Hello everyone! Sorry for the huge delays, but here is another chapter :). I'm more than a little curious to hear what everyone thinks about the way the story is going!

IV

Of all the beautiful things in the Gold manor, the grand piano in the parlour was one of the most mesmerizing. Although Belle could not remember ever having seen a musical instrument before it seemed vaguely, distantly familiar as she touched its gleaming mahogany frame, the delicate music desk, the pale ivory of the keys. When she pressed one down its deep, rich sound filled the parlour and she said, half to herself and half to Gold: "What a beautiful instrument."

"Would you like to learn how to play it?" he offered immediately from across the room, setting down his tea cup. "We could engage a tutor."

She turned around, leaning back against the piano as she regarded him thoughtfully. Her voice, when she finally spoke, was firm. "That's enough," she said. "All those new clothes you gave me, the ridiculously lavish meals, the gifts..."

"It's nothing," he protested, but she stubbornly continued: "You have been kind to me – so, so kind to me – ever since you found me in your garden. You never told me why, and you can't possibly treat every stray vagrant like that. Why are you doing this?"

"I'm a charitable man -" he started, but she shook her head. "That's not it. Why?"

He sighed. Looking at the determination in her face he decided that it couldn't be helped: he would have to tell her at least some version of the truth. "You remind me very, very much of someone I once knew," he finally said, choosing his words carefully. "Someone I loved more dearly than anything."

"Really?"

Despite her stern façade, he could see the sympathy through her scepticism. It was so typical of her, that trust and sympathy towards a stranger; she was still so very much the girl he loved, even though she didn't know it. "Really."

"Tell me more about her."

It was something he had tried not to think about for all these years and he found that he couldn't bear to look at her as he spoke. "She was a young lady of noble birth," he said, turning to gaze out the window. "The only daughter of a duke, in fact. She was to come to Storybrooke with me, and I was planning to spend my life with her."

"You were betrothed?" Her voice had softened considerably.

"Well – yes."

"So where is she?"

"She passed away just before we were supposed to leave for Storybrooke." His voice was thick.

"Did you meet her on your travels?"

"Yes, she was -" he glanced briefly over his shoulder, "She was French. But I'd rather not speak about her."

"Of course. But Gold," she said, her voice growing more forceful again, "I can't stay here because I remind you of your betrothed. The money you've spent on me already -"

"I'm the richest man in Storybrooke."

"That doesn't matter. I'm not going to remain here and be a – a kept woman, not even if the man keeping me is the richest man in Storybrooke."

She had nowhere to go and they both knew it – although Belle had no way of knowing that she couldn't even leave Storybrooke if she tried – but he didn't doubt that she would try. And the mere thought of her leaving again set his teeth on edge.

"Of course not," he said, as matter-of-factly as he could. "But the truth of the matter is – I desperately need someone to bring order to my library. I've been looking for someone with time to spare and an apparent aptitude for literature."

"You need a librarian?" Belle attempted to sound incredulous but Gold knew her well enough to detect the undertone of longing, and he continued carefully off-handedly. "The library is in urgent need of some reorganizing. There is no system at all and someone has to order new books from London. I hear that there are all sorts of new developments in the literature scene... like that Wonderland book you were reading earlier."

There was a long pause. If she was even going to consider the offer she was so desperate to accept, Belle knew, she would have to tell him about the thoughts that had been gnawing at the back of her mind since her first day of freedom. "That would be very kind of you," she finally started, "but there is something very important we haven't talked about yet." The last words came out effortfully.

"What's that?"

"That we're relying on Jefferson for everything we know about me," she pointed out. "He rushed me out of the asylum with the instruction to find a Lord Gold, and I was so afraid of that operation Regina had just announced that I never questioned anything he did or said. He gave me the message to pass on to you that Regina "kidnapped" me, and you seem to believe that. But all we really have to go on," she ended miserably, "is the opinion of Jefferson, who is insane. I escaped the asylum without knowing why I was there in the first place. What if Regina had a good reason to keep me there? What if I have done something gruesome – " her voice started to shake – "and I just can't remember because I'm...that...crazy!" She had brought her balled first to her temple hard to punctuate the last three words, and suddenly felt his cool grip around her wrist, drawing her hand away.

"You haven't done a gruesome thing in your life, Belle," he said emphatically.

"How would you know?" she cast back, tears in her eyes now. "Why is it so easy for you to believe that I'm a good person, and that Headmistress Mills kidnapped me?"

"I know her. I know her cruelty, her wickedness –"

"So why do you fund her damn asylum?" Belle cut in.

"Someone has to keep an eye on the place," he said, voice rising sharply like hers, "and I'll never forgive myself that I never knew you were locked in that cellar all these years!"

There was a ringing silence.

"So it's guilt," Belle said softly. He started to speak but she shook her head. "I don't need anyone's pity, but if you feel guilt – " her voice was beseeching suddenly – "won't you help me found out who I am?"

