Chapter Fourteen: On the Town

Ding… Ding… Ding…

Babette angled her ear towards the bedroom door. She counted seven "dings" from the clock in the hall, not that she necessarily needed to know. She had been awake for almost a half hour, patiently waiting in an armchair by the window for the sun to rise over the city.

Leaning her forehead gently against the cool glass, she saw that citizens were finally starting to create traffic on the street below. It still boggled her mind that she was waking up so consistently at dawn alongside the servants and apprentices, even when her mind and heart were so weary from the day before that she confused them for real, physical aches.

To be fair, it had been a very long time prior to her employment as a maid since she had seen a sunrise. They were soothing to watch, even with clouds obscuring some of the view. Not to mention, the world before it peeked above the horizon was so peaceful and quiet. It had even been more so at the château, surrounded by forest and isolated from civilization.

Her sigh briefly fogged up a square of the window before it dissipated. Again came that tiresome sense of longing, and why? For what reason, when the idea of ever going back was not only pointless, but foolish. A daydream—a fantasy was all it was.

Before Babette had been sent to Château du Lac, Bernadette had always woken her up. She used to remain in blissful slumber until her maid would knock on her door. Now there was this waiting—a waiting for the day to begin while her mind ran rampant with what could have been. Most of the time, she would be numb and detached from her thoughts of that period, but not every time. As the thought dwelled, she realized that recently… she was not so numb to them anymore.

Knock, knock, knock.

"Dieu merci!" Babette breathed, deflating into her chair with relief before jumping out of it to let Bernadette in.

An hour or so later, Babette calmly made her way down the stairs to the kitchen, making sure that Bernadette accompanied her. She would not make that mistake again. Her cheeks flushed at the memory of it.

As they reached the dining room, to her surprise, she saw place settings already arranged in her and Bernadette's spots at the table.

Before either of them could make a motion to sit down, Lumière strode out of the kitchen with a pot of coffee in one hand and trays of fresh bread and butter and colorful, sliced fruit balancing expertly on the other arm. Babette tried to stem the sudden flare of tension that coursed through her before it could be noticed.

With the grace of a professional, he began setting the trays on the table and pouring the hot drink into their cups as he greeted with his signature enthusiasm, "Bonjour, mesdemoiselles!"

"Bonjour." "Bonjour, monsieur!" came the ladies' adverse replies.

"How kind of you to have this prepared so early," Bernadette acknowledged with a bright smile.

"Oui," Babette mustered. "It really was not necessary."

"Nonsense," Lumière humbly insisted. "As guests of Nicolas, I consider you guests of mine, and as my guests, no effort will be spared on your behalf." Seeing they made no movement to do so, he instructed, "Please, be seated!"

As Babette hesitated, Bernadette walked over to the chair Lumière held for her, pushing it in like a gentleman as she sat. Bernadette looked as delighted at the attention as before.

Babette began to make way to her seat, but realized that Lumière wasn't heading back to the kitchen. He was offering her chair for her as well.

They made eye contact. Babette initially wanted to look away as she had been doing this entire visit thus far. It had only caused her pain and fury to find his former admiration had turned to cold distrust and sardonic humor. But this was not what she saw, in fact. Instead, there was patient expectancy, along with possibly… understanding?

A corner of his mouth lifted, having to be amused even slightly by her tentativeness. She snapped out of it, feeling silly from her own transparency, and took her seat. She could feel his presence keenly behind her, and his closeness only caused her discomfort to grow.

Bernadette then inquired Lumière, "I hope your early rising means you slept well?"

"Naturally, mademoiselle."

Babette discreetly released her held breath as Lumière, wearing a clever grin, meandered around the table to stand across from them. "The recollection of a particular melody did just the trick."

The maid tittered, and it took Babette a moment to recognize that they were indeed sharing a joke. She decided to spoon fruit onto her plate to hide any sign of what she felt, though it was a confusing concoction that she could not and did not want to discern.

