"Are you positively certain that you will be all right here without me for the day?" Lumière asked, holding up Vincent's coat for him.
The prince slipped it on, looking preoccupied as he adjusted its fit to his satisfaction. Trust was not easily instilled between two people whose past relationship had been one of resentment. From the beginning of this visit with Auguste, Vincent had been on his guard, looking for any sign of heartlessness or power-hungry curiosity. But he had been at Auguste's home in Paris for several days now, and Auguste had not once shown any of the hostility that Vincent knew him so well for. In fact, his uncle had gone above and beyond to welcome him and make up for lost time. They spoke of everything one could imagine two close relatives talking about…except for one thing.
"Master?"
Vincent shook his head, attempting to clear his mind. "What…? Oh, yes, Lumière, I'll be…fine."
Lumière grinned knowingly. "I am hardly convinced."
Vincent laughed ruefully. "Never could fool you, could I?" he replied.
"Not at all. But if you want me to stay, I will. I do not have to go," Lumière reassured.
"No, really, I know this visit means a lot to you," Vincent said, turning to face him. "I can do this on my own. I just wish I knew what to tell him."
Lumière nodded in understanding. Although the prince had told him of the good talks he had had with Auguste, none of them involved the spell, for obvious reasons. Auguste had asked about Vincent's mysterious absence, but Vincent had avoided giving a direct answer, understandably so. For the life of them, Vincent and Lumière could not think of anything that could possibly explain the entire five years.
"Perhaps," Lumière began, "it may be best to tell him the truth then?"
"Oh, absolutely, and then what?" Vincent asked sarcastically. "You watch as he has me dragged away to an insane asylum?"
Lumière sighed. "I know, I know, but what else is there to say?"
Vincent swallowed fretfully, turning to the mirror again. "I don't know. Things are going so well; I don't want to ruin that."
Lumière looked compassionately at the prince's reflection, seeing the familiar fear in Vincent's eyes that lingered from childhood.
"When the time is right, you will know what to say," Lumière said. "You did the same thing that night on the terrace after the romantic evening in the ballroom."
Vincent's face fell. "No, actually I didn't, remember? Belle nearly left forever, and all I told her was to take the mirror as a remembrance of me."
"Ah, but if things were different, you would have said you loved her then and there," Lumière replied, trying to keep optimism alive. Placing a fatherly hand on the prince's shoulder, he said, "I told you then, and I will tell you now: You can do this, master; I know you can. When the time is right, you will tell him the truth."
Vincent turned to him again. Lumière smiled kindly, and slowly, Vincent reflected it.
"We shall see. And thank you," he said appreciatively. A clock tolled the hour in the hallway.
"You had better be going to make it there in time," Vincent said.
"Très bien," Lumière agreed. "You know where to send for me, just in case, oui?"
Vincent nodded. "Go on now. Enjoy yourself and do not worry."
"Too much," Lumière added, chuckling, as he bowed gracefully out the door.
Vincent glanced at his reflection one last time, inhaling and exhaling deeply before heading to the dining room.
"Ah, there you are, my boy," Auguste called, upon Vincent's entry. "Breakfast was beginning to get cold."
"You could have started without me," Vincent replied, taking a seat. "Time isn't exactly my forte. Without Cogsworth at home, I swear I wouldn't be on time for anything."
Auguste nodded. "He always was a punctual man, I remember. Almost like your own personal clock."
Vincent could not resist a laugh. "You have no idea."
Auguste smiled before they slipped into silence again for a time to eat. Not until he took a millionth sip at his drink did he attempt to speak again. "I'm sorry that I am not the best at conversation. I'm still getting used to the idea of…everything."
"I completely understand," Vincent agreed, sympathizing. He found himself confiding in his uncle. "As I've told you…the idea of family is new to me. Don't get me wrong; Mrs. Potts, Lumière, Cogsworth, everyone has been wonderful, although I was too foolish to notice for so long. But…now I have Belle and Alexandre, a wife and son that I never planned on having in my life, and I'm still wondering if…if…"
"If you'll do it right?"
"Yes, exactly."
Auguste nodded. "You sound just like your father did, both when he married your mother and when they found out she was expecting you."
"Father felt the same way?" Vincent asked curiously, always happy to hear as many stories about his parents as possible.
"Very much so," Auguste confirmed, amused at the memory. "A man may be royalty, but he is always human first. On both occasions, he was exhilarated, but also very nervous, praying he would do things right."
Vincent grinned. "It sounds like I have more in common with him than I could have ever imagined."
