As the weeks went on, life outwardly seemed to be normal. But inside, Babette found herself increasingly haunted by thoughts of Adrien, brought on by his terrible visit. All her old childhood pain at being abandoned and unwanted came surging to the surface after so many years. She hated feeling this way, so weak and worthless from fear of memories that could never be changed.
Fearful and insecure, Babette longed more than ever for the stability and security of marriage, something that Adrien had never given her mother. She remembered how Celie would ask and beg Adrien to stay with her, marry her so that they could be a small family, but he would dismissively put her off with sweet words and promises. Sweet, but untrue. He never intended to follow through with any of them.
Now Babette dreamed of being married to Lumière – proof that he truly loved her, would love her forever and would never, ever leave. She wanted a home, a family…most of all, commitment. But as time passed, she was frightened to see worrying signs of history repeating itself. Since that night, Babette had continued her pleas for Lumière to marry her at last, and each time, he gave the same excuse of needing more time. At first, she had scolded herself, knowing full well how much he loved her, one thing that Adrien never felt for Celie. But after many more refusals, Babette grew more anxious and doubtful by the day. With every insistent plea, Lumière not only pushed the idea aside, but he began getting annoyed with her for bothering him about it, something completely unlike him…but all too much like her father.
As if all of that was not enough, Babette still did not feel well. Before Adrien arrived, she was tired and sometimes nauseous, but it always subsided. All she had to do was take a brief rest and then get back to work. The only nuisance that brought about was Cogsworth's fussing if he caught her in the middle of a break, and therefore not a big concern.
But the sickness did not go away, and even more alarming was the second absence of her monthly bleeding. One did not scare her; it could happen, as women got older perhaps. Twice, though, was a completely different story.
That is what brought her to the door of a village home one afternoon, pulling her hood lower and her cloak tightly around her after knocking on the door. An elderly woman answered it, unaffected by the sight of a stranger.
Babette made a weak attempt to smile. "Madame Saget?" she asked, as the woman nodded. "I…am in need of your help."
Saget nodded again understandingly when Babette gestured to her midsection. "Of course, mademoiselle, please come in," she said, moving aside to let Babette in before she shut the door.
Taking a money purse from her cloak, Babette handed it to her, asking quietly, "And no one will ever know I was here, oui?"
Saget accepted it, subtly weighing it in her hand. "Know about what?" she asked with a conspiratorial grin. "Come with me."
Babette followed her to a room. Once inside, she placed her cloak aside before obeying Saget's order to change and then lie down on a small bed.
"It has been a while since you felt well?" the woman asked, prodding and examining Babette's middle.
"Too long a 'while,'" she replied, her voice shaking. "Nothing so simple as a stomach ache and tiredness should last for weeks without a reason."
"Indeed," Saget answered, taking special interest in a lower area. "When was the last time you bled?"
"Two months ago."
"That certainly explains it then," Saget concluded, taking her hands away. "You have a little bundle of joy on the way, about three months along already."
Babette laid still, her face emotionless. But it did not take long for her to sit up and give way to tears, surprised that she still had any left after all that had happened to her.
She felt Saget's hand at her shoulder as the elder woman offered her a handkerchief.
"This isn't good news?" she asked knowingly, apparently having seen women in the same situation before.
Babette bit her lip uncertainly. "Not…just yet," she said. "It still could be."
Saget shook her head. Young girls and love, there was no cure for it. "Well, I hope he feels the same way that you do," she said.
"I hope so too," Babette said softly, redressing quickly before returning to the carriage.
ooo
The very instant that she arrived home, Babette hurried inside to find Lumière. But as the clock tolled five, she groaned realizing that her chances of speaking to him were slim to none at all. This week's guests of honor, the Spanish ambassador and his family, had arrived that day, and after such a long trip, they would certainly be famished. Every member of the kitchen and serving staff would be going mad to make dinner go smoothly, Lumière definitely being one of them.
