Author's Note: Hello lovely readers! THANK YOU for your patience and continuing support for this story! I am so excited to share this chapter with you guys. In the spirit of the (belated) holidays, this chapter serves as a defacto Christmas special. It borrows from both the seventh episode of series one, and the series two Christmas special.
Thanks again for your support, reviews, follows, and favourites! It's all greatly appreciated.
Enjoy!
Kent
December 1912
"It's here!"
Belle turned from the book she'd been reading at the servants' hall table to face a wide-eyed Percy, out of breath and a smile stretching across his face.
Thankfully, as the staff came and went through the hall and passages, no one had asked her where she'd acquired the book – she couldn't exactly tell them Mr. Adam had let her borrow it – but since the incident at the fair the staff never seemed to ask her any sort of questions, apart from Plumette and Lumiere.
She'd told them what had happened of course, albeit omitting that Mr. Adam had broken Gaston's wrist, and after a week and a half of resting her ankle, she was finally able to resume her chores.
Mrs. Potts had been adamant on moving her back to her own room after Dr. Nichols visited her the morning after the ordeal, and that evening she was back to reading the books she'd borrowed in the small, grey room with Plumette sleeping on her own bed beside her. Belle didn't know if she had been disappointed or disheartened that she had to be moved back to the servants' quarters; she'd enjoyed the roaring fire, large windows, and luxurious fabrics, but of course there was no propriety in having a maid recover a few hallways down from her employer. Belle knew Mrs. Potts was trying to protect Mr. Adam's reputation as much as Belle's, and she was grateful for it all the same.
"What's here?" Belle asked, setting down the copy of Great Expectations.
"The tree, of course" Percy exclaimed. "I've never seen one so big before!"
"Well you better get up there and help Cogsworth and the others," Mrs. Potts eyed him, and the footman nodded and scurried up the stairwell.
"Come on, then," Plumette said, dragging her up from her seat. "You don't want to miss your first Theron Christmas tree."
Belle smiled and got up with the maid. Her ankle didn't hurt as much as it had last month, but remnants of pain remained whenever she tried to hurry up the stairs.
Mrs. Potts kept insisting for her to be mindful of it, and most of the time she listened. But there was something about Plumette's excitement, and not to mention her own, that propelled her up the stairs and into the main parlour of the house.
The footmen and hall boys were milling about, some rolling up the crimson rug to make room for the tree, some carrying up boxes of decorations, and some clearing the fallen pine needles from the massive tree entering the house.
Cogsworth was guiding three workers as they carefully carried the enormous spruce wood tree into the foyer.
"Watch the portrait!" He shouted at one of the workers. "And watch that mantel clock," he cried at another at the tree wavered dangerously close to the fireplace's mantel. "It was a gift from Her Majesty, Queen Victoria."
As the workmen let out grunts of annoyance at the butler's heckling, Belle and Plumette managed to find some work to do in the foyer helping the footmen so Cogsworth or Mrs. Potts wouldn't be cross.
While helping Plumette move one of the chaises out of the path of the tree, Belle caught a glimpse of Mr. Adam up on the gallery, staring down into the foyer with a soft smile on his lips. She thought for a moment that he was staring at her, but she blinked and his gaze was on the tree being set up in the corner of the open room.
"Been a while since we brought these up," Lumiere's voice found its way to her ears as they set down the chaise.
The footman was carrying a large crate, full of decorations, tinsel, and lights. He set the box down at the foot of the tree, and it became one of many.
Soon, the parlour was filled with almost every member of staff decorating the house until every inch was covered in some sort of festive decorations. Belle noticed how exited and enthralled the staff were, probably because it was the first year in some time when they actually got to decorate the upstairs of the house, and not just the cramped and drafty servants' hall.
Belle caught the sight of Lumiere, alone, arranging some gifts under the tree. She silently slipped away from her duties near the mantel and approached the footman. She gazed once more at the grandeur of the room, and decided that everyone was too engrossed in their duties to pay them any attention.
Cogsworth was busy talking to the men who'd delivered the tree, and Mrs. Potts was nowhere to be found. Belle guessed she was attending to the needs of the cook, Mrs. Oliver. Though there had been no guests at Theron for quite some time now, with Mr. Adam here for the first time in years it seemed as if the house were proceeding like an extended family were staying for the holidays. Cogsworth no doubt preferred to run the house as such.