Auguste smiled, admittedly choked up a bit. "Believe me, I see a lot of him in you now. I mean it, Vincent." He hesitated, and then pressed on. "I wish you would tell me what it is that happened to you over the past few years. It has indeed transformed you into a new man."
Vincent bit his lip discreetly. Lumière was right earlier; the truth was definitely best. But every explanation he thought of felt strange and wrong.
"Uncle, forgive me," Vincent said. "With all sincerity, I don't want to speak of that right now. I promise you that I will someday, but not yet. As I said, life is very overwhelming, too much so to add more worry into it than need be. When all is settled for sure, we will talk about that. Until then, I need more time. I hope you understand."
Auguste looked at him thoughtfully, marveling at how much Vincent had truly changed. Years ago, they would have been arguing heatedly by now. This new sense of honesty and diplomacy in his nephew's tone was impressive.
"Very well," he agreed. "My only wish is that you feel comfortable here, and therefore, I can wait for this explanation. But I most heartily stand by what I said at the ball. Whatever it was, I'm so very glad to see that it has turned you into a young man that your parents…and I…can be proud of."
Vincent beamed at the praise. "Thank you, that means more to me than you know," he said. If he could not have his parents beside him today, it felt wonderful to be on such good terms with Auguste in their place. His only regret was that he had not made amends sooner. But no longer one to live in the past, he pushed it aside, making room in his heart for more beloved family.
ooo
Lumière looked around the familiar walkway with a smile that rivaled that of a child about to open the finest Christmas gifts. This place still felt as much like home as the castle had. Climbing up the stairs, he knocked happily on the door. An old man answered it, and Lumière's grin widened even more, if that were possible.
"Ah, Germain, still in charge, I see," he said delightedly.
Germain looked at him with confusion. "May I help you, monsieur?"
Lumière laughed. "Age must be taking its toll if you do not recognize me, mon ami! Chanlet's only son, the holy terror of this household alongside the young Vicomte?"
Slowly but surely, Germain's bewilderment faded, and he began to smile as well. "Lumière? Oh mon Dieu, it can't be!" he cried excitedly.
"Shh-sh-sh!" Lumière chuckled, trying to quiet Germain as the older man stepped aside to let him in. "It is wonderful to see you too, but I would much rather surprise the Vicomte myself."
"Actually, it is Comte now," Germain said quietly. "We lost the elder Comte and Comtesse some time ago, unfortunately. It is a miracle that I have stayed around for so long, but to be honest, I am just not ready to go yet."
"And we are grateful for that!" Lumière insisted. "I do not know what we would have done without you. Aside from Papa, no one else could have kept me under control like you did, and anyone who could do that is a godsend."
"You're right, no one could do what I've done," Germain laughed. "While we missed you around here, I was glad to see that you were never sent back to us, as it meant you were raised and taught well. But enough about us!" he said, leading Lumière to a study. "I shall tell the Comte that you are here; he will be so overjoyed to see you!"
Lumière grinned, looking around the room. Like everything else so far, it had not changed a bit; it was still the comfortable study that he would hide in as a boy, he and…
A soft whimper came from the desk. Never one to resist curiosity, Lumière slowly walked towards it. Kneeling down, he found a distressed little girl, no older than five he guessed, hiding underneath.
"Now, now, what is this?" he asked, startling her. "Do not be afraid, ma petite; I simply can not stand to see a pretty girl cry."
The girl made a grand show of sniffling and wiping her precious green eyes. "Who are you?" she sobbed.
"Merely a visitor; a very good friend of mine lives here," Lumière explained with a gentle smile that seemed to ease her a bit. "May I ask why mademoiselle is crying?"
Cautiously, the child crawled out from below the desk as Lumière offered his hand to help her. "I-I can't find my doll! She hates being alone!" she explained fearfully.
"You mean this doll?" came a voice behind them, one that Lumière knew all too well.
While the child jumped up and ran passed him, Lumière beamed to see his greatest of friends, Lucien de Bontecou, standing before him. Their hellos were interrupted by the girl's excitement.
"Papa!" she cried, bouncing around at Lucien's feet as she reached for the doll. "You found her! Let me hold her; she needs me!"
Lucien knelt down to hand the doll to her. "Thank goodness, I found you as well; I swear she was crying for her maman," he said insistently. "Bring her upstairs quickly, give her some hugs, and put her down for a nap. It will make her feel all better."
The child nodded, clutching the doll close to her heart and crooning as she carried her from the room, waving to Lumière before she left.
