Chapter Eighteen: Dinner and a Show
The sound of a door opening jerked Babette out of her daydream. She spun around to see Nicolas in the doorway.
"Sorry," he said. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"No, I lost track of time," she assured. "I very much needed to be startled."
He smiled at her playful grin and came nearer. "Do you like watching the rain?"
She hummed in thought before replying, "When my mood allows."
A flash of concern passed over his eyes. In a quiet, gentle tone, he inquired, "Is everything all right?"
Babette met his gaze, pressing her lips tight. He was only getting better at discerning when her guilt-induced thoughts plagued her mind, yet he never showed or expressed any expectation that she need speak about them.
She wrapped her arms around him and laid her head on his shoulder, instantly feeling the stability and protection he exuded.
Nicolas tensed from the unexpected embrace, but he soon reciprocated it, and warmly. She sighed as contentment eased her anxiety-ridden shoulders. The sounds of rain seemed to fade if only for a moment, and a relaxed silence permeated the air around them.
How did she become engaged to so good a man?
Before her guilt could rear itself again, Babette pulled away and managed to smile for him. "Everything is fine," she murmured.
She touched his cheek and turned to head inside. It was subtle, but she could tell by the look in his eyes: He didn't completely believe her.
"After you, oh generous patron!"
At such a grand entreaty, Nicolas glanced away from trying to meet his fiancée's eyes to look at the maître d'. He had to smirk as he came out of the carriage to his friend's level. "Is that what I am to you now?"
"In public, very much so," Lumière bluntly replied, mimicking his manner.
Nicolas quirked an eyebrow at him. "You understand that when I said I would pay for everyone's dinner, you are exempted from that offer."
All humor dropped from Lumière's expression as shock took its place. "At what point did I become deserving of such malice, mon ami?"
Unphased by this reaction, Nicolas stated, "When you lost our bet the night before last, you agreed you were going to buy me dinner."
Lumière nodded while rolling his eyes a little at the viscount's smile. "Alors… All right, I shall pay my debt tonight." Gripping his friend's shoulder, he added, "But remember that you are allowing a servant that was once under your employ, pay for the dinner of a man whose pockets are lined with gold—and, I may add, has a vast inheritance awaiting him when he takes his father's mantel."
"Ah, yes," Nicolas remarked, patting the hand on his shoulder. "Thank you for reminding me."
Behind Babette, Bernadette bit her lip to withhold a giggle as she stepped onto the damp cobblestone.
Luckily, the rain had stopped, which had prompted a modest amount of traffic on the streets and sidewalks. One of them, a neatly dressed gentleman sauntering by, looked on them with a charming smile. He touched the tip of his tricorne hat. "Bonsoir, mesdames."
"Bonsoir," the ladies returned with demure inclinations of their heads.
The gentleman continued walking, but Nicolas' and Lumière's attentions didn't leave the monsieur's back. It was Babette's turn to hide her oncoming laughter. Such men!
A clearing of a throat was heard from above. "I'll be waiting in the stables, monsieur," Marc announced docilely.
The passing gentleman forgotten in that instant, Nicolas cried with sincerity, "Like hell, you will! Park the carriage, but you will be joining us inside, and that's an order."
Marc straightened in his perch, beaming. "Yes, sir!"
Shaking the reins, he trotted off to stable the horses. Then both men took their respective ladies' arms and the remaining quartet walked into the tavern.
Babette peeked at her betrothed through her long lashes. "Afraid I will be stolen away?" she whispered.
Nicolas eyed her coquettish smirk, but couldn't offer a reply before the hostess approached them. Babette had seen his attempt to hide a smile.
Upon request, the hostess led them to a private dining room with a tastefully set table and a stone fireplace at its back. The party was brought pitchers of ale and wine, along with a fine roast mutton, stewed vegetables, and cakes with jam. Nicolas sat at the head, with Babette on his left and Lumière at his right. Bernadette sat next to her mistress, and when Marc arrived, he had chosen to sit beside her, to Lumière's approval. Babette had noticed Marc's actions and faintly wondered on them, but the thought soon evaded her, having already been well into her second mug of ale, which she downed swiftly before grabbing the pitcher once again.
Nicolas nudged his friend in amazement. "Have you ever seen a woman take to drinking with such relish? Miraculous!"
He intended to be overheard, and Babette knew it. She eyed her fiancé as an enticing smile graced her mouth. "Such pitiful company you must keep beyond our little circle, chéri."
"I must," Nicolas agreed. The way she looked at him caused his cheeks to redden, yet he coyly grinned back.
