips tightened in censure. "I did not like what I heard."

Nicolas set his ale down, furrowing his brow. "What do you mean? What did she say?"

"It was not necessarily what she said, but how it was said." He shook his head. "Nicolas, I am sorry to admit this, but I do not trust her."

Nicolas slowly revolved his stein on the tabletop as he sighed. "You think she is playing me for a fool, don't you?"

"I cannot discount that as a possibility," he said with subtle confidence, "and I do not think you should either."

The viscount paused as he deliberated, before he turned his eyes to Lumière again. "Is it a… feeling you have in your gut? One you cannot deny?"

Lumière paused with some uncertainty. "I suppose so."

"I have one too, but… I believe her to be sincere." Nicolas raised a hand to hush his friend as he barreled on, "Now she may not have told me every detail about her life, but she has been honest and open with me, and with all candor, that is what matters to me most. If you knew—" But he cut himself off, unsure of his words.

An unexpected need to hear him finish caused him to instantly question, "'If I knew' what?"

Resigning, Nicolas sighed through his nose. "She told me... and do not repeat this aloud," he warned.

Normally Lumière would give a snarky reply, but he was too focused on Nicolas completing his sentence.

"She told me that…" Nicolas grimaced in empathy for the absent viscountess. "Before she met me… her heart had been broken by another."

A sense of awe fell over the maître d' as he processed this. He remembered too well that Babette had confessed to him the same sentiments for a man she had loved before. She had guarded those feelings from those around her as though she had not wanted to admit it to herself.

Choosing his words carefully, Lumière asked, "Long before she confessed this to you… what had you noticed about her behavior?"

Nicolas knit his brow in thought. "Very discreet and careful at first, but we came to an understanding early on. After that, she became more relaxed, though I suppose we were both still a little wary. This all seemed like such sensitive territory; neither of us wanted to say the wrong thing."

He tilted his head as it occurred to him, "Her confession, however… did come quite suddenly. Now that I think about it, she dropped by unexpectedly that day."

"When was this?"

Nicolas swiftly estimated, "Toward the end of March."

If Babette had known that Nicolas was Lumière's old friend since February, by then the burden of guilt from hearing Nicolas speak of him must have been too much for her. She had actually admitted to being brokenhearted months after she had returned home, after they had been forced to part.

All this time, he hadn't expected her love for him to have been rooted so deeply. With the shock of her being Nicolas' betrothed, he hadn't even taken that into consideration. Based on her words and actions thus far, he had assumed after she had left Château du Lac, she—unlike him—had moved on from those feelings without much trouble. Had he misread her completely?

"Did she say…?" Lumière's thoughts were racing too much to follow through with his question.

But Nicolas understood he was asking, With whom? "Non. She didn't give too much away when she told me, but she had been trying to hide the fact since our introductions." He looked off as he remembered it. "I have never seen her more vulnerable than in that moment."

He could not doubt it. She had been referring… to him.

Lumière's awe was swiftly replaced by shame, and here he had been trying to carry out a plan to ruin Babette's prospects. He shut his eyes. What am I doing?

She had loved him, had suffered the same pain from their separation for all these weeks. And like him, she was very good at hiding it.

To allow alcohol to carry out its true purpose, he leaned back and drowned his self-disgust in the rest of his ale.

Idiot! Dieu, she was right, he admitted as he set his empty mug on the table. My pride will be the death of me.

Nicolas watched him curiously. "What are you thinking?" he prompted.

Lumière rolled his eyes at himself. "How much of a crétin I must seem to you right now. And to her as well!"

"What?" He looked at him askance before he nudged him with the back of his hand. "Really, how were you to know? Even though you are good at reading others, like I said, she would be the last one to show her soft side. I do not blame you in the slightest, mon ami."

"It is not your forgiveness I am worried about," Lumière confessed.

"I can't imagine she wouldn't show you the same courtesy," Nicolas promised. "There was little harm in your peculiar behavior the other day. I am sure she has already forgotten it by now."

Oh, how little you know, Lumière thought, before saying, "Even so… I feel some apology is in order. What kind of man would I be if I did not admit to my mistakes?"

Smiling, Nicolas nodded in approval. "Indeed!" He hesitated before quietly adding, "I remember ton père saying the same."

Lumière smiled back, though it was tinged slightly by sadness. "That is one lesson I refuse to let myself forget."

"Even if it's the only one you ever learn."

As Lumière joined his friend in laughing, suddenly, another stein filled with ale slid to a halt in front of him.

Glancing up, he saw Marion wink at him while she placed another full glass by Nicolas. "I hope you boys weren't getting thirsty."

Definitely more relaxed from his drink, Nicolas waved the thought away. "Oh, never! You're a marvelous hostess, 'madame,'" he put special emphasis on the word, eyeing her with a grin. "Félicitations."