After a barely noticeable hesitation, Gold gave a small, tight nod. "I'll try." And leaning over, he yanked the bell pull. "It's Sunday," he said, "and there is something I usually do every Sunday."

"What?"

Gold turned towards the footman who had appeared in the doorway. "Tell the stables to bring around the carriage," he ordered. "I've decided to take tea at the asylum after all."

"We already sent word that you had other business to attend to, milord."

"Send word that I've changed my mind, and that I won't be coming alone. Miss French will accompany me."

Belle waited until the footman had gone before speaking. "Accompany you to the asylum?"

"If you're going to make a life for yourself in this town, you can't be terrified of its most prominent building and its most prominent citizen," he said brusquely. "You must remember that no one will recognize you but Headmistress Mills, and she can't do anything. It's the first step towards living again, instead of holing up here like a scared animal with your fears and your nightmares."

Part of him revolted against every word he was saying, but Belle nodded. "You're right," she said softly. "It's time to stop hiding."

….

And so it came to be that Gold's carriage wound up the hill towards the asylum as usual. Despite her brave words Belle's face was pale now, he noted, hands wringing anxiously in her lap as she peered out the window at the iron gates opening before them, and the dark asylum across the lawn. Without thinking, he leant in to touch her hand. "Don't be afraid," he said. "I promise you'll never be a prisoner again."

….

"Headmistress Mills, I don't believe you've met my new librarian, Miss French..."

He needn't have worried, as it turned out. He had to give it to both of them, subtly surveying both women's faces when he politely helped Belle down from the carriage and the two women shook hands. Regina's professional smile barely faltered; Belle smiled prettily in return.

"Charmed," Regina said. "So kind of you to take an interest in our institution."

"But of course. It is always heartening to see that there are still people who dedicate themselves heart and soul to the welfare and happiness of their patients."

"...And Dr. Hopper and Dr. Whale," Gold said, struggling to suppress a smile.

"How do you do," the men chorused even as Regina, ignoring them, made an inviting gesture towards the hall. Belle only vaguely recognized it, having crossed it in great haste in the dark when she escaped. Completely new to her was the parlour beyond it with its rigidly aligned chairs and tables, and the patients in dark uniforms who rose when they entered the room.

"Over there," Regina said softly, leading Belle towards a table with five chairs that had been set up separately. "I'm sure you've never been in an asylum before," she continued in a mockingly sweet voice, "but I do hope we're making a good impression on you. The patients practice their hymns daily."

Sure enough, almost as soon as Belle sat down and tea had been poured, the rows of men and women burst into a dispirited hymn. She could hear Dr. Hopper humming along under his breath, nodding encouragement at his patients. Dr. Whale was yawning unabashedly, Gold absent-mindedly crushed a sugar cube in his saucer with his spoon. Only Headmistress Mills kept her decorum. "Scone?" she offered , but Belle shook her head. "No, thank you." She could feel the other woman's eyes on her and was determined to show no fear, keeping her eyes firmly trained on the singing patients. What had these people done to incur Headmistress Mills's wrath? she wondered, gazing at the morose faces. She had thought that they would all be strangers, but she was wrong. Off to the side, two men slumped lifelessly in their seats. With a start, she realized that one of them, lolling apathetically with his face slack and blank, was Jefferson.

….

"Miss French, would you mind terribly if I spoke to his Lordship in my office for a few minutes?" Headmistress Mills asked smoothly an hour later, when the tea was finished and the assembly was dispersed. Business was clearly reverting to usual, with nurses clearing away the tea sets and the two doctors starting to rouse the patients from their seats.

"Of course," Belle said brightly, although Gold had just opened his mouth to flatly refuse. "I'll wait here."
She waited until the two of them had left the parlour and Dr Hopper and Dr Whale were occupied with the patients milling about. Then, unnoticed, she went over to the corner and knelt down beside Jefferson's chair.

"Jefferson," she said quietly. He had been staring ahead of him but at the sound of his own name his face twisted sideways to leer at her. "Eh?" he said. One of his eyes was blackened, the skin swollen and discoloured.

"Do you recognize me, Jefferson?" she asked in a low voice. "Belle – we were locked up in the cellar together."

"Eh?" he repeated, head jerking quizzically.

"Do you -" she started but was cut off when he laughed shrilly and uncontrollably at one of the other patients who was escorted from the room, crying loudly between furious sneezes: "Does no one care about my health?!"

Jefferson appeared to have forgotten Belle's presence completely and she bent her head, sighing.

"Don't take it to heart," said a voice, "they've scrambled his brain with an ice pick."

Belle looked up quickly to see one of the female patients reclining against the wall beside her. "What do you mean?" she asked.

"Dr Whale's experimental new surgery," the girl clarified. "Up the eye socket with some surgical tool, cut some cords – you see the the results."

