Their lips met again, and Babette found herself lost in the rush of passion.
“Liebchen! Liebchen!” Korbinian cried as he kissed her.
In desperation Babette tore at her clothes, struggling to be free of them so that she could feel Korbinian’s touch on every inch of her skin. Her petticoat fell away. Her coat tumbled to the floor. The accursed corset remained in place. She seldom thought about it, but now…
“Allow me,” Korbinian whispered in her ear.
With his expert fingers, he undid the offending garment and slipped it from Babette’s body. The corset fell to the floor, unwanted and unnecessary. Korbinian’s fingers traced Babette’s bosom as he kissed her throat.
Babette gasped in delight and felt her senses fall away one after another into the delicious chaos of the moment.
* * * *
William sat at the window of his study, sipping tea and admiring the frigid weather outside. He liked nothing better than to watch nature in its native state. What a waste it was in the modern age for men to gird wild places with fences and hedges. To make a display of wealth or exaltation was one thing, and of course, cities had their place as centers of the economy, but William often felt that humanity had lost something when it had presumed to tame the wild. Man was an animal in search of his place in a world to which he no longer belonged.
William took a sip of his tea—black, with bergamot oil and fresh bull’s blood. Perhaps it was only his old age speaking. As a young man, he had enjoyed much that civilization had to offer, but he could not deny that with each passing year, the urge to escape the comforts of society grew stronger and stronger.
Perhaps I should have a grotto constructed on the grounds, he thought. I could spend my days as a hermit.
He laughed aloud at the thought.
“Grandfather?”
William looked over his shoulder. He saw Babette standing a few paces away. Her clothes and hair were disheveled, though William could see that she had taken pains to look otherwise. He knew what she had been doing. Her father would not have approved, but William knew that it was for the best.
“Yes, Babette?” he asked, smiling warmly at her.
“Why are you laughing?” Babette asked.
This made William chuckle, but he reined in his amusement.
“Just the quiet thoughts of an old man,” he said. “How is your patient?”
Babette’s expression brightened.
“He is much recovered,” she said.
“Then soon he shall no longer be confined to bed,” William said. “You will be at liberty to resume your studies, which have been much neglected.”
“That is simply not so, Grandfather,” Babette protested. “During Korbinian’s convalescence, he instructed me in many matters of importance.”
“Of course he did.” William took another sip of his tea and asked, “How is your German grammar?”
“Well, Grandfather. Korbinian was most impressed. He said that my command of his native tongue was nothing short of incredible.”
“Good,” William said, nodding in approval. “And your arithmetic?”
Babette laughed.
“What use do I, a well-bred young lady, have for arithmetic?”
William chuckled and motioned for Babette to join him in an empty chair. As he poured her a cup of tea, he replied:
“Babette, you must realize by now that, as your father’s sole surviving heir, you are to inherit the entirety of my estate once both I and your father have passed on. While I have come to regard the Baron von Fuchsburg favorably, it is my wish that only my blood relations shall control my company. My properties, my ships, my warehouses, my goods, they will all fall into your hands—perhaps sooner than expected if your father continues to display his blatant disinterest in the business once I am gone.”
“Grandfather, you musn’t speak of—”
William held up a hand to silence his granddaughter.
“Babette, do not interrupt me with idle nonsense,” he said. “Let us speak plainly. You are far more sensible than your father. Even without a proper education in figures, you are a capable administrator. After all,” he added with a wry smile, “you were the one who properly organized the library. That is no small feat.”
“Hardly comparable to managing a business,” Babette said. “If you will pardon my frankness, a librarian does not a skilled businessman make.”
“But of course,” William said. “Which is why I insist that you be properly instructed in matters of business and accounting.”
“Well,” Babette said, smiling somewhat smugly, “I can balance a ledger.”
“A step above your father,” William said. “But can you tell me the going rate for American cotton?”
“Should I?” Babette asked, sipping her tea coyly. “Have not the United States become immaterial to the cotton market now that they are at war with one another?”
William concealed a smile.
“Why should that be?” he asked.
Babette sighed. She saw through his game.
“Because, Grandfather,” she said, “cotton is produced by the states in rebellion. The navy is controlled by the loyalists. The loyalists will never allow the rebels to export it.”
Babette drank what remained of her tea in a single, hungry gulp and concluded:
“No, for the duration of the conflict, the United States are irrelevant to the topic of cotton exports, and I doubt very much that the rest of the continent will produce sufficient crops to compensate for it. The Americas are no longer viable. If you wish my advice, look to Egypt or India. And I would even suggest taking advantage of the growing shortage to drive up the price. Stockpile, allow your competitors to exhaust their supply, and dominate the market.”
William laughed aloud in delight. Babette looked at him, her expression torn between confusion and offense.
“What is so amusing, Grandfather?” she asked.
“I have already begun, six months ago.”
