Chapter 3 – The Life I Lead

Genevieve was as good as her word. Over the next few weeks, she made it her business to encounter Ger every time he set foot in town.

Ger was amazed and bemused by this behavior and, though he was grateful for her constant offers to assist him however she could, he has to admit that she was getting rather vexing.

In hew own way, Genevieve was just as bemused as Ger. The man simply did not seem to show any interest in her. She had made sure he was not blind, not suffering from any sort of insanity and even walked into the booksellers to ensure that he was not an idiot. The bookseller chuckled at that question and suggested gently that maybe Ger was not looking for a girl like Genevieve.

She stared back at him blankly. "Well, what other kind of girl would he want?"

The bookseller smiled. "A girl more like him in tastes, perhaps, who would see value in the experiments he and his father are performing and not spend all her time trying to drag him away from them. Just perhaps." The bookseller had been speaking to Ger earlier that morning and the latter had casually let it drop that Mlle. Avenant was becoming rather trying.

Genevieve considered this for a moment. "No, I don't think so. Men don't like women who are interested in things like that. They like women who are beautiful. I am beautiful, as beautiful as anyone can be. Which means there must be some other reason…" She left the shop, pondering what else could be wrong with Ger that made him so hard to catch.

Right around the time when Genevieve had decided that his ignoring her was due to nearsightedness developed from spending too much of the winter bent over dusty tomes, Maurice's latest invention was completed. The winter frosts were finally beginning to dissipate and the first of Spring's birds were beginning to warm up their voices. The two Duponts sold off their chickens, packed up what little belongings and money they had, and closed up the house. Word spread quickly around the village that they were leaving for the spring and possibly even part of the summer to compete in some Inventor's Faire near Paris.

The villagers were dumbfounded. Why anyone, after escaping from that horrid city life, would want to return for a few months was completely beyond them. But they had already decided that the Duponts were simply unfathomable. The father, while a jovial old man when he made an appearance, was rarely seen in the town and always puttering away in that workroom of his doing who-knows-what at heaven knows what hour of the night. The villagers still remembered the time that the little house had positively exploded at three in the morning. It would not have been so bad, had they actually gotten an explanation for the disaster, but all that had happened was that the boy had come into town the next day and purchased some more coal for the fire. The first and only time someone has asked him what happened, they received such an incomprehensible answer, that the entire village simply gave up on getting a straight anything out of that family and went on with their daily routines.

The boy was, in some ways, the most confusing of the two. After all, as the fishmonger was heard remarking to one of his customers, Maurice had spent all his life in the university and everyone knows you can't teach an old dog new tricks. But the boy…he was young and strong and good-looking. The rest of the village lads would be more than happy to drink with him and go hunting with him, but he never seemed to show the slightest interest in those normal activities.

This was a particularly sore point for the fishmonger, whose sixteen-year-old son had invited Gervaise Dupont to join them on a hunting excursion. Ger had not actually meant any offense when he turned them down with a tone of voice that suggested Ger had no idea why anyone would want to spend so much time and energy on meat when one could just buy it from the local butcher. The poor boy, who had been rather in awe of Ger, had not really known what to do. It was as if no one has ever told Ger how a real man was supposed to behave. His father agreed: it was a pity that someone who looked like such a paragon of young manhood should turn out to be so disappointing.

All in all, the town concluded, it was for the best that the Duponts be gone for a while. Maybe it would give them some time to appreciate their good fortune in Molyneaux. Genevieve was, at first, rather miffed to find that there was such a thing as a boy who could leave her, but on reflection, realized this would all be for the best. While Ger was away, he would have time to compare her to all the other women out there and see that she, Genevieve, was in fact the best of the best.

Genevieve outlined this plan to Laliene, who thought it was a brilliant plan and told all the village that Ger was bound to return home to Molyneaux pining for Genevieve. Except for the bookseller, they all agreed. All their teenaged sons were pining for the lovely Genevieve, why should Gervaise Dupont be any exception?

Of course, when Ger and his father returned home that autumn, it seemed that the boy was still oblivious to Genevieve's charms. They trundled back into Molyneaux on the same little cart on which they had departed and, though the two men seemed quite pleased with themselves, there was no sign of any benefits they had accrued from their sojourn.

By this time, Ger was well aware that no one in town would be the least bit interested in what they had done and, as such, simply greeted the villagers the way he always did. He was unprepared for the cold reception he got in return. While the storekeepers did serve him, they seemed to begrudge every moment they had to spend helping him.

"What did I do wrong?" Ger complained, sitting on a stool in the bookseller's shop and resting his chin on his clasped hands. He was oblivious to the girls walking by the shop window who stopped in their tracks to get a better look at his physique. Their discussion of whether he had gotten even more attractive over the summer or if they had simply forgotten how good looking he was went unnoticed as well.