Once she was gone, Lucien turned back to Lumière, happiness clearly evident in his expression. "Well, well, look who decides to show his face at last!" he laughed, embracing his friend.
Lumière clapped him once on the back before releasing him. "With everything going on in the past year, mon ami, I was lucky enough to have this free time!"
"And you decided to spend it here! I am honored," Lucien replied, gesturing him to a chair. "Do you want anything to drink? Eat?"
Lumière smirked. "Non, merci. I have to go back to the servant's life after this. I do not want to be so spoiled after playing the guest for once. However, a glass of good wine would be nice…if it is still hidden in the same place."
"Indeed it is," Lucien confirmed, racing to the desk and taking out a bottle and glasses from a larger drawer. "Good to know that you have not strayed too far from your roots."
"More that I still remember them after everything that has happened," Lumière countered quietly as Lucien handed a glass to him.
"I can imagine," Lucien agreed, following suit in volume. "I am just as happy as you are that it is over. It was so difficult not knowing what was happening to you after that one day."
Lumière nodded in agreement. A few months after the spell was cast, Lucien had come to the castle, worried for his friend, and was therefore the only person outside the castle who knew anything of what had transpired there. Lumière had made him swear, however, that he would tell no one of what he had seen, for the safety of all. It was not an easy time for either of them.
"Well, we made it out of that mess alive, as you can see," Lumière replied happily in conclusion to the memory. "But what about you? You must have far more interesting tales to tell, being a father now."
Lucien laughed lightly. "Indeed, rescuing lost toys and seeing the children through their studies: the story of my life for nineteen years."
"Nineteen?" Lumière asked with a smirk. "Your daughter looks very young for her age then."
"Very funny," Lucien replied, rolling his eyes. "But seriously, there are three more, heading fast into adulthood: Armand, my eldest, at nineteen, then Thierry and Matthieu, at fifteen and thirteen respectively. My little Rachelle, whom you just met, turned five last month."
"Eight years after the previous one? Why was that?" Lumière asked curiously, sipping his wine.
"Let us say that she was…unexpected," Lucien explained. "Nicolette had difficulties with Matthieu, and we managed to be careful. After eight years of nothing, we found out about Rachelle, and I was on the edge of insanity worrying about it. I do not know what I would do without Nicolette, but thankfully, both made it through."
"Thankfully, indeed," Lumière agreed. "Rachelle seems an absolute delight. She apparently adores you."
"As much I do her," Lucien confirmed. "There have been rough moments, but it is worth it."
"Rough moments?"
Lucien nodded with a grin. "It is called fatherhood, my friend, and it can be as much a curse as it is a blessing! Worrying about Nicolette when she was carrying the children, babies crying through the night – we were both exhausted for months after each one was born! Believe me, it's impossible to have any romance with a newborn in the house!" he laughed. "And then as they get older, they fight over toys, they have tantrums…"
Lumière hardly heard the remaining details. The idea of being a father had appealed to him before, but now what he was envisioning was terrifying. The vivid image of screaming matches between the children, Babette snapping at him to help her get them under control…or else just snapping in general because of the stress it would cause. Dieu, her mood could change easily with him on a good day; this could only bring something a hundred times worse!
He remembered caring for Vincent when he was born. The young prince did always manage to interrupt any few precious moments that he and Babette had…but at least then there were others to care for him as well, each taking a turn day and night. Having their own children would be their responsibility alone, and then they might as well wish their intimacy au revoir forever!
Seeing Lumière's horrified expression, Lucien could not resist a laugh. "But I am not helping by telling you that, am I? Considering that you yourself have yet to settle down."
"Do not mention that," Lumière warned. "Or else I shall be forced to believe that Babette sent word ahead to involve you in her scheming!"
Lucien smiled knowingly. "Trying to saddle the wild horse, is she?"
"Persistently."
"And he refuses to let her…why?"
Lumière stared at his glass, swirling the wine distractedly. "Because."
"That isn't an answer."
Lumière sighed. "The past year has been madness," he said. "We are all still adjusting to this enormous change in our lives, now that the spell is broken…why rush into another big change so soon? Life at home is only starting to feel normal again now. It is a lot of work, and still, every other day or so, she is asking me when we will be married, which is even more work."
"And?"
"And what?"
"Lumière, you forget who you are talking to," Lucien said. "You can not fool me. When have you ever allowed work to stand entirely in the way of your personal affairs? Knowing Babette, she would not insist on anything grand and spectacular; she would just want you to marry her already."
