Chapter Six
At breakfast the next morning, Le Fou and Émilie spoke of their plans to go to the village that day. Robillard, the old castle chef, overheard them and offered to take them in his ancient old cart.
"I'm going down to the village to visit a friend of mine," he explained to him as he poured honey into his porridge. "Otherwise I wouldn't bother."
Since the only other way to get down to the village was by walking, they gladly accepted his offer and as soon as they finished breakfast, they headed out to the gardens where Robillard was waiting for them. However, almost as soon they boarded the rickety old cart they began to regret it. The cart, which Robillard had apparently bought thirty years previously, felt like it would break when it was just standing still, and this feeling did not get better when the cart went into motion. If the old mare pulling the cart wasn't going as slow as it was, it probably would have broken in two.
Le Fou certainly did not remember there being this many twists and turns in the path the last time he had travelled it. That was another reason to be thankful that the horse was so slow. If they were going any faster, Le Fou would probably be seeing his breakfast again.
Émilie remained quiet the entire ride to the village. Which was probably just as well, as, if she did speak, she would probably not be heard over the sound of Robillard, who seemed to be recounting a story, seemingly to himself, about the incompetence of one of the kitchen hands, using a lot of rather colourful language.
When the village finally came into sight, Le Fou could not help but feel very relieved. If this cart ride had gone on any longer, he probably would have gotten off and walked the rest of the way.
Robillard stopped the cart by a small stream, not far from the cottage where Belle used to live with her father. Émilie immediately jumped out of the cart and laid face first on the grass. Chef Robillard tied the old mare to a tree.
"I'll be back at twelve. If you're not here waiting for me, I'll be leaving without you."
"Okay." Le Fou turned and stared at Émilie, who was still lying on the grass. "Are you okay?"
"Fine, fine. Just motion sickness. I'll be alright in a moment."
Le Fou looked around for a moment. The village had not changed much in the months since he had last been here. It was the same old shops, the same small cottages. He had to admit, coming back after spending a few months surrounded by nothing but stone walls and trees, it certainly made him appreciate how pretty scenery was here.
Émilie got up, looking much better than she did before, and looked around.
"Let's go!"
They walked along the small path to the village, across the two little bridges over the two tiny streams. They had almost reached the village border, when Le Fou heard a familiar voice.
"Le Fou! Le Fou!"
Le Fou and Émilie turned around to see three identical blonde women, who were accompanied by three identical brunet men, and surrounded by what appeared to be a flock of near-identical four year old children.
After Gaston's death, the triplets who fawned over him were utterly heartbroken. They switched their usual red, yellow, and green outfits for plain black mourning dresses, and kept a lock of his hair, as well as small portrait by their bedsides.
That all changed when they saw the new triplet brothers who moved into town a few months later. The new young men were handsome, charming, single, and, most importantly, there was one for each of them. And there was no Belle around to mess anything up either.
Almost exactly nine months after their marriage, each sister gave birth to triplets of their own. A set of two boys and one girl for each couple. All with blonde hair and blue eyes. It was nigh impossible to tell any of the nine children apart.
"Say bonjour to Monsieur Le Fou, children."
"Bonjour, Monsieur Le Fou," echoed nine identical little voices
"We haven't seen you in months," the sister in red said.
"We thought you were dead or something," said the one wearing green.
"Who is this?" the third sister asked, pointing to Émilie.
"This is Émilie. Émilie, this is…" Le Fou paused, trying to remember which sister was which. He decided to take a wild guess. "This is Lilette."
"Lucette," she corrected him, "and this is my husband, Andre, and our children, Marc, Marielle, and Marius. And this is my sister Lilette, and her husband Antonin, and their children, Noel, Norbert, and Nicolette."
"No, Lucette!" Laurette, the sister in red interrupted her. "That is not Lilette's Antonin, or her Norbert, Noel, and Nicolette. That is my Alain, and my Rudolphe, Rainer, and Rosalie. Gosh, you can be so stupid sometimes."
Lucette and Laurette glared at each other.
"Anyway," Lilette turned to Le Fou. "Where've you been?"
"Uh. The castle."
"Which castle?" Lucette asked.
"Prince Étienne's castle."
"Prince…" Laurette said, looking very confused.
"…Étienne's castle," Lucette finished, looking equally as confused.
"Oh! That prince that Belle married," Lilette said, having a sudden moment of clarity. She had always been the most intelligent of the sisters after all.
"How is dear Belle?"
"We heard that she was going that she was going to have a baby."