Marion beamed as she did a small curtsey. "Merci, monsieur. I should say the same to you on your upcoming nuptials, oui?"

Blush rose to his cheeks and ears. "Well, I—" He cleared his throat. "You… heard about that?"

The barmaid raised an eyebrow at him. "No string of gossip gets past me. Is it not true?"

"Um… Not, uh, exactly, but…" Nicolas cleared his throat again. "Partially… true?"

It looked like Marion was trying not to laugh. "You seem unsure."

Nicolas glanced at Lumière for some help, but the amused maître d' was clearly playing the observer for a reason.

For a moment, the viscount pouted. "It's—it's not that I'm unsure. It is because…" He shrugged a bit helplessly. "It's new."

She released her laugh. "Of course. Well, you know where I will be if you need anything."

Marion exchanged a look with Lumière and giggled before heading over to the next customer.

"That was mortifying," Nicolas mumbled before taking a swig of his refill. He glared across the table. "Did you enjoy yourself?"

As though it were obvious, Lumière exclaimed, "Of course! I cannot remember the last time I saw you so flustered! And over a simple fact?"

"I don't know what came over me!" Nicolas replied, at a loss. "It was just… when she said 'upcoming nuptials,' those words… scared me."

He straightened, deepening his voice as he tried to salvage himself. "Which is ridiculous, because I am content with the idea, you know, when I talk about it."

"You would not be a man if the idea of marriage did not scare you at least a little," Lumière assured.

Slightly deflating, he confirmed, "It's… daunting."

"I can only imagine," Lumière stated as fact, smirking when Nicolas rolled his eyes.

Nicolas took another gulp of his drink, but slapped it back on the table as he remembered, pointing, "Lumière! You have something to tell me!"

Humored, Lumière eyed him. "I do?"

Getting excited, Nicolas insisted, "Oui, about a girl! I cannot believe we have not discussed her by now. You said there was one at the château."

"Angélique?" he purposely stalled, sincerely hoping he would catch the bait. The last thing he wanted to do after learning about her heartbreak was to reminisce about his time with Babette.

But Nicolas didn't fall for it. "Non, a different one. The one that you seemed to have been in love with."

Merde, Lumière groaned in his mind.

Before saying anything more, he took his time sipping his ale. With a grimace, he said sternly, "I do not want to talk about her."

"Come on, mon ami, how long do you expect me to wait to hear about this woman? She must be special if you have so much interest in her."

"'Had,'" Lumière corrected. "She no longer works with us."

Nicolas became concerned. "Why, what happened?"

With shrug, he made up, "She found employment elsewhere."

His friend looked sincerely disappointed. "I am sorry, frère." After another draught, he gently prodded, "Is that why you do not want to talk about her?"

Lumière gave a noncommittal shrug. He didn't want to think of Babette in the same way as before; it would be counterproductive. But Nicolas's curiosity was only going to grow from then on, so perhaps now was better than later. Then after tonight, he could never allow himself to think of Babette romantically again.

After a pregnant pause, Lumière said softly, "When she left, whatever was between us ended."

Nicolas' gaze was sympathetic. "Can you tell me what she was like?"

A wry grin appeared as he replied, "She was the most stubborn, irritating, and irrational girl I had ever met."

"Ah, so she was a girl!" Nicolas joked.

Lumière didn't react, but stated, "She was a girl in the same way that I am still a boy."

Nicolas seemed intrigued at his wording. "So you had much in common."

He raised his eyebrows as he said, "Perhaps too much, but… she still struck me as unique. Around her, I was never bored."

"Really?" Lumière nodded before Nicolas said, smiling, "It sounds like you met your match."

"On more accounts than one. We fought more often than you would think."

"Well, if she had as much in common with you as you suggest, I can certainly see why."

Nicolas laughed at Lumière's deadpan glare. "You have not mentioned how she looked," he reminded.

"Perfect," Lumière said deliberately.

The viscount's eyebrows shot up. "Perfect?"

His heart began to ache as he explained, "No other word can do her justice."

Nicolas looked more stunned than was to Lumière's liking. "Wow," the viscount uttered. "I never thought I would hear you talk about a girl this way. You're so… serious."

"Tais-toi," Lumière retorted a bit defensively.

"I am not—you misunderstand," Nicolas hurried to put to rest. "I think it's wonderful!"

But Lumière still had a scowl on his face. "Think about it," Nicolas went on. "What girl has ever left this much of an impression on you? Unless there was another one you never told me about."

Lumière snorted at that insinuation. "Even if I did, now I know to never mention her to you."

"Lumière," Nicolas said, refusing to be driven off-topic. "You're smitten!"

His bitterness over his feelings settled in him again. "Don't remind me," he muttered.

Nicolas leaned back in his seat as he thought about it. "I wish I could have met her! She must have been a very special woman."