She became invested in her petit déjeuner, though Bernadette tried to prompt some light conversation. Babette knew she would not be comfortable until they were in private again. She ate quickly and headed back upstairs before Bernadette was finished, just for a moment to gather herself before another day's fray.

She was so determined in her course that upon turning a corner of the stair, she bumped right into Nicolas.

With an exclamatory gasp, Babette's first instinct was to grab the nearest support, which in this case would be Nicolas' able biceps. Thankfully, the viscount had the proper reflexes to grab the railing, but in his surprise, he ended up bringing her tightly into an embrace with his other arm.

They looked to each other with alarm, and Nicolas blinked at finding Babette so near him. He loosened his hold, but kept a protective hand at her back to be safe. "Are you all right?"

Her face burned, but her voice remained composed. She likewise took her hands from his person to have one on the railing. "Quite all right, merci." An eyebrow flicked upward. "And you?"

Letting his hand fall to his side, he smiled down at her. "Unharmed, though that was certainly a collision!" Sending a single glance upstairs, he added, "I suppose it's fortunate we are engaged, or this would have been a rather compromising position."

She tried to return his smile. "A position with you is never compromising, ma chère." Gesturing to the gallery above, she said,"My apologies, but I am returning to my chambers."

As she took a step around him, his brow furrowed with concern. "Are you sure you're all right? You do look flustered."

"Certainement," Babette replied with logical ease. "A near disaster on a staircase will cause such an effect."

Nicolas grinned meekly at his small folly. "Yes, of course. And you had something to eat?"

"Yes, Nicolas," she gently assured. "I only wanted some privacy."

"As is your God-given right," he agreed with light-hearted emphasis. "By all means, be on your way."

They both resumed their respective directions, but Nicolas spun back around on the second landing. "Oh, before you go, allow me to ask, how does a promenade of the shops today sound?"

She smiled sincerely this time. "Merveilleux."

"Excellent!" he said, beaming back at her and waving her forth. "Carry on, my lady."

Babette did so, and breathed with some relief. Perusing shops sounded like a quiet, relaxed, and particularly uneventful way to spend an afternoon; just what she desired.

Babette was in the midst of lining her lips with rouge when Bernadette returned. Curiosity enticed her to ask what kind of conversation had kept her maid in the dining room, but Babette knew she was being unreasonable in jumping to such conclusions. Bernadette would not change her alliances so easily, even if the other side was rather persuasive.

Her maid came to lightly sit on the vanity bench beside her as she watched Babette in the mirror. "Do you ever find it tedious?"

Her mistress eyed her, intrigued. "Find what tedious?"

Bernadette shyly shrugged. "Having to maintain an appearance every day."

Babette tried to stifle a snort. "Have I not been obvious in my feelings?"

"You have, but… do you still find it at all enjoyable?"

"Some days, when it is not merely an obligation." She nudged her cosmetics over to Bernadette as she stood from the bench. "I did not manage to inquire last night: How did you get along with M. Lumière?"

"Oh! Um…" Bernadette busied herself with the adding finishing touches to her face while she gathered a response. "Truthfully, he was more accommodating than I expected. I felt… perfectly at ease."

"I am glad to hear it," Babette replied as congenially as possible while she fussed with her dress in the standing mirror across the room. "He seemed delighted by your attentions."

"Like I said, he is very obliging. A man of good humor, too." Bernadette paused as she assessed her work, but her countenance became thoughtful. "There… was a moment—"

Babette found her maid's eyes in an instant. "When? What happened?"

"Nothing!" Bernadette squeaked at her lady's both calm and piercing ferocity. "It was… only a glimpse of… a sadness. But I may have been mistaken."

In an excuse to evade Babette's attention, she began topping off her complexion with powder.

The viscountess tried to make her sigh less audible. "Bernadette, I sincerely admire you for your capacity to sympathize. I wish I was more willing to. But… remember what I told you. He may not deserve your compassion."

Even though it was only in her peripherals, Babette saw the maid's shoulders slump. "I remember," she quietly replied.