The bookseller smiled affectionately at Ger. "You've done nothing wrong per se," he answered with a shake of his head. "You just don't fit their mold, that's all. Someone who looks like you should be the town hero, bask in the glow of his admirers and spend his nights at the bar, drinking with the boys. Instead, you isolate yourself, pay no attention to any of the town women or men for that matter and refuse to act in a way they can understand."

Ger stared at him. "Are you suggesting that I learn how to shoot one of those infernal things just to get a pair of antlers to hang on plaque in the tavern with my name underneath?"

"I'm not. But if you wish to fit in…" The man trailed off with a sad smile.

"I'm beginning to rethink this drive to fit in," Ger said ruefully. "Oh well, I can deal with being an outcast for a year or two."

"Only a year or two?" the bookseller asked with a smile.

"Yes," Ger answered, happy to finally have someone with whom he could share his news. "The faire was a wonderful success and Papa is putting the money towards providing me with enough money to go back to University! If the next two years are as successful as this one, I might be ready to go back by the time I'm twenty one."

"That's wonderful, Ger." He was truly happy for the boy; it was not often that one got to see hope rekindled after it had been destroyed.

"Yes. It is really good of my father to do this, especially after what happened to him."

The bookseller saw a golden opportunity here. "I don't mean to pry, Ger, but what-"

"Happened to get him thrown out of the University?" Ger finished with a wry grin. "Don't worry, I understand your curiosity and I don't think I have to worry about you thinking any worse of us by hearing the story." He paused reflectively. "To be fair, though, I don't think the rest of the town could think any worse of us either."

The bookseller chuckled. "It's a good thing, this sense of humor you possess."

"I suppose," Ger shrugged. "Now, the story that you've been dying to know is fairly simple. My father was experimenting with some chemical reactions that he thought would be useful to power one of his machines. He claimed it was perfectly within his purview, but others insisted that he was being careless by working with substances outside of his field. In any case, something went wrong and he caused an explosion that destroyed one of the laboratories in the University. Thankfully, no one was hurt—Papa had the sense to duck down and was protected by a board that fell in just such a way to form a lean-to and keep anything from falling on his head. There was no one else in the building at the time. Of course, Papa had to be thrown out of the University for causing such chaos and behaving so irresponsibly." Ger's voice took on an unmistakable note of derision. "Most of our money and belongings went towards the University to help pay for the damages caused. We had just enough left to move out here and start a new life, if you can call this a life."

The bookseller clucked his tongue. "Come now, Ger. It isn't so bad here. There must be something you enjoy here?"

"You and your bookstore?" Ger answered with a grin.

"And me, of course," trilled a voice from the door.

Ger groaned and buried his face in his hands. Out of all the enjoyable aspects of the summer, the absence of Genevieve Avenant was, at the very least, one of the top five.

"Ger, it's so wonderful for you to be back," Genevieve said in her sweetest voice. She took his arm and Ger threw a pleading look at the bookseller, who raised his hands helplessly. "Let's go for a walk, darling, and you can tell me how much you missed me."

"Bound to be a short walk, then," Ger muttered under his breath and tried to extricate his arm from Genevieve's grasp, but she had quite the impressive grip. She's as tenacious as a terrier, Ger thought to himself.

"Goodbye, Monsieur Bontecou," Ger said with a wave of his free arm. Monsieur Bontecou waved back, then went back to reshelving his stock with a sigh. Poor Ger, he thought. Leave it to Genevieve to find the only boy in town wholly uninterested in her advances.

"So, tell me how terrible the summer was without me," Genevieve prompted. Ger looked at her blankly. She stared back at him, waiting. Every other man in the village understood that opening perfectly, what was wrong with Ger? Genevieve had never seen a need for subtlety; they wanted to praise her and she wanted to be praised, why not make it easier on everyone?

"Awful," he said finally. "I was so disappointed to be able to turn a corner and not happen to bump into a woman who insisted on distracting me from whatever I needed to do.

Genevieve gave an almost imperceptible sigh of relief. This was much better. Perhaps some time away had really been what Ger needed to see what a good thing he had. "Well, don't worry about that anymore," she said reassuringly. "From now on, there will not be a street you turn into that you won't bump into me."

Ger groaned.

Genevieve was as good as her word. The town's amusement that winter was watching the strange boy from Paris evade Mlle. Avenant and taking bets on how long it would be until he came to his senses. There was much arguing in all directions, with the younger men especially insisting that Genevieve should leave him to rot in that stupid cottage of his and start paying attention to them again, for heaven's sake.