"Have you asked her, yet?" Belle asked, her voice a soft whisper.
The footman's gaze shot up at her, at first laced with confusion, but after a moment he understood what she was on about.
"No, I haven't," he shook his head.
"Oh," Belle said, a little disappointed. "I thought you had and decided to keep it a secret amongst yourselves."
"I never would have told you I intended to propose, if I knew you were going to badger me about it every bloody day," Lumiere said with a laugh.
"If I recall correctly, you needed guidance and motivation," she replied with a smirk.
Lumiere sighed, and it was response enough. He knew she was right.
He had told her on one of the first few days she had been able to get out of bed with her sprained ankle. Poor Plumette and the other maids had taken on her duties, so they were constantly running around the house.
Belle had come down for some luncheon and tea, and found Lumiere at the table alone with a frantic look on his face. After an exchange of words, he eventually told her he intended to propose to Plumette. In fact, he'd been intended to for quite some time, though, he didn't say how long.
"Every time I try to ask her, I can't seem to find the words. I'm afraid it won't be perfect, and she deserves perfection," he had said to her that day, rubbing his fingers over a small silver ring. A ring that had been his mother's, he told her.
Belle, of course, had consoled him. She said that Plumette would love the proposal no matter how badly he mucked it up, though she didn't know how much her words had actually helped.
"I almost asked her," Lumiere said now as he took out an intricately wrapped gift from the wooden crate and placed it under the tree. "The night of the fair, I was so close."
"And why didn't you?"
"She explained what had happed with the late Mr. Holloway… she needed comfort more than anything that night. And then Mr. Adam rushed into the house with you and everything sort of, went out the window."
A silence fell between them. It tended to happen whenever someone brought up the events of that dreadful night. But thankfully the staff seldom did, most likely on the orders of Mrs. Potts, who all but prohibited talk of Mr. Adam carrying her up the grand staircase to a guest room. The thought of it still made her blush slightly, though she wouldn't admit it to anyone.
"Well, you should ask her soon," Belle said, finally breaking the silence. "Heaven knows she's probably waiting for you to do it."
This seemed to lift Lumiere's spirits, who shot a loving gaze and Plumette. "You're right. Besides," he smiled back at Belle. "I know you'll constantly bother me until I do."
Belle laughed. "Perhaps you really shouldn't have told me."
Adam was surprised at how much he had enjoyed watching the servants ready and decorate the parlor the previous morning. He constantly felt as if he should have gone down and joined them, but everything became so tense whenever he was around the servants. Most still saw him for what he had been for so many years, or the miserable and lonely man he'd turned into while being trapped at Theron.
But watching Belle from the gallery, the way she smiled so brightly, the way she tried to shake off her limp and help everyone; it reminded him of what he was when he was around her, how her presence calmed him.
He had almost refused to watch the house be decorated for the Christmas season, thinking it would bring back too many childhood memories that were better left out of his head. But, to Adam's great surprise, he wasn't hurt by the Christmases of his childhood in that moment as he had been for so many years before.
Memories of past servants' balls became fresh in his mind. He had waltzed with his mother, and Mrs. Potts, and almost every housemaid until his mother told him to go to bed. He imagined dancing with Belle in that room, just the two of them, dancing into the night without a single soul to judge them, or punish them.
That was when the idea came to Adam as he ate breakfast. He gazed at Cogsworth, wanting to tell him, but there were still a few of the footmen in the room, and wanted to explain the idea to the butler and Mrs. Potts in private.
Adam waited until after breakfast to descend the stairs into the cold and dreary servants' hall. As he walked the grey passages and watched the servants milling about, he realized he'd never set foot downstairs since he was a child, and even then, his father did everything to discourage it.
"A gentleman does not go downstairs," he would say. "The staff must come to him."
It was Adam's mother who would take him down to greet the servants on special occasions, such as a birthday or during the holidays, but only when she was sure his father wouldn't find out. He hadn't realized it then, but now Adam knew how scared his mother was of his father, how she would always tread so lightly around him, how she only seemed to relax when he was not around.