Babette blushed, suddenly embarrassed. Her expression grew clouded and she demanded, “Then why did you ask me such a question?”
William smiled for a moment, admiring her in all of her indignant anger. She was indeed a Varanus.
He patted Babette on the knee and said:
“To remind me of how proud I am of my granddaughter.”
Babette was silent for a time, her anger slowly fading and a smile of realization forming on her lips.
“I am happy to please you, Grandfather,” she finally said.
“I do mean that, Babette,” William said, taking her hand in both of his. “I am so very proud of you. More proud, I think, than I have been of any member of my family.”
Babette looked away.
“But surely,” she said, “Father—”
“I love your father, Babette,” William said, “but I cannot be proud of him. You understand that. He is not a Varanus.”
“I know,” Babette said. “You have always been more of a father to me, Grandfather.”
William nodded but said nothing. Silence drifted over them, and for a time they sat together, looking out into the frozen land beyond the window.
At length, William cleared his throat and spoke:
“Has young Korbinian proposed marriage to you yet?”
Babette went pale and snapped her head around to look at him.
“I…what?” she asked.
“Has young Korbinian proposed marriage to you yet?” William repeated. “You need not be coy about the matter with me. I know that the two of you are very much in love. You have shown great affection to one another. Marriage is the next logical step. So I ask again, has he proposed marriage?”
Babette blushed a bright pink and quickly hid her face behind one hand.
Perhaps not the sort of thing a young woman wishes to discuss with her grandfather, William thought, which was a pity for Babette, as she had no choice in the matter. William needed to know in order to plan his next steps.
&
nbsp; “Has he?” he asked.
Babette sighed and replied, “Yes, yes he has.”
“And have you accepted.”
“I have.”
“And has your father been informed?” William asked.
This made Babette blush all the more.
“No,” she admitted. “It is a difficult subject to broach with Father. I know that he wishes me to marry Alfonse.”
“Yes, well,” William said, “that will not happen so long as both you and your father remain under my roof. You need have no fear of that. But as for the Baron von Fuchsburg, I would advise him to seek your father’s approval for the union at once.”
“What if Father refuses?” Babette asked.
William smiled and patted her hand.
“Leave your father to me.”
Chapter Ten
Christmas Eve, 1861
Grandfather was as good as his word.
How he had done it, Babette could not say, but when Korbinian went to her father to request Babette’s hand in marriage, James gave it willingly. With reluctance and reservation, of course, but willingly all the same. It occurred to Babette that Father’s change of heart was impossibly sudden. Whatever Grandfather had said, he must have been working on Father for weeks beforehand to enact such an astounding change. Babette was certain of it. How like Grandfather to make a promise after he had already carried it out.
Still, Babette reflected, looking out over the sea of guests in the ballroom, all that mattered was that it had been done. She leaned on the balcony railing and watched the crowd milling about, dancing, chatting, and celebrating a joyful Noël. The Varanus family’s annual Christmas Eve Fête was the toast of Normandy, and invitations were coveted throughout France. Only the best were allowed in, and every guest room in the house had been filled by visitors from as far as the Riviera. The feasting and dancing were tremendous and delightful, but Babette knew—and delighted in—the secret special purpose behind this year’s celebration.
She smiled as Korbinian joined her at the railing. He wore his hussar’s uniform, just as he had the night they met. He was so very handsome in it, she thought. And now, with Father’s blessing, he was hers.
Soon to be hers, of course. But near enough. Nothing could stand in their way now.
Babette felt Korbinian place a hand on her hip, and she leaned against him for a moment. Smiling at him, she said:
“Hello my love. Good of you to join us.”
“I was preparing myself,” Korbinian said. “Beauty does not happen with a snap of the fingers, you know. A man must attend to his appearance before he graces the public.”
“There is little excuse,” Babette said. “You did not have to put on a crinoline.”
Korbinian scoffed at the counter:
“Well, that is what servants are for.”
Babette fluttered her eyelashes at him and turned away.
“What a poor soldier you must make,” she said, laughing, “if you require a manservant to dress.”
“I did not say that I required a servant,” Korbinian answered, placing one hand to his chest as if wounded. “I keep a servant so that he may be employed, just as I keep a cook, a groom, a gamekeeper, and all the rest. It is as much an act of charity as it is one of convenience.”
Babette rolled her eyes.
“Yes, of course it is,” she said. “You are the very soul of generosity.”
“I have always believed this to be true,” Korbinian said. “Come,” he added, taking her hand, “let us dance.”
Babette snapped open her fan and placed it before her face in a display of modesty.
“So soon?” she asked. “We have only just arrived.”
“From our respective chambers,” Korbinian said, pulling her closer.
“I am exhausted from a long journey down the corridor,” Babette said, leaning back against the railing in a mock faint and fanning herself. “Modern travel is so tiring.”
“And dangerous,” Korbinian said, smirking, “what with all these brigands lurking in the pantry nowadays.”
