Chapter 7- Comfort from Madame de Garderobe
...
Cogsworth gave me a flask of brandy after Lumiere led me to a comfortable tower-level guestroom. I managed to get some good sleep despite my throbbing mouth.
When I awoke the next morning in the strange but elegant room, I remembered all the sewing I needed to do for Madame de Garderobe. I took this as a welcome excuse to stay in the castle for the day. I could avoid facing Lefou. He had likely taken his horse Ami and ridden back to Villeneuve.
He hit me. I never would have expected Lefou to actually hit me! And I deserved it, so very much.
There was a mirror in the room where I surveyed the damage done. I looked an absolute mess- cut, swollen purple lip, bruised left cheek. My hair was messed and flat, and I had no choice but to pull and tie it back sans curls.
Breakfast was almost the same elaborate affair as dinner had been. There was fruit, quiche Lorraine, and tea. I was pleased to see Madame and Maestro Cadenza with their little dog. Madame kept feeding bits of quiche and ham to Frou-Frou while he sat in her lap. I loaded up a plate and joined them.
"Darling Stanley! what happened to you?" she said in horror when she saw my face.
"Fell down the 'tairs last nigh,' I mumbled through my swollen and busted mouth.
"Ragazzo sfortunato!" Cadenza exclaimed. "That does not'a look like a fall! That'a look like combattimento!"
I sighed and leaned forward to speak to them in a low tone. "All righ... Ah 'tell you the tuuth, Maeth'o and Madame. Thum'one hit me."
"Who?" cried Madame.
"I'd ra'er no' tell 'oo now. I want to 'tart 'thowing Belle'th dreth," I managed to say.
"I understand, darling," Madame said after she looked at me in concern for a moment. "Were you going to bring the fabric and patterns into town? I do wish you could simply go upstairs and use my sewing room. I can find some time to work with you today."
I nodded in grateful agreement. I decided that I would indeed stay here in the castle, for the time being.
The quiche was the only food that didn't hurt to chew, so I finished it all and didn't touch the crusty bread and apples that came with it. I passed the bread over to a happy Frou-Frou in Madame's lap. I tried to take a sip of hot tea, but it made the pain worse. I craved something cold to drink.
Afterward, I followed Madame up to the sewing room, where I busied myself with studying the patterns before finally making some cuts to the delicate organza. She was busy sewing some other garments, and was joined later by some women on staff who kept giving me alarmed looks due to my battered face.
I worked on cutting and measuring for hours. The ladies went down to lunch that afternoon, but I stayed with my scissors and fabric, now on a roll and not wanting to be interrupted. I had the bodice and sleeve pieces measured and cut to the exact pattern by four o'clock. Now it would take about a day or two to sew them all together.
After a while, Lumiere came in and offered me a glass of cold water, of which I was grateful. I took a sip and set it down on the large wooden work table. Scraps of the fine material were piled upon it, as well as scattered upon the floor.
"Not 'thure I wan'a waste the 'thcrap fabric. I migh' yuth i' for another dreth," I said, my mouth now a little more numbed from the water.
Lumiere looked at the fabric, and grinned fondly. "My Plumette would love a dress decorated with those. They remind me of...feathers."
I nodded, and tried to smile. Lumiere gave me an 'I'm-so-terribly-sorry-for-you" look that was the same as Madame's before.
"Who was it that you had a fight with, mon ami?" he asked pointedly.
I fiddled with the piece of fabric which would someday be part of Belle's celebration ballgown. "A friend," I mumbled.
"I see," Lumiere said. He stroked his chin with one hand, his brow furrowed. "It may be a long road ahead, Monsieur, but have hope. He will come back to apologize. Give him time."
"Wha?" I exclaimed in shock. "Who' you talking 'bou?" Pain throbbed in my lower lip again.
Lumiere stepped close to me and put his hand gently on my shoulder. "I'm sorry, Monsieur. I must admit the truth. I saw what happened, as well as the moments before your friend gave you...er, Le Sandwich de la jointure de doigt."