A sudden wave of longing hit him as he remembered his mother, and all she did for him. Adam longed for her to walk these halls again. He longed for her to be with him. At least he the comfort of knowing she would more than approve of what he was about to request.
Only a few members of the staff were in the servants' hall when he entered, having tea, mending, and one the footman was playing a lively tune on the piano.
Belle was there as well, reading a book he had recommended for her when he started her chores again.
It didn't take long for them to notice he'd entered, and within seconds all of the staff present were on their feet and staring at him. Some wore shocked expressions, probably because they didn't expect Adam of all people to come downstairs, but he did notice Belle smile the tiniest bit, and he tried not to draw attention to it by smiling back.
The task was proving rather difficult.
"Where might I find Cogsworth?" He asked, finally, clearing this throat.
"He went into his study, sir," Lumiere replied.
"Is anything wrong, sir?" A voice asked, entering the room.
Adam turned to find Mrs. Potts in the doorway, wearing the same shocked expression as the rest of the staff.
"Nothing's wrong," he replied with a smile. "I just want to talk to Cogsworth… and as a matter of fact I need your opinion as well. We can talk in his study."
Adam left the servants' hall with a quick turn, and the housekeeper followed in his step. As he knocked on the wooden door, he found Mrs. Potts's expression had not gone away.
"There's nothing to worry about," he insisted.
"Forgive me, sir, I'm just not used to you coming downstairs," she said with a slight laugh.
Cogsworth's gruff "come in" rang out from beyond the door and Adam entered the dimly-lit room. There was only a small window high on the wall near the ceiling, but even on a cloudless day, minimal sunlight came through it. The rest of the study was lit by an oil lamp on the cluttered bureau.
He realized that while electricity had been installed on the main and upper floors of the house a year or two ago, his father never bothered to have electric lights installed downstairs or in the servants' quarters. But it didn't seem to bother the staff. Cogsworth and Mrs. Oliver were traditionalists that probably took displeasure in new lights being installed anywhere.
The butler stood as he saw Adam, but before he could ask what was wrong (and Adam was sure he was going to ask it because of the familiar shocked expression), he assured him that everything was perfectly alright.
Cogsworth offered him a seat, but Adam politely declined.
"I shan't take up a lot of your time," he said. He looked at the two heads of the household as they waited for him to tell them what was going on.
"This Christmas," Adam began, "I want to revive an old tradition. I would like to hold a servants' ball on Christmas eve."
"A servants' ball?" Cogsworth asked. Adam couldn't tell if the butler was enthusiastic or repulsed by the idea.
"Yes," Adam replied firmly. "It's been years since this house had a proper Christmas, and even though his Lordship will surely not be present – and thank the Lord for that – I want to organize something special for the staff."
"How generous," Mrs. Potts replied with a smile. "The staff will surely love the idea."
"And of course, Mr. Potts and your son are welcome to come," he added.
"It would be nice to do something special this year," Cogsworth agreed. "However, I'm not sure His Lordship would like it if we spent more money on extravagant meals."
Adam waved his hand. "The meals don't have to be special. Tells Mrs. Oliver to make use of whatever we have."
Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts looked at each other for a moment, practically in astonishment. The housekeeper was the first to speak.
"I believe we can make that work, sir," she said with a smile.
"Excellent."
Before he could leave, the voice of the butler stopped him in his tracks.
"If you don't mind my asking, sir," he said in his baritone voice, "what made you decide this?"
Adam gazed at him in silence. It was a short question with a very long answer. Seeing the staff so happy as they decorated the parlour made him decide it. Remembering the Christmases with his mother made him.
Belle made him decide it.
He supposed it was selfish of him, to want to hold a servants' ball if only to be able to share a dance with the housemaid, but he realized now it wasn't just about them. He wanted to do something special for the staff. They've put up with him for months now, he was surprised they all hadn't handed in their notice. That warranted to special occasion, at least.
"Consider it a Christmas gift," Adam finally replied, smiling. "For putting up with me these past few months. I know I've not been the most grateful employer…" he trailed off, heat and flush rising in his cheeks.