"Oh how cute!"
"I wonder if it'll be a little prince or a little princess? Are the children of princes and princesses also princes and princesses, or is that just for kings and queens?" asked Laurette, looking confused again.
"I'd love another baby," Lucette said dreamily.
At that point, their husbands, who had been trying to prevent a fight between two sets of children, looked up in horror. One of them quickly grabbed his wife's hand, and the other two started herding up the children.
"That's enough girls. We have to go."
"Oh? Okay. Bye Le Fou. Bye - What's her name again?- Bye Le Fou's friend!"
"Uh, should we go in now?"
"Huh?" Émilie was still staring at the family of fifteen as they walked into the village. "Oh, yes."
The village was busy that day. Townsfolk bustled around the town, gossiping, bargaining, arguing, going on with their daily lives, yet somehow Le Fou felt as though every eyes was on him. He hadn't even been in the village for five minutes before he felt that he had to leave. It was too much to handle.
"I'm hungry," Émilie said suddenly, putting a hand to her stomach.
"Huh? Oh, there's a bakery over there. I'll be back." He began to navigate through the crowds, a sick feeling beginning to come over him.
"Where are you going?" Émilie called, beginning to feel nervous at the thought of being left alone.
"I'll be back in a second."
Émilie turned and timidly approached the bakery where a young girl was serving a young man. Well it looked as though she was supposed to be serving him. The way she battered her eyelashes and rested her chin in the palm of her hand suggested otherwise.
"Marie, get back to work."
"Oops! Sorry, Papa."
A man and woman had arrived. Marie quickly shooed away the young man, but Émilie saw her wink suggestively at him when her father wasn't looking.
"Now," the man turned to Émilie, "What do you want?"
Émilie was about to answer when the woman, who had been looking at her curiously, spoke up.
"I haven't seen you around before. Are you new here?"
"Well, um, no," Émilie admitted, feeling very awkward. Talking to people she didn't know made her very nervous. "Not really. I'm just visiting actually."
"Oh, well. Welcome. I am Henri, and this is my wife Marie," said the man, pointing at the woman.
"I thought your daughter was named Marie?"
"We're both named Marie."
"Oh." Between this and the triplets, this was turning out to be a very confusing trip for Émilie.
"Gee, Gaston. I really am trying, but, well, things just keep getting in the way."
Le Fou was standing by Gaston's grave. He thought, that maybe, just maybe, Gaston would speak to him again like he had done months ago.
"I kinda like it at the castle." Le Fou hated to admit it. "I haven't felt this way since before you died. I've met some interesting people there. Armand reminds me of you, kind of. Except he's not as handsome, or strong, or amazing as you. You're the best and you always will be."
Le Fou paused and listened carefully, trying to hear if Gaston would speak to him again.
"Émilie is kind of strange. But I don't know. I kind of like her. It's kind of like you how liked Belle, even though there was obviously something not quite right about her. You should see her husband now! Gosh, what a ridiculous fop. Imagine! A beast in a castle! The whole family is nuts if you ask me."
No response.
"I guess you're not gonna say anything today, huh? Well that's okay. I have to go back to Émilie anyway. Bye!"
Le Fou began walking back to the village. He was just passing a small cottage when he heard crying coming from inside. It sounded like a man. Unable to help himself, Le Fou peered in through one of the windows.
A woman lay motionless on a bed. Her hair was messy, her skin was pale. Deathly pale. There was blood spattered on the sheets around her legs.
Nearby, a man partially hid his face in his hands, but from what Le Fou could see, it was flushed with tears.
An older woman sat next to him, holding something blue wrapped in a baby blanket. Le Fou soon realized that the blue little thing was partly why the man was crying. It was a baby. A dead baby. And the mother was dead too.
Le Fou recognised the man from around the village. He had come a few weeks before Le Fou had left. Le Fou had never learned his name, but he had come into the tavern a few times.
It made him think of-
Well, never mind that, he had to go back to Émilie. It was almost time to leave.
Seeing Émilie standing awkwardly by a tree, holding a small baguette, he walked to her as fast as his little legs could carry him.
"Hi! Uh." Le Fou still couldn't get the dead mother and baby out of his mind. "I don't feel right about this little trip. It's almost twelve o'clock. Can we go wait for Robillard?"
"Yes." Émilie was glad. This trip to the village wasn't going very well for her either. She just wanted to go home.
"Good."
They started walking back through the village towards where Robillard had left the cart. Just as they were almost at the edge of the village, Le Fou heard yet another familiar voice.