Author's Note: Hello lovely readers!
Thank you so much for your patience! I was made aware that a peer could not legally disinherit his heir. While I like to keep things as historically accurate as possible, I did bend the rules of peerage succession to raise the stakes for Adam. So this aspect of the story is inaccurate in terms of succession rules, just letting you guys know.
Another note, a shilling is worth twelve pence/pennies, and sixpence is worth six pence (half a shilling). Twenty shillings make a pound. I'm not an expert on British currency, if I don't know if the prices of the items mentioned are at all accurate, so please bear with me.
WARNING: There are mild elements of non-con later in this chapter.
As always, thank you so much for your reviews/follows/favourites/support!
Enjoy!
Kent
November 1912
A knock on the door woke Belle from her sleep, as it did every morning. She blinked away the tiredness, thought that was a chore in of itself lately, now that she stayed up reading almost every night.
"6 o'clock!" Ella, the kitchen maid, shouted from the other side of the door.
Belle sat up in her bed and turned on the oil lamp on her bedside table, and then reached over to nudge Plumette awake.
"6 o'clock," Belle said tiredly.
Plumette rolled in the sheets, and then rubbed her eyes. "Just one I would like to sleep until I woke up normal."
"That sounds lovely," Belle replied, already changing out of her nightgown and into her maids' dress.
"Tell me, has Mr. Adam left you any more notes?" Plumette rested on her elbows on the bed, and her lips curved up into a curious smile. Belle scoffed as she tied her apron behind her back, but didn't say anything. Apparently, her silence was response enough. "How many?"
"A few," Belle teased. In reality though, it was more than a few. He'd left her notes in almost every book she borrowed. In return, she'd leave him notes as well, sometimes tucked in the cover or the pages. As much as they discussed the books she read, they never really talked about their notes. He never brought it up, and she never dared to ask. But it never bothered her; it was nice to have a secret between her and Mr. Adam, even if Plumette knew most of it. And besides, Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts would not take kindly to a maid sharing notes with her employer.
Sometimes Belle wondered if she should be doing this at all, if she was taking too much of a risk with her future. But being able to borrow and read books from a library as grand as Theron's was something she couldn't deny herself.
The servants' hall was buzzing with energy when Belle and Plumette arrived for their breakfast, as it always was. Cogsworth was reading the paper, but the other servants were talking amongst themselves, and their words all seemed to blend together as Belle took her seat at the table.
"Can Plumette and I go down to the village for the fair this Friday, Cogsworth?" Lumiere's question seemed to silence the table. No doubt the others were likely to ask the same thing.
The Villeneuve fair was an annual tradition, with booths and stands selling jams, pies, and pastries, and carnival games. Belle's father usually had a stand selling sketches and music boxes, with which she would always assist. She was rather disappointed she wouldn't be able to help her father set up his stand this year, but she hoped to see him that evening.
The weather thus far had been quite agreeable; it snowed every so often but the chill wasn't downright unbearable, not like in January or February, so Belle counted on not getting frostbite while she was out.
Cogsworth set down his paper, and gave a look to Mrs. Potts, who as sitting adjacent to him.
"We wouldn't be very long, and Mr. Adam doesn't need all three footmen to wait on him all by himself," Lumiere added.
"Hey, Jasper and I want to go to the fair as well," Percy chimed in.
Cogsworth sighed.
"Can I go as well, Mrs. Potts?" Belle asked, taking a bite of her buttered toast. "My father has a stand that I'd like to help with."
"I'll talk to Mr. Adam about it, he has a lot on his mind," Cogsworth said, earning a few sighs of relief. It didn't mean no, in fact, it would most likely be a yes. Cogsworth gave a wary look to Mrs. Potts and continued with his breakfast.
None of the other servants knew what the butler had meant by "he has a lot on his mind," but of course, Belle knew.
Since Mr. Adam had received that horrid letter almost two weeks prior, he'd been anxious every time she'd seen him. They couldn't even carry a conversation about the books she was reading without him drifting into his own world every five minutes.
Belle had told him constantly that a year was a long time, and a solution may present itself. But Mr. Adam wasn't convinced. He said that either his father or Lady Brankford would find a way to speed everything up.
Lady Brankford wouldn't want him to marry, of course. If he didn't, her son would become the heir to the earldom, and Mr. Adam would be cast out. Belle suspected she would be scheming to avoid any marriage plans, and perhaps even convince his Lordship to shorten the time he'd given Mr. Adam to marry.