"No, certainly not," Mrs. Potts said, but not with anger or maliciousness. To Adam's surprise, her tone was light, understanding. "But I've always known that sweet little boy I loved so much was still in there."
The housekeeper approached him, putting a hand on his shoulder comfortingly. "I can see now that I was right."
Without pretense or thought, Adam pulled her into a hug. He realized, as Mrs. Potts hugged him back, trying to sniffle away tears, that it was the first time he'd been hugged since his mother was alive. Lord knows his father never did such a thing.
"Your mother would be proud of you," Mrs. Potts whispered.
"She certainly would," Cogsworth added as the two separated.
Adam nodded gratefully. He realized he'd been longing to hear those words for so long, that somehow, his mother would someday be proud of him. It had taken Adam a longer time to achieve that than he'd like to admit, but coming from two people he regarding as parental figures more than anything, the words filled his heart with joy. "Thank you."
"Now let's see how we can put together this servants' ball," the housekeeper said, putting her hands on her hips with purpose, her tone uplifting. "We have lots to do and only two weeks to do it."
Though Belle had spent most of her recovery time reading to her heart's content, she found she still couldn't resist the library's temptations when she resumed her chores.
She was partway through Moby Dick when she heard someone enter, and she scrambled to put the book back in its proper place, very careful not to bend the pages. However, she was glad to see it was only Mr. Adam who'd entered, a book under his arm as always.
"You almost missed me," she said as she resumed dusting the heavy velvet curtains.
Mr. Adam laughed to sat in his usual seat. "By the looks of it, you were in your own world again."
"I can't seem to help it," Belle replied, blushing deeply.
Adam chuckled and looked down at the book he opened awkwardly. The weeks of separation since the night of the fair seemed to reinforce the divide between them, unfortunately. Deep down, Belle knew it was only proper, and perhaps it was for the best. She would have been sent away in an instant without a reference in any other household, and allowed herself to be grateful of Theron.
And him.
"Cogsworth told us about the servants' ball," Belle said, breaking the dreadful silence. "It's very kind of you."
"I hope they will be pleased," Mr. Adam replied quietly. "It's been so long since we've had any celebrations in this house."
"The staff was overjoyed, I think. Especially Lumiere. Though anything that allows him a night off is enough get him overjoyed."
They both shared a laugh, and despite herself, Belle realized how much she missed these conversations. It was splendid when Plumette had brought her books courtesy of Mr. Adam, of course, but this was something else altogether.
"It was a tradition, years ago, when I was a boy," he said thoughtfully, his blue eyes shining in the light of the large fireplace. "Mama would always open the ball with Cogsworth, and then Father would join in with Mrs. Potts. I was allowed to dance with one of the maids, then Mrs. Potts, and finally Mama before being shooed off to bed. Of course, that all stopped when Mama passed. Father would take me everywhere with him, and I always complained when we weren't at Theron for the Holidays."
Mr. Adam looked as if he were about to say more, but only looked up the large window into the snow-covered grounds. Tiny bits of the village could be seen from the window, and Belle imagined the busy winter activity down there; motor cars driving down the streets, small specks of men and women covered heavy wools carrying parcels wrapped in paper and twine, store owners covering their windows in tinsel.
These were what she had always seen every holiday season when they moved to the village, and even though she wasn't there now, she could picture everything perfectly in her mind.
Belle looked back at her employer, and noticed his downtrodden expression.
"I'm sorry," she said.
"It doesn't matter now," he replied. "Father isn't here, and I intend to have a proper Theron Christmas."
With the servants' ball to look forward to, Belle found that the weeks flew by. Mrs. Oliver was busy as ever in the kitchen, and the poor kitchen maids seemed to bear the brunt of it.
By the time the footmen were carrying up the trays of food to the front parlour on Christmas Eve, the whole kitchen seemed to be filled beyond its capacity. Finger sandwiches, roast chicken and pheasant, steamed vegetables, Yorkshire puddings, and things Belle had never heard of were making their way upstairs.
"You've really outdone yourself, Mrs. Oliver," Mrs. Potts said as she inspected the trays.
The cook let out a heavy sigh.
"I told Mr. Adam I could make a Christmas meal for a single person, but he wouldn't have it. He wanted enough to feed the entire house," she huffed.
