Chapter 3- Not the Marrying Type

...

I walked with Therese out the back door, past a hedgerow of bushes bordering Tom's backyard. We went past several neighbors' cottages and out to the outskirts of the village, verdant with rolling hills and forests in the distance. Yesterday's storm had left a pleasant smell of earth in the air, and it was neither hot nor humid, as it often was during midsummer in Villeneuve.

I took her arm around the elbow in a gentlemanly way. We walked through the field, not saying much at first. To anyone who could have seen us, we looked like a young courting couple. I painfully wished that could be the case.

For a moment I thought...why not? Why not court Therese, and marry her? Give Maman more grandchildren, and Cecile some little cousins to play with?

I looked down at her; her petite height, feminine little hands, her golden brown curls twisted into a bun and tucked beneath a lace cap, and my heart sunk. I felt a sense of protectiveness toward her- like a man should have toward a woman- but I felt as if she were my sister, just like she was to Tom. I did not have any desire to do...the kinds of things a man would do with his new bride in the privacy of their marital boudoir. I did not want to see her 'sans garments.' I did not want to touch or caress her skin. She deserved to have her husband burn with the desire to do those sorts of things.

And no, it wasn't just Therese either.

Even Belle, the 'most beautiful girl in the village.' The one who Gaston constantly cajoled and pestered and the one person who'd been bruising his immense ego for at least a year or more now. I did not desire her feminine beauty. I know that to be true, because I even recall an encounter with that strange- and downright irritating- girl about six months ago.

...

It was at my work. I had taken my tape measure to fit her for a Christmas dress last winter, in my duty as a tailor's assistant under the head tailor, M. Aiguille. When I wrapped the tape measure around her slender waist, then around her soft and delicate bust, I had no lecherous feelings that another man might have felt in secret. It was like dressing a doll.

I remember thinking she'd do nicely in a blue dress with red sprigging, and even helped her pick out the fabric. Belle sensed my lack of 'more than platonic' feelings, and so she felt more relaxed and free to babble out loud to me about a book she'd read. She asked me if I read much, and I said I only read Scriptures. When my Aunt Sophie, the seamstress for ladies' garments, left the fitting room of the tailor shop, I was stuck alone with her for several minutes.

She quoted a verse of Proverbs to me, the one about the woman clothed with strength and dignity and having wisdom. I nodded politely, I knew of it. It was one of Maman's favorites. Then, Belle asked me if I had ever read 'A Midsummer Night's Dream' by some great Englishman who shook a spear. I replied I had not.

She took it to be a great tragedy what literature I was missing out on. I, on the other hand, took it to be a great tragedy that she wasn't acting like a proper Villeneuve girl should. For instance, marrying our village's most eligible, dashing Captain and keeping house. But I kept my mouth shut.

I was also perplexed by Belle's habit of tucking her skirt up in her waistband so her floral-patterned pantalettes were showing. It was bordering on indecent, and certainly odd. Well, of course- it was Belle! Everything about her was odd. I remember trying to untuck her skirt so it would fall properly after I took her measurements. She practically slapped my hand away in annoyance.

'I didn't ask for your help with that,' she said. She then realized she'd been rude to me. At least she had some sense of a girl's proper manners.

'I beg your pardon, Monsieur. It's just that prefer my skirt that way so I can move more freely and make a pocket to carry my books wherever I go. I find reading makes dull moments go by faster, like when I'm doing my laundry. It's so much more entertaining,' she told me in a friendly, amiable manner.

'Oh,' I said. Back to 'book talk' again. Our lovely Belle, bless her educated little heart.

'Some of my dearest friends are illiterate,' I told her. "You're fortunate to have learned what you did by whoever taught you."

"My Papa taught me," Belle replied, in a firm tone that expressed that I dare not judge Maurice for his views. I nodded and kept quiet then, charging Maurice's account for the fabric and sending her on her merry way. When I watched her walk down the street, she took out a book and started to read it as she walked.

I couldn't understand what it was about her that Gaston wanted so badly, and neither did Lefou, for that matter. It was a sentiment I seemed to share with him, though Lefou and I never actually talked about it between ourselves.