When Bernadette didn't say more, Babette glanced over as she crossed the vanity for her own slippers. "Was I ever a topic of discussion between you?"

Bernadette looked alarmed at the idea. "Not at all! How unbecoming that would have been, with you in earshot the entire evening! No, even if there had been a brief moment where you could have been mentioned, it was never attempted." With great dignity, she stood from the bench as she went on, "Not to mention I might have lost any respect I had gained for him."

Babette smiled at her passionate honesty. "Me thinks the lady doth protest too much?"

Seeing Bernadette's horrified expression uncapped Babette's giggles. "I am teasing! I believe you, wholeheartedly."

Though she heaved a sigh of relief, Bernadette became a little miffed. Another laugh escaped her mistress before she entreated, "Forgive me, chérie. You have such marvelous reactions to things spoken out of turn, I find it difficult to contain myself."

"So I have heard many times," Bernadette said before shrugging. "I suppose it is better that I unconsciously entertain rather than irritate." Turning from the mirror, she abruptly stopped in her tracks as her brow furrowed. "Unless I do irritate, in which case—"

"Do not worry yourself," Babette soothed with a smirk. "I am more capable of irritating than you are."

Bernadette pouted her lips like she wanted to counter Babette's statement, but wisely moved the subject forward instead. "Do you still believe he is disapproving of you to M. de Créquy?"

Babette could plainly hear her maid's doubt, despite her efforts to stem it. "I recognize that I have no tangible proof to show of his capabilities for deception, but…"

In her reluctance to disclose more, and thus relive different times, Babette drifted off, but Bernadette turned to her with concern. "Deception?" she repeated with quiet awe.

Perhaps that word is too strong, Babette mused, but on second thought, she did not want to diminish its effect, especially if it kept Bernadette on her guard around him. She lifted her chin, gathering her fortitude before she claimed, "I could tell you stories of my time with him at Château du Lac, but… now is not the time."

Bernadette silently watched her, her face awash with empathy, before nodding. "Of course." She then grabbed Babette's hand. "May we not think any more of it and enjoy today?"

Mlle de Chantemerle mirrored her sweet, encouraging smile and gave her maid's hand a pulse. "Mais oui, mon amie. As much as we can."

With reticules in hand, Babette linked their arms, and they marched comradely out into the gallery.

The day was turning out nicer than the one before, and as a result brought out many pedestrians, rich and poor alike, to meander the streets for business and for pleasure. Open carriages were taken out of storage so their tenants could greet the cloudless skies. This made the trip to Île de la Cité even more arduous due to the congested traffic, but the foursome didn't mind, and if any of them did, they refused to show it.

Babette sat rather quietly as her attentions kept being drawn to the streets to people-watch. Though Nicolas occasionally glanced at his fiancée, he mainly listened in to Lumière's teasing of Bernadette.

"Did you tell him to ask me about them?" the maid demanded in an attempt to be outraged, but her laughs diminished any kind of intimidation she intended.

Across from her, Lumière was sitting with a content amount of self-assurance. "I may have mentioned it in passing," he replied in feigned naïveté, though he could not hide his delighted smirk entirely.

"What is your opinion of keyboardists?" Nicolas had to inquire, eyeing Bernadette's blush with interest.

Bernadette threw a glare in Lumière's direction, whose eyebrows raised questioningly back at her, but she could not maintain her seriousness for very long. As her smile was revealed, so was his.

He nodded for her to proceed. "Will you tell him, or shall I?"

The maid dressed in a viscountess's gown sat straighter in her seat and ran her gaze critically over his person, looking quite the part of a smug aristocratic woman. "It is of no import," she answered elegantly, turning the other cheek as though to end the discussion. Lumière chuckled at her impersonation.

"Mademoiselle's praise of the harpsichordist from last night was… enthusiastic," he told Nicolas, implication ringing in his tone.

Nicolas' smile broadened. "Really! I agree, M. Duphly certainly has a talent; I enjoy his playing very much as well. My favorite performance of his was a Rameau suite last year. Delightful melodies!" To Lumière, he said, "Actually, I believe you would enjoy his music. Perhaps we could buy a copy for you to play upon our return home."