She hadn't told him any of this; Mr. Adam was most likely thinking about all the ways he would either be forced to marry or give up his inheritance sooner rather than later. Besides, Belle didn't want to bring up the topic that would surely frustrate and anger him to no end. He was already thinking plenty about it without anyone's help.
The silence was broken by the sound of a bell going off on the large bell board on the wall behind Cogsworth's seat. The lamp-black board practically took up the entirety of the wall with all its bells and markers, and during her time at Theron, Belle thought not even half had been rung. It was usually the same three: the front door, the library, and the room the ringing bell belonged to: Mr. Adam's room, called the Prince Edward bedroom. According to Lumiere, it had been named as such because a Prince Edward had stayed there a long while ago. He always loved to speak of the house's history.
"And he's off," Cogsworth said as the bell continued to ring above its gold tag. Chappeau quickly took a last sip of his tea and rushed from the servants' hall to the stairwell.
"And that means you three should get to the breakfast room," Mrs. Potts nodded to Plumette, Belle, and the footman, Jasper.
"Yes, Mrs. Potts," the two maids said in unison as they stood and pushed their chairs in. Belle managed to get another bite of her toast before handing the plate off to the kitchen maid coming around and collected their dishes.
"I'm planning on telling him," Plumette said as they walked up the servants' stairwell that lead to the main floor. "Soon, I think."
Belle looked back behind them. Jasper was fiddling with his livery at the bottom of the stairwell, so they could talk quietly.
"About Mr. Holloway?" She asked, her voice a whisper.
"Yes, I don't think I can keep it from him any longer," she replied. Belle took her hand and gave it a comforting squeeze.
"I'm sure you'll feel much better after you tell him." Belle smiled.
"Tell who what?" Jasper chimed in, approaching them with haste.
"Nothing you need to concern yourself with," Plumette said, but offered him a friendly smile.
"Is it about the late Mr. Holloway?" the footman pressed, earning a stern look from both maids.
"Never you mind," Belle said as she opened the door that revealed Theron's grand parlour. Sunlight streaked through the polished windows, illuminated every corner of the room. On the far wall, a flame roared in its massive stone fireplace. The heat radiating from the fire immediately comforted her from the cold servants' passages.
"You know, there's been some gossip about him in the papers, concerning Mr. Adam's cousin, Lady Theresa. I've been reading about it as I iron the papers. They've not been too kind about it," Jasper said as they entered the breakfast room.
Belle and Plumette opened the heavy drapes, letting the sunlight in, and Jasper laid Mr. Adam's table setting.
"Oh?" Belle asked before she could stop herself. She didn't want to talk about Mr. Holloway any longer, but the news of gossip caught her attention. And from the sounds of it, the gossip Jasper was about to share didn't concern either her nor Plumette, but she wanted to make sure.
"There were rumours that Lady Theresa and Mr. Holloway had… been involved, and it's apparently caused her fiancé broke off their engagement. She's set to travel to America. Newport, or some such place," Jasper said in a lowered voice, as if Cogsworth could hear them all the down in the servants' hall. It wouldn't surprise Belle if he could.
"Oh, dear," was all Plumette said.
"But who would spread such rumours?" Belle asked, thinking aloud.
Jasper shrugged. "My guess is on Lady Theresa's mother. She never liked the fiancé, probably saw it as an opportunity to break the whole thing off. Mr. Holloway can't refute the rumours, after all."
The thought made her tense suddenly. Had anyone seen them that night? Had Lady Brankford, of all people, seen them? Belle thought she had been looking around the dark hallways constantly for anyone lurking about, but she'd seen no one, she was sure of it. But perhaps Lady Brankford was just making up stories for an ulterior motive. She wouldn't put it past the woman.
"I never knew she had such a distaste for Lady Theresa's fiancé," Belle said, shifting the topic slightly. Once all the curtains had been drawn, she dusted the top of the polished wood countertop where the food would be lain.
"I heard Lord and Lady Brankford complain about him extensively once before anyone else had come for dinner," the footman continued. "And Lord Brankford's valet was quite chatty."
The topic was put to rest once Percy and Lumiere entered the breakfast room and laid out the food. Belle could tell Plumette was relieved to be free of the room once they left.
"I can't stand all the gossip about it," she said through her teeth once they were alone in the servants' corridor. "What if Lady Brankford had seen us that evening?" Her tone was suddenly full of worry, and her eyes widened.