"Interesting," Lumière spoke up. Though he had drunk about the same as Babette, his senses instantly grew keen at this display from the couple in front of him. "I do not recall a woman who drinks to be anything remarkable."
"As well it shouldn't be," Babette acknowledged. "But unlike most well-bred ladies, I can take pleasure in what drink does in relaxing my inhabitations." She then almost snorted from a half-stifled laugh. "Although, I know for a fact I am no rarity. Resentful mesdames and scorned mesdemoiselles surely do so with abundance in the privacy of their magnificent, pillared châteaux," she said.
"Well-spoken," Nicolas toasted. He and Babette clanged their mugs and took swigs of their contents. She giggled as she set down her tankard.
Lumière then prompted, "As you seem so acquainted with them, being one yourself, then please, pray, enlighten us about the riveting secrets of aristocratic ladies!"
He had consumed a little too much liquor to keep the sarcasm from his tone. Babette narrowed her icy blue eyes at him and huffed with indignance.
"You would like to know, wouldn't you?" she remarked flatly. Leaning into the back of her chair, she took her tankard and sipped from it, staring at him from over its rim.
"Oh, come now, no need for that!" Nicolas mildly chastised. Babette pursed her lips, clearly unaccustomed to being addressed by him thus. "I am curious as well. What is something we gentlemen would never guess about you and your fellow mesdemoiselles?"
Babette lifted an eyebrow. "And for my cooperation, what will I receive in return?"
"You propose a bargain," Lumière observed in mock-awe, "when the worth of what you carry is in question? Behold! A trait of ladies that is certainly no secret."
"Have you ever paused to consider the reason behind that particular trait, monsieur?" Babette snapped. "It is because women have so few opportunities at holding the cards that they will not squander their hand so easily nor so soon, for the slim chance that they may hold the superior one over a man's."
"What fate is woman's," Lumière mused with a shake of his head, "when they cannot even comprehend the power they truly hold over men? I promise you, mademoiselle, speaking as a man, you hold the cards far more often than you would like to admit."
Babette sneered before she sipped her ale, but Nicolas added ominously, "Lumière speaks the truth. Though we dare not confess it even to ourselves, it is des femmes who rule the world."
Mlle de Chantemerle mumbled something along the lines of "nonsense" as she poked at her dinner with her fork.
Lumière honed in on the pair next to her, who, though mere inches from Babette's elbow, appeared to be a world away; Both faced each other with nearly their whole bodies, engrossed in their own private conversation.
"Would you agree, Marc?" Lumière broke in, his forethought now absent. He was trying to prove a point to the ridiculous girl across from him!
Marc glanced up, wide-eyed with confusion, as did a blushing Bernadette, who remembered her place and straightened herself in her seat. Lumière purposely ignored this observation as he stared expectantly at the footman.
"I beg pardon… What are you discussing?" Marc asked, scratching the back of his head as his ears flushed.
Patiently, the maître d' repeated, "Who really rules this world: la femme ou l'homme?"
"La femme, of course," Marc answered without batting an eye. Bernadette glanced at him, wearing a small, appreciative smile.
Babette watched Marc for a moment, brow furrowed, and turned her eyes on the two men before her. "Based on what evidence?"
Lumière wanted to thrust his hands at her and cry, Exhibit A! But he somehow managed to resist the impulse.
Instead, Nicolas spoke. "Is it not obvious? For centuries, Western society has stripped power away from women by forcing you all to be dependent on men. Otherwise, you would get along quite well without us."
Babette laughed, relieving her features of her skepticism. "Is that what all men believe?"
"Those willing to admit to it," Nicolas said before resuming his drink.
She then laid her critical gaze on the reserved man across from her. "And is that what you believe, monsieur?"
Lumière shrugged. "It makes the most sense, does it not?"
"Oui," Babette replied. "Too much sense."
"We are afraid of your potential," Nicolas said matter-of-factly, though the smirk on his face gave away his attempt to tease. In a low, godly voice, he added, "'Thou hast tempted Adam, therefore thou shalt be governed and restrained by Adam.'"
The whole table had to laugh at the way he put a common man's philosophy.
"What a terrible reason!" Babette exclaimed.
"But we are harmless!" Bernadette cried.
"Oh, now, I would not say that," Babette murmured to her with a mischievous sparkle in her eye. "But feel at liberty to make them believe it true."
Bernadette giggled and motioned that her lips were sealed tight.
"Afraid of us, you say?" Babette pondered aloud before taking Nicolas' hand. "I know that you, chéri, would never believe we pose any real threat."
