Chapter Twenty-Eight: Like Father, Like Daughter

Despite her promise, Babette did not come down for dinner. Knowing better than to try and persuade her, Bernadette was at her door with a tray of food, but when she knocked there was no response.

"Mademoiselle? C'est moi, Bernadette. I have dinner for you."

Another stretch of silence occurred, but it ended when she heard her mistress call back, "Leave it in the hall."

The maid's unease grew, but she reluctantly complied, "Oui, mademoiselle." She set the tray carefully against the wall by her door, but couldn't walk away without saying, "Please try to eat when you are ready."

Bernadette waited for a response but received no more. Helpless, she departed down the hall.

This pattern occurred over not only the next few meals, but the next few days. Bernadette often found Babette's food untouched by the following serving, and so she never left without encouraging her to eat. Babette did, but hardly more than one meal.

When Bernadette returned to the comtesse with this news, Clarisse huffed, "Why has Nicolas not come to visit yet? He had just given her a ring!"

"I… believe I can answer that, madame." When Clarisse gestured at her to proceed, the maid curtsied and went on, "She left a note on the tray of one of the meals she had actually eaten. I gave it to Henri to forward; the address was to La Bazolle."

Clarisse frowned but looked resigned. "Well, at least she is communicating with someone. Although, this is utterly baffling. I have never seen nor heard of any girl moping like this after being proposed to."

Bernadette bit her lip, making sure to silence any reservations about the situation she had until Clarisse dismissed her from the room.

Deep contemplation overtook the comtesse for the rest of that afternoon. As it was a gorgeous spring day, she turned to her garden to help process her thoughts, thinking as well how much a pity it was that Babette was refusing to enjoy such weather.

Something about plucking the weeds, pinching off the dead appendages, and watering the flowers' roots eventually sparked the right question. Clarisse froze as the query took hold, and as quickly and neatly as she could, she dropped what she was doing, brushed herself off, and strode inside. In her hurry, she left a small trail of soil behind her, catching a maid off-guard—and more surprised than anything.

"René!"

Upon looking up from his desk, he saw his wife skid to a halt at his study's doorway. He blinked in bewilderment at the harried image. A few loose tendrils had fallen from her updo, and her forehead was shiny from crouching in the flowerbeds on a sunny afternoon. The wisps of hair flew around her face as she turned to shut the door. Seeing dirt left on her hands, he watched her hastily wipe them off on her apron.

"Oh, bon, you're back. René," she repeated, her tone proclamatory. "I just thought of something: Babette, she's… Do you think she's… grieving?"

One look at him and she knew they were on the exact same page. He slipped what he was writing into a drawer in his desk as he admitted, "It's… not unlikely."

"Oh Dieu," she breathed."I… I wish I could have anticipated this happening when we sent her to the château, but… how could we? It all still evades my understanding!"

"We knew she worked closely with him there. These things… happen, I suppose. It is not something we could have controlled."

A line appeared between her brows. "That majordomo of theirs… Cogsworth? He could have kept a closer eye on her. And I don't remember him ever mentioning that man in those letters he sent."

"Clarisse, do you realize how large their staff is?" he gently reminded. "I am willing to bet they have almost a hundred servants. To expect one man to closely watch a mere one of that number and run an entire household is asking for the impossible. Who knows what he might have noticed of what went on between them. I distinctly recall he said they were often at odds with each other. That hardly indicates a blossoming romance."

"I know, I know," she mumbled. "You're right. But this is… not at all how I imagined events proceeding. It has made me… quite anxious."

Circling his desk to approach her, René stroked her shoulders soothingly. "If only life could adapt to our will, hm?"

"If only," she pouted with a sigh. "And it was all going so well, too."

He brushed a loose lock behind her ear and kissed her temple. "I am going to try talking with her… see if I can encourage her to come out of seclusion."

"I think you are the only one who can." She looked up at him entreatingly. "Maybe bring her dinner, to make sure she eats?"

René smiled. "You read my mind, chère. But before I go, I have a suggestion I'd like to propose…"

Babette had dragged her vanity bench to be on her little balcony, and now her elbows rested on its balustrade as she admired the beginnings of dusk. It was one of the few things that gave her calm throughout her voluntary isolation, and she had such a lovely view from her room. A tranquility that couldn't be replicated filled her when she watched the sun touch the treetops. At le Château du Lac, she used to have just as wonderful of a prospect from her quarters.