Lumière didn't need to see the quick wink Nicolas punctuated his casual suggestion with to comprehend what his friend was trying to do, especially when Bernadette exclaimed, "Play? Do you mean…?"

He gave a brief chastising look to Nicolas before showing his palms to Bernadette. "C'est vrai. But please, if you do happen to hear me play, prepare to be disappointed. I could never meet the standard set by M. Duphly."

"Nevertheless, it would be a wonderful privilege to hear you play!" she said, beaming at them both. "I would be thrilled! And then perhaps…" She glanced to her mistress beside her. "… mademoiselle may also favor us with a song or two."

Babette huffed a laugh, exchanging a curious look with her maid. "I am afraid your disappointment will be much keener if I am to be compared with last night's singers."

"It sounds like we may have the makings of a private recital!" Nicolas noted, his eyes twinkling when they landed on Babette.

"Then you will be joining us?" Lumière cunningly prompted.

Nicolas quirked a dubious eyebrow at his friend. "Naturally, as an audience member."

Lumière looked jarred at this declaration, his hand shooting to his bosom. "What? And withhold your bewitching voice from such musically intuitive mesdemoiselles? That is indeed a selfish act on your part!"

Nicolas shook his head at his dramatics. "Lumière, that was over ten years ago."

Lumière turned to the ladies with a playful smile. "He was highly admired as a garçon for his tuneful timbre at Mass." Nicolas hung his head at the memory, but this only encouraged Lumière to add, despite his desire to laugh, "He made every devout madame swoon when he sang solos."

"But I do not sing anymore," Nicolas said adamantly.

As though he had drawn an ace, Lumière countered, "Oh… yes, you do."

Nicolas watched him suspiciously, but then sighed. "What is it you think you know?" he asked in an exhausted tone. "Spit it out."

"As though you do not hum melodies in the bath, especially after a concert or opera your mother has dragged us to." Lumière shook his head chidingly. "Nicolas… have some regard for the ones who have lived with you, s'il vous plaît."

With a sense of victory, Nicolas pointed out, "You even said it yourself! 'Hum!' Not 'sing.'"

"Would you rather have me be blunt?" Lumière asked, like he had been doing him a kindness. "I certainly can, if you would like! After all, you know better than anyone how you take advantage of a bath's exceptional acoustics to hear the pleasantness of your own voice." He shrugged before granting, "I will not be modest in saying so for myself."

"I think you've said enough for the both of us."

Undeterred by the viscount's acute gaze, Lumière proclaimed, "Then you admit it!"

"If you will drop the subject."

The maître d' slumped against the back of his seat with a defeated sob. "So you will not be dazzling us with an extraordinary display of your gifts?"

"Not of the musical sort, if they can even be called 'gifts.'"

"Humble to a fault!" Lumière tearfully lauded, patting his friend on the knee. "You do set such a fine example for us all, mon ami."

Desperate to alter the discussion's course, Nicolas shifted his sights to the mademoiselle across from him. "See anything interesting, Babette?"

She looked to him as though she hadn't been pretending to listen. "We are along the Seine. It should not be too long now."

He leaned forward to see what she saw. "Why don't we walk from here? I'm aching for open air!" Nicolas knocked on the roof of the carriage, and its glacial pace came to a complete stop. He then opened the door and hopped onto the cobblestone, reaching for Babette's hand. "Hurry, before the drivers behind start cursing at us!"

Babette giggled as she followed him down the rung, livened by his enthusiasm. They both rushed through the stagnant coaches to the sidewalk lining the river ahead of their friends, dodging the truffles a pair of horses had left in their wake.

Upon their exit, Bernadette waved to Marc on his lonely perch as Lumière slapped the side of carriage in farewell. The footman tipped his tricorne hat to them with a half-hearted smile. Lumière certainly sympathized with him; Having to miss out on the escapades they were having, specifically exemplified in Nicolas and Babette's current display of vim and verve, must be heart-breaking indeed.