"I was worried about that too," Belle admitted. "But I was sure no one was in the hall that night. No one. Jasper was probably right that Lady Brankford was making it up to separate Lady Theresa and her fiancé."
It seemed to calm Plumette down more, and she nodded stiffly. "If it's true, then it's terribly awful for Lady Theresa."
"Yes, of course, but Lady Brankford is just the kind of person who would do such a thing," Belle replied. Though she hadn't told her about his Lordship's letter to Mr. Adam, Belle knew they were both thinking of the woman's scheming.
The Marchioness of Brankford was just the sort of person to hatch a plot such as this, indeed.
"The servants want to attend this Friday's village fair, sir," Cogsworth said as Adam was halfway through his breakfast and three-quarters through A Midsummer Night's Dream, a play Belle had recommended to him.
After the initial shock of his father's dreaded letter a week earlier, his time with Belle was a great comfort, probably a greater comfort than he deserved. It was hard to shake the anxiety of this father's threat, and he did find himself staring off into the distance wrapped up in his own thoughts for much of the day. Belle thought all of his thoughts were about the letter, and while it was true that a great deal of them were, he was guilty of being enchanted by Belle and getting lost in her words.
When he was with her, he almost forgot about everything else. It felt like they were the only two people at Theron, the only two people in the world. Adam was sure his father would find some poor woman and force them into a marriage, but until then he was determined to enjoy his time with Belle.
Adam set down his book, but didn't respond right away. In fact, he'd been thinking a lot about the fair this past week. It was his first time back at Theron for the fair years, and he'd always had fond memories of it.
He remembered how his mother would walk with him down to the village, just the two of them. No nannies, no servants, and certainly not his father. It was the one night she would indulge him with games and prizes; not even the memories of Christmas could compare with the times he and his mother spent at the fair.
The air was always cold and clean, sometimes with freshly fallen snow. Adam remembered the scent of warm apple cider and the candied apples he'd always receive at the end of the night. Though he would have had enough energy to run back to the estate without stopping for breath, Adam always took his time walking back to Theron with his mother. It was one of the only times they got to be completely alone during the year, and at least he had been smart enough to cherish that time together.
He only wished that were still the case.
Cogsworth continued after the long silence. "I told them you have a lot on your mind–"
"No, no," Adam cleared his throat. "It's perfectly alright if they want to go. I think I might go as well."
"Sir?"
"I'll have an early dinner that day and head down to the village afterwards."
"Of course, sir."
Out of the corner of his eye, Adam could have sworn he saw the butler's lips curve upwards into the smallest of smiles.
Adam glanced back at the papers checked the gossip columns. After first returning to Theron in April, he couldn't bear to be reminded of his previous life in London's high society, and as such avoided the gossip columns and rumours and the letters from his acquaintances (though they all stopped after the first two weeks, except for Ned's).
But he recently started to check them again, especially after the death of Mr. Holloway had made quite the scandal in the papers. A scandal, however, his father didn't bother to cover up. And now with all this nonsense about Theresa and Mr. Holloway having some affair and the breakoff of the engagement… he wanted to make sure the papers weren't becoming too unpleasant.
The thought had crossed his mind to invite Theresa to stay at Theron for a while until the scandal blew over. It would have the added advantage of warding off any potential women his father intended to push on him, but he knew his aunt wouldn't have it.
It was enough that Theron was already housing one blunder of a family member, but to house two… the estate would be turned into a convalescence home for their family's outcasts. Not that he'd mind, really. However, it was not to be. Theresa was heading to Newport after the Christmas holidays, and there would be no persuading his aunt otherwise.
At least she would be far from the clutches of Aunt Margaret.
When the day of the fair came, the servants eagerly ate their dinner (which was earlier than usual, but Cogsworth didn't say why) so they could rush down to the village for the fair.
"Do you think it'll snow?" One of the housemaids, Lily asked between bites of the meat pie.
"I shouldn't think so," Plumette said. "It hasn't snowed for a few days now."
"That doesn't mean you shouldn't bundle up," Mrs. Potts said from across the table. "And the same goes for you boys, too," she eyed the footmen. "I don't want all of you in bed with colds at once."
"I daresay Mr. Adam can fend for himself if it came down to it," Percy said with a small laugh.
Cogsworth gazed up from his meal with a look of shock mixed with a glare, if such an expression were possible. "Perhaps, Percy, but that is not how we do things here at Theron," he said sharply.