In times like this, she used to try to escape. She would sneak out into the night and dazzle handsome young men with her wit and charm. When she would return from a horribly tedious dinner or soirée, she would be restless to get out to the streets and meet messieurs she could play the game of romance with. It was trial and error, but when she found a worthy adversary, it was the most divine time she could have.

But… by some miracle, that craving that would have been so strong for her during this time did not exist. Even though engaging in banter always brought her joy, the inclination to was now dormant, perhaps for good. She could grasp as to why and how that had happened, but... it didn't make her feel any better. Mademoiselle Babette de Chantemerle, the breaker of young men's hearts, was gone. In her place was Madame Babette de Créquy, a woman she neither esteemed nor recognized.

The knock cuing dinner time broke her out of her meditation. She didn't reply, knowing Bernadette was used to it by now. She was thankful her maid respected her enough not to intrude on her sanctity. She had locked the door in preparation for when she thought her mother would storm her chambers, but Babette was surprised neither of her parents had yet.

She didn't have to wonder why for long; as she heard the lock click and her door open without her permission, it became a moot question.

She sighed heavily yet refused to take her eyes off the horizon. "Bonsoir, Maman."

Footsteps stalled on the carpet. "Not quite, petite."

Eyes wide, Babette spun in her seat to catch his humored smile. She tried to muster one similar, but she couldn't compete. "Allô, Papa."

His eyes reflected sympathy as he took note of her still dressed in her housecoat. He set down the tray of food he was holding next to the water basin. "How has your act of penance been treating you?"

She shrugged. She wouldn't describe her actions as a 'penance;' it was the only thing she could do. Taking pleasure in anything beyond what she could find alone in her room felt like... a betrayal. Everything, in fact, felt like a betrayal, but of whom, she couldn't decide.

Eyes to the carpet beneath her father's feet, she replied, "I do not feel much of a difference from when I began."

"Hmm…" He wandered into the room, hands thoughtfully behind his back. "Removing yourself from the pleasure and distraction of others is what those seeking enlightenment do, oui? But there is a reason not many who pursue it last." He raised a questioning brow at her. "May I share my opinion?"

Meeting his eyes only briefly, she grinned dolefully. "You know I care too much about what you think to refuse."

She watched him struggle with phrasing for a moment. Her father would always be the one to come up with the right thing to say to cheer her, but she knew this was a much more difficult circumstance. As much as he might wish it could, no piece of advice or platitude would heal the wounds she bore.

He ended up saying as gently as he could, "I believe… you are sealing yourself in your own torment."

She exhaled an exasperated groan. "Perhaps, but… I do not see how anyone can help me. What can possibly be said to make me feel any better? What can be done? Not even becoming engaged to another man just as… incroyable in his own capacity could cure me." With a shake of her head, she tried to be adamant. "Non, I must… come to terms with it somehow."

"And… no progress has been made, I presume."

A disgruntled pout grew on her mouth. "Whatsoever."

He sat on the end of her bed and waved a beckoning hand. "Come. Sit by me."

With the lethargy of one defeated, she eventually made her way to his side. He held his arm open for her to fill it, and so she did, placing her head on his shoulder. She immediately felt safer, just like she had as a young girl who sought his comfort from the childish terrors that would frighten her, whether they be cacophonous thunderstorms or rude, hurtful little girls. Still, and to her disappointment, it wasn't enough to curb her dismal mentality.

René rubbed her shoulder in comfort before speaking again. "Have I ever told you… why I married your mother?"

Brows furrowed, Babette glanced up at him curiously. "Non…"

"Well, before you ask, it was indeed out of love," he teased, having read her mind, and she grinned a little. "But Babette… I do not think you really understand how alike you and I truly are—more than you realize."

She blinked at him, her expression filling with doubtful awe, but posed her question as teasing. "Even more so than… having dallied in romance as a pastime?"

"C'est vrai," he promised with a chuckle."I, too, wanted to avoid the responsibilities necessary of my position. I was intimidated by them. I felt… I wasn't capable of fulfilling them because I—like you—detested many of those I had to associate with to meet those demands."

She couldn't take her eyes off of him. "Papa," she began to obstinately declare. "You are the most poised monsieur in any crowd. Nothing sways you or… frustrates you! At least if anything did, I have never been there to witness it. How…?" Her eyes sought him out. "How do you remain so calm, in the face of such… hypocrisy and… bombastic drivel?"

