Chapter 3: She Won't Discover That It's Him

Belle woke up the next day to sunshine streaming through her window. She smiled thinking that she had the most vivid dream. She opened her eyes and found herself safely back in her childhood bedroom in Villeneuve. Then her smile faltered. It hadn't been a dream. She had gone to rescue her father and had escaped from the Beast last night. She remembered the fight with the wolves and Gaston's fortuitous appearance. She looked down and saw that she was still in her favorite blue dress. She couldn't remember coming home last night, so she surmised that she must have fallen asleep on the way back and Gaston had carried her inside. She silently crept down the stairs in case her father was still asleep. What she saw in the sitting room was shocking.

Maurice snored softly, covered by a blanket in the easy chair by the fire. Gaston sat at the table by the window. It looked like he was reading. Belle pinched herself, making sure she wasn't still dreaming. It hurt, so she must be awake. "Good morning, Gaston," she said hesitantly.

Like a child who'd been caught with their hand in the cookie jar, he smiled sheepishly and put down the book. "Good morning, Belle," he said quietly. Then he put a finger to his lips and motioned for her to come into the kitchen with him. Perplexed, she followed. "I didn't want to wake your father," he explained. "He had a long night."

"What happened last night?" she asked. "How did you find me?"

"Maurice came into the tavern, raving that you'd been kidnapped by a beast in an enchanted castle. He tried to recruit volunteers to come look for you."

Belle nodded uneasily. Even though her father had told the truth, she saw that it probably wasn't the best way to get people to help.

"LeFou and I were the only ones who came. We didn't believe his story, but we thought that you might be in trouble anyway. There are all manner of things in the woods and I know you would have gone looking for your father no matter what."

He stopped and looked around the kitchen uncomfortably. "And then?" Belle prompted.

"And then… I'm not proud of what happened. Maurice kept rambling about talking teacups and enchantresses and all manner of impossible things and he couldn't take us to you. He was leading us in circles, but he was adamant that we should keep going. I thought I would have better luck tracking you on my own, so I had LeFou bring him home."

"How did you do that? You said he was adamant about finding me."

"That's the part I'm not proud of. I knocked him out cold." Belle drew in a sharp breath. "It was for his own good," Gaston said placatingly. "I know it's a terrible way to treat someone elderly, but I really was looking out for his welfare. Belle, he was raving like a lunatic. I don't know when the last time he slept or ate was. I thought maybe he had a fever. I thought it would be better for him and for you if he went home."

Belle's expression softened minutely. "I see why you felt that way, Gaston, and I am grateful that you rescued me. You saved my life. If it hadn't been for you, I never would have made it home."

"It was nothing. It wasn't even the most heroic thing I've ever done. It brought back memories of the war though. Those were the days."

Belle shifted her weight uncomfortably. She didn't understand how anyone could romanticize war. "What is it that you miss most about being a soldier?" She didn't know why she had asked. Gaston's war stories had never interested her before. She was sure they were all exaggerated anyway, but she felt like she owed him something after he saved her. He'd shown her that there was more to him than met the eye. He'd risked his life to help her. It was odd that he didn't believe her father, but he'd come to look for her anyway. Why would he do that?

"The widows," Gaston said flatly. Seeing Belle's horrified expression, he burst out laughing. "I'm joking. I miss the comradery. There's nothing like the prospect of imminent death to incentivize people to bond."

"You miss the war because you had more friends?"

"It's not as strange as you make it sound. This is a small village, isn't it? How many people our age live here? Not many, and we've known them all our lives. Now imagine that you're a very young man, hardly more than a boy, and you've never travelled anywhere. You're placed in a new situation and taught to fight, which is what you've always wanted to do, and you're surrounded by hundreds of other young men. It was like a dream come true. It was like meeting all the friends I ever wished for in childhood at once and everyone wanted to socialize. We were all trying to get to know each other. None of us really knew what was coming, so we were all trying our best to not think about it. I imagine it's how you would feel if you walked into a room full of books you'd always wanted to read."

Belle smiled, pleased that he'd made such an on-point analogy. Maybe he was smarter than he looked. He said the schoolmaster never liked him, but that wasn't necessarily a reflection on his intelligence. "May I ask what you were reading when I interrupted you?" she asked.

"You could never interrupt anything, Belle, but it was 1001 Arabian Nights. It was sitting out on the table, so I assume it's a favorite of yours?"

"Oh, yes! It has everything I could want in a story, far off places, daring swordfights, magic spells, and a prince in disguise."

"Yes, all those things make for a good story. I think that's why MacBeth is my favorite play."

"You've read Shakespeare?"

"Heavens, no. Reading plays isn't any fun at all. I saw it on stage."

"You've been to the theater?"

"Indeed. My father used to take me with him to Paris on business. We sell some of our surplus crops, you know. He always made a point of going to the theater when we had a chance. I suppose part of why I enjoy it is because it reminds me of him. Which is why I'm really very sorry about what happened to your father last night."

"Please don't make a habit of punching him in the face," she said, "Even when it is for his own good."

"You have my word," Gaston said, crossing his heart. Not wanting the conversation to end he said, "So you've never seen a play?"

"There's not a lot of theater here in Villenueve."

"What about at the fair? Every year they do puppet shows and a mummer's farce. Sometimes they're quite funny."

"I've never been to the fair. Actually, I haven't left Villeneuve since I came here as a baby."

"You need to get out more, Belle. I know you want adventure in the great wide somewhere, but you don't need to go that far to experience new things. The fair is a wonderful way to spend an afternoon and it's only about an hour away on horseback."

"Maybe you're right," Belle said thoughtfully. "Maybe I should try to see what's in my own backyard before I travel the world."

"That's the spirit. The fair's coming up, you know. As a matter of fact, it's next weekend. I could escort you, if you like. And if it's alright with your father," he added hastily.

Was he blushing? Belle never thought the day would come when she'd see Gaston embarrassed. Part of her said that he should be embarrassed after hitting an old man, but part of her also said that it was cute. It meant that he wasn't as calm and collected as he liked to pretend. "Alright, I'll go the fair with you."

"Excellent! Now, I really should take my leave. I don't think your father would be overly pleased if I was still here when he woke up, not that I blame him. Take care, Belle. And try not to get cornered by wolves in the woods until after next week." He'd meant it in jest, but Gaston could see the fear in Belle's eyes. "I'm sorry," he said quickly. He was finally getting her to open up and he'd messed it up. "You don't have to tell me if you don't want, but what happened yesterday in the woods?"

Belle shuddered, but then she put on a brave face. "It's a long story. I'll tell you on the way to the fair next week." Seeming satisfied, Gaston left. Belle breathed a sigh of relief. She was relieved about everything at the moment. She was relieved to be home. She was relieved that her father was alright. She was relieved that the Beast hadn't come after her. Most of all, she was relieved that Gaston seemed like a better man than she'd given him credit for. She knew people in the village already called her father Crazy Old Maurice. She didn't want to give them more cause. The last thing she needed was for her father to end up in the Maison des Lunes. The two of them needed to come up with a strategy about how to explain what had happened in the forest without including magic. They needed to warn people to be careful without sounding crazy. She'd have to come up with something. Thinking she heard her father stirring in the next room, she hastened to attend him.