Nicolas grinned at the adorable way she pouted and batted her lashes. "Of course! I welcome a lady's perspective," he said, nodding also in Bernadette's direction, who sat a little straighter in her seat and looked delighted.
Again, Babette's stare instantly became captious as she met Lumière's. He arched an assured eyebrow, knowing exactly the kind of question that was coming.
"And what about you, monsieur?" Babette inquired in an innocent tone, though her eyes said the opposite. She rested her elegant chin on a thoughtful hand. "Do you find anything to fear from women?"
"You all have great influence on even the most resilient of hearts and minds," Lumière admitted as a one-sided smirk grew on his lips, "but I am not afraid of you. Like M. de Créquy, I, too, welcome a woman's perspective. In fact, I have made it a lifelong hobby to become more and more familiar with a woman's thoughts and feelings."
"With all their hills and valleys?" Babette pointedly observed.
The abrupt remark truthfully caught Lumière by surprise. Though she may have been causing him to take offense, he chuckled instead. "Naturally, mademoiselle."
Amazingly, Babette was trying to hide a smirk. It suddenly occurred to Lumière, Had that been a tease?
"Same as you," he annexed casually before sipping from his mug.
A couple laughs escaped her, briefly knitting her brow at his remark. "Pardonnez-moi? I have no need to prod a woman's mind. My own opinion is quite enough."
"Precisely my point."
For a moment, Babette's lips were slightly parted as though about to speak, and yet she couldn't decide how to respond. The others around them waited with bated breath, quite enraptured with their sudden debate. Even Nicolas was looking on with great amusement.
A tinkling giggle escaped the viscountess, the kind that can only be emitted by alcohol's influence. Her eyes were stormy and alluring as she said, "You are bold in your replies, monsieur!"
"As you are in your questions."
"I must be if I am to obtain any honest answers."
Lumière leaned on the table, a playful smirk on his mouth, as he said, "Be wary, mademoiselle. The truth can be hard to face."
Babette mimicked him. "I have handled myself well so far."
"And if your own methods were used against you?"
"I can improvise."
"The truth?"
"Only what I want others to know."
He barked a laugh. "So you do have something to hide!"
Babette breathed sharply. "Of course not!" she said, but a tremor went through her words.
"Lumière," Nicolas scolded, as taken aback as his betrothed. "Really! Be civil."
Lumière hardly realized what he had truly said until an accusatory expression had grown more prominent on Babette's darling features. He had nearly forgotten they weren't alone. It had all been merely banter, like before. But it had happened so fast, his tongue hadn't been able to keep up with his common sense.
Damn it all, he chided to himself, and pushed his tankard away. One step forward, two steps back, thanks to his thoughtlessness.
"My… sincerest apologies," he stammered, almost too ashamed to look Babette in the eye. "That was…" Unwarranted? Impertinent? Idiotic?
With a quick glance at the clock on the mantel, Lumière stood, nervously smoothing his cravat. "We should leave for the theatre soon. Allow me to prepare the carriage."
As he hastily made his departure, Marc called, "I will join you."
The maître d' glanced back only briefly. "Merci, Marc."
Marc gave a quick bow of acknowledgement to his master before following Lumière out of the private dining room.
After checking to be sure they were well out of earshot of their party, Marc murmured, "Are you feeling all right?"
What Lumière could feel was that his dinner and drinks churned in his stomach and his heart was cringing most painfully. Regret. He definitely felt regret, coupled with every other reaction to causing harm to one's beloved.
Keeping his eyes forward, he took a deep breath in a futile attempt to calm both. "If it is all the same to you, I would rather not discuss what I'm feeling."
Marc pressed his lips together, nodded, and didn't pursue the subject.
They harnessed the horses in silence, which gave Lumière some time to mull over his next strategy. He knew now, without any question, that he could not be in Babette's poor opinion any longer. He had to become on companionable terms with her again, or he wouldn't last. Speaking to each other in this underhanded way as though they were strangers… it was driving him insane.
He had to talk with her alone and set everything straight. Tonight.
The gears in Lumière's brain began to turn.
Unbelievable!
Just when Babette thought they had been enjoying some refreshing banter, he had struck once more, hoping to make her expose herself in front of Nicolas. He had lured her into a false sense of security… again.
She could hardly fathom it. Since she had arrived in Paris, he had become so obliging, had been trying to express his remorse. He had apologized to her for his conduct—she had recognized it instantly while at the café the day prior—and he had spoken with such sincerity. No matter the reservations she had tried to keep against him, they had begun to crumble under his tender gaze from that moment on.