Belle and Plumette giggled from the passage. They had just finished the last of their chores for the day, and stared in awe of the food makings its way upstairs. It was more food that Belle had seen in her entire life, and from what she could tell, the rest of the staff were pinching themselves because for once, the food being prepared was for them as well.
"Something's changed in that boy," the cook continued, hands on her hips. "Where has this generous heart of his been hiding?"
"I think he's always had a generous heart," Mrs. Potts said thoughtfully, stealing an ever so short glance at Belle, which made her blush. The housekeeper gazed back at Mrs. Oliver. "He just needed to be convinced of it."
Belle tore her gaze away from both Mrs. Potts and Plumette. She knew the housekeeper was talking about her, and all she could think of were her warnings. They weighed heavy in her mind, her stomach, her body. They were all she ever thought about when she was with him.
But the way Mrs. Potts was speaking now, with such fondness… perhaps it was the Christmas sentiment going to her head.
"Are you girls still there?" The housekeeper called suddenly, almost making both housemaids jump. "You better go up to change, I'm sure you don't want to miss anything."
Belle and Plumette smiled to each other and started up the narrow staircase to their room. They didn't say anything to each other, but the sound of their heartbeats practically filled the passage.
"What is it?" Plumette asked as Belle stopped short of her bed.
"I don't remember those being there this morning," Belle replied.
On her bedside table was a small stack of books, tied together with a red satin ribbon. On top sat a small notecard. Belle inched her way towards it, almost terrified of picking it up.
"Well, go on, then," Plumette insisted, and Belle gently picked up the note card.
I have no doubt you'll have a grand library of your own one day. But for now, these can start you off.
Merry Christmas.
- Adam
Belle blushed as she reread the note several times, unable to be to anything but overjoyed. All
she could do was clutch the note between her fingers, look at the small stack of books, and then look back at the note.
"You don't need to say anything," Plumette finally broke the long silence between them. Belle looked up at her friend, broken from her trance. "A reaction like that says everything."
"Am I really that predictable?" Belle asked with a laugh.
"Only when it comes to certain things," Plumette giggled as she started to change out of her maid's dress.
"I know I shouldn't be feeling this way… I know I shouldn't…" Belle trailed off, feeling because of how happy she was, but she knew nothing could ever come of it.
Plumette moved over towards her and put her hands over Belle's.
"I think… perhaps just this once… you're allowed to feel this way." Plumette smiled brightly, and Belle smiled in return, with more joy than she thought possible coursing through her. Plumette was surprised by the hug Belle pulled her into, but she quickly put her arms around Belle in return.
Mrs. Potts normally didn't allow the maids to wear makeup or scents, but Belle could faintly smell Plumette's lavender oil on her hands.
"I'll be down in a minute," Belle said, stealing a glance at her gift on the bedside table. Plumette nodded and left the room with a rushed pace.
It seemed as if Plumette took all the cold air with her, because it suddenly became very hot. Belle took a few deep breaths to calm herself, which seemed to work. Still, her chest was still a fury of giddiness and nervousness.
Did Mrs. Potts or Cogsworth know about the gift? How did it get to her room? Mr. Adam certainly couldn't have come up here and placed it himself, though knowing him it wouldn't surprise Belle if he had.
But perhaps Mr. Adam was just being kind, after all, all the servants most likely got gifts from their employer – but her heart was still caught in her throat.
Plumette was right, propriety be damned, she allowed herself to be happy rather than scared.
Even if it was just for one night.
Dinner seemed to pass in a heartbeat with everyone together.
Belle, Plumette, and Lumiere sat together at a small table by the fireplace, eating Mrs. Oliver's delicious food. Lumiere was drawling on about how he'd never eaten a meal such as this in his life, how he'd never be able to enjoy the servants' regular meals again, earning a cross look from Plumette. Belle assumed they conversed about other subjects, but she didn't know what they were, as Mr. Adam kept stealing glances from across the room.
He was dressed in white tie, his blonde hair neatly combed to the side, and eating with Mrs. Potts, and grey-haired man who must have been Mr. Potts, and Cogsworth.