Wonderful.
"Tho you 'thaw?" I said. "Anyone elth'?"
Lumiere nodded sheepishly. "Monsieur Cogsworth. We were having a smoke by the front door. I don't believe anyone else witnessed the fight."
I did remember during my conversation with Lefou when I'd caught a whiff of pipe smoke. I knew Lefou never smoked. I recalled that the smell made me think of the atmosphere of the tavern; I thought I was imagining it due to the subject of our talk.
"Thorry I lied," I said miserably. "Wath my fault he hit me."
Lumiere reached his arm around me and gave me a brotherly half-hug. "I think you ought to spend some time with my dear friend Monsieur Cogsworth. He may be able to provide you some comfort and empathy."
"Lumiere!" a lady's pretty voice sang from down the hallway.
"I must go. Good luck, mon ami," said Lumiere. He turned and went out the door to join his ladylove.
I was alone for several minutes, and during that time I cleaned up the fabric scraps wondering what he meant by his friend Cogsworth the clock man being able to 'provide me with empathy.' Soon, Madame de Garderobe arrived with Frou-Frou trailing at her feet.
"Oh, my! Have you done this much already?" She studied my cut pieces and compared them to the paper patterns. "Not a centimeter off! You have definitely passed a test of skill!" Madame drew close to me; she kissed my cheek with affectionate thanks. This time I blushed with pride, knowing that she never meant anything uncouth in her questioning of me yesterday.
"I'm 'thorry I wath' croth and 'wude to you before," I told her in apology.
"It is not an issue anymore, darling. It was simply a misunderstanding. Now, since we are alone, I wish to know who did this to you. I do not want anyone hurting my Pretty Boy tailor, now. You can trust me with any secret, darling...but if you don't want to tell me, it's all right." Her warm, maternal tone comforted me so much that my defenses broke down.
"It wath Monthieur Lefou. But no' hith fault! I detherved it. I thaid terrible thingth to 'im," I confessed through my swollen, bruised and aching mouth. It matched the state of my heart perfectly.
Beyond my control, I felt tears beginning to prickle my eyes. I blinked them back, and caught Madame's warm gaze; studying me with such fierce care and affection.
"Do you love this boy, darling?" she whispered.
I nodded miserably, putting my hand tightly over my eyes the same way Lefou did the morning he was searching for Gaston. She took me into her arms.
With the relief that came from not having anyone else around- particularly anyone from Villeneuve- I let the dam break, sniffling and blubbering and crying against the shoulder of her blue satin gown.
I loved him. Mon Dieu, I thought the world of him. I'd been so overcome with shock and joy last evening, the moment he leaned against me and embraced me at the dinner table. And now, I was so, so afraid he would never want to be my friend again.
...
- Meanwhile, in the Castle's Livery Stable -
...
Michel, the horse ostler, came into the stable bearing fresh pails of water and hay for Phillipe, as well as the two horses he was housing for the men who'd come from the village. He fed Phillipe first. When he came near the other two, he blinked in surprise.
He saw a man curled up on the stable floor, sleeping against the smaller horse.
What was he, crazy? Sleeping with his horse when there were dozens of comfortable beds in the castle? Michel thought, puzzled. He bent down and shook the man's shoulder. "Monsieur?"
He didn't wake up. Michel wondered if he should wake the horse the man was nestled against. It was a rather touching sight. Michel loved the animals as well, but this was certainly a strong show of devotion between a horse and his master. Michel pet the sleeping animal's mane, and put a handful of hay before its nose.
Ami twitched his nose and tail. He awoke, opening his eyes at the smell of breakfast. With a little snort, he began moving in order to stand up. Lefou was shoved aside and forced to wake up as well.
"Monsieur?" Michel said again.
"Huh? Uh...hello," Lefou said, rubbing his eyes and clumsily rising to a standing position.