The footman looked back down at his meal, somewhat embarrassed. Jasper leaned over to him, giving him a nudge of encouragement.
After dinner, the staff rushed back to their rooms to change before heading out. Belle put on a simple blue dress with white buttons down the front and a dark coat. Plumette wore a dark violet dress that she said had been a gift from Lumiere the year before.
The two girls walked down to the village together with Lumiere, Percy, and Jasper, while a few of the kitchen maids and hall boys trailed behind them. The sun was just starting to set over Theron, bathing the sky in navy and magenta. A few clouds were gathering, perhaps signaling a snowfall, but thankfully the winds were not harsh and biting.
"Have you not come down to the fair in previous years?" Belle asked.
"Mrs. Potts said the staff used to go when her Ladyship was alive," Plumette said, weaving her fingers around Lumiere's. "But not really after that. Lumiere and I managed to sneak out last year." She smiled at him. "We both pretended to be ill, and then during the servants' dinner we left the house and spent a few hours in the village."
"You snuck past Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth?" Jasper exclaimed, laughing.
"Don't you get any ideas," Belle eyed him, giving him a playful glare.
"Mrs. Potts must have found out not long after," Lumiere admitted. "But if either of them did, they didn't say a word to us."
"If anything, she felt sympathetic that we spent years cooped up in that place while his Lordship and Mr. Adam were in London," Plumette added.
"It sounds rather lonely," Belle said.
"It wasn't so bad. We became a family during that time."
"And not to mention Mrs. Potts managed to give us a full day off at Christmas," Lumiere said excitedly. "Her husband, Mr. Potts and her son, Chip, would come over, we had our own celebration in the servants' hall…" he trailed off, delighting in the memories. "Though I doubt that would happen again, what with Mr. Adam in the house."
Belle shrugged. "You never know. Mr. Adam can be quite generous, he may let us have the day off."
"How do you know?" Percy chimed in, raising an eyebrow. His tone was playful, but the words burned all the same.
Immediately, Belle knew she had said too much. She looked down at the dark cobble path and felt heat rise to her cheeks. Even in the cold, she felt the temperature increase and almost took off her coat to relieve herself from the heat.
This was what Mrs. Potts was worried about, she realized. If she told them there was nothing more than a friendly relationship between her and Adam, Plumette and Lumiere would believe her, but she wasn't so sure about the others. Jasper was an eager gossip if their conversation in the breakfast room earlier in the week was anything to go by. And as soon as one person was in a possession of a rumour, it would spread, until the whole household staff knew, and it most certainly would get back to his Lordship. She didn't know how, but it would.
Belle shrugged again nonchalantly, as if her words had meant nothing. "Just a feeling," she replied. Though Jasper didn't see it, Plumette raised an eyebrow at her, but didn't say anything.
Soon the fairgrounds came into view, with their banners and lights strung from the trees, and the laughter of children and the shouts of stand owners hawking their prizes. The air smelt of cinnamon and apples, and Belle saw her father tinkering away in his stand.
The kitchen maids pulled along the hall boys ahead of them, eager to purchase some sweets and play the games. Jasper and Percy headed towards a ring toss game, organizing a bet between them, while Lumiere and Plumette walked slowly arm-in-arm.
Belle excused herself to head towards her father's stand. He was looking down at a bit of machinery, but was having trouble with one of the cogs. She rolled her eyes. He always seemed to make this mistake no matter how many times Belle told him otherwise. Spotting the correct gear from a small pile on the counter, she picked it up and handed it to her father.
"This might work a little better, I think," she said, smiling.
Maurice looked at the gear. "Yes, I think you're right," he said without looking up. "How did you know…" slowly, he shifted his gaze upwards and smiled brightly. "Belle! How lovely it is to see you!" He beckoned her over to the other side of the stand and kissed her on the cheek. "I didn't know you were coming, you should have written to me."
"I wanted to surprise you, Papa," she said.
"Well, you've certainly done that," he replied, chuckling.
"You didn't have trouble getting everything down from the cottage, did you?"
"I admit, I missed having you to help me, but Phillippe and I took care of everything."
"I do hope you're not wearing him out."
"Of course not," Maurice laughed. "He's an excellent worker."
Belle and her father's conversation continued into the night, and more than once he told her to run along with the friends she insisted she had, but Belle replied that they were all busy enjoying the festivities, and she was enjoying her time with him.