René wore a keen smile. "Ta mère."

Babette faltered, feeling silly but at the same time… disheartened. "Oh."

"Ah-ah-ah, none of that; I have not made my point yet," he urged. He encouraged her downturned chin to lift. "You see for yourself how much your maman blossoms in any gathering, hm?"

Babette had to concede with a nod, and the almost smitten look on her father's face drew her in as he admired, "She is a natural. She is capable of making a mute speak, and that part of her astounded me. Yet, she and I shared the same ideas and opinions on so many things, including of les nobles we both found insufferable. She merely has the talent to set those ideas aside in order to—as you have often heard her say—'play the part,' and I know that is what you despise the most about our position," he replied at her grimace. "I am not an admirer of that motto myself, I assure you. But it's necessary, and for her… I have done it. She helps make what we must do bearable. I have even come to enjoy some aspects that I never before found pleasure in, all because of her."

He had her rapt attention, especially when he finally said, "Finding someone you love will make any life you must lead, any trial you must face, not only possible, but worthwhile. Otherwise…" He sighed, his brow heavy as he looked down into her eyes. "Life becomes something that you are never satisfied with. I have seen too many conveniently married couples to not state this as a truth, and, petite…"

His gaze softened, and he lovingly brushed a stray lock on her forehead back into place. "I do not want to see you suffer the same fate."

Babette's heart began to pound. The buddings of hope bloomed inside her, but she couldn't dare—wouldn't allow them to penetrate the armor she had worked so hard to forge. She sought his eyes, and in a breathless whisper, asked, "What are you saying?"

"Answer me honestly, and you must be certain," he said, his tone grave. He captured her chin and held it like one would a butterfly in his hand, and yet she still found she was unable to look away… to hide the truth. "The partner to share in the frustrations and tolls of our rank, the one you want and need to brighten your spirits each day… is Nicolas that person?"

She didn't move, but her mind spun like a carriage's wheel out of control. She had convinced herself Nicolas was that person. She had.

But denial only went so far, and the end of its usage had come and gone.

I tried, she reasoned. I had only ever tried.

Her throat closed up to where she couldn't speak, and a pressure she would always manage to dismiss and shove back down built in a single instant behind her eyes. The dam she had constructed cracked and burst, sending cascades of tears down her cheeks. Sobs racked her body and she couldn't stop or even slow them down. She hardly knew herself as warm arms enveloped her.

He stroked her hair, hushing her. "It's all right, ma fille."

"N—No, it's n—not," she protested, her voice muffled by his cravat.

She felt him chuckle only a little, but that perplexed her. She stared up at him accusingly as she furiously wiped her cheeks dry, the shock of his humor enough to pause the torrent.

"Now, now," he halted as she opened her mouth to berate him, but in his paternal fashion, encouraged, "I need you to stay with me, and tell me once and for all…"

He secured both of her hands just as much as his stare secured her eyes. "Is that person… Lumière?"

Her sobs calmed, but as she felt her heart beat so surely at his name, they threatened to renew themselves. She bit her lip and shut her eyes to stem the flow of more tears. Hanging her head, she answered him, but her voice was barely a whisper.

René craned his neck to meet her eye. "What did you say?"

Babette snapped her gaze back up at him so quickly, and her eyes were so startlingly focused, he straightened with a jolt. "Yes," she repeated almost defiantly.

A smile slowly came to reside on his lips. "Should I ask if you are sure?"

"I dare you." The corner of her mouth had lifted, but it faded just as quickly as it had come. Dread seeped into her heart at the surety of her words, ones she had yet to speak aloud to a soul. But it needed to be said. She needed help, and if her papa couldn't…

She swallowed, insisting her throat open. "But… I am sure any feelings of… attachment he had for me… have faded."

An intrigued brow rose. "Why do you say that?"

"Because…" Babette struggled to articulate as her passion-fueled thoughts and reasoning overwhelmed her. Lumière might have attempted to reveal where she had really been last autumn, and he might have thought she didn't deserve to marry Nicolas, but he'd made up for those transgressions tenfold. Not only that, but without any warning, she had goaded him mercilessly at first, and then refused to explain herself when he had demanded it from her. She'd been ungrateful and unfeeling. She had expected so much of him and she had done nothing to return it. She had denounced him at the slightest provocation, and why? Why had she allowed herself to tear down everything that made him great and build him back up as a villain?

