“The last I heard, Our Lord had not ordered an injunction against fruit.”
“Oh, you think you’re so clever,” Babette said, not at all displeased.
Korbinian nodded.
“Yes,” he said, “and I think you are clever too.”
He took another strawberry and placed it against Babette’s lips.
“So,” he continued, “why don’t you and I spend a little time being clever together?”
* * * *
Twenty minutes later the bowl was empty, and Babette was in paradise. She could not remember a time when she had spoken so freely to another person. She and Korbinian talked of everything and nothing, delighting in conversation for its own sake, but even in their verbal meanderings they wandered close to matters of intellect and substance.
“And that,” Babette said, looking into Korbinian’s eyes, “brings us to the Ancient Greeks.”
Korbinian laughed and replied, “I find the Persians to be of far greater interest.”
Babette gave him a playful shove, which he did not seem to mind.
“How can you?” she demanded. “Persia? The great Asiatic horde seeking to invade Europe?”
“Nonsense!” Korbinian said, catching Babette’s hand and holding it with gentle fingers. “The great civilized horde seeking to bring order to a fractured people.”
“You are a terrible classicist,” Babette said, looking at Korbinian with a firm expression.
“My tutor always said so,” Korbinian agreed. “He said I was always too easily distracted by beauty.…”
He raised Babette’s hand to his lips and kissed it softly.
Babette swayed a little, suddenly overcome.
“Baron, I don’t think—” she began.
“Call me Korbinian.”
“Korbinian—”
“Shh.…” Korbinian pressed a fingertip to Babette’s lips. “No uncertainty,” he said, leaning in close. “If you wish for me to stop, tell me to stop. But do not tell me what others would think.”
Babette smiled and closed her eyes, tilting her head upward to meet him.
“Why would I tell you to stop?” she asked softly.
She felt Korbinian’s hand caress her hair as their lips brushed. The warmth of anticipation filled her as she suddenly hungered for Korbinian. In that instant, she wanted nothing more than to be enfolded into him, like one spirit that would never part.
“Babette!”
Her father’s shout shattered the moment, and Babette turned away.
“Damn it!” she cursed under her breath.
Why did Father have to arrived at such a moment?
She looked at Korbinian and then down the hallway. Her father was not yet in sight. She heard him calling from the direction of the stairs. It would only be a few moments before he arrived and found them!
“What is—” Korbinian began.
“My father!” Babette said.
“Your father?” Korbinian seemed perplexed rather than concerned. “Why has he come down here?”
Babette looked at him in astonishment. How could such a clever man be so stupid?
“It’s his house!” she answered.
Korbinian tilted his head, and a smile slowly crossed his lips.
“You are Babette Varanus?” he asked.
“You didn’t know?”
How could he not have known?
Korbinian ran his fingertips along Babette’s cheek.
“I had no idea,” he said. He looked toward the passage. Father’s shouts were drawing nearer. “I think I should go before you are seen with me.”
Babette caught his hand and asked, “When will I see you again?”
Korbinian did not answer. Instead, he slid his fingers through Babette’s hair and drew her to him. His mouth met hers in a kiss of desperation and passion that Babette had never dreamed was possible. She felt herself fading away again, lost on a sea of scents and sensations until there was nothing left but the two of them.
A moment later Korbinian broke away and released her. Babette’s head swam, but all she saw were Korbinian’s gray eyes looking into her own.
“Soon, liebchen,” he said. “Very soon.”
With that, Korbinian bowed, stepped out the door, and vanished into the night.
Babette leaned against the wall, the haze of delight still encompassing her. She only half saw her father as he rounded the corner.
“Babette!” Father cried. “There you are!”
“Hello Father,” Babette said with a sigh.
“Where have you been for the past half hour?” Father asked. “Alfonse des Louveteaux has been looking for you! The quadrille is about to begin! What have you been doing?”
“I was only getting some air,” Babette said. She looked at the bowl. “And eating strawberries.”
Chapter Four
From the moment she awoke the next day, Babette could think of little but Korbinian and the kiss they had shared. The very thought of him made her dizzy. Everywhere she turned, everything she saw reminded her of him. She was bewildered by it all, disarmed by the very strangeness of being so elated. She had never felt that way before. It would have frightened her had it not been so pleasant.
Still, though delightful, the experience made it frightfully difficult for her to concentrate upon her Latin grammar, which would surely make Grandfather cross. Babette rose from her chair in the upstairs library and sighed, partly in delight but mostly in frustration. She crossed to the window and stood there, bathed in the warm afternoon sunlight. The sensation reminded her of him.
How very peculiar, she thought, that sunlight could remind a person of another person. It did not seem at all sensible or scientific. Had Korbinian been there, she was certain he would have had something interesting to say about it.
I’ve done it again!
Babette put her hands to her temples and shook her head. How could every little thing she saw, heard, felt, and smelled possibly remind her of him? It was too impossible to make sense of it!