"I remember you from yesterday! You were the man who offered to give the black stallion to His Highness," Michel told him.
Lefou nodded. "Yeah."
"Are...you having second thoughts? Because if you are too attached to both of these fellows, you could change your mind."
"No. Magnifique here is the one I'm giving to the prince," Lefou replied, yawning. He gestured to Magnifique, who was busy chewing some hay.
"All right then. I was wondering why you chose the stable for your overnight accommodations," Michel said.
"I...well, I was going to ride home last night, but Ami wasn't exactly cooperating with me. He was tired and determined to sleep here. So I decided to keep him company."
Michel grinned. "I see. He's more the master of you."
"Basically, yes."
"Probably wasn't trained as a foal. Once they get to an age, they become stubborn," Michel explained.
Lefou nodded. "Most likely. Thank you for taking care of Ami for the day and night. Would you like some compensation?" he asked, reaching into his coat pocket for the few sous he still had jingling inside it.
"Oh, no need to pay me. But if you don't mind, Monsieur, I still need to find out if there are horses we can buy from the village. We would want a dozen for the castle. Could you check and ask around?"
"Yes, that would be fine." Lefou patted Ami's flank, preparing him for a ride home. He spoke to him with a sad sigh. "Well, my stubborn garcon, we have to get back home."
Ami nickered and tossed his head, anxious to stretch his legs and be ridden. Lefou saddled him and climbed up on him, thanking Michel once more.
As he rode down the forest path to Villeneuve, his memory of the night before- of Stanley- returned, causing a torrent of guilt and sorrow. Lefou studied his right hand holding Ami's reins; his knuckle had a bruise on the spot where it collided with Stanley's jawbone and lip. He wanted so much to turn around, go back to the castle and seek him out. Tell him he was sorry for his brutality, but he couldn't. There was no way.
He was too ashamed to even look at the man today. Seeing Stanley would remind him of everything.
Gaston.
The fact that Stanley knew about the feelings Lefou secretly harbored for his dead best friend. Feelings men are not supposed to have.
And the fact that Lefou's affections and feelings had started to shift towards Stanley! How could this happen? How could he be such a fool as to skewer his heart on the roasting stick, placing it over the fire yet again- so soon!
And Stanley knew it!
Once again- only two days later- Lefou's feelings had been thrown back into his face. This time, it was a snide, mocking insult. Not only to him, but with the rude suggestion that Gaston was the same!
Gaston was not the same. Stanley was wrong! But Lefou didn't dare correct him. Correcting Stanley would force him to speak of it out in the open; speak of himself and what he was out loud. Lefou had felt like a cornered, wounded animal last night. Unable to speak, he resorted to primitive means, striking out.
Stanley...why? He had actually believed Stanley cared about him. He started believing there was a chance- a hope.
Lefou was alone in the quiet forest with no one but Ami. He slowed his horse's pace, remembering all the times he'd been riding in the woods like this in years past. Happier times when he rode beside Gaston and Magnifique, quietly scoping out a stag, or a boar, or a flock of ducks on the river.
Lefou would always hold the quiver of arrows, carefully drawing one out and passing it to Gaston. Gaston's brow would be furrowed, gazing out at his quarry. He'd take the arrow without pulling his eyes away, readying his bow, perfecting his aim...
'Lefou!'
What was that? Was he hearing things?
He was sure he heard Gaston's voice, calling out to him from somewhere in the forest, echoing in his right ear.
"Gaston?" he croaked, looking to the right and hearing no one, seeing no one. It was only his imagination.
Ami twitched his ears and nickered, probably hoping that he would see Gaston again as well.
"He's gone, Ami. Let's go home."
He allowed himself to shed quiet tears as long as he stayed in the forest. Once he reached the meadows and fields and saw Villeneuve, he wiped his face and tried to put on a smile. Ami happily trotted down the familiar, green hillside, bouncing Lefou in his saddle. It was a feeling he always used to love when Gaston was at his side, knowing he was coming home after a long hunt or trip.
