CHAPTER 7

"Mademoiselle?" a maid said, opening the door so that it was slightly ajar. Her head stuck out cautiously.

Belle was sitting on her bed with her back turned to the maid. She did not change her position or in the least, speak a word.

"Jean is requesting for you to come down to dinner. I have a lovely evening gown to replace your worn out one. And I'll be able to do up those ringlets of yours."

"I will not be coming down," Belle said quietly. "If I can I'll spend the rest of my life up here."

The maid walked cautiously into the room.

"Oh miss, please, I canst tell Jean that," she said. She walked over to Belle's bed and sat down. Quietly she said, "I canst tell him anything, for that matter. He forbids me from being in the same room as him these days. It is the same with all the other servants."

Belle's ears perked up. She finally turned around. "Do you even know what he looks like?"

"Why, of course," the maid said. "He is a handsome young gentleman of eighteen – or was it nineteen?"

Belle let out a small laugh. "Oh you have it all wrong! That man out there – Jean, was it? – he is a beast!"

"Well, I must admit, he does have a temper. But to call him a beast, is highly disrespectful of you. He has let you in his home – a home much better than your previous one, I assume – and he has set up for you a lovely bedchamber. It is much better than the ones us servants have. Will you at least have the courtesy of joining him for dinner?"

"How could I eat dinner with the be-man who has taken my father away from me!" Belle cried. She started punching her bed and wouldn't stop until the maid pulled her arms behind her back.

"Now, madam, you must not act so unlady-like! You may have given up your father, but it was for a beautiful life."

"Oh, he has brainwashed you as well! He has brainwashed everybody in this house to think like him. I do not care about luxury or beauty or any such thing! The only reason why I agreed to live in this house is because I feared for my father's safety. Knowing that he is no longer in the beast-Jean's clutches is the only good thing to come out of this. And here I am now. Forced to eat along with a … with Jean against my own will. And were he only a beast on the outside, maybe I could tolerate him. But he is an ugly man without and within!"

"Speak ill of him once more and I will tie your hands behind your back and leave it that way for the rest of your life!

"Hmm. Since I hear no word of complaint from you, I will let go of your arms. Now, wear your gown hastily and after, I will fix that mop of hair of yours and maybe – if you behave well throughout – I will give you some rouge to fix those sunken cheeks."

The glass doors of the dining room carelessly opened as Belle stepped down from them. Jean neglected his food and watched her walk over to the opposite side of the large dining table. She noisily pushed her chair back and then placed herself in it, before letting the foot of the chair screech against the ground as she pushed it closer to the table. Then she looked down at the food in front of her and spent a good few moments thinking. What she was thinking about, Jean knew not.

He cleared his throat. "It is for eating."

Belle looked up at him. Her expression was clearly of annoyance, but she didn't speak. She turned back to her food and picked up the fork in her right hand and the knife in her left.

"Your fork is actually to be placed in your left hand and your knife in your right hand," Jean said.

Belle dropped the two pieces of cutlery back to the sides of her plate and picked up the leg of chicken in the plate with her hands.

"What are you doing?" Jean demanded.

With a look of innocence Belle answered, "Why, Jean dear, did you not say that this – this lovely food in front of me – was for eating? Yes, I do believe you said that. And now, you see, I am putting your words into good use."

"Well, I see Belle that you have fine listening skills … but unfortunately they are not the best. In order for that to be, you will have to listen to everything I say – not just parts."

"And which part did I not listen to?" Belle asked.

"The part where I said that you use a fork for your left hand and a knife for your right."

"Oh, I did listen to that part," Belle said nodding.

"So, why didn't you put that part into good use?"

"You do not give up, do you? I chose not to put it into good use because I found that this time I could put my own words into good use."

"I am lost this time," Jean said. "Which words are we talking about here?"

"The words which I uttered in my mind," Belle said, looking straight into his eyes.

Jean looked back, puzzled.

"I feel as if you deserve an apology, dear Jean. I mean, here you were sharing all your thoughts with me and I … I did not have the courtesy to do the same in return. I should explain myself therefore. Jean, I am not one to share my thoughts because sometimes they deserve to be kept within. Can you understand this?"

"No I …" Jean trailed off. "I can't understand it all. I have never had thoughts that I felt I needed to suppress. If I believe something strongly, then I must let others around me know it."

"Do you mean to say that you strongly believe that I should use a fork and knife?"

"I mean that I strongly believe that I should let you know what I think. And if you want to take it or not, then that is up to you."

"What a contradiction you gave there! Why just before you were clearly trying to command me to use a fork and knife."

Jean stood up. "Well know this, Belle. You can do as you please from now on and I won't comment on any of it. If you like, then you can have dinner by yourself."

Belle stood up as well. "There is one thing I want more than anything else in the world."

"Speak it then if you must."

"I want to leave!"

Jean shook his head. "That is one thing I could never grant you."

"Why not?"

"Because … Because I have to teach you a lesson in beauty and then …"

"And then?" Belle asked, making her way over to him. "What could you want with me after that?"

Jean looked down. "I just cannot you leave."

"I have never met someone so unreasonable in my life. And you call yourself a scholar's son."

"Don't speak of my father!" Jean spat.

Belle was immediately quiet. She searched his face for a sign to how he was feeling. His father was … he had to be … he had to have … passed away.

"I am sorry," Belle said. "I did not know … I mean I should have guessed before …"

She put her hand on his shoulder. "Please, sir, you do not need me to stay here with you."

"But I do," Jean whispered and bit on his lip to stop tears from overwhelming his face.

"What was that?" Belle asked.

Jean moved away from her. He walked to the glass doors. Before exiting he muttered, "I'll be in the library."

"I did not know you had a library," Belle's eyes lit up. "Sir, please, may I join you?"

"If you please."