I want you to undergo an operation, Belle...She could hear Regina's voice and shuddered. "That's barbaric."

"That's modern science," the girl corrected cynically. "Besides, he was a kiddie snatcher." She surveyed Belle critically. "Let me guess – a bleeding heart?" she asked bluntly. "Nice young lady with a sweet temperament who cares about the less fortunate? You're exactly what my Granny wanted me to be, although she would have preferred a more ladylike good cause than lunatics. Orphans, perhaps, or fallen women. She never would have guessed I would become a fallen woman myself."

Belle recognized the wry sense of humour and smiled. "Does the fallen woman have a name?"

"Roberta." The name was uttered with disdain. "I prefer Ruby, but my Granny almost died when I suggested it."

"I'm Belle," Belle said mildly. The girl was tall and slender, with fine dark eyes and hair, but she looked tired and care-worn. "What did you do to end up in here, Ruby?"

"You mean, what kind of crazy am I?" The girl gave a harsh bark of laughter. "Roaming the forests by myself, usually in the middle of the night; Granny would lock me in my room but there was no holding me back. Whenever I saw the moon I got the urge to scream – and did, too, more than once. Not to mention the men." Her eyelashes were damp when she ended rather grudgingly: "They're probably right to put me in here, you know, because I certainly can't stop myself. I want touch, to taste, to smell. There was a boy... Peter... let's just say that I would have plunged myself into sin eventually."

"But you can't possibly like it here," Belle said incredulously.

"Miss French." Her smile was like a baring of teeth. "This place is hell."

….

"Bring on the financial matters you wanted to discuss, Headmistress Mills," Gold said bad-temperedly. "I resent finding myself in your office for the second time in a month."

"I think we have more important things at hand, Rumple," Regina said languidly, closing the door behind her.

"Yes, I saw that there have been some developments," Gold said sardonically. "I always thought we were an odd trio of individuals who knew the truth – you, me, and Jefferson. But you certainly took care of him, didn't you?"

She only smiled, and his anger grew. "Oh, I can hear you now at that damnable dinner," he hissed. "So adamant that Whale couldn't perform that ridiculous surgery. It would take all the pleasure out, wouldn't it? To have patients who can't think, who can't suffer? You took pity on Jefferson, I'll give you that – I suppose you felt he had atoned enough, or perhaps he was starting to bore you. But Belle's mind you wanted to destroy in order to destroy me. You would have taken her out of that cellar at last and paraded her in front of me, wouldn't you? So that I would know that she was alive all this time but that you had taken her from me all over again, this time for good." He took a threatening step forward. "Tell me, don't you ever grow tired of watching me suffer?"

"No," she said crisply. "Never. Not after what you have cost me. But I can forgo that pleasure for a greater good."

"Being?"

"Emma Swan," she said, voice heavy with loathing. "You're going to help me stop her, Rumple."

"What on earth makes you think I'd help you instead of throttle you, dearie?"

"You want Belle's happiness," she said matter-of-factly. "Why do you think the Curse brought us to this place and this time? Victorian England is firmly crushed in the stranglehold of propriety and hypocrisy, and Belle is a pretty young girl who has been living with an unmarried man for almost a week. I already made some suggestions to Granny, the town gossip. Between us, she and I could sour the whole town's opinion against Gold's whore." Her eyes glittered maliciously. "Even putting her up at the hotel – even marriage – would come too late then. You know they love to judge in this world – to judge the lunatics, judge young Ella with her bastard child – and a brazen harlot would make for a lovely scandal."

"Who cares what your town full of idiots thinks?" he asked scathingly, but she shook her head and tutted. "That's the mistake you made last time, Rumple: abducting her to a remote castle and keeping her alone for centuries, with no friends or family. Did you really want to lock her away in your castle – excuse me, your mansion – again? How many more times are you going to make her suffer for you?"

"I own half the town," he said through clenched teeth. "They wouldn't -"

"You can't buy off gossip," she cut in dismissively. "Nor all the sneers and smirks and whispers behind her back – young ladies refusing to invite her or call on her, the young men assuming she is free to take advantage of..."

"Shut up."

"Besides," she continued, "you don't want the Curse broken any more than I do, which is all the more reason to drive the Swan woman out. It would cost you your second chance with Belle if she were to regain her memory of everything you've put her through."

"You are aware that breaking the Curse would allow me to go look for my son?"

"A boy who hates you," Regina said in a low voice. "Who thinks you chose your power over him and let him go to another world all alone. Who says he wants to be found? Who says he's alive?" Despite her near-whisper, her voice was intense. "You already got one miracle, Rumplestiltskin. You got Belle, back from the dead. Who are you to demand another miracle?" He was silent and she asked: "Do we have ourselves a deal, Rumple? For Belle's sake?"

"Yes," he said reluctantly. "I suppose we do."