But heaving a great sigh of determination, Babette headed for the kitchen anyway. Courtesy and understanding be damned. This was not a moment of impatience; it was an emergency. Lumière's staff was quite capable of doing things without him; he could spare her a few minutes.
Opening the door a tad, she saw him across the room, hastily moving from one matter to the next. When he finally caught sight of her, she waved him over, gesturing that she needed to talk to him. He hesitated, clearly thinking it impossible to do so at present, but she would take nothing but yes for an answer.
"Down the hall; sitting room; now," she mouthed, not even waiting for his response before she headed there herself.
Lumière sighed, shaking his head. Lately, Babette was constantly upset about everything. But she would always pick the wrong times to seek comfort from him, and usually in the form of a reminder about his proposal. Lumière was trying as desperately as he could to be compassionate and caring, but stress was wearing his optimism and patience thin. He could only handle so much, and there was still a lot of work for him to do as dinner fast approached. Nonetheless, if there were any thoughts of his beloved in distress, he would never be able to focus, and that fact alone was what brought him to her side, startling her as he placed his hands on her shoulders comfortingly.
"Forgive me, amour," Lumière said. "I did not mean to scare you."
"It is all right; I did not hear you come in," she replied, not turning to look at him.
Lumière smiled, rubbing her shoulders tenderly. "I know, I have not seen you all day, and even now I have to ask that we make this visit a quick one. You know dinner is about to start."
"Dinner can wait."
Noting the short, curt tone in her words, Lumière walked around to face her, seeing right through the false smile she gave him when their eyes met. "Babette, are you all right?"
She lowered her head before looking up at him again. "I will be once we finally settle an important matter that needs discussion."
"Is it something that we can talk about later?" he asked, barely hiding any undertone of impatience from his voice.
"Non, right now," she said firmly.
"All right, what is it?"
Babette held his gaze while trying to keep her voice steady. "When will we be married?"
Lumière took a deep breath, running his hand over his face, irritated. "The master and mistress will be in the dining room any minute with their important guests, and you have to bring this up now?"
"If you had married me already, we would not have to have this discussion, would we?" she responded, sarcastically. "I want to know, and after so many years, I deserve to."
"I have told you time and again. How am I supposed to give you the wedding you should have when I have no time to plan it?" he hissed, trying to keep his voice down. "I can hardly get work done around here without feeling as though I am going out of my mind."
Babette took his hands desperately. "Dieu, Lumière, I only want you! I want to be your wife and have you for my husband. How simple is that? We can run away tonight and see a minister; I do not care!"
Lumière pulled away, rising to pace the length of the chaise. This was not the time to be discussing this, but she would not be happy until she had some sort of satisfying answer. Maybe he should have just told her the truth, how he still really felt about marriage. She loved him; she would understand. Perhaps that would finally keep her content for a while.
"Babette…I just…"
The sounds of Vincent and Belle's voices welcoming their guests to the dining room were heard from down the hall. Feeling both relieved and guilty, Lumière looked at her in desperation.
"Babette, please, I am begging you to understand," he said quietly. "We will talk about this later, but right now, they need me."
He turned for the door, his exit halted only by her angered taunting.
"The royal lapdog, always sure to come when he is called and turning his nose up to everyone else."
Lumière turned to face her. "What is that supposed to mean?" he said.
Babette swallowed passed a lump in her throat, forcing her voice to remain steady. "You might as well just say that you do not love me anymore! This relationship means absolutely nothing to you!"
"Oh, stop it!" Lumière burst out. This was the last straw. "Every time there is a problem or you do not get what you want, you accuse me of not loving you! Do you have any idea how much stress I am under? This dinner is important! You are being selfish to bring this up now!"
"How dare you, having the nerve to call me selfish!" she screamed. "Thinking only of yourself and your work lately when there are those who, as you have claimed, come first in your life!" She laughed mockingly. "What a joke, or merely more flattering words to lure a woman into your bed!"