Now- Tom and Dick? They made comments about her all the time at the tavern. Partly about how good-looking she was, as men are apt to do when their wives aren't around. But most often they discussed her in mockery out of Gaston's earshot, which I got a good laugh out of. Dick once put on his deadpan face, cocked an eyebrow, and said- and I quote- 'That girl is under the grand delusion that the latrine hole behind 'er cottage smells like a bed of roses.' I couldn't help but smile and shake my head, while Tom burst into laughter and sprayed out his beer, hitting Eloise's skirt as she walked by. She gave all three of us a look of impending doom. It was only after we calmed ourselves that my brother cracked a smile himself. Dick isn't all that funny, but Tom tends to think so.

Nonetheless, Belle didn't seem to like me and my friends all that much, and we didn't like her much either. I admit to following along with the cruel pranks that Tom, my brother, and others played on her, such as dumping her laundry. But that was only because there'd been so many complaints about her behavior at the fountain by the other ladies.

Belle always came off as annoying and a tad snobby. She seemed, by her actions and tone, to look down on our local wives for the way they spent their time, and she would thumb her nose at every social more and tradition in our village's society. She behaved in ways that girls typically do not- reading and studying, inventing gadgets, hitching her skirts up, and riding astride a horse instead of sidesaddle.

Personally, I thought her hitching her skirts up and refusing to ride sidesaddle was the worst.

But, here's my confession. I wouldn't want anyone knowing it was because I longed to wear a flowing skirt to my ankles and ride a horse sidesaddle. Belle could behave inconsistent to her gender and be called odd. If I behaved inconsistent to my gender, it would earn me a one-way ticket to the Maison des Lunes.

Yes, that all relates to me- my secret longings, my feelings of not fitting in. I've spent the last twelve of my twenty-five years of life on earth trying to ignore it, stifle it, and simply be 'one of the boys.'

...

Which brings me to that afternoon with Therese, as I walked arm and arm through the countryside with her. I only met her that morning. Which meant I didn't know her well- and yet my family had decided on the unspoken but glaringly obvious notion that I be her suitor.

Therese gazed over at some wildflowers growing in the sloping meadows, yellow and white blossoms, a few scatterings of red. Mainly daisies. I actually love daisies, though they don't smell as nice as roses. After she looked longingly at them, she looked back at me. I knew that I was expected to do what a 'courting gentleman caller' was supposed to do, and that was to pick some of them and give them to her. Perhaps even take one from the bunch and tuck it in her hair, and tell her she looks beautiful.

"Nice flowers out there, oui?" I said, breaking the long silence.

"I love the yellow ones," she replied.

"Come on, let's go pick some!" I said cheerily, and set myself loose from her elbow, rushing to the spot where the yellow daffodils grew the thickest. She happily quickened her step and ran along with me. I stooped down, and picked about a dozen of the golden daffodils while she watched, her face glowing with joy.

It was then that my stupid fantasy took over my mind. Instead of Therese running through the wildflower fields with me, and me picking the daffodils for her, it was Lefou.

Instead of me plucking a flower from the bunch and tucking it behind Therese's ear, I was tucking it behind Lefou's ear. He'd blush and give me a look like pure sunshine, I was certain of it. Though yellow wasn't quite his color. I would choose red.

"Here you are, mademoiselle. For your dinner table," I said, giving her a bouquet.

"Merci! Thank you, Stanley!" Therese exclaimed. She took a step toward me, a dreamy, longing look on her face.

I had seen that exact same look on someone's face a thousand times before. I recognized it so, so well. It was as familiar to me as the lines on the palms of my own hands.

Lefou made that face. All the damned time.

And the person who he made it for is- WAS- a clueless, arrogant ass who, in turn, hopelessly chased after 'Little Miss Nose-in-a-Book, I Flash My Pantalettes Because if a Man can have Pockets for Stuff, Gee, I Should! I Ride My Horse Straddle-Style! I Invent Strange Gadgets in the Middle of the Fountain and Annoy Everyone Else within a Ten-Foot-Radius! Oh- Haven't You Heard of William Shakes-a-Spear?'