When the night chill started to settle in, Belle offered to get them both cups of hot apple cider with her pocket money, but her father was too stubborn to let her pay for it, even though she insisted. He placed a shilling in her hand and she got up and walked over to the stand further down the grounds.
It was quite busy, still, and as she was waiting in line, she could have sworn she saw Mr. Adam walking around the fairgrounds, just by stand selling what looked like knitted goods. Belle shook her head and looked again, but the figure she thought she saw was gone. Her mind was playing tricks on her. Good lord, she'd gotten nervous about him earlier in the night and now she thought she was seeing him everywhere.
After paying sixpence each for the ciders, Belle walked back over to her father's stand with a quicker pace than before. She still couldn't shake the feeling that she really did see him, and she even craned her neck to scan the grounds, but Mr. Adam wasn't there.
Plumette could tell Lumiere had been nervous ever since Belle had left to visit her father, but for what, she didn't know.
He managed to win her a pair of knitted mittens from the ring toss stand, and now they were sharing a box of fresh popcorn.
In his defence, Plumette had been rather silent that evening. She wanted to tell him about Mr. Holloway, but she couldn't find the right words in her mind. Granted, there was no right way to explain she carried the body of a fully-grown man down the halls of Theron from Lady Theresa's room to the bachelor's corridor.
But she realized she wasn't more nervous about explaining the ordeal as she was about what Lumiere's reaction would be. Would he be horrified? Disgusted? Hurt than she hadn't told him right away? It all made her want to put off the topic indefinitely. But then Belle's advice rung in her ears. It would do her no good to keep the secret to herself. Lumiere was worth too much to be kept in the dark. And he could be trusted, there was no doubt about that.
Finally, while sitting on one of the wooden benches and sipping some warm apple cider, she turned to Lumiere and took his hand in hers.
"There's something I need to tell you," she said slowly, making sure the words were right. "And I'm afraid it can't be put off any longer."
"Oh, good, there's something I must ask you too–"
But Plumette help a finger up to stop him. "I need to say this now, before you say anything."
Lumiere nodded.
"You remember that night Mr. Holloway died?" She started, breathing slowly.
"Of course," Lumiere answered, clearly unsure of what she was about to confess.
"Well… Mr. Holloway wasn't in his room when he died."
Lumiere was in a stunned silence, and Plumette continued, forcing herself to maintain eye contact. "That is, Lady Theresa came to mine and Belle's room that night, asking for help. She said Mr. Holloway had gotten into her room, he was… making advances." She swallowed hard, but forced herself to continue. "Lady Theresa said he suddenly cried out and fell limp."
"And you and Belle helped her?"
Plumette nodded. "We carried him all the way from her room to the bachelor's corridor. She said he couldn't be found in her room, he just couldn't. It would be terrible." She looked at him intently, trying to judge his reaction.
"I'm sorry I kept it from you," she suddenly burst, tears forming in the corners of her eyes. "I wanted to tell you but I thought you'd be disgusted or…"
"How could I be disgusted with a woman who risk so much to help a friend," he breathed, clutching her hand tight and wiping away the tears from her cheeks. "If anything, I admire you so much for it. I wish I had half of your bravery."
Plumette smiled and laughed through the tears. Oh, thank God. "But you mustn't tell anyone," she warned.
"Absolutely not." His voice dropped into a low tone. "Did anyone see you?"
"Belle doesn't think so, but we were worried because of Lady Theresa's engagement. Belle thinks Lady Brankford just made it up to break it off."
"Well, if anyone would do it, it's Lady Brankford." Lumiere kissed her on the cheek and finished the last of his cider. He stared at her for a long while, his eyes filled with joy and love. Plumette turned and leaned her head on his shoulder and watched as the children raced around the fairgrounds, holding prizes and candied apples.
"What was it you were going to say?" Plumette asked, suddenly remembering that Lumiere had wanted to tell her something as well.
He didn't respond at first, leaving her in anticipation. Finally, he replied.
"Perhaps another time."
The night began to wear down as the villagers played the last of the games and returned to their homes, and soon the stand owners were packing up their belongings in carts and wagons.
Plumette, the footmen, the kitchen maids, and the hall boys had all returned to Theron, and Belle told them she'd be along just as soon as she was done helping her father with his cart.
Together, they placed Maurice's unsold music boxes into wooden crates and stacked them on the cart. They'd sold a good amount of them, and not to mention a considerable number of his sketches.
