Two years later
Gaston was the most unpleasant human being that Belle had ever had the misfortune of knowing.
Over the past couple of years he had pursued her relentlessly. Since that first meeting he had followed on Belle's heel like a lost puppy dog, alternating between propositioning her and proclaiming his own greatness whenever he got the chance. She tried her best to avoid him, but somehow he always happened to be everywhere she was; he seemed to have nothing to do but bother her.
Since the first day they arrived, she and her father had been increasingly cast out from the crowd. Belle knew the townsfolk gossiped about her father's strange occupation– as well as her own oddness– but it didn't bother her much anymore. Those who had been drawn to Belle for her beauty in the beginning were almost immediately repulsed by her reading habit. Now, very few villagers went out of their way to speak to her. She tended to keep to herself, anyway, and preferred it that way.
As a result of her isolation, Belle had fallen into a comfortable routine over time; one that varied only somewhat, typically with the changing of the seasons. Most mornings she awoke with the sun and read in bed for a half hour or so, followed by a bath (where she'd also read), and then a light breakfast– she frequently read at the table. After that would be an hour of watering and feeding the animals– letting the chickens out of the coop, allowing Phillipe and the goats to graze– while Belle sat nearby in the grass and read. Whenever it snowed or was cold, she'd bundle up and read in the barn with a lantern for warmth and light.
After her morning chores, she usually went into town. She'd sell any eggs or milk if she had excess, or would exchange them for bread and cheese. Then, she'd pick up some produce from the grocer, and meat from the butcher if she had enough coin to spare. Belle almost always then made her way to the bookshop, to either return or borrow a book– often, it was both. Sometimes after the bookshop Belle would have to pick up other things, like bolts of fabric for sewing or knitting supplies; since her father had become a widower with her mother's passing, she'd had to take on the responsibilities as the lady of the house, which included tailoring their clothing and bedding when they needed repair. Otherwise, she just went home to cook and clean and read some more.
The only constant in her daily routine was Gaston.
He was so predictable, and yet she could never guess where he'd pop up next, but somehow she saw him every day without fail. Sometimes he walked with her into town as soon as he spotted her on the path, and wouldn't leave her side until she gave him the slip. Other times he'd cut in while she was in the middle of making a purchase, or would wait until she was done to follow her home. He would even come to call on days that she didn't go into town. And he was always talking: about her supposed beauty, his hunting prowess, his trophies, the tavern, his horse– whatever was on his mind at the moment, it seemed.
The one place he never bothered to follow her was the bookshop; it had become a makeshift sanctuary for Belle, and was where she had come to prefer to spend most of her time. It was a nice enough place to get away from Gaston and catch her breath, at least.
The brass bell above the door rang out and Belle stepped through the door.
"Ah, Belle!" the old shopkeeper greeted jovially.
"Good morning," Belle greeted in turn. "I've come to return the book I borrowed."
The man was taken aback but hardly surprised; the young bookworm often burned through a novel a day. "Finished already?"
"Oh, I couldn't put it down," Belle gushed, already reaching for the shelves, running her fingertips along the rows of bindings. "Have you got anything new?"
The elderly man laughed. "Not since yesterday!"
"That's all right." Her chestnut tresses were tied back, away from her face, and the cluster of silky hair swayed back and forth across her shoulders as she teetered on the bookshelf ladder. "I'll borrow… this one."
Adjusting his bifocals, the shopkeeper read the title of the volume the lady had selected and nearly gasped. "That one? But you've read it twice!"
An airy laugh escaped Belle's throat and her voice took on a dreamy tone. "Well, it's my favorite! Far off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, a prince in disguise–"
"If you like it all that much, it's yours."
Belle stepped off of the ladder and stumbled slightly, unable to hide the shock from her face. "But sir–"
"You know you're my favorite patron, mademoiselle."
"Sir, you flatter me," Belle laughed. She hadn't spent a single coin in the store in the two years since she moved to town, but she often performed chores about the shop in exchange for the privilege to borrow so many books.
"I insist!" The old man pressed the novel into her delicate hands.
"Well... thank you," Belle beamed at him. "Thank you very much!"
The shopkeeper escorted her to the door, touching her lightly on the elbow. Before she could turn to leave, however, he gave the woman a fatherly look from over his spectacles.
"No Gaston today?" On his face was a knowing smirk.
"Not yet," she sighed, suddenly becoming nervous. No doubt he'd be sure to make his appearance soon enough.
"You be careful with that one."
Swallowing thickly, Belle nodded, not quite sure what he meant, but too afraid to ask.
She hugged the book to her chest as she bid the man farewell and exited the shop; this was truly a wonderful gift he had given her. Belle couldn't remember the last time anyone had given her something so lovely and meaningful.
