Here comes chapter two! I hope you people like it and let me know what you think!

Disclaimer: sadly, I don't own Beauty and the Beast. But I'll keep dreaming…

2 – The mansion

When Isabel woke up and glanced outside her bedroom window, she smiled. It was a perfect day to relax and read, in the small garden of the house she and her father had moved in three weeks before. After breakfast, she picked one of her favorite novels and went outside: it was sunny but not extremely hot and a gentle breeze caressed her skin as she comfortably lay on a deck chair.

She was getting to her favorite part of the novel, when a voice startled her: "Isabel!"

She looked up, into Tom's dark brown eyes. "Tom! Hi…I wasn't expecting you-"

"I had some free time and I thought I'd come over. You're reading again?" Tom asked, as he sat next to Isabel. "Don't you get bored?"

"I love reading." Isabel closed her book after marking the page. "I thought you'd be busy today."

"Why?"

"Last night, at the party, you seemed to be having a good time with…what was her name? Kirsten?"

Tom looked confused. Isabel thought he probably had forgotten about the girl because he got drunk, so she decided to drop the subject. She didn't really care anyway and she had realized what kind of guy Tom was: a womanizer. She hadn't had much fun at the party, but she knew it was going to be like that. Everyone had always told her she was different from most girls and it was true, she was well aware of that…but she wasn't willing to pretend to be someone else just to be accepted by a group of people with no personalities of their own.

"Do you wanna go out with me tonight? It'll do you some good to get away from your books for a while." Tom said, running a hand through his short, dark hair. He thought that gesture made him look irresistible.

Isabel frantically started thinking of a good excuse to not go out with him. "Well, I…actually…"

Suddenly, her phone rang. She read her father's name on the display and answered, grateful to her father for interrupting her and Tom's conversation: "Hi dad! Where are you? I thought you'd be home by now…the car broke down? Yes, I'll call the mechanic…where are you exactly? Okay, I'll be there soon."

"Problems?" Tom asked, raising his eyebrows.

Man, is he stupid or what? Isabel tried to reply politely:"Yeah, my father's car kind of…died…while he was driving back home. He was out of town…I should call the mechanic and go there."

She got up and hurried inside her house to find the number of the nearest station. Portkeynes probably had only a couple.

Isabel thought Tom had left and she was therefore surprised to see him standing in the hall, waiting. "I'll drive you to…wherever your father is. I guess you only have one car, right?"

Isabel nodded. She didn't feel like accepting a favour from him, but her father was more important than her reluctance toward Tom Radcliffe.

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"Dad!"

Isabel quickly got out of Tom's car and reached her father, who was standing next to their old vehicle and talking to one of the mechanics that had come to pick it up. "Isabel…" He hugged his daughter and waved at Tom, when he noticed him. "You didn't need to come, you know…"

"What happened?" She asked, ignoring her father's remark.

"I don't know. I was driving down this road and then all of a sudden…the engine stopped working and the car came to a halt. It's a good thing I was driving slowly." He explained, then went back to talking to the mechanics.

Isabel was going to tell Tom he could leave, but then she noticed something. "What a beautiful house!" She exclaimed, before crossing the road and getting closer to the huge, tall gate.

The house was wonderful, there was no doubt about it, but it looked like no one had lived there for dozens of years. It looked like there were at least three floors and more windows than one could count. The garden that surrounded the building had definitely been astonishing too, once, but now the grass grew everywhere, unkempt. The proper word for this place should be mansion, not house, Isabel thought.

"I never knew who are the people that own the place." Tom said, beside Isabel. "I don't think anyone in town knows for sure …the kids believe it's haunted and the adults say it's dangerous, so no one really goes in there." He looked away. "Do you wanna come back?"

"No, thanks. I'll wait for my dad." Isabel replied, still staring at the house, fascinated by it. She didn't notice anything else, she didn't notice Tom leaving nor her father calling out her name once they were ready to leave.

"Isabel!" her father reached her and put his hand on her shoulder. "We're going home."

"Okay…"

Isabel didn't want to leave: her curiosity had taken the best of her and now she wanted more than anything to get in, to explore the old house. After all, it wouldn't hurt anyone: Tom had said he didn't know who the owners were and it didn't look like anyone cared about the old mansion, or it wouldn't look that way now.

"Driving you here has been nice of Tom."

Isabel looked at her father: "I guess so. We're only about twenty minutes out of town, though."

"He's a handsome boy, I thought you two…"

Isabel interrupted him: "He may be handsome all you want, but he's certainly not a bright guy. He's so…shallow." She sighed. "I think he's never cracked open a book all his life… and he thinks I'm the weird one!"

"You're not weird. You're a lot like your mother…if she was still here, it would be impressive to see how much the two of you are alike!"

Isabel smiled at the thought of her mom. She was fourteen when her mother had passed away. Her mother had taught her to read and to appreciate good books and for that reason she was with her everyday.

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The young man woke up very early. He hadn't slept well: first he had had a horrible nightmare and then Chopin had started barking because he was hungry.

"Right…I forgot to feed you last night, I'm sorry…" he muttered, as he washed his face to wake up fully. He walked downstairs and gave Chopin something to eat.

He started thinking. It wasn't uncommon for him to have nightmares…but in spite of that he could never get used to them. He knew he never would…

He was so lost in his thoughts that he didn't notice the front door opening and someone coming in. "What are you doing?"

The young man turned around. "Father!" he smiled, then remembered his father couldn't notice his expression under the mask and looked down. "I was feeding Chopin."

The man put on the kitchen table several bags. "Here, remember to put the food in the fridge." He spoke calmly. His hair was starting to turn grey and he had some wrinkles on his face: he looked just like every other fifty year old guy. No one could have guessed that he had locked his son in a mansion and forced him to wear a mask. "Did anyone enter the house or try to?" he asked.

"Not a soul." The boy always felt so small and inadequate whenever his father was there. But at least for a while he wasn't totally alone. He wasn't totally forgotten.

"How are you? Been sick lately?"

The boy shook his head.

"Good." The man left the room and the boy followed him, like a lost puppy: "Father? Do you have to leave already?"

"I'm really busy."

"Are you sure? I wanted you to listen to a new melody I learned to play…"

"Maybe next time. Goodbye."

His father left, locking the front door. The young man reached the nearest window, withdrew the curtains and stared at his father walking through the garden, opening the gate, closing it behind him and getting into his car.

He went upstairs and lay on his bed, trying to get back to sleep. But he couldn't.