"Now, are you sure you don't want me to walk you back to the big house?" Maurice asked as they placed the last of the boxes on the cart.
"It's fine, Papa," Belle said. "It's only a short distance."
"If you insist."
"I do insist," Belle laughed.
Her father nodded and kissed her on the forehead before climbing onto Phillippe's saddle. "Good night, my dear," he said as he shook the reigns and was off down the street.
"Good night!" Belle shouted back at the fading figure.
As Belle watched her father leave in the cart, she hugged herself in an effort to stay warm. It felt suddenly colder than it had been a mere few seconds ago, perhaps due to the fact that the fair grounds were dark and almost devoid of people.
She pulled her coat tighter around her and started to make her way back to the big house, where she could hopefully convince the cook to make her some hot cocoa.
The wind started to pick up, and as she passed a tall oak tree with bare branches, she noticed a small group of men smoking together. Belle tore her gaze from them and quickened her pace, but felt their gaze bore inter her.
The crunching of leaves beneath heavy boots made Belle shudder, and they were becoming louder, approaching her with haste.
"Belle!" A deep voice cried out, a voice she recognized, a voice that made her stop in her tracks.
"Belle, what are you doing out here so late?" Gaston asked as she turned to face him. He was with a few of her friends that she did not particularly like the look of.
"I was helping my father, but I'm heading back to the big house," she forced a smile and turned to leave, but Gaston's hand snaked around her wrist, preventing her from moving.
"It's quite dark. I can escort you, if you like," he said, his grip remaining firm.
"I'm perfectly fine on my own, thank you," Belle seethed and shook her wrist from his grip. She made to leave, but he maneuvered around her, blocking her path.
"Belle, I don't know why you insist on working in that dark and gloomy house. You'd be much happier at home with–"
"Don't tell me what I'd be happier or less happy with," Belle snapped, her eyes wide. "I'm sure I know my own mind better than that you do."
Gaston narrowed his eyes. "Perhaps you don't." His tone was becoming darker, angrier, frightening. Belle took careful steps backwards, but bumped into the stone wall that sectioned off the village schoolyard. The men stared at her, smirking. "I think those books of yours are filling your head with ridiculous ideas," Gaston continued, taking heavy steps towards her.
Belle scoffed. "The only ideas they give me are that I could never be happy with a man like you." She tried to push her way through the group of men, but Gaston grabbed her wrist once more and pushed her against the stone wall.
She gasped as the wind was knocked out of her and doubled over in an attempt to breathe. "Gaston…" she rasped, her breath still escaping her. When she finally looked up, his face was dangerously close to hers, and his hand had moved from her wrist to her upper arm. The fingers of his free hand traced her cheekbones, sending shivers down her spine.
"We'll see about that," he whispered venomously, his breath thick with cigarette smoke and alcohol hot in her ear.
Belle attempted to cry out, but her screams were muffled by Gaston's lips against hers. She turned her head as best she could, and with all her strength she kicked at his groin, sending him a few paces back.
"You bitch!" He hissed and caught her cheek with the back of his hand with enough to send her to the ground. She felt her foot get caught on a root and twisted painfully, making her cry out. More pain rammed through her as her wrists broke her fall, and even with her throbbing ankle she attempted to get up and run.
A heavy hand pushed back down to the ground, and Belle turned onto her back to kick Gaston off with her good leg, but she didn't need to.
"Get off her!" A familiar voice roared and tore Gaston away from her. Belle blinked and found Mr. Adam in front of her, offering her is hand. She knew she'd seen him earlier.
"Are you alright?" he asked frantically as he pulled her up. Belle swallowed.
"My ankle…" she muttered, her heart pounding.
"Let's get you back to the house," he said softly, supporting her with his arm.
"Who are you, then?" Gaston raged from behind them. Mr. Adam turned, and she with him.
"Get out of here," he said in a dangerous tone, more dangerous than she had ever heard before. "If you're lucky I won't notify the police about this."
Gaston laughed. "And what will you tell them? That you interfered with a man's private business?" The men beside him chuckled in a most terrifying way.
Mr. Adam's dark expression remained. "I will tell them that I witness you and your friends assaulting a young woman, which will no doubt place you in His Majesty's custody."
Belle could see anger pulsing through his body, and she wanted to dissolve the situation before any more violence occurred.
"Gaston," she said fiercely. "Go home."