"Because," she stammered, "h—how could he still care for me like he has when… I had all of this time with him and never once apologized for how cruelly I have treated him?"

"How do you mean?"

"I mean…" She tried to take a deep breath, but it only served to be shallow and shaky. "I did horrible things to him… things he never deserved."

He gaped at her in severe disbelief. "Petite, what could you have possibly done that could be considered 'horrible?'"

I purposefully excluded him from knowing I was courting Nicolas, even when he was going to appear on the de Créquy's doorstep, her conscience reared. And I saw the look on his face the first time he realized who Nicolas' betrothed truly was... and enjoyed it.

Her brow became clouded with shame. "I… I cannot even admit to them. But… it was as if I reveled in his frustration with me. He could not understand my reasoning, no matter how hard he tried, and I was gratified by that, even though my reasoning was as... vindictive as they come." She hid her face in her hands. "I think back on what I said and did and wonder what in le nom de Dieu prompted me to behave so barbarously."

"Babette, please," he beckoned, and she saw he looked more worried than before. She couldn't blame him; she felt as if she were losing her mind. But he still didn't shrink away. He pulled her into his embrace again to bring her rant to a halt. "You are trying to put logic to feelings that are too complex to be logical. Dwelling on the past like this… you really are sealing yourself in your own torment," he realized with a quiet awe. "But love is not logical. I thought you would have figured that out by now."

"Logical or non…" Thoughts of Lumière's letter with its tender and repentant phrasing filled her head, and the following words escaped her without warning. The truth of them rang so soundly in her gut, her tears were renewed afresh. "Oh, Papa, I just know… I have broken his heart! He cannot possibly care for me anymore after all I have done and said and lied about. If I were him, I would have given me up a long time ago. He… He had every right to discourage Nicolas from marrying me. He really, truly did. Oh—" A sob made her throat hitch. "I c—can hardly live with myself. I hate to think that he resents me for what I did and intend to do. I'm afraid after Nicolas and I are wed, I w—will never see him again, and the thought of that…"

Her speech dissolved into sobs and her head fell on René's shoulder. She immediately felt the soothing motions of her father's hand on her back, and her weeping slowly quieted down.

"From what I have seen, petite… he is still very much in love with you."

A bitter, derisive laugh escaped her. "Based on what proof?"

"Based on what I have seen with my own eyes."

She released him, eyeing him skeptically, but her mind was whirring. "I do not think you could have possibly seen enough to sound so certain."

His brows rose in teasing offense. "With all my years of experience in not only life, but in raising you, do you truly doubt my gift for observation?"

She opened her mouth to respond, but the look in her father's eyes gave her pause. Finally, she shook her head and with a resigned sigh, said, "Even if you are right… I am never going to find out the truth for myself. How am I ever going to claim a private audience with him now?"

His lips pressed together in consideration. "Well, there is one possibility."

Intrigued, she slowly straightened to watch him warily. "What do you mean?"

"Closure," he simply said.

Her expression relaxed, as did the rest of her body. "With…?"

He nodded encouragingly. "There is an inn halfway between here and the château that would be a perfect neutral ground for the two of you to meet. There, you would both be able to say and express everything that has been weighing on you these past few weeks... perhaps even since you left du Lac, if that is true. Do you think that would be something he would accept?"

Babette didn't answer right away merely because she was too busy processing the idea. "I do not see why he wouldn't. But…" It felt awkward for her to ask, but it was a vital component of it all. "Would we be permitted to be… alone together?"

"Your mother and I would allow you the privacy necessary for you both to not feel inhibited in saying what you must. You have my word on that." At Babette's continued contemplative silence, he prompted, "Would that option… satisfy you?"

She looked up at him; it was the question she had just been trying to answer herself, and truthfully… "I don't know," she admitted softly. "I would give anything to see him again, Papa, in any capacity. But… to say goodbye to him, and then return to marry Nicolas, as though our relationship had been nothing more than un flirt enfantin?" The very idea made her shut her eyes to the possibility."I would feel as though I was committing the deepest of betrayals."

"I see. Then perhaps… another alternative?" He then reached into his coat's inner pocket, a subtle smirk lifting a corner of his mouth, but if Babette would have blinked, she would have missed it. "I have a letter here I wrote this afternoon after I visited La Bazolle."