Her suspicions were only confirmed in his consistent and natural behavior towards her, almost as though it was merely a continuation of the easy rapport they had established while in Château du Lac. Surely, he must have resigned his own doubts about her union to Nicolas in favor of peace and a renewal of their friendship. As much as she had denied it for weeks, she missed his company terribly.
She had been testing him all the while, and each time he had bowed humbly to her, or, like at this past dinner, provided her answers that had rung with his usual candor. What a brilliant scheme. She had fallen for it head-over-heels.
He was no longer a friend to her, and he would never be again.
A dull, throbbing pain took residence in her heart. She couldn't continue to foster hope that Lumière would approve of her marriage to his dearest friend. Why, she couldn't even look at him from the other side of the carriage!
Babette took a deep breath to stem the wave of tremors that suddenly rose inside her. She adjusted the shawl around her shoulders.
"Are you cold, Babette?"
She turned to see a concerned Nicolas watching her. "Non, I only felt a brief chill—"
"Here." Nicolas had swiftly taken off his coat while she had been trying to protest and placed it around her shoulders.
Babette's cheeks grew rosy. Naturally, this would instantly remind her of the last time a monsieur performed this particular act of chivalry for her, and she certainly had no wish nor the patience to recollect it, or any similar to it. Men and their coats…
It was hard for her not to show Nicolas had actually done her a disservice, but she managed to say, "Merci," while granting him a meek smile before facing the window again.
It only took a few minutes to arrive at the theatre, l'Hôtel de Bourgogne. From the front, it looked to be over four stories tall, and very grand, indeed. At the entrance, well-to-do audience members filed through any of the three pairs of double doors that were flanked by proud stone statues of griffins with folded wings.
"Shall we?" prompted Nicolas before he reached across Babette to open the door. She took the cue and let him hand her down to the pavement. Before Lumière could do the same, Babette had offered Bernadette her hand to assist her down the carriage's rung.
Lumière shot a glance at his friend, who calmly gestured for him to proceed after them. Reading perfectly well Nicolas' impassive expression, the former valet pressed his lips together and did as he was bid with Nicolas following.
Babette linked arms with her maid, claiming her for herself, as Nicolas gave Marc instructions for their return home. Lumière was too thoroughly wrapped in his thoughts to properly bid the footman farewell before the carriage had pulled away.
With the women taking the lead, the four of them joined the crowd into the theatre's open doors. The chatter of attendees awaiting the start of the show filled the dim foyer. Some had grouped into the corners and by the fires with drinks in hand to catch up on the gossip of the town and offer their opinions of the play's prospective entertainment. The rest headed to the main floor of the theatre or up the stairs to their seats. While Babette and Bernadette were admiring the regal décor around them and the high painted ceilings above, Lumière tapped Nicolas' arm with the back of his hand.
"Wait a moment," he said at a volume he made sure would be out of the ladies' earshot.
Nicolas raised his brow critically in vague surprise. "Oh, really?"
"Yes," Lumière compelled, and guided the viscount out of the way of oncoming theatergoers. He glanced at their convoys before he said, "I did not intend to censure Mlle de Chantemerle."
"Did you?" Nicolas retorted, more of his frustration coming through his stoic exterior. "I am sorry, I find that hard to believe, especially when you have once tried to convince me she was a liar."
Lumière grimaced at the reminder. "Clearly, I was not of sound mind in either event," he pressed more urgently. "We were drinking! More irresponsible slips of the tongue have occurred." He steadied himself with a quick breath. "That is not to say I do not regret what I said. I did not mean for it to sound like an accusation."
"Well, that is precisely how she took it," Nicolas reminded. "I expect you to properly apologize, for all your misconduct. That includes the first day you were introduced."
His tone was stern, but Lumière could tell the viscount's anger with him had started to diminish. "As of now, that is my first priority."
Nicolas nodded, mostly satisfied. "Good."
"And I will do so as respectably as is possible…" Lumière smiled slyly. "In private."
Nicolas looked at him askance, having to grin himself. "Even for you, that is rather aspirational, non?"
Lumière's expression brimmed with a plan. "You will see, mon ami."
Just as Babette was eyeing them with some suspicion, he patted Nicolas on the shoulder before they joined the women. She hid her speculations when she met her fiancé's eyes, and she took his arm while Bernadette took Lumière's. Together, they climbed the impressively wide staircase to their boxes.
A/N: Like the Concert Spirituel chapter, I've prepared another performance for the next chapter, which involved a ton of research and prep, but I think it was worth it. Stay tuned!