The man glared viciously and took long strides towards them so they were within spitting distance. At first, he didn't say anything, but then shifted his gaze to Mr. Adam and looked him up and down. A sinister smiled creeped onto his face.
"Now I recognize you," he said to her employer. "You're the toff who lives at Theron. I've seen your picture in the papers. You're the one always whoring around London–"
Gaston didn't get to finish his sentence, because it was cut off by Mr. Adam's fist slamming against his cheek.
Belle gasped, her hand flying to her mouth.
Gaston wasn't on the ground for long, and swung at Mr. Adam, catching him slightly off guard. The blow didn't land correctly, but still managed to get him, sending her and Mr. Adam apart. Belle tried to catch herself on the park bench near her, but it was a little too far out of reach and her hand scraped against his back as she fell.
She tried to stand up, but a loud crack made her jolt around, and saw Gaston against the stone wall, clutching his wrist.
"You bastard, you…" Gaston was practically foaming at the mouth in anger. "You'll pay for this, I swear it!"
Mr. Adam ignored Gaston's shouts as he rushed towards her and scooped her up in his arms with ease. At first, the move made her tense, thinking that it was terribly improper. But as he started to run towards Theron and the shouts grew fainter and fainter, she felt so comforted him and put her arms around his neck to hold on.
Every so often, he muttered "you're going to be alright", and as the lights of the big house came into view, Belle smiled warmly.
She thought she might have hit her head, or she was terribly tired, but her eyelids felt very heavy was they entered Theron.
There were shouts, some from Mr. Adam, some from Mrs. Potts, and some from Cogsworth, but she couldn't make out the words.
Belle was half asleep when she felt her body being set gently on a bed, though it didn't feel like her bed. It was too large, too soft. She tried to thank Mr. Adam for coming to her aid, but she had no idea if the words in her mouth were intelligible.
All she remembered were Mr. Adam's words telling her it would be alright before everything faded from view.
Adam remained at Belle's beside that night, even after the doctor had come and gone, telling him she just needed rest, even after both Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth told him to go to bed.
He didn't want to leave her, not after what he'd witnessed in the village.
Every minute he thanked God that he had stayed that late, taking his time as he remembered all the time he used to spend with his mother at the fair, and how much he missed her. He only wished he'd gotten to Belle sooner.
He couldn't describe the amount of anger he had for that man – Gaston – and a broken wrist certainly hadn't done justice to the crime, but he hoped it would keep him away from Belle.
As the clock ticked past midnight, there was a gentle knock at the door. Mrs. Potts entered, carrying a silver tray with a cup of tea and a small stack of books. Adam laughed gently as the housekeeper placed the tray beside him on the bedside table.
"Since I can't convince you to get some rest or let us take her to her own room," she smiled warmly, "I thought you'd like something to drink and read."
"Thank you, Mrs. Potts," Adam replied, eying the copy of A Midsummer Night's Dream he was currently reading. "That's very kind."
"It was brave, what you did for Belle," she added as she made to leave. "The downstairs staff were all quite worried, as you can imagine."
"You told them she'll be alright?"
"Of course, sir. And I told them to not talk about the… arrangement." She paused for a moment, and Adam knew to what she was referring.
When he was racing to the house after dealing with Gaston, he hadn't even thought to use the servants' entrance, or bring to her own room on the top floor. His mind had been whirling with so much anxiety that he deposited her in one of the guest rooms, not even thinking about the impropriety it would display between them. In all honesty, Adam didn't particularly care in that moment. All he cared about was Belle's wellbeing. If she felt more comfortable in her own room once she woke up, that would he her decision, but for now, Adam wanted to stay with her until she recovered. He didn't care what it looked like. Let the papers into the room if they were so interested.
Adam reached out to hold Belle's hand, but Mrs. Potts interrupted.
"Try to get some rest," she said, though there was a warning in her tone. A warning to not get too close.
Time are changing, but not fast enough for you, I'm afraid.
Adam gazed at Belle again, and wondered what his life would be like if they ran away together. He said once he could never be suited to a middle-class life, but for her, perhaps he could make a go of it. He couldn't be a farmhand, certainly, but he surely had enough education to be a literary scholar, or perhaps a translator of ancient texts.
Taking a sip of the calming tea, he shook away the fantasy. He was being ridiculous. He could never survive a middle-class life, his father thought he could barely survive an upper-class one, and perhaps he was right.
Thinking of his father only made his anger rise, and he pushed it down and picked up the book at the top of stack and began to read. Adam occasionally glanced at Belle, thinking perhaps she would wake, but he fell asleep with the book on his lap before she did.