It was the first time, Belle realized, she'd seen him in such a suit, as she never got to saw him during or after dinner. Her heart fluttered every time they made eye contact, and every time Belle shifted her gaze so the others didn't notice.
"What do you think, Belle?" A voice asked, somewhere. "Belle!"
She blinked, and shifted her attention to Lumiere, who was staring at her with a confused look.
"Are you alright?" the footman asked.
Belle nodded. "Yes, of course. Sorry. What is it you were saying?"
Lumiere rolled his eyes with a smile. "I was saying that I think this is the first time I've seen Cogsworth smile."
Both Belle and Plumette shifted their gaze towards the butler, who seemed deeply engaged in a conversation with Mrs. Potts. His lips were pulled upwards into a wide smile, and they both laughed at each other's words.
"I'm sure I've seen him smile," Belle argued. "I must've."
"Perhaps it's the port in his hand," Lumiere said, nodding at the crystal glass, with only a few drops of crimson liquid left.
"Lumiere, dear, of course he's smiled before," Plumette said, taking a bite of a Yorkshire pudding.
"When?"
"When Lady Brankford left."
The three burst into laughter, though Belle tried to hide it as she sipped on her glass of wine. Their conversation was soon interrupted when Mr. Adam cleared his throat and moved towards the middle of the foyer.
"I'd like to officially open the servants' ball," he said and turned towards the housekeeper. "Mrs. Potts, will you do me the honour?"
Mrs. Potts happily obliged, and when Cogsworth put a waltz on the gramophone, the two started to gracefully glide across the room.
Belle was amazed at how easily Mr. Adam moved, as if he was sliding across ice. Her father had taught her how to dance when she was a girl, and she wondered if Mr. Adam's mother had taught him how to dance. She pictured him as a boy with his mother, spinning around the open foyer, perhaps tripping over each other's toes.
The thought made her wonder what Mr. Adam's life would look like had his mother survived. Would he still have developed his reputation for scandal? Or would she have been able to protect him from his father?
As the music went on, more couples joined in the dance. Lumiere and Plumette surprised Belle with their magnificent dancing abilities, given that the only time she'd seen them dance was when they were both in the servants' hall in between the dinner service.
Cogsworth and Mrs. Potts soon started a dance together, and Mr. Adam partnered with Mrs. Oliver. Though she was considerably shorter than him, Mr. Adam continued to dance flawlessly, a while the cook looked a little awkward.
Belle took another sip of her wine, which made her face flush a little, a noticed that Plumette and Lumiere were no longer dancing. In fact, they were no longer in the room. But before she got a chance to wonder where they'd gone off to, Jasper was asking her to dance.
After the first waltz had ended, Plumette and Lumiere snuck out of the great hall, and out through Theron's front doors. For once, it was easy to avoid Cogsworth's careful eye, which seemed thoroughly enthralled in his dancing partner. The port, of course, made it all the easier.
The air outside was still, and snow was falling lightly, covering Theron's front lawns in a thin sheet of sparkling white. Plumette's breath caught in small puffs of steam, disappearing into the impossibly dark sky.
At first, neither of them said anything. Plumette wrapped her arms around her in an effort to stay warm. Lumiere was tapping his fingers against the side of his pants, and avoiding eye contact with her.
"Why did you bring me out here?" Plumette asked finally, keeping her gaze at the stars. A sliver of a crescent moon was peeking out behind the evergreens lining the roads. "And don't tell to dance in the snow, because we tried that already and it was a horrific disaster." She laughed, stealing a glance over at Lumiere, who let out a much less convincing chuckle. "Lumiere, is everything alright?" Her eyes deepened into a more serious gaze.
He finally looked up at her, his expression a mix of nervousness and happiness. "Perfectly fine."
"You're just… less talkative since we've come out here."
"The thing is," he started, turning towards her. Gently, he took a hold of her hands. Lumiere's fingers, miraculously, were warm despite the cold. The warmth spread into her hands like a wave rushing back into the sea. "I've been meaning to ask you something… for a while now…"
Plumette smiled. "Yes?"
"A rather important question…" A pause. "Because you are the most important person to me." Then he bent down onto one knee, and she could already feel tears welling in her eyes.