I hate my life.

Well, not really. I have it decent. It's just hard sometimes.

Therese was still gazing at me lovingly. But she JUST MET ME. Why? Is it only because she thinks I'm handsome?

Merde! Sorry for my French. But does it always have to be just about looks?

Is that what he saw in Gaston? A set of biceps, jet-black hair, a firm jaw and an intense pair of olive-hazel eyes? Sure, I could see the attraction. I had eyes, too. Gaston was a sight to see; magnificent. But inside- his attitude towards Lefou (that Lefou excused and brushed off as 'a mood'), his attitude toward others, his sour temper, even his pushiness towards Belle, who I wished would just accept him. That comment Dick had made about Belle and her backyard privy? I had almost wanted to follow it with telling him the same thing could be said for Gaston, so that meant they were made for each other. I thought it, but being cowardly me, I did not say it.

"So, Stanley, where would you like to walk now?" Therese asked, pulling me out of my thoughts again. She was at least a quiet girl, not chatty or babbling like some others. Like my cousins- the irksome Eloise, Eliana and Elise.

"Oh, we could just walk back to Tom's I guess." She looked disappointed.

I needed to be brave and honest for once. I needed to get real with her, so she could find a beau or suitor who really loved her the way she deserved. I could tell she was a sweet, decent person, from what little I knew of her.

"Can I tell you something, Therese? It's something that might disappoint you, but I want to let you know before you get hurt."

"What is it, Stanley?" Her smile faded.

"It...it seems like Tom, and my family, well, they are all wanting us...you and me-" I gestured from her to me- "to see each other. But...I can't date you, Therese. I want to be your friend, but I can't be your suitor."

She blinked two or three times, looking down at the flowers in her hands with disappointment. Poor girl- why does it have to be this way?

Stupid me. Stupid me and my 'feelings.' I hate it. Hate it, hate it.

"All right," she said sadly. "Is there another girl? It's okay if there is."

"No, no, there isn't another girl! I have no girl!" I said emphatically. "And it isn't that you're not pretty. You're a very pretty lady." She brightened a little. "I'd love to be your friend, to have you in my family! Because Tom's like family to me anyway. So I like having you around. It's a pleasure to meet you. But here's the thing, though, Therese. It's about me. I'm just not interested in ANY girls right now. No one. I just can't."

Babbling idiot. I thought it would come out as compassionate and suave. But no.

She looked at me a little confused, maybe wondering if I was just making an excuse for myself. After she took a deep breath, her voice lost its sweetness and took on a hurt, irritated tone.

"So...so are you one of those men who only likes to...play the field? I'm not naive. Even though I've been a kitchen object, I've listened to enough people- well, they weren't people exactly-" She gave an amused little laugh, and I could see the resemblance of Tom's jovial expression in her mouth, though she did not look like him otherwise. "They talk about those things. Are you what Monsieur Cogsworth calls 'a philandering cad?'"

It was my turn to feel a little hurt now. "No. I'm not. I've...I've barely even had much experience with..." I felt myself blushing then. I was getting flustered and embarrassed. "I'm just...too busy with work, and other things, to do much with girls. I don't know, maybe I'm lazy, maybe it's too much work to court a girl. It seems like it is around this town!"

"I'm sorry," she apologized. "I didn't mean to offend you, Stanley. But wait!" She gave me an exasperated look. "I never said I wanted to be 'courted' by any men right now either! Courting is supposed to lead to marriage! It sounds like your family is determined to pick out your wife!"

"Ah, I did not notice that. Did you notice that?" I raised my eyebrows. She laughed.

"You're sweet, Stanley. Really sweet. I couldn't help but like you."

"I like you, too, Therese. I just don't want...I don't want to be tethered to any...girl right now. I'm not the marrying type, and I'm not the philandering type, either. I don't know what I am. Do...do you want to know the honest truth? Sometimes when I'm in church, and I listen to Pere Robert give Mass, I think I might actually like to enter the priesthood."

This was the absolute truth. Well, all right. Not the whole truth.

