When Belle and her father arrived at the registry office, Rhys was already waiting for them with his son. Belle was half relieved and half terrified. Rhys hadn't been sure that Neal would want to attend the wedding, and while Belle was happy that she apparently hadn't come between them, she'd never met the younger Mr. Gold before. He was taller than she'd expected.

Belle could really only think of one time in her life she'd been more afraid than she was as she clung tightly to her father's arm and approached the man who would be her husband in less than an hour.

"Nobody is making you go through with this," her father whispered to her. "If you've changed your mind you can go right back home."

She knew he meant it, and there was a part of her that desperately wanted to take him up on the offer and run home and never be outside again. But hiding away was only a temporary solution, and this one could be permanent. She was just so tired of being afraid all the time.

Her father was still a little on edge when they reached the others, but he didn't try to change her mind as they made their way to where her fiance waited with the man who would be her son.

"Good morning," Rhys said once they were within speaking range. "Lady Belle, I trust you're well."

It was a simple social courtesy, something that any number of men had said to her with no expectation of any answer beyond a simple I am well, thank you but there was a little quirk of his head and a look in his eye that told her he was as worried about her today as her father was.

"I'm very well," she said as firmly as she could. She couldn't find words to put his mind at ease and reassure him that she was glad to be marrying him, or at least nothing that wasn't too forward even for a man she'd be wed to in half an hour.

Rhys, thankfully, seemed to take her meaning and fixed her with a warm smile. His son was looking at her oddly and she found herself pressing into her father's side warily. She hated herself for this weakness. Rhys had warned her that his son wasn't taking the news of the upcoming wedding well - and she could hardly blame him for thinking poorly of her. She shouldn't be afraid. There was absolutely no threat to her, and she needed to remember that, because she would be living under the Golds' roof within an hour.

Rhys' eyes flicked between Belle and his son quickly.

"I'm glad to hear it," he said. "May I introduce you to my son Neal? Neal, this is Lady Belle French and her father Lord Maurice."

Pleasantries were exchanged, though Belle continued to be overly aware of Neal Gold's location in relation to herself. Even as she took Rhys' arm and followed him into the registry office she could feel that Neal was still watching her. However, at least her nerves about her new son overrode her nerves about the wedding and it was over almost before she realized it had begun. She was only snapped back to Rhys when the officiant instructed that he could kiss the bride.

She'd never kissed him. She'd only been kissed before on holidays and the announcement of her engagement to Gaston. Even in the library, Nottingham had never kissed her. Rhys had been beyond patient, barely touching her beyond the handshake they'd exchanged to seal the engagement. She could feel her chest tightening uncomfortably. Oddly, she was more terrified of making a scene than she was of him kissing her. He was watching her carefully and she tried to force herself to relax enough to reassure him.

Rhys leaned in and Belle tried to still herself, forcing her eyes to stay open to remind her where she was and who he was because forgetting that could be disastrous to this fledgling marriage. He was so close that she could feel his breath against her lips and she steadied herself, praying she wouldn't panic when she felt his lips brush against her cheek softly - just barely touching the corner of her mouth. She felt her eyes flutter closed in spite of herself, and then they flew back open when he moved away from her after that little bit of touch.

And just like that, she was a wife.

There was no celebration to be had after the small ceremony, only her father trying not to shed any tears as he hugged her and then handed her into her husband's carriage to travel to her new home. Her belongings had been packed up and sent over that morning, including the hope chest filled with linens and pretty nightgowns that she'd made for her marriage to Gaston. A few pieces were purloined from her mother's, reminders of a woman she'd never known and who had died to bring her into the world.

Belle had sat next to her husband, while Neal took the bench across from them. He thankfully wasn't staring at her anymore, instead he had his hands in his lap and he was staring at them intently. She knew she should be making conversation with him and trying to at least pretend like she wouldn't be a liability in his life, but she simply couldn't bring herself to speak and couldn't trust herself to do so without crying. Instead, she teased the edge of a lace handkerchief, worrying a loose thread between her fingers. She knew she was going to end up ruining the lace, but she couldn't quite bring herself to stop. The next few days would determine whether this had been a mistake or not, and it all started in the carriage.

They arrived at their destination all too soon, and Belle tried to brace herself as the door swung open. Neal and Rhys exchanged a glance quickly that had Neal hopping down first and offering her a hand out. She accepted it and stepped out of the carriage to get her first real look at her new home.

The servants had lined up to welcome her, and she relaxed a bit at the sight. She had visited other people's homes before and she knew what would be expected of her here.

A dark haired man came bounding forward from the group and gave a sweeping bow.

"Mr. Jefferson at your service," he said cheerfully.