Along the quay, the lapping of the river and the cries of gulls overhead mingled with the clops of hooves on cobblestone and the coarse shouts of coachmen. All the while, boatmen called commands on their barges, washerwomen sat on the banks scrubbing their laundry, and aspirational bourgeoisie briskly strode toward Pont-Neuf in their best outfits to flaunt their extensively practiced gait and manners.

Only in Paris, Lumière observed contentedly.

With Bernadette once more on his arm, they followed the betrothed pair down Pont-Notre-Dame as shops and apartments soon obscured the view of the Seine. Three-storied buildings cast a shadow over the street and condensed the din of pedestrians' chatter, but they could still faintly make out between it the gulls' warbles and river's song.

Since Lumière and Bernadette had not the intention to shop nor much money to spare, they and Nicolas allowed Babette to choose whatever store caught her fancy. Thankfully, her decisions kept all their interests in mind. Even if they were merely window shopping, it was the allure of fine craftsmanship that called them through the shops' doors. From beautiful fabric and ribbons to expertly worked wood, metal, and jewelry, they all found something to admire in any shop Babette picked out.

While the boys took a curious glance through a gunsmith's shop, Babette and Bernadette wandered into a millinery across from it. Well-to-do ladies of the viscountess's caliber perused the walls of hats, gloves, and accessories and bustled in and around the counter with their chosen goods. Babette normally would not condone being caught in a shop so populated, but Bernadette was excited by what she saw, especially since it was of the highest fashion, and so led the way. Babette followed closely as Bernadette asked her questions about the merchandise. Though in a class that prided on being fashionable, Babette could not give information of the detail Bernadette was demanding. Babette knew what she liked, and that was precisely what she wore, whether it was particularly in fashion or not. Luckily, the maid was approached by a helpful shopkeeper, whom Bernadette happily turned to after the disappointing answers her mistress had tried to provide. Babette then made her way to the first quiet corner she saw.

For a few moments, Babette was admiring rolls of velvet and patterned muslin in peace until she heard an audible gasp behind her that made her jump. She spun to squint at the girl in annoyance, but found it was Bernadette gawking at a bergère on a display stand. The maid reached for it, but hesitated, looking unsure if she was allowed to.

Babette's irritation faded as she came to her friend's side. "What are you waiting for? Try it on!"

Bernadette blinked back at her. "Should I? But…" With a firm shake of her head, she said, "Non. There would be no point. I am sure I have not the money."

"Even so, I want to see if it would even have been worth it." Babette took the hat from its stand and placed it on Bernadette's curls.

"It even has a pattern underneath!" she cried, beaming up at the hat's underside as Babette tied the ribbons into a bow at the nape of her neck.

Babette appraised it on her maid as an artist would. It was a slightly downcurved straw hat with golden silk ribbons, pale lace overlay, and a matching ostrich feather curving around the crown, fastened to the hat by ruffles on the brim. Tilted at a slight angle, it was most becoming on her. The bergère was not only the perfect size for Bernadette's petite face and figure, but it looked as though it had been made for her saffron gown.

Bernadette began to look self-conscious. "It does not suit me, I'm sure."

"Au contraire!" Babette defied, her contemplative expression morphing into joy. "You must own it immediately!"

"I do not look silly?"

"Hush! If I cannot talk so, then you certainly will not be given the opportunity either." Babette smirked as she untied and took the hat. "Viens, let us make our purchase before the counter is overrun."

Bernadette gripped her arm. "Wait! Babette, I cannot buy it." She considered the floor, her cheeks beginning to glow. "I… cannot afford to."

Babette firmly took her hand. "No matter. I will pay for it."

Her maid glanced up at her in awe. "You will?"

"Bien sûr," her mistress said, and pressed the maid's hand. "Consider it a gift."

The elation Bernadette emitted was the only thanks Babette needed to be pleased, but Bernadette still whispered feverishly her gratitude until they had left the shop, her new bergère sitting prettily upon her head.