The irony of their conversation hit Lumière most potently then, and rendered him mute. He couldn't look Nicolas in the eye as he responded only with an affirmative nod.

His friend seemed to take the hint and let the subject die. He idly drank his ale as Lumière eyed the blazing hearth nearby, his own drink's aftertaste turning stale on his tongue.

Even on a night that was supposed to be relaxing and easy-going, where he should be able to talk without restrictions, he still had to deceive. Would he be able to speak freely with Nicolas ever again? Now that he cannot allow himself to expose Babette and keep her from forever altering his dynamic with Nicolas, would that mean… that he would have to remove himself from the picture? What other way was there that didn't include either revealing the truth of their affair to Nicolas, or covering up their tracks and accruing more wretched guilt before Nicolas did find out?

What other solution was there?

Before he could develop any significant answers, the slap of thick glass on wood caused Lumière to jump back to the present.

"Lumière," Nicolas boldly proposed, "let's go to Paris!"

The idea of escaping instantly appealed, but because of the two empty mugs that sat in front of the viscount, Lumière had to ask, "For what?"

"A long weekend retreat!" he elaborated with a flourish. "We need distractions and entertainment and some culture, oui? To get our minds off of the past!"

His mouth slowly turning into a smirk, Lumière mused, "Paris is definitely good for distractions."

"So you approve?"

"Wholeheartedly, mon ami!" he replied, slapping the table to emphasize it. "When do we leave?"

Nicolas shrugged. "Friday morning? Let us give it a day to see if this was a bad idea."

"On the contrary, Nicolas," Lumière said with a wry smirk, "I believe all of your good ideas must come from a couple drinks if this one is any indication."

In a devil-may-care spirit, Nicolas exclaimed, "A toast to good and bad ideas!"

Lumière poured a bit of ale from his stein into Nicolas'. "À la tienne, mon frère!" he said before they clanked their glasses together and downed the rest of their contents, his dismal thoughts drowning with them.

Like all of the recent carriage rides to and from La Bazolle, they were lonely and too quiet.

At first, Babette had enjoyed the brief solitude these rides brought. But since Lumière had arrived, with no one to distract her, she was finding it more difficult each time to remain indifferent to her inner conflict. She didn't want this battle of mind over heart to revive itself. She had spent so long fighting to resolve it from the beginning.

But she couldn't get the way he had looked at her out of her head. His loathing had been the most obvious to notice, but had she detected repulsion? His trust in her was clearly shot, and he had admitted that he thought she was selfish. Somehow, he also now found offense in her "scandalous" past, so what reason could she salvage that proved he didn't find her repulsive? That he actually thought her worthy of Nicolas' hand?

Babette hadn't considered he would react to seeing her with Nicolas this way, but she also hadn't thought his opinion of her would have dropped so drastically since they had parted. Did he not hold for her even a speck of affection anymore?

She took deep breaths to stifle a threatening wave of tears. Toughen up, she chastised herself. It is his own fault if he refuses to accept me as Nicolas' bride.

She did love Nicolas, in a very different way than how she had loved Lumière, and she knew her feelings to be true. She could marry him when she was ready, when they were both ready. Things had been going so well too, until Lumière had come along.

If he had the gumption to dangle revealing the truth of her employment at Château du Lac to the de Créquy while she was present, she could only imagine the kind of things he must be saying to Nicolas about her when she wasn't around. He had become a threat to her and her family's happiness, prosperity, and reputation. Her very future hung in the balance with him as the counterweight.

It had occurred to her to talk to him alone, to explain her situation. But if he no longer cared for what became of her, as was made obvious this afternoon, then it was a lost cause. There was probably nothing she could say that would persuade him to deem her engagement to Nicolas as favorable.

Of course! she came to conclude. If he will not listen to me, then he will certainly listen to Nicolas.

With how he had admitted his trust in her, and seeing as how loyalty was a virtue in Nicolas' character, she had no doubt her fiancé would defend her noble intentions without question. However, she wondered if she might have to ask Nicolas to make sure he did his best in convincing Lumière of her sincerity. Despite how she would be content to have Lumière out of her life for good, that was not going to be the case if Nicolas was going to be her husband. They had to learn to get along somehow, no matter how much either of them were disinclined to. Nicolas appeared to be the only key to resolving matters between them.

With this solution in mind, Babette decided that once she asked her favor to Nicolas, her hands would be wiped clean of making amends with Lumière.

The coach came to a halt outside le Château de la Clayette. The sun sat behind the maison, so the shadows of the spiked turrets that framed the manor's front stretched all the way back down the paved drive and across the lawn to the gate that enclosed them.

After stepping out of the carriage, and with a signal of thanks to her driver, she headed inside the main entrance, her heeled slippers clacking on the cobblestone.