The whole truth mustn't be brought to the light of day. I value my life, and good name. But I had considered that occupation, as an escape from my issues with women...and men. The only thing keeping me was that I'd have to give up sewing clothes and devote my life to God and studying Latin and Scriptures and presenting sermons, which wasn't exactly in my comfort zone, either.

Therese smiled warmly. "Really? I like you even more now. But like a friend. Or another brother. Because you are so...pure. Like a pure soul. That's the sweetest thing. And, thank you for picking me flowers, by the way."

"Merci. And you're welcome, Therese! Shall we go back and tell them the courtship plans are off?"

She giggled, relief washing over her face. "Oui, Stanley! I could sense the expectations back there during lunch. It made me uncomfortable, too. I want to get used to life just being human again. I'd like to get to know different gentlemen, here and back at the castle. Thank you for being honest, Stanley."

That's me all right. Honest Stanley.

She gave me a hug, a sisterly hug. I hugged her back, and we headed to the village proper, to Tom's place.

"You're back!" my mother said when we returned to Tom's. "How was the walk?" she asked with unveiled excitement.

"It was very pleasant, Maman. Beautiful weather, don't you think, Therese?"

She nodded. "It was," she replied. We didn't say much else as we rejoined the rest of our families. The card game had already started at the table, where Tom and Dick were still nursing their beers.

"Join us for cribbage, Stan?" Dick asked, holding up his handful of cards.

"Sure." I sat at the table with them, and as soon as I did, the ladies- Maman, Martine, Marie, and Therese- left the kitchen to the back sitting room to 'work on knitting.' How much knitting would be done was dependent on how much the womenfolk wanted to discuss personal issues- and this evening I guessed it would be very little. I gave Therese a look of compassion as her eyes met mine. She rolled hers a little.

I was left alone with Tom and Dick then. Tom swept all the cards off the table. "I win again!" he said.

He shuffled the deck with loud snapping sounds, re-dealing the cards amongst the three of us. I looked at the clock, and guessed we'd play maybe two games in Tom's kitchen before it struck five. Five was when the tavern opened for the evening social hours, and they would want to take the card game there.

I looked down at my hand once my cards were dealt. I had two fifteen combinations, which was good to start. I glanced up and saw Dick and Tom grinning at me.

"What?"

"Well...how'd it go?" asked Dick.

"How'd what go?" I said.

"Are you that stupid?" Tom said, gesturing out to me as if to slap my head. He lowered his voice. "How'd it go with Therese? It's obvious she fancies you. She's a good cook, and she showed your Maman something she sewed, a 'sampler' or whatever it is they call it. So all you have to do is give her a few months, spend some time with her, then ask!"

I sighed and fidgeted with my cards, pulling out my 7 and 8 of diamonds and slapping them to the table, then my 10 of clubs with 5 of spades. "Fifteen-two, fifteen-four."

"Stanley!" Dick hissed.

"What?"

"You're an idiot!"

"I know. But I'm an idiot with two fifteen combos." I moved a peg on Tom's old wooden cribbage board. "I don't think I can join you tonight, by the way. I'm going back to the castle as soon as possible. To help them with the search."

"Should we join you? Do they need help?" Tom asked, sobering. He realized that maybe getting his sister and me married was less important at the moment than finding the town hero's body on the castle grounds.

"No...no, you guys don't need to come. The Prince has a whole group of servants looking. Just have a nice time at the tavern tonight. I won't be there to smoke you at cribbage."

Tom shrugged his shoulders. "Okay. I understand they don't need the whole village there," he said, nodding solemnly along with Dick.

We played a few games of cards, the first of which I won and the second Tom won. When five o'clock came, they left for the tavern. Once I bid a polite adieu to Therese and the other ladies- accepting some leftover food- and walked my mother back home, I headed over to Lefou's cottage on the other end of town and knocked on his door, bearing some bread, cheese and fruit. I was sure the grieving man was in no mood to cook himself any dinner.

I hoped he had enough sleep. I was certain he would not want to go to the tavern this evening. I knew if I waited too late to check on him, he'd take off to the castle alone. I wanted to be there, to be his moral support.

...