The door flew open then, thankfully preventing Lumière from saying something he would regret. Cogsworth peeked inside, his face turning a furious shade of purple.
"Have you two forgotten about how well voices travel, as well as respect towards guests?" he growled. "They are here to see the master about diplomacy and peace! How do you expect them to agree to it if he can't even keep his own servants civilized?" Turning on Lumière angrily, he added, "You should have been in the dining room long ago, and had better return there at once!"
"I will be there in a minute," Lumière promised. Once Cogsworth stormed off again, he turned to Babette, attempting to keep calm. His patience stretched beyond its limits, he did not trust himself to speak kindly to her.
"You will have to excuse me; I have actual important things to attend to. We will discuss this later," he said, going to the door, his hand gripping the doorknob. "Maybe you will be a little more understanding, and not so irrational. Until then, this conversation is over."
He left with those words, slamming the door shut.
Babette stared at it for a long time with the expression of one who had been slapped across the face. He had not spoken to her like that in years, and now he was gone, without care or regret.
When she regained her senses, she headed up the stairs to her room, slowly at first but faster with every step. She threw the door open and harshly shut it again, leaning against it as tears took hold of her. He did not love her, not anymore. He had just left her…very much like how Adrien always left her and her mother – angry after a fight, not giving a damn about anyone but himself. This would always be where love would bring her, wasn't it?
"It is not worth the time or trouble to believe in love."
Babette fell to her knees, suddenly feeling sick to her stomach.
"You are no better than your mother! Good for nothing except in bed, and even there, she was stupid enough to get pregnant!"
Babette rubbed her middle, groaning as she tore herself away from the chamber pot, and rose unsteadily to her feet to get a glass of water. Drinking it greedily to rid her mouth of the horrible taste, her mind wandered to her baby. It was not a scare this time around; now it was true. She should have told him; maybe then he would finally realize where his priorities should stand.
…No. No, she could not sink as low as that, using an innocent child for her own purposes. If he truly loved her, she shouldn't need to tell him about their baby. Love should be all the reason he needed to make her his wife.
With a fresh flood of tears, Babette hid her face in her hands. Years ago, on the steps of her house as a little girl, she had made a promise to a good family friend, Madame Maigny…
"Wherever you go, whatever you do, you do it well and make Maman and I proud."
Babette's sobs came harder. She had broken her word in the worst possible way. She had sworn to herself that she would try to make the most of her life, but she had ended up down the exact same path as her mother. What would Celie have said if she could see her daughter now – pregnant and unmarried – when Babette had promised to do better?
Raising her head wearily, Babette angrily sniffed back her remaining tears. To hell with him. She was not going to give up, not like this.
She did not belong here; she never had. The entire reason she had even come to the castle was not honest need of work, but to be hidden away from a married lover who did not want to be tempted anymore. If she had not come here, none of this would have happened; years of her life would not have been wasted on a curse or false love! The only person that kept her here was Lumière, but if he did not love her, there was no longer any reason to stay. One maid would not be difficult to replace.
Racing for her drawers, she took out a satchel and began stuffing her belongings into it, convincing herself that this was what she had to do. With dinner going on, she could easily get away with no one to see her. The royals and their guests would all be in the dining room; servants not involved with dinner would be eating themselves. She would go as far as she could on foot and hire a carriage once outside the woods to take her somewhere, anywhere as far away from here as possible.
Wrapping her cloak around her with the satchel slung over her shoulder, Babette quietly made her way to the foyer, hiding behind anything she could at any hint of being discovered. No one had to know. No one could know. The last thing she needed was someone trying to stop her.
When she reached the front doors, she could not resist one final, sentimental glance around the room.
"Believe me, chéri, this is the better decision for both of us," she whispered, caressing her belly. Just as her mother had been there for her, Babette had every intention of standing by her child. The baby was her life now. There was no way she would put it through the same misery that she had gone through, and staying here meant placing that terrible fate upon one who did not deserve it.
It was with that determination that she went off into the night without any intention to return, not looking back again.