"Lumiere…"
"I just need to say this, because if I don't I think I'll go mad." They both let out a breathless laugh. "Plumette Beauchamp, it would be an honour…" he swallowed. "The greatest honour, really… if you were to be my wife."
Plumette barely waited until Lumiere finished his sentence before throwing her arms around him. "Yes, yes, of course," she breathed, practically knocking him over into the cold snow.
"Well, thank God," Lumiere laughed softly.
And with the snow melting at the touch of their skin, they kissed.
"May I cut in?"
A voice asked from behind her dancing partner, and both Jasper and Belle's eyes widened in surprise.
"Of course… of course, sir," Jasper managed to say, and gave a slight nod to Belle before leaving her with Mr. Adam.
Rather awkwardly, Belle put her hand on his shoulder, and Mr. Adam wrapped his arm around her waist. It seemed like they were much closer, like she could see her reflection in his blue eyes. She realized she was staring, and quickly looked away, flushing deep red.
She'd spent months talking about books in the confined of the library with him… and yet Belle felt so exposed dancing in the grand hall of Theron. She couldn't help but glance at the other dancing couples, watching to see if they were staring back at her.
"I don't think I know this one," Belle said, trying to distract herself from her thoughts.
"The song?" Mr. Adam asked. "I rather like it. I think it was in a show that flopped."
"Thank you, for the books. That's very kind," Belle said, after dancing a few moments longer in silence.
"It was the least I could do."
"For what?"
"For being the first person I could really talk to… as more than just employer and staff."
Belle swallowed, flushing again. Her heartbeat elevated as they continued to dance wordlessly. Gradually, everyone else in the room seemed to disappear, and she and Mr. Adam were the only two people in the house. He danced so beautifully, and when her nervousness would normally get the better of her, she didn't feel the need to look down at her feet. They both supported each other, and she could feel their lips inch closer together with every passing beat. It was almost intoxicating, dancing with him.
The music slowed, and suddenly a song with a faster beat played.
Belle blinked, like she was coming out a trance. Mr. Adam was gesturing to continue dancing, but her hands flew to her flushed cheeks.
She couldn't be doing this… she shouldn't be doing this.
Without a second though, Belle flew towards the drawing room. Mercifully, the room was empty, and she shut the door behind her.
Soon after, the door opened and closed, Belle turned to see Mr. Adam standing there, a confused look spread across his face.
"What's wrong?" he asked, moving towards her, but Belle stepped back.
"I don't know what this is. We don't know what this is."
"We don't have to. Let's just let it happen," Mr. Adam insisted, moving once more to embrace her. Again, Belle stepped back, shaking her head.
"We can't! Whatever you may feel for me… or I may feel you… it can never happen."
"So, you do love me." The slightest, hopeful smile creeped up into lips
"I never said that."
"But you do feel something, because I feel the same way. Belle… I love you."
The words hung heavy in the air. Suddenly, the music in the great hall faded, and the fire roaring in the drawing room felt as if it would swallow her whole. Its sparks and flames wrapped around her, singeing her skin. Her breathing quickened, and her mouth opened to speak, but no words came out.
"Belle…"
"It can never happen!" Belle cried, tears threatening to fall. "There is no conceivable way we could ever be together. You're a gentleman, the heir to an earldom. You go to parties at fancy hotels in London. You gamble because you don't have to worry about the amount of money in your pocket. I am not, and can do none of those things. And not to mention your father…"
"I don't care about any of that…"
Belle shook her head. "Don't say that because I know it's not true. I can't let you give up your inheritance, your home, your life… for me."
"Belle, please..."
"I can't do this knowing nothing could ever come of it," she took a deep breath, "I can't jeopardize my future for a storybook fantasy."
Adam stepped back, shocked. "Will you leave Theron?"
Belle considered him, the pain behind his eyes, the way his hands were reaching out to hold hers. How much she wanted to hold them.
"I can't stay…"
"At least stay until you get another job sorted," he inched closer to her, and this time she didn't step back. "Please consider it. Consider me."
But Belle shook her head once more. "We've been living a dream, and now it's time to return to real life. Wish me luck with it. God knows I wish the best for you."
And she left the room, leaving Mr. Adam behind her.