When Adam woke, sunlight was streaming through the bedroom's window, and a fire crackled in the fireplace.
All his memories of the night before started to fall back into place. The assault, the fight, the Earth-shattering crack as he slammed Gaston's wrist against the stone wall, it all flooded back with the power of a waterfall.
But what caught his attention more was Belle. She was sitting upright on the bed, a book in her hands, and she was reading aloud.
"Love can transpose to form an dignity," she read in the most soothing voice. She hadn't noticed he'd woke, but he smiled at the prose. "Love looks not with the eyes, but with the mind, and therefore–"
"And therefore is winged cupid painted blind," Adam finished the prose, glancing at Belle.
Belle shifted her gaze and her face lit up, her cheeks red with flush.
"I'm glad you've already seemed to memorize my recommendation," she said, putting down the book. She gazed around the room, her expression changing drastically. "Why am I not in my own room?"
Adam looked down at his lap. "Everything happened so quickly last night… I wasn't thinking. After the doctor came he said to not move you."
"What did… what did the doctor say?"
"He said you're fine, but your ankle was sprained. It's best not to put too much pressure on it. He's to return sometime this morning."
Belle nodded, trying to move her ankle under the sheets. She grimaced at the pain. But then, she laughed.
"It doesn't look good, I suspect; you, carrying me in your arms and staying with me in a guest bedroom alone. Mrs. Potts and Cogsworth must be horrified, and not to mention the papers that love you so much."
Adam chuckled. "Cogsworth more than Mrs. Potts, though she did give me a very strict warning. The papers, on the other hand, should not find out about this, I hope. The staff have been told not to talk about it."
He gazed at her with a more serious look. "But are you alright?" He asked, forcing himself to keep a respectful distance. "When I saw what that man was doing… it's a wonder I managed to keep some restraint instead of beating him to death."
Belle looked down, her smile disappearing. "I don't know if I'm alright. I've known Gaston since my father and I moved to the village. He's always been too full of himself for his own good but I never thought he'd be violent."
"He'd been drinking, you could smelt it," Adam turned up his nose in disgust. "In vino veritas. In wine, there is truth."
"In a way, I'm glad his true nature was revealed. At least now I know how dangerous he is," Belle confessed, her voice soft, but fierce. She paused for a moment before speaking again. "After you hit him… what happened?"
Adam sighed, not wanting to relive any memory of that night, but Belle certainly had a right to know. "He got a few hits in, nothing serious. He threw me against the wall, but managed to kick him and… and I smashed his wrist against the stone. It sounded like it broke."
Belle nodded gravely. He didn't know if she was grateful or unhappy.
"Well, I'm certainly glad you were there," she said finally. "I never took you as the type to visit the annual fair."
Adam smiled bashfully and chuckled, but tried to hide it. "When I was a boy, my mother used to take me every year. We'd have sweets and play games… it was the only time I remembered her as truly happy." He gazed at Belle, whose expression fell with sympathy. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to cast a gloom–"
"It's alright," Belle said, smiling softly. "When did she pass away?"
"When I was ten… after that Father and I never spent much time here."
"I'm sorry," she replied. "I know what it's like. I never really knew my mother, Papa doesn't really like to speak of her."
"Two motherless booklovers," Adam smiled, trying to lighten the mood. "We're perfect for each other."
Belle laughed, blushing deep red. It was a dangerous thing to say, perhaps, but it felt so natural, so normal. When they were together, they were no longer a maid and the son of an earl. Belle was better than him in so many ways, he felt as if he didn't deserve her, not after his life of lying, seducing and gambling.
"Mr. Adam, I–"
Before Belle could finish her sentence, there was a knock at the door and Mrs. Potts entered.
"Dr. Nichols is waiting in the drawing room, sir," she said. "He'll come up in a minute, but Chappeau is expecting you in the dressing room. Breakfast is in half an hour."
Adam knew what she was doing, having the doctor wait downstairs as he made a retreat. No use fueling any rumours by having the doctor walk in on them alone together. Adam nodded at the housekeeper, giving her a silent "thank you".
"Please give me any updates on Belle's condition," he said to Mrs. Potts, but smiled at Belle. "I understand she'll have to rest her ankle for a few days."
"Of course, sir," Mrs. Potts replied.
Adam gave one last smile to Belle, forcing himself not to linger, and left the room.