Laliene was the only one who really dared broach the topic of Ger to Genevieve. It was completely accidental, but most things Laliene did were. It was a cold November day and Genevieve was sitting by the window of the tavern, waiting for Ger to walk past and complaining about how cold it was going to be when she left the tavern and how disgraceful it was that she had to go out and drag him in to talk to her.

"I know," Laliene agreed. "I don't understand why you bother; you deserve much better than him, anyway."

Genevieve's head snapped up. "What do you mean by that?" she asked, her voice low and almost silky. Everyone knew that as the sign to cower and back away—the barmaids washing glasses actually ducked behind the counter in case anything was to be thrown—but Laliene didn't bother. Projectile glasses were an occupational hazard of being friends with Genevieve.

"Well," she stuttered, suddenly unsure of herself, "You're the best, right?"

Genevieve glared at her. "Do you even have to ask?"

"And if he doesn't see that, then that must mean he's not the best, right?"

Genevieve stared down at her friend, who was about ten seconds away from pulling the nearest tablecloth over her head and hiding for a fortnight. It was such absurd logic that it took an idiot like Laliene to see it, but the little twit might actually have a point. And if Laliene was confused by such things, the rest of the town was probably equally lost. Perhaps she should stop chasing Ger.

And yet, something inside of her was reluctant to follow that course. Ever since she was a young girl, Genevieve had made it her business to get what she wanted. Some might have called her stubborn, she preferred to use the term persistent. But, sooner or later, every battle ended with her as the victor. And while it might have been wise to retreat, Genevieve simply could not admit to being bested by a young man whose only value appeared to be in his good looks.

There was another aspect to Genevieve's fascination, though. She sent Laliene away and strode over to the backroom of the tavern. "I don't understand it, Papa."

"Don't understand what?" Monsieur Avenant asked. He was sitting in his chair, watching the kitchen maids finish cleaning from the night before, though he was supposed to be doing the necessary sums.

"What's wrong with Gervaise Dupont," she finished. "There must be something wrong with him that he still hasn't given in to me."

"Yes," Monsieur Avenant agreed without really paying attention, "What do you think it is?" He was a portly, smiling man who had two loves in his life; his daughter and his tavern.

"I don't know!" she shouted in response. "He must be mad."

"Mad?" Monsieur Avenant repeated, looking up in alarm. "You don't seriously think he's mad, do you?"

Genevieve had to pause for a few moments to actually consider that. "No," she answered finally. "I don't."

"Well, that's a relief," he said. "I was worried there that you might be trying to marry a mad-man and I wouldn't trust my tavern to such a man."

"Papa, this isn't just about the tavern, it's about Genevieve! Your daughter! Me!"

"I have utmost faith that, sooner or later, you will win the boy's hand. And then you will have a beau worthy of your beauty and I will have an heir worthy of taking over the tavern—someone with the knowledge and learning to run it the way I have."

"That's all well and good, but getting him to pay attention to me hasn't exactly been easy."

The same thought occurred to both of them at the same time. "You don't seriously suppose…" she began.

"He doesn't like women," he finished.

"That shouldn't be too hard to figure out," Genevieve murmured. "I'm sure the boys would appreciate me spending a little bit of time with them. And I'll see what I can discover."

T.B.C.

A/N – The fun about writing all this stuff is that you get to re-imagine the story and deal with what Disney did in a whole new way. The downside is that anything Disney didn't deal with is left for me. The current…problem is that we don't actually know how long Belle spent in Molyneaux. Now, I'm not sure how long to make Ger's stay because, sooner or later, Genevieve is going to get bored. Frankly, Gaston should've gotten bored if Belle kept up her denial long enough. But there's one huge difference. Gaston was male (as is rather obvious). Genevieve is female, which means she is, by necessity, on a different schedule than Gaston. She has to be married soon and can't waste all her time on Ger, regardless of how gorgeous he might be. So he has to have some other sort of virtue. And, in a town where not very many people have had any education, having a son-in-law who is so intelligent could be quite useful. Combine that with Genevieve's pure stubbornness and refusal to be bested by anyone at all, one might have enough of an excuse to keep her from going after anyone else. Ger can't just be better looking than everyone else, he has to have something more to keep Genevieve after him.

I think that's everything this chapter. The rest, well, the thing about a movie is that you only expect all the information you need in 90 minutes. In a book, you expect a bit more information and back-story. So I'm doing my best. But I make no promises. However, there should be something along the lines of plot advancement soon.

And I can't wait to see Ger's face when he finds out that Genevieve has been asking if he's gay.

Thanks, as always, to all my reviewers, both new and old. I would apologize for this chapter taking so long, but it comes down to the fault of vacation. When I have work to do, I can always find something else to be doing instead. But when I have nothing to procrastinate, I sit around and do nothing…well, assuming catching up on a backlog of Doctor Who and Torchwood is nothing.

See you all soon!

Damian