He rode Ami through the stone archway which led right into the busy marketplace. He passed everyone as swiftly as he could, hoping to head to his own cottage and go back to sleep.
"Hey! Lefou!" a man's voice shouted. He turned to see none other than Dick Laurent running towards him. The older brother of the person he didn't want to think about.
"Bonjour, Dick."
"Say, have you seen my brother? I know he went with you to the castle."
"Haven't seen him today," Lefou said in a quiet, avoidant voice.
"Weren't you with him yesterday?"
"For a little while."
"What was he doing?" Dick pressed.
Lefou stopped Ami and dismounted. "I think he ended up taking on a tailoring job in the castle. They want him to sew clothes. I'm sure he's still there."
"I wish he'd given us a little notice before disappearing! He's causing a family crisis! Here, look."
Dick pointed to the tailor and seamstress' shop. There on the front awning, the three pink-festooned Dubois sisters were standing with their arms crossed, looking incensed. They caught sight of Lefou and rushed towards him.
"Where's Stanley?" shrieked Eloise.
"He abandoned us!" cried Eliana.
"He's supposed to be here helping!" whined Elise. They were joined by Madame Dubois, their mother who happened to be Stanley's aunt.
"You need to tell Stanley to get back here!" she cried. "He's off cavorting in the castle with the prince and his people, while my poor girls are left with all this difficult work! They don't know how to measure and cut precisely, and without him here, they are helpless!"
"Maman, can you help me?" Elise begged, clutching a bolt of fabric in her arms.
"I have my own projects to finish!" her mother scolded. "If you would only pay attention and learn, the three of you wouldn't need Stanley to do everything for you!"
"Lefou, have you heard about Gaston?" Eliana asked, blinking back tears.
"Have they found him? We can't believe he's dead until they find him!" Eloise added, starting to cry as well.
"Ladies, please, don't cry," said Lefou beseechingly, holding his palms out in an attempt to calm the distressed girls. Their crying was infectious to him, and he didn't want to do the same in public. "I'm sorry to tell you they haven't found him yet. It's an unfortunate matter all around, but the castle staff is trying as hard as they can," he explained.
"Girls, I know your hearts are broken about Captain Gaston. It's dreadful," said Madame Dubois consolingly. "But please, dears! Try to calm down and go back to the shop. I will help you as much as I can until Stanley is back. It's not like him to be so...irresponsible!" She gave a disapproving look to the skyline, gesturing in the castle's direction. The four women left for the dress shop. Lefou was left standing with Dick.
"She's right. He's never been so irresponsible, leaving without telling us when he would be back! What's the matter with him?" Dick asked, annoyed.
Lefou gave him a look of empathy. "The truth is, Stanley wants to be a royal tailor for them. I mean, think about it, Dick. Every candlestick and teapot and clock, every hatrack and piece of furniture? Not to mention the great Beast? They were all people. And they need someone to sew them some new clothes after all this time. And...Belle needs a new ballgown, too. I just heard some big news about her, but I...never mind. I'd rather everyone hear the news from Belle herself."
"What news about Belle?"
"You'll see. Just wait," Lefou said, gesturing to Dick with his hands, hoping for him to not press the matter. He didn't want to spoil Belle and Prince Adam's surprise about their engagement and party.
"Well," Dick said with a shrug and a half-smile, "I'm glad she's happy. And I'm glad Stanley's happy there, too. It's just that we miss him right now. We were hoping he was still with you."
Lefou sighed sadly. "We went our separate ways. Sorry, Dick."
Dick gave him a funny look. Lefou's stomach began to feel queasy.
"Would you like to join Tom and I for a few drinks?" Dick asked amiably. Speak of the devil, Tom arrived at that moment, wearing his dirty blacksmith apron. He gave Lefou a kind smile, his face red and sweaty from work.