Suspicion was etched into her features as she looked from him to the letter. "La Bazolle? Is it… for Nicolas?"

René didn't confirm or deny but placed the folded parchment in her hand. "See for yourself."

She watched her father's expression carefully, but he was keen not to give anything more away. He simply wore a secret, knowing smile she was all too familiar with. Unable to shirk the slightest sense of trepidation, she took the letter as though it would crumble in her hand and gradually opened it to reveal its contents.

Unto Their Majesties, the King and Queen of Bourgogne…

Babette froze, wide-eyed, and glanced up at her father.

"Keep reading," he said, his smile more apparent.

Babette obeyed, but in her feverish state, gleaned only a few key phrases from the manuscript.

… You have previously permitted my daughter, Élisabeth de Chantemerle—or Babette, as you may know her—to be temporarily housed as a working tenant…

… Our first and foremost priority is the happiness and well-being of our daughter, and we have come to realize an arranged marriage will not adhere to either…

… I would like to humbly offer her as a member of your castle staff.

Babette jumped to her feet, her jaw unhinging. Even if she could process a coherent thought, she didn't have the voice to express it. Something inside her, however, was rejoicing with complete abandon—except that was completely illogical. What on earth did this mean? Her head grew heavy from all of the questions that suddenly bombarded it.

René tilted his head as he examined her reaction. "I know this feels… extremely out-of-the-ordinary."

Babette gaped. "Out… of the ordinary? Papa, this…" She lifted the impossible document in her hand. "This is… madness." She grasped her forehead, as the matter underneath was practically useless.

She looked down at the letter again. Without much precedent, her heart began to swell with joy as she imagined the prospect of returning to the château to live a life unburdened by marriages of convenience and noble commitments, free to be with the man she loved if he would still have her. It was all she could ever dream of, save for one thing that would make it all infeasible.

Glimmering with oncoming tears, she turned her eyes to her father to search him. "Papa, I cannot just… abandon you and Maman."

He grinned at her, touched. "You would not be abandoning us. You would be three hours away, and they provide leave for holidays to their staff—clearly, if Lumière is to be any example."

"Oui, but…" She held her hands to slow down the proceedings so she could organize the mess that continued to be her mind. There was more than one thing. "I am supposed to have a son to keep our land and title in the family."

"Land is only land. And if you gain no kind of fulfilment from bearing a title, what is the point of having one?"

She couldn't help but stare at him for a long, hard moment. How were his replies to these questions so absurd, yet... logical? She tried to get herself back on track. "Well… oui, but... what if—"

She couldn't believe she was asking this, as she had never even considered it before this instance, but now that it was in the forefront of her mind, she simply had to. "Would... any child of mine be acceptable if... I have a son… or daughter with…?"

Unable to finish, she blinked up at him, but as she had hoped, her father understood; he raised a brow in surprise. In a very articulate tone, he asked with the utmost seriousness, "Is having a child... truly your concern at present?"

"Non," she immediately answered. "Perhaps this all has me… thinking to the future… a little too much."

"Then we shall address it when the time comes," he gently resolved.

Eager to move onto something else—anything else, she then insisted, "What about helping to represent our county and its people—someone who will actually look out for them as you do?"

He shook his head in wonder at his daughter, but he wore a proud smile, and Babette felt her shoulders ease at the sight. "Your mother and I are still here, petite. And just think… what if you were to be a lady's maid?" he offered. "The Queen took a liking to you, as I distinctly recall, and you could be a voice for our county there."

Taken aback, Babette furrowed her brow again; she truthfully hadn't considered that. "I… suppose."

René took her hand in both of his. "I promise, I have given this an inordinate amount of thought and time. I would not send you away like this, especially to strip you of your rank, on a trifle."

"Then…" She bit her lip. "Who will it all go to?"

He shrugged. "My cousin, Fernand. Nice enough fellow, but no need to worry him yet. I am in the peak of health," he declared before knocking on the wooden bedpost beside him.

She felt her heart skip a beat, but she had to pose the most essential question of them all: "And Nicolas?"

"I spoke with him this morning."

Her father said this so casually, it left Babette jarred. He'd spoken to Nicolas without consulting her about all of this ahead of time? What if she'd rejected this "plan B" of his? What if she'd been content to keep to Plan A? But none of that could breach the lump taking up residence in her throat. She could only make a choking sound as he continued, "He agrees to the arrangement wholeheartedly."