As she stood at the window, she chanced a look out onto the grounds. To her astonishment, she saw a man not unlike Korbinian riding up the drive on a dappled gray stallion. Babette sighed and turned away, covering her face with her hands.
Now she was seeing things! It was dreadful!
She turned back to the window, determined to put her mind at ease, and saw that her eyes had not deceived her. Indeed, it was Korbinian walking up to the front steps as bold as brass.
Babette bolted for the door. She had to try the handle twice before she managed to open it.
What was Korbinian doing here, now of all times? Surely someone would see him!
She raced out into the passage and ran for the stairs. She heard Korbinian knocking on the front door. What was she to do?
She reached the upstairs landing in time to see a footman answer the door. She wanted to cry out, but that would only make things more difficult. She squared her shoulders and was about to descend and sort the matter out when her grandfather stepped into the foyer, walking stick in hand.
Babette clapped a hand over her mouth to keep from crying out and crouched as low as she could to avoid notice.
Surely something dreadful was about to happen.
* * * *
William Varanus did not expect to encounter anyone as he departed for his afternoon walk, certainly not the young stranger of German extraction who had danced with his granddaughter the night before. But there the young man was, standing in the doorway in riding coat and breeches and a vest of an audaciously sharp green, acting for all the world as if there was nothing peculiar about his arrival.
“And what is this Vatel?” William asked the footman.
“Apologies, sir,” Vatel said. “This…person only just arrived. I was about to show him into the drawing room to await Monsieur James.”
“Thank you Vatel, I will handle this.”
“Very good, sir,” Vatel said and withdrew a few paces.
Wil
liam turned to the young man in the doorway and sized him up. He was tall, as William recalled. He smelled decent enough. There was the scent of horse, naturally, and some traces of cologne but at least neither was overpowering. The boy’s own scent was healthy and robust.
“Who are you?” William asked, direct as always. “What is your business?”
The young man bowed and introduced himself:
“I am Korbinian Alexander Albrecht Freiherr von Fuchsburg. Am I right to think that I am addressing William Varanus?”
“You are,” William said. “And your business?”
“My business, sir,” Korbinian said, “is with you. It concerns your granddaughter, Mademoiselle Babette.”
Really…? William thought. Interesting. Most interesting.
“If the matter concerns my granddaughter,” he said, “then surely you wish to speak to my son James, her father.”
Korbinian appeared confused for a moment but quickly rallied. He exhaled in a soft laugh and met William’s stern gaze.
“Nein,” he said. “Forgive me sir, but I have made inquiries about the town—else I would have attended you sooner. I am given to understand that it is you sir who is the master of the house, not your son. And so I have come to speak to you.”
Clever boy.
“Regarding my granddaughter?” William asked.
“Yes,” Korbinian replied. “As I have said.”
“So you have.”
Korbinian took a breath and said, “Sir, I would prefer if we discussed this matter in private. It is of a delicate and most important nature.”
“Is it?” William asked.
“It is,” Korbinian said, his gaze never wavering.
William chuckled. Toying with the boy was amusing, but only as a passing distraction. His walk beckoned and he was in no mood for further delays. Then again, if he suspected the boy’s purpose correctly…
William tapped the foyer floor with the end of his stick and said, “I am just about to depart on my afternoon stroll in the gardens. It will take precisely thirty minutes.”
He checked his watch and frowned at the delay.
“Twenty-seven minutes,” he corrected. “You may accompany me, Baron von Fuchsburg, and you have the duration of my walk to present me with your business and convince me of its worth. Do you understand?”
“Most clearly, sir,” Korbinian said. “Thank you.”
William looked at his watch again.
“Twenty-six minutes. Come along, we will walk briskly.”
A quicker pace during the conversation would be a good test of the boy’s lungs.
* * * *
As soon as the front door closed, Babette broke from hiding and ran to the nearest window. She watched Grandfather and Korbinian walk briskly across the drive toward the gardens at the side of the house. Grandfather’s manner was relaxed, though purposeful, which Babette took to be a good sign. Korbinian kept pace easily, and his stride was marked by great confidence.
Babette watched them silently, wondering what words passed between them. As they walked out of the window’s line of sight, she moved to the next and the next, following them with her eyes until they had vanished into the gardens.
Babette placed her fingertips against the glass and stood at the window in silence, her mind awhirl.
* * * *
“Now then,” William said, as he savored the fresh air, “what is this business of yours, Baron von Fuchsburg?”
Korbinian cleared his throat with a cough and raised his chin.
“Sir, I wish your permission to marry your granddaughter.”
As William had suspected. And to think, they had only met the night before. Ah, the impetuousness of youth.
“My granddaughter?” William asked.
“Yes, sir.”
“Have you met my granddaughter?”
“Ja,” Korbinian said. He gave William a purposeful look. “You know that I have, sir. You saw us dancing at your family’s ball last night.”
William hid a smile. Clever boy.
“So I did,” he said. “And after one dance you have decided to marry her?”