“It must be the economy.”
Korbinian leaned in close and whispered in Babette’s ear, “I know just the thing to relieve your exhaustion.”
“And what is that?” Babette asked, looking at him slyly out of the corner of her eye. “If it is your customary remedy, then we shall surely be missed. One cannot vanish from a party for the better part of an hour these days without someone noticing.”
A slow smile crossed Korbinian’s lips, and he looked away for a moment.
“I think,” he said, “that in such a situation we must confine ourselves to dancing until the throng has departed, and we are free to pursue more aesthetic diversions.”
He offered Babette his arm, which she took gracefully.
“I find your suggestion to be most agreeable,” she said. “Dancing is a poor substitute, of course, but I daresay it will prove an agreeable apéritif for the diversions to come.”
Korbinian chuckled and said:
“Come, let us whet our appetites for the feast.”
* * * *
William surveyed his guests from the landing of the staircase that wove its way up to the second floor gallery overlooking the ballroom. It had been a specific construction, built during renovations with the express purpose of giving him a stage from which to address his guests.
He saw James at the foot of the stairs and motioned for his son to join him. James politely excused himself from his conversation with a visiting Gascon gentleman of limited significance and joined William.
“Is it time?” James asked.
“It is,” William said. “Now, where is the couple of the hour?”
“Dancing,” James said, “as they have been all night.”
From his tone, William knew he did not approve.
“Well, they are in love,” William said. “Protocol be damned tonight. This is my ball, and I say that my granddaughter may dance with whomever she pleases as many times as she likes.”
“Yes, of course,” James said. He did not sound convinced. “Father,” he added, after a short pause, “tell me.…”
What now? William thought in irritation. James was using the tone he always preferred when he wanted an answer of agreement but did not want to ask for it.
“Are we doing the right thing?” James continued.
William sighed and said, “Yes, James, we are. We are allowing Babette to marry the man she loves. A man who, you will recall, loves her in return. A man, moreover, who is of noble birth and of sufficient means to care for her in the manner to which she is accustomed without any assistance from us. What better service could we do her?”
“Yes, but, is it right?” James asked.
He was trying to wheedle his way out of his earlier agreement. William was not about to let that happen.
“He has asked,” William said. “She has consented. You and I have both given the union our blessing. Now is not the time to question what has been done, James.”
As expected, James withdrew from the fight and attempted another path.
“Well, of course,” he said, nodding. “I mean, not the marriage itself. But is tonight the right time to announce it? Would it not be better to wait until the New Year?”
“No James,” William said, “it would not. Tonight we have some of the finest people in all the country present. I think now is the ideal time for such an announcement.”
James sighed.
“Yes, of course,” he said. “Shall I have them sent for now?”
William considered the question and smiled.
“No, James, I think we can allow them one more dance.”
* * * *
When Babette and Korbinian had joined them on the landing, William motioned to the orchestra for silence. The guests turned toward their host in expectation as a hush drifted across the room. William gave an almost imperceptible nod to his butler, Proust, who began directing the serving staff to give each gues
t a glass of champagne. William accepted his own glass from Proust directly and cleared his throat with an almost imperceptible growl.
“My Lords and Ladies, Messieurs and Mesdames, dear friends,” he said, his voice carrying to the four corners of the ballroom, “it is, as ever, a pleasure and an honor to welcome you into my home. It warms my heart to see so many persons of grace and distinction at this humble little soirée of mine year after year.”
This elicited a chorus of good-natured laughter, as it had intended. Like all of his official gatherings, the Christmas party was practically a feature of the calendar year in France. The idea that anyone below the status of count would willingly pass up an invitation was a joke in itself. The devoutly religious objected, of course, but anyone who could not or would not attend if asked was discretely left off the invitation list.
“My family and I hope that tomorrow you will join us for mass in the village church as we celebrate the birth of our Lord—”
A necessary concession. Though William cared little for the trappings of religion, one could not celebrate Christmas Eve with music and drink only to ignore the demands of the faith on Christmas Day.
“—but in the meantime, let us revel and delight in good company and good cheer!”
There were soft words of assent from the crowd.
“Customarily I would offer a toast now,” William continued, “but tonight I have a very important announcement to make on behalf of my family. As you all know, my dear granddaughter Babette Varanus had her first introduction into Society this year. Words cannot describe the pride that my son and I have felt. I only wish that Babette’s mother had lived to see this moment.”
William’s voice caught for a moment in a display of restrained emotion that he did not actually feel. James did feel it, however, and William put a comforting hand on his son’s shoulder and paused a moment before continuing. The effect upon the crowd was exactly as he had calculated. Expressions of sympathy blossomed throughout the room, and more than one respectable lady dabbed at her eyes.
“Fortunately,” William said, “fate not only takes but gives. This year a most remarkable young man came into our lives, and I think it is not overly sentimental to say that he and my granddaughter have fallen truly in love with one another.
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