For a second time, her jaw dropped. She had never been so stunned in such quick succession in all her life. Not only because her father had taken the initiative to possibly end the engagement should Babette choose to leave, but because Nicolas had agreed to the decision without issue. Of course, it pained Babette to think of how Monsieur and Madame de Créquy would react to such a scandal, but with Nicolas' gift for diplomacy, he would undoubtedly find some way of pacifying them. In time, perhaps he would find another fiancée; one who would love and cherish him in all the ways that Babette could not. That was the least she could wish for him, after everything he had done for her.

Holding up her arms in surrender, she said, "I can hardly believe this…"

"It is much to process. But petite…"

That penetrating gaze of his watched her with such profound empathy that Babette, as much as she attempted, could barely meet his eye. "You may not have realized it, but I have taken note of your behavior ever since you returned from du Lac. You are unhappy, Babette. You certainly tried your hardest to hide it, but… you cannot hide from me. You had resigned yourself to this life, as it was your duty and birthright, and that… disappointed you. Please, correct me if I ever made a poor observation."

Shaking her head at such an accurate dictation of her feelings, Babette released a bemused laugh. She would never understand how he did that so well. "Jamais, Papa."

"I soon believed it had something to do with your time at du Lac. The few times it was mentioned, you always spoke of it fondly. There are people you truly care about that reside there, which is more than I can say for anyone in our circle. If that is the life you want…"

The tenderness that shone in his eyes now paralyzed her. She forgot to breathe in her anticipation, and her heart threatened to burst from her chest. Finally, he said, "Then I do not want to stand in your way."

A smile slowly spread on her face at this declaration and it widened by the second. Her time in self-seclusion hadn't assisted in conquering her longings for those few short months that had made such an impact on herself and her view of the world. But what it had confirmed was that what her father was giving her… it was all she had ever wanted. Without a doubt, her time at the castle had been the happiest of her life. The work was meaningful and fulfilling, and the friends she'd made more treasured and genuine than any she'd pretended to tolerate in the noble spheres.

And he was there. Anywhere he was… was where she longed to be.

"And… you…" She swallowed and felt herself tremble. If she thought her heart was going to break through her sternum before... "You… approve of… Lumière? Though you have barely exchanged words with him?"

Her face must have paled as she spoke, for her father carefully led her back to the edge of the bed to sit. He gripped her shoulders as comfortably as he could. "Petite… everything he has done for you, at least that I have observed and noted, has been not only of sound judgement and based in a deep affection for you, but showed strength of character. He has hidden any history he had with you from his own friend and family, whom he's known since childhood, all in the interest of protecting both of you. If that isn't what love is… I am not sure what could be. Not to mention how he handled a crisis: That horseback riding fiasco? He was a perfect gentleman and did everything right." He paused to consider before admitting, "Well, just as I would have done it. And that is all I can ask for from the man my daughter chooses."

He shook his head in admiration. "Even when he could gain nothing from you, it was all in the interest of you, Babette. I must commend him."

Tears filled her eyes again, but this time, they were of joy. "So, you… like him?"

He chuckled. "He has my full approval, ma chère."

She managed a laugh, too, by some miracle. Her mind whirled with the possibility, warmth and assurance flooding through her, but then her eyes caught herself in the mirror, there in a rich, silk housecoat. Her furniture was refined and luxurious, and her vanity topped with expensive fragrances, cosmetics, and jewelry that she used regularly for a day's outing. She might have lived with these things all her life, but save for a few trinkets she held sentimental value in, she had not missed any of it during her stay at du Lac. The only aspects she had missed were her father and...

Her expression faded as she looked on, but she tried—she wanted to remain hopeful. "And Maman?"

René nodded. "She has thanked him personally for his discretion, and for being a worthy friend to you. She certainly admires him for his integrity and fine breeding."

She was taken slightly aback by this information, for she would never have guessed her mother would address him in that way.

She had also noticed his smile falter. "But there is something else… isn't there?" Her father did not speak immediately, and she asked outright, "Papa... does she approve if I choose to relinquish... everything to be with him?"

His gaze was unwavering. "Is that your final decision?"

Babette nodded slowly at first, but became more adamant in an instant. "Oui. With all my heart."