Korbinian fell silent for a moment before he answered:
“We also spoke, she and I, for no less than twenty minutes, on a great many topics of mutual interest. I was impressed by her intelligence, forthrightness, and wit.”
“And those are qualities you regard as ideal in a wife?” William asked.
“I do, sir. She is a rare woman, your granddaughter. Any man would be honored to wed her.”
William smiled. “And why do you believe that you are worthy of that honor?”
Korbinian drew himself up.
“Because, sir, I am Korbinian von Fuchsburg,” he said, speaking as if it was the only logical answer. He paused. “And because I love her.”
Love, William thought. A manifestation of the foolishness of youth.
“Tell me of Fuchsburg,” William said, pretending not to recognize the name. “What property and wealth does your title entail? Or are you a baron in name only?”
“The Barons von Fuchsburg are old nobility from the days of the Holy Roman Empire. Napoleon sought to erase us. The Prussians sought to absorb us. But we are still here, still masters in our homeland.”
“Your property?” William repeated.
“The Barony of Fuchsburg controls thirty thousand acres of land,” Korbinian said, “two towns facing one another across the Rhine, the oldest university in the German-speaking lands, and the finest vineyards in all of Europe. I have more than enough wealth to ensure your granddaughter’s comfort and happiness, whatever her whims and desires.”
Korbinian looked at William intensely and continued:
“She will want for nothing, I assure you. Each day, when she wakes, she will view the majesty of the Rhine from her tower in the castle. She will be attended by the most dutiful servants—”
William almost scoffed, but he kept his thoughts private. Babette hated being fussed over by the servants.
“—She will never lack intelligent conversation,” Korbinian said. “Her sitting room will be graced by none but the finest minds in all the world, I promise you sir. Artists, philosophers, scientists, and scholars shall be at her beck and call, there to delight her mind and senses whenever she desires it!”
William held up a hand to silence him, taken aback by the statement. Few men would have known to speak of introducing his granddaughter to scientists and scholars before they spoke of kings and courtiers.
“Why would my granddaughter have any interest in such things?” William demanded, sounding angry. “Clearly you do not know her.”
Korbinian kept his head high and gave William an accusing look.
“You are mistaken, sir,” he said. “When she and I spoke, we spoke of nothing but the Classics, philosophy, and matters of substance. She delighted in them, as a foolish girl might delight in dresses and jewels.” He looked William directly in the eye and said, “If you think otherwise, then you do not know truly your granddaughter.”
William was amused enough at the boy’s challenge to indulge it a few moments before adjusting his stance and intensifying his glare. Korbinian was only human and he looked away, but he resisted the predator’s gaze longer than most men could have.
The boy was proving most interesting, William thought. Most interesting indeed.
He stopped at the edge of the apple orchard and looked out across the sea of trees. Small leaves and buds were beginning to form on the branches. Soon they would be in bloom.
“You are an interesting man, Baron von Fuchsburg,” he said. “And I will admit that you possess a better understanding of my granddaughter than do most men.”
Certainly a better understand of her than her own father possesses, he thought.
“You will grant your consent?” Korbinian asked.
“Do not be hasty,” William said, resuming his walk. “You and Babette have known one another for but a single day. I would not
trust either of you to make a wise decision on this point within the span of twenty-four hours. I must think of my granddaughter, you understand.”
“She will be provided for—” Korbinian began.
“I can provide for her,” William said, interrupting him. “I wish to be assured of her happiness.”
“As do I, sir,” Korbinian said, with such vigor and earnestness that William almost laughed aloud.
“What of your relations, Baron?” William asked. “Your father?”
“My father is dead, sir.”
“Dead?” William raised his eyes at this. “And how did he come to die?”
“Asia, sir,” Korbinian said.
“Asia is a place,” William said, “not a cause of death.”
“When I came of age,” Korbinian said, “my parents went on an expedition into Persia, leaving me and my sister alone so that we could come to understand our duties. While in Asia, my parents came to be at war with one of the local khans over some matter that does not concern me and, therefore, of which I am ignorant. The khan killed my father moments before his own death.”
“How did the khan die?”
Korbinian smiled proudly and said, “My mother stabbed him through with my father’s sword and threw him from the top of the tallest tower of his palace. I am informed by my mother that the same fate was a form of execution used by the khan on his subjects for many years, so it met with the general approval of the populace.”
“Really?” William asked. He made his voice sound doubtful, but if what the boy said was even partly true, it spoke very highly of his lineage.…
“I swear upon the name of Our Lord, it is true,” Korbinian said.
“Yes, best not to bring Him into this,” William said. He and God had not been on speaking terms for as long as he could remember. Swearing upon the name of Christ only annoyed him. But Korbinian was young; he could be forgiven for it. “And where is your mother now?”
“She remains in Asia,” Korbinian said. “She took the kingdom by right of conquest and now rules as khan.”
William chuckled. The boy was telling stories, of course, but at least he was creative. James would never have understood why that was a good thing, but William did.
A Monster's Coming of Age Story Page 4