Shock, guilt, and fear for his own self-preservation caused Lefou to blink at Dick and Tom a few times, completely mute. He wasn't able to respond quite yet.
The reality of what had happened was sinking in now. Lefou was going to have to tell Dick and Tom the truth eventually. It was better that he explain it- rather than Stanley himself. He would have to tell them they got into a fight. That he had resorted to his fists, smacking Dick's dear little brother in the mouth, possibly breaking the young man's beautiful teeth.
He wasn't sure how he could explain away the cause of the conflict. How could he even begin to bring it up?
He nodded and found his voice. "Yeah. I can. I'm kinda tired, but sure. A few drinks."
Dick gave Lefou a friendly clap on the shoulder, and they headed to the door of the tavern. Lefou avoided looking at the murals on the ceiling.
Gaston The Hunter. Gaston the Victor. He also avoided looking in the direction of...the empty chair.
The place had a distinct smell; a combination of ale, pipe smoke, and the sweat of crowds of people. He had rarely been there without Gaston. At last, he heard Dick's comforting, deep voice in his ear.
"I know it's hard. It was hard for us to be back here, too. I'll buy, okay?"
"Okay."
Dick and Tom steered Lefou to a table, where he sat facing away from the murals, and The Chair, and the pitying stares of the other patrons. Fortunately, some of the pitying looks throughout the pub weren't directed at Lefou at all. They were directed at a very distressed Madame Clothilde.
The gaunt, sad old woman was nursing a glass of wine, babbling in a combination of anger and hurt. She was being comforted on each side by the barman and his wife, Stephan and Colette Bordeaux.
Lefou, Tom, and Dick could hear the rantings and wailing from across the bar.
"Never, I tell you! Never trust a bloody Englishman! It's over- I don't need him!"
"Clothilde! Please, calm down. Here, dear, have more wine. You should go upstairs and rest-"
"Lumiere! That's all he cares about! Forget about his wife! Non! It's always LUMIERE! Just like before! Why didn't he just marry HIM, rather than me?"
Tom gave Dick a confused look. "A man can't marry a man, though. Isn't that right?"
"I'm quite sure that's the law, Tom," Lefou replied, hoping to appear nonchalant.
"Cards?" Dick asked, producing a deck and slapping it on the table.
"Oui," said Tom, nodding.
Colette Bordeaux managed to tear herself away from poor Clothilde long enough to deliver three tankards of ale to Tom, Dick, and Lefou, who thanked her. He was about to reach into his pocket, but Dick handed her some coins instead. "All on me," he announced.
The three of them played cards, Tom and Dick teasing each other good naturedly, as usual. Lefou felt as if he'd been turned into a Stanley stand-in, as he was acting much quieter than the other two, as Stanley typically was.
Throughout the evening, he tried to find ways to bring it up, but no opportunity ever came. It was eleven o' clock when the three men called it a night and went home. Lefou didn't sleep as well that night, though he was home rather than in the stable with horses. He kept thinking of that moment where he thought he heard Gaston's voice calling to him in the woods. 'Lefou!' It echoed in his mind.
Perhaps he was now a ghost haunting the forest? How? He did not believe in such things.
When he woke late the next noontime, he realized he had to go back to the castle and face Stanley.
...
A.N.: Translations:
"Ragazzo sfortunato" - Unlucky boy or Unfortunate boy
"combattimento" - Combat or fight
"Le Sandwich de la jointure de doigt" - Knuckle Sandwich
Next scene, Stanley should be able to speak normally. I don't know what being punched hard in the mouth feels like, but I imagined the aftermath being similar to how it feels after having your wisdom teeth pulled- your whole mouth feeling swollen twice its size. You talk like that for about one day.
Also, I am sorry that this chapter broke from first person in Stanley's POV and switched to a section in the third person. I really wanted to follow Lefou's actions and thoughts on that particular day.