Belle heard a sigh from behind her and when she turned to look at her husband he was pinching the bridge of his nose with an annoyed expression on his face.

"Pleased to meet you," Belle replied, somehow soothed by this theatrical display of gallantry. He was trying to please her as much as her husband was.

Jefferson introduced himself as the butler and valet before guiding her forward to meet the rest of the assembled servants. She couldn't remember enough of their names, but tried to at least learn their jobs figuring they would give her a few days to keep everyone straight. There was a gardener, a stable boy, and a groom outside. Inside, there were two maids and a cook.

"Where are the footmen?" she asked Jefferson after the introductions had been completed.

"There aren't any," he said simply, shooting a glance towards Rhys. "We don't keep a very formal house here, m'lady, and no large parties. I'm afraid I'm the only male servant in the house."

She felt a tension she hadn't even realized was there lifting off her shoulders. No footmen and no large parties meant she didn't have to keep track of the locations of more than a handful of people at any given time. Neal would be returning to the city within the week if she'd understood his plans right, which meant that in less than seven days there would only be two men for her to even think about encountering. She could do this.

After the servants were dismissed, Rhys began her tour of the house. It was far smaller than her father's house. There was a kitchen, drawing room, library, and sitting room downstairs. Upstairs were a few bedrooms (and, she realized, her room was down the hall from her husband's) and another drawing room. There was so little for her to have to try to keep track of - she could do this.

Neal had excused himself early on in the tour, leaving Belle and Arthur standing outside her bedroom door at the end of it.

"These are for you," Rhys said, reaching into his pocket to hand her some keys. "These will let you into any door in the house. There's another set for the housekeeper, with one exception."

He flipped through the ring to show her two specific keys.

"This key opens your chamber door," he continued, dropping the first to move to the next. "And this one opens your balcony. You're the only one who has those keys. Nobody can get into your room unless you want them there."

Belle was stunned at this gesture. In her father's house, there had been a keyring like this one for the housekeeper, but it had held every key. There had been no room she could have hidden herself away in. Here, though, she could lock herself away in her bedroom if she wanted to and nobody could get into it. She was almost giddy with this new sensation of power and the control over her space. She wouldn't be entirely at his mercy.

"Thank you," she said after a moment, even though it somehow didn't feel like nearly enough to explain what this meant.

She hated that she didn't have a way to show him her appreciation. She was struck with the sudden urge to kiss him, but she wasn't sure where that had come from. She didn't quite trust herself to do it without running, and still didn't know enough about him to know if it was a good idea.

She smiled at him, though, and he smiled back and she hoped he had some idea of how much she appreciated everything he'd been doing. After a moment, he stepped back from her.

"Dinner is at seven," he said. "I hope I'll see you there."

And that was it. He was gone, and she let herself into her room.

One of the maids was already in there when she opened the door, and Belle wasn't quite sure why she hadn't expected it - of course he'd have sent someone to help her unpack. She was the shortest person on the staff, barely taller than Belle herself.

"Hello," Belle said, jarring the girl's attention towards her.

The maid muttered a curse under her breath and made a hurried curtsey.

"I'm sorry, ma'am," she replied. "I didn't hear you come in."

"It's fine," Belle reassured her. "I tend to walk quietly. You're Elizabeth, right?"

The girl nodded and folded her hands in front of her.

"Mr. Gold assigned me to help you with your clothes and...everything else."

"So you'll be my lady's maid, then?" Belle asked almost rhetorically. There was no other reason for this girl to be in here, after all.

"Apparently," the girl said with a shrug. "I haven't ever done this before, actually."

"Why did he hire you, then?"

"I don't know," Elizabeth replied. "A couple weeks ago Jefferson told me I had to learn to sew."

"You don't sew?" Belle asked, feeling an amused smirk on her face.

"Not so much," Elizabeth admitted. "But I'm getting better at it."

"Well," Belle replied. "I can teach you. It's not that hard."

"That'd probably be a good idea," Elizabeth said with a wry smile as she opened another chest. "Was there anywhere in particular you wanted these things?"

Belle nodded, going to help the maid set the room to rights. It was such a relief to have something concrete to do. She'd been living a life of quiet desperation lately, no purpose and no control over anything. Now, though, she could focus on these small things. She could have the vanity moved where ever she wanted, she had complete control over where her books were placed in her new room. Tomorrow, she would start to learn how to run the household. Elizabeth had to be taught to sew. She had things to do here in this place that didn't remind her of convalescing or of how much of a disappointment her life had become, which was something she'd missed more than she'd even realized.

There was a part of her that wanted to laugh with relief, with the realization that she could make a home here. Maybe not the home she'd dreamed of, and there was still the chance her husband had mislead her, but for the first time in months Belle felt the chance for happiness finally within her grasp.