A/N: Hello all! As you gathered from the summary, this will be wildly AU but hopefully stay true to the characters we know and love. And while there will be OCs, they are inspired by the Beauty and the Beast original story, scrapped characters for the Disney movie, or just ones of my own creation. Mostly, this story will be GastonxBelle, Beast(aka Adam)xBelle, BabettexLumiere, GastonxOC, and so forth and so on. And the story will be heavily inspired by Downton Abbey and Titanic since it is set in the same era : )

If you'll be kind enough to leave a review, I'll most likely reply here in the author's note at the beginning of each chapter. Thank you!

"But he who dares not grasp the thorn

Should never crave the rose."

― Anne Brontë

Prologue

Belle existed in a world made up of titles, dinners, balls, coronations, outings, and tightly woven corsets.

Though, she may have fully existed in the Edwardian years of the early 1900s, and was even found to be a charismatic conversationalist on occasion, she did not live there. Belle Beaumont found no true interest in social ranks and stuffy upper-class traditions. The young woman of age 24 lived in stories of scandal, where heroes were darkly handsome rogues who seduced high-class women into a lifestyle of adventure and fast romance.

She would much rather spend a night reading salacious romance novels than partaking in pretensions dinners spearheaded by men who believed they commanded the stars in the sky.

Though Belle enjoyed hours of escapism in literature, she was not ignorant to the changing climate of the world. She found herself reading social commentary almost as much as read passionate fantasies. It was a hobby most women her age did not understand. And, the interest gave Belle a sharp tongue and a mind for discussion. Two unneeded qualities in a woman by most aristocrats' standards.

The young woman did not mind. She did not wish to acquire a suitor before the age of 25 and it was the furthest thing from her mind. Even if her next birthday was approaching at an alarming pace.

Life was full of excitement and opportunity outside the walls of her family home in London, England. There, she would gladly spend the rest of her days among her happy papa and her two younger sisters.

Clarice Beaumont was the middle child at 22. Though they were quite different in their outlooks on life, Belle cherished her opinions and insight. Clare, as she was called by her family, was far more connected to the outside world. That being said, she was also a bit more consumed by society. The sister also had her sights on every young man she came across. She would spend hours perfecting her hair and outfit and waste hours more chatting with gentlemen who looked past her beauty, only seeing a fortune her father would leave.

Belle never fussed much with her appearance and men often found she was less to look at than Clare. All though, for some reason, she was far more to think about.

The Beaumont family was one of the wealthiest in London, though one would not realize it at first. Maurice Beaumont, the father of the family, inherited fortunes from his father, and married a woman of equal wealth. Though, the father was slightly seen as an outcast among aristocracies of the like. He was a man with a taste for the arts and collected modern paintings, something others scoffed at. One glance at the smears and smudges in a Matisse left most confused and slightly insulted by the crass work. Yet, Maurice was a man ahead of his time. He relished pieces that the public found abhorrent.

Their estate in London was filled with odd sculptures and paintings that created a world of whimsy for the little family.

Truthfully, the girls did not mind the reputation their father had acquired for them. They loved him for his quirks and would often spend hours laughing at his stories from his life in Paris. "Years past," he would say, "when I dined with mimes and partook in dubious acts with fellow artists..."

And none of which loved their Papa more than the youngest; 18-year-old Emilia.

Emilia was still a child in the eyes of society. With her long dark hair still cascading down her back, and her large, bright, eyes, she was still naïve to the hardships of the world.

She was a smart girl, as all the Beaumont sisters sharply were, but her interests were still developing. And, at the moment, she fancied spending the day memorizing the names of royalty and their family history. Much to the dismay of her father, she had always been a keen royalist.

Emilia was too young to remember the darkest times the family faced; the death of Lady Beaumont. Their mother who unfortunately died when Belle was 7, and Clare 5. Maurice could never bring himself to speak of her passing and it left a vast hole in his heart and the hearts of his daughters. Worst of all, it left the elder two constantly wondering what she may have been like, or even, what in fact had killed her. They never did seem to find the words to ask their father just how it had happened.

Yet, the spring of 1911 brought the family dark times again.

Much to the resentment of Clare, the reluctance of Belle, and excitement of Emilia, the family had been traveling across land and sea to move into the manor of their influential Aunt Marguerite.

And, after taking a ship across the channel, lounging on a train for hours, and now partaking in a bumpy carriage ride through the country, the attitudes of the sisters had not much changed.

But one underlying fact remained the same; they had to leave London because their father was in declining health. And they had to prepare for the worst.

Aunt Marguerite had been the first to lend a helping hand to the family. Little did she know, she would be forever changing the course of all their lives. And, she would be pleased to hear it. She already had great plans for the girls and was eager to accept them into her life. She had been widowed many years ago and never allowed children of her own. So, with dinners set and invitations to local young men sent, she was prepared for the family, and still, unprepared at the same time.

But, maybe, it was Belle who was the least prepared of all.

Out of all the place and adventures she dreamed life would take her, she never did think some little provincial village in France by the name Saint-Veran was in the cards.

As she leaned against the window of the carriage beside Clare and across from her Papa, she yawned with boredom at the thought of her new dull life.

Who waited for her in such a strange empty land? Was there any hope for the wild dreams she desperately yearned for?

She warned herself to no longer dream. That having any hope was foolish. She figured she would die a spinster without a single interesting story to tell.

But then again, she would be dead wrong.