He took up her hands again, his grip secure. "Are you sure? You do not need more time to consider it?"

"Papa," she said, having to smile at her father's concerned scrutiny, "if my time in isolation has done anything, it was to remind me of what I desire most: A simple life beside the man I love and esteem as my equal. If I must work for my living to make that happen... so be it. So, oui, I am sure this is what I want. More than anything."

She watched him carefully in turn, her blue stare penetrating. "But… you never answered my question."

Her father softly released her hands, his eyes averting. "Well… your mother… was not made aware of that idea."

She froze, confusion and concern battling for supremacy on her face. If Maman didn't know, then there was still a seemingly insurmountable obstacle to overcome. As much as she didn't look forward to it, she prompted, "Then… shall we let her know of my decision?"

He was disturbingly quiet as a pensive expression took over his brow. "Tell me, ma fille,"he answered calmly. "Would your mother approve of you disbanding your engagement and running off with a servant, to work asa servant?"

Babette blanched. Put in those crude terms… it sounded horribly scandalous. "Oh, Dieu…"

René's expression said, Precisely. "We both know how she can be. Trying to convince her this is what you've decided could take months—years."

Her mind reeled. She could see he was trying to hide his shame. Her father never kept secrets from her mother. That he was willing to go to such distances for her filled her with more awe and gratitude than the incredible freedom he was bestowing upon her.

So she had to ask, "But why? Surely, if I truly expressed… everything, would she not see that du Lac is where I belong?"

His extended silences were making her anxious by the minute. When he finally spoke, he was strikingly muted, yet still full of emotion. "She grew up understanding and believing that nothing is more important than family. You would do anything and everything to ensure their success and survival, even if it caused you to suffer. Clarisse… is a fine example of that. She was the one who demanded we search far and wide for an eligible husband for you, and so we did. All of the little lies we told to protect your reputation and keep you safe was all of her invention. She has sacrificed more than you even know, petite. She would refuse to see it all have been for naught."

Babette grew quiet. She had never realized the lengths her mother had gone to make not only her engagement possible, but everything else in her life that was both for Babette's benefit—and some of it to her detriment—successful. Clarisse had instilled that same sense of duty and pride for her family within her, but her free spirit couldn't be contained. Her mother's expectations hung like a millstone around her neck, and her father was offering to remove it once and for all.

"But Papa…" She touched his arm with a worried hand. "What will you do when I leave? She will be… despondent."

"Oui. And we will both have played a part in it. If there is even a tiniest part of you that is unsure of what we would be doing, then you need to voice it. I shall give you a night to mull it over."

Her heart contracted and incited her to immediately say, "I will not need a night." Though her voice trembled, it was from such strong emotion. "I am so certain of this, as crazy as it sounds."

René did not take his searching eyes off of her, and neither did she off him, as resolute as she was, before he finally answered, "Then let me worry about your mother. Perhaps I can make her see eventually, but... I cannot have you suffer any longer than you have."

He sounded rather confident, but it didn't quite reach his eyes. Tears threatened to flow from her, but she was adamant to keep them at bay. For her father, she would remain strong.

Her eyes captured his and locked them there, and she felt her heart begin to race. "Papa… are we doing the right thing?"

"The right thing…" he mused. "I wonder that myself. But the right thing in my eyes is ensuring your safety and happiness. I love your mother, and she loves you, but this is where our opinions differ. She claims to know what you want better than you, but you, Babette, have always known what you want, and I highly doubt that will ever change, especially now." He smiled very briefly before worry arose. "At least… I certainly hope it won't."

She smiled back at him and squeezed his hand. She was still unable to fathom the trust she had been blessed with by the men in her life. How had she deserved it? Any of it?

But there was no use wondering on it now; she was going to reunite with Lumière. After believing she would never obtain the opportunity to receivea second chance, that was precisely what she was being given. However long it would take for him to forgive her… she would wait. After all he had done for her, she had to believe that his forgiveness was possible. Starting the day she departed from La Clayette as a vicomtesse for the last time, she would expend all the energy she could making it up to him.

And hopefully, some day, she would earn a second chance with her mother. Babette silently made the promise now, that one day, she would make it up to her as well.

Breathless from her anticipating thoughts, she murmured, "So… how am I to get to du Lac then?"

René cleared his throat, watching her warily. "Given these circumstances… I am sorry I must ask this of you, but… could you brave one more bout of deception?"