Lost in thought with a dazed sort of smile on her face, Belle made her way to sit at the fountain, excited to read her new treasure.
"Look what I've been given," Belle spoke to the flock of sheep that approached her curiously, showing off her new-old book.
"What a thoughtful gift. Can you believe it?"
One of the animals baa'd in response.
Excitedly, Belle flipped open to the first chapter.
"See, here is where the story starts…" She began narrating the story to the herd, calling out some of her favorite scenes and illustrations. A few well-dressed women nearby shot her a disgusted look before resuming their business; Belle was oblivious to their animosity.
"Oh! Isn't this amazing," she cooed suddenly, turning to a page. "It's my favorite part, because– you'll see."
She turned another page.
"Here's where she meets Prince Charming," Belle pointed out, tapping her fingertip on the paper. "But she won't discover that it's him 'til chapter three."
Belle flipped the page once more, and found something thick sticking out from the book. Upon looking at it, Belle saw that it was a sort of multi-page leaflet, made of many leaves of thin parchment, and no thicker in its entirety than two of Belle's fingers; it was stuck in the binding between the pages. On the front read, in black ink: Ma Belle Vie. The author was listed as Anonymous.
"That's strange," Belle mused aloud to no one in particular, balancing the book on her lap to pull the pamphlet free. One of the sheep reached forward in an attempt to take a bite out of the object in Belle's hands, but she gently pulled it away. "Why would this be in here? It's almost like someone wanted to hide it."
Maybe they were using it as a bookmark.
Upon peeling back the cover, however, Belle was greeted with something she had never seen before in her life: an illustration of a man and a woman, in the nude, mid-coitus.
Most proper young women would be shocked and would look away from such material to preserve their dignity, but Belle was intrigued. She glanced around quickly to be sure that no one was paying attention to her, before inspecting the image further.
The woman was reclining on her back on a sort of chaise sofa, her plump right arm resting over the back of the lounge, her large, round breasts in full view; the tiny dark nipples were pert and at attention. Her left hand dallied with the special place below her belly button, beneath a cluster of curls that resembled Belle's own anatomy, the dainty fingers pinching the flesh there in a way that the young woman had never considered.
A nobleman stood at the end of the chaise dressed in nothing but his wig, stockings, and heels. His bare buttocks faced the viewer, but from such a vantage point his fully erect member was also visible, poking out from his waist. He held the woman's legs open wide to the viewer with his hands.
Belle previewed the following pages, flipping through them speedily, and was surprised to find that there were more illustrations of varying sexual acts, along with an accompanying text for each, like an illustrated anthology of short stories.
It was a booklet full of erotica.
An unfamiliar sensation shot through her abdomen like an arrow. Belle's heart hammered in her chest and she felt her cheeks redden with hot blood. She couldn't read such things out in the open, and she couldn't very well return it to the bookkeeper. Stuffing the pamphlet back into the middle of chapter three, she snapped the novel shut and rose hurriedly, heading towards her home.
–
"Wow! You didn't miss a shot, Gaston! You're the greatest hunter in the whole world!"
Gaston blew on the top of his smoking rifle. "I know."
"No beast alive stands a chance against you," LeFou chortled, stuffing the bleeding carcass into his sack. "And no girl for that matter!"
"It's true, Lefou–"
The hunter seemed to pause.
"LeFou, I'm afraid I've been thinking," he mused to his vertically-challenged companion.
"A dangerous pastime."
"I know," Gaston replied dismissively with a wave of his hand."But LeFou, I'm getting on in age. I'm nearly 25 years along now. I should be getting ready to settle down and sire some sons to carry on my incredible bloodline. It'd be a shame if my talents and good looks died out with me. So, I figured it's high time I found myself a proper wife, and I've got my sights set on that one."
Gaston pointed a meaty finger toward the chocolate-haired girl in the sky blue frock passing by. LeFou scanned the town center and was flabbergasted when he realized exactly who he was talking about. "T-The inventor's daughter?"
"She's the one!" Gaston boasted proudly. "The lucky girl I'm going to marry."
"But she's–"
"The most beautiful girl in town–"
"I know, but–"
Gaston snatched LeFou up by the lapels of his coat. "That makes her the best. And don't I deserve the best?"
The smaller man bumbled in fear. "Well, of course, I mean you do, but I mean–"
"Right from the moment when I met her– saw her– I said she's gorgeous, and I fell. Here in town there's only she who is as beautiful as me, so I'm making plans to woo and marry Belle."
He dropped LeFou to the ground, and with a nod of his head, indicated for his minion to follow him.