Lumière was silent for a moment. "I-I am not ready," he said quietly, feeling a bit guilty for what he was about to say. "I love her with all my heart; she is my entire life. We were always so perfectly content with how things were, but now she wants to get married…and it feels so final. As though I was being told, 'This is it; this is where life has led you. Congratulations, you are done'.
"I want the best for her, you know that; she deserves it unquestionably," he went on. "But marriage is another responsibility that I can not handle right now. It would not be fair to promise myself to her like that if I feel this way. I proposed to her years ago; she knows that I am not going to leave her. But it has to wait."
Lucien nodded in understanding. "I see what you are saying, mon ami, but consider one thing: how much longer can she wait?"
Lumière smirked. "She waited for you."
"Do not avoid the question," Lucien warned. "You are not going to get any younger simply because you are not married, and neither will Babette. But while you want to wait, who is to say that she does too? How long will it take before she has had enough of patience?
"Besides that, remember that you have a choice here. I love Nicolette; I was fortunate enough to have her chosen for me as my wife. But not every man is as lucky as we are. Marry Babette before she slips through your fingers; do not be foolish and lose her out of fear."
Lumière sighed. Lucien had a point, but Lumière could not shake his own feelings. He nodded to appease his friend, but he knew that this time, he would have to handle this his own way.
In the hall, however, interrupting his thoughts, the two friends heard voices, and Lucien smiled.
"Nicolette is back, right on time from her own visit," he said. "I'm sure she will be just as happy to see an old friend as much as I am. Besides, you still have to meet the boys. What do you say? Shall we take a break from the seriousness?"
Lumière smiled, grateful for his understanding. "By all means, lead on."
ooo
If it wasn't Lumière lazing about, then it was Babette, Cogsworth thought angrily as he found the woman herself sleeping on a chaise in the downstairs sitting room. Irritated, he cleared his throat, causing her to wake up groggily.
"I do not remember giving you consent to sleep," he said.
Babette rubbed her eyes, hardly apologetic. "I just needed a few minutes to rest; I have not been feeling well lately."
"Rest is one thing; sleep is another," he scolded disapprovingly. "On top of that, why was I not informed that you were expecting a visitor?"
Babette looked at him, confused. "Because I had no idea myself. Who is it?"
"He didn't give a name, but I showed him to the servants' quarters. He is waiting for you there; make it a short visit."
Babette nodded, rolling her eyes subtly. Rising from the chaise and stretching a bit, she made her way downstairs. For the life of her, she could not imagine who her visitor was, even as she opened the door quietly, wanting a glimpse of him before entering the room. He was sitting by the window staring out, an older man with gray hair and dark eyes, she observed. She tried imagining him years younger to account for the spell, but her mind continued to draw a blank.
"Monsieur?" she called, closing the door behind her as she entered the room.
The man turned to her, a look of awe about his face, and admittedly, Babette was taken aback. It was clear that he must have known her, and now seeing him clearly, something about him did seem familiar. When he said nothing, she continued.
"I was told that someone was looking for me," she said.
"Babette," he said softly, rising from the chair to come closer. "Dieu, look at you. I stay away for far too long, and you grow into a beautiful woman without me, more so than I could ever have imagined."
She raised a curious eyebrow. "My apologies, but…have we met before?" she asked slowly.
The man stopped at her words. "You don't remember me?"
"I can not honestly say that I do, non."
The man lowered his gaze. "I guess I shouldn't have expected you to," he said, his voice pained. "We haven't seen each other in years, after all, and I'm sure that you had no trouble forgetting about me, especially after those whores at Le Fleur Noir must have encouraged it." He took a deep breath to keep emotion at bay before looking at her adoringly again. "But I'm here now, and that is what matters. I can make up for all of our lost time."
When he stroked her cheek, Babette hastily took a step back. "Monsieur, I have not worked as a Fleurette in years, and even when I did, I was a dancer, not a whore. I never took any man to my room so carelessly. If that is what you want, you have wasted your time. Show yourself out."
"What? No, not at all!" he replied quickly, following her as she headed for the door. "I just meant that the last time I saw you was at the dance hall, when you were just a little girl…when I left you there like the fool I was."
Babette halted at the door, her breath stopping short. Turning to face him, she stared at him in disbelief. "What…did you say?"
The man smiled, seeing that he had hit upon a memory. "I brought you to Le Fleur Noir when you were twelve," he said. "Babette, ma fille…I'm your father, Adrien."