As much as she wished she could head straight to her room, she was obliged to let her parents know she was safe at home. She headed to the parlor behind the staircase, knocking twice politely before opening the door.

She poked her head inside. "I am stopping by to say 'bonne nuit.'"

René glanced up from his book as Clarisse spun around in her armchair. "Oh! Bonsoir, chérie, how was the garden?" she inquired, letting her needlepoint rest on her lap.

Babette managed to hide her pout. Only her mother would take that as an invitation to start a conversation. "Charming," she confirmed.

"I heard that they have a visitor staying with them," René prompted casually as he removed his spectacles, though Babette could detect some intent behind his words.

Her mother chimed in, "Yes, I heard that as well. Who is it?"

Of all possible questions? Babette cried in her head, but she replied in low tone, "He is a friend of Nicolas."

"Oui, but who?" Clarisse urged.

"You would not recognize him," she attempted to evade.

"Why not?" her mother questioned with some disapproval. "I imagine we know most of the same people as the de Créquy. What is his name?"

The mere thought of saying his name aloud to her parents almost caused her to gag. Instead, she dodged her inquiry again with, "He is Nicolas' former valet."

Her mother became astounded. "Really?"

Eyeing Babette knowingly, René lightly teased, "Sounds like a rather peculiar name."

She smirked reproachfully at her father, who chuckled, as Clarisse went on, not having registered René speaking. "I do not recall ever hearing of that occurring. Are they close?"

"Nicolas refers to him as though he were a brother," Babette replied concisely.

Clarisse put a hand over her heart, clearly touched. "That is most marvelous! Nicolas is such a wonderful young man. I like him more each time I hear him mentioned."

René was visibly impressed. "It certainly shows a lack of ego," he noted as he replaced his spectacles.

"Absolutely!" his wife beamed. "Now I am eager to meet this valet of his. He must be just as mature and kind-hearted, I am sure."

Babette felt her cheeks grow rosy, and hastily imparted, "Well, my bed is seeming more inviting the more I think of it."

Though she seemed to be curious of her abruptness and tone, Clarisse still replied, "All right, chère, bonne nuit."

"Sleep well, petite," her father added over the brim of his book.

At promptly closing the parlor door, Babette heaved a sigh, the exhaustion of the day's deception hitting her most acutely. Her stomach churned at the thought. Craving seclusion, she climbed the staircase to her quarters with all due swiftness.

Babette hoped—she prayed—that her parents would never have to encounter Lumière while he was in town, but that was laughably unlikely. Three weeks without her parents visiting La Bazolle? Based on past averages, at least two trips would be made there before Lumière returned to Château du Lac, so how could she possibly prevent reintroductions?

Still, they had only met him briefly on Christmas Eve. Her mother might not remember his face very well, but Babette, with heart cringing, was almost entirely certain that her father would.

He had always been so attentive to whom Babette had associated herself with, especially to those who were men. Once René realized Nicolas' friend and Lumière were one in the same, how soon would it take for his inevitable inquiries to come? How well could she really hide her frustration and anxiety where Lumière was concerned from her own father, the one who could read her like no other?

Her shoulders were tensing along with her gut. She quickly but efficiently went to strip the multiple layers of silk, tulle, and boning keeping her upright.

How many lies was she maintaining? Nicolas, Augustine, and Étienne knew nothing about her employment as a maid, her parents nor the de Créquy were aware of her relationship with Lumière, and she was hiding from everyone that she was not actually content with herself and her own life. If she had thought times had been difficult to deal with before she had left home, Babette concluded she must have unwittingly wandered into some personal ring of hell.

"With the amount of secrets you keep, it is as if he hardly knows you at all." Could anyone? She had to pretend so often, sometimes, she hardly recognized herself. Her. Who had always fought to defend who she was to anyone who questioned it. Now she was shrouded in the expectations of her parents, and the lies necessary to protect her prospects and the feelings of her family, present and future. She wished desperately that she could tear them off as easily as her own clothes.

"And apparently, he has become so enamored with you that you have convinced him to forget all of the scandals you left behind."

"'Scandals!'" she huffed, her blood boiling. How dare he, the hypocrite! Nicolas was present for most of his own affairs, so why would any of mine offend?

Babette had told Lumière about them because she thought he understood, that his opinion of her would not change after hearing of how she had played with boys' libidos to satisfy her own. It had been such a release to admit that part of herself to someone, and here he was months later, throwing it back in her face. To think that she had anticipated his visit, had been eager to see him again. It was as if he wanted to make her rue it.

If he knew how much of a miracle it had been for her to look forward to him stopping by, would that make any difference? Would that soothe his choler? Did he even deserve to know?

Wrapped in her bed's sheets, she tried to curb her memory so she could rest peacefully, but her subconscious had other plans.