Chapter 8

Even as the weather took a turn for the worse Belle continued taking her early morning walks as often as she could. She always made sure she could see the lights of the house, but one morning she came across a longs, slightly curved road that led deeper into the forest and she figured that as long as she stayed on that road, she couldn't really get lost. Dove had told her about the animals that lived deeper into the forest and although she had encountered various squirrels and birds so far and on one momentous occasion even a doe, she was eager to see a fox or perhaps even a wild boar.

On this particular morning, the sky was grey and heavy with rain clouds, the fir needles a shoddy mess beneath her feet. The forest smelled heady of wet leaves and mushrooms and despite the chill and the moisture, Belle savored the fresh air and the first light of dawn that peaked up from above the tree tops. The path in front of her was straight and seemingly endless and she wondered if she'd be able to walk all of it this morning. Perhaps she ought to ask Dove where the path was leading to.

A rustling noise beside her distracted her and as she peered through the ferns that were overgrowing the side of the road, she could just make out a hare, climbing out of its hole, sitting ramrod straight in front of the opening on its hind-legs, his nose in the air and sniffling. Then, with a ruffle of its feet, it disappeared into the woods.

Thrilled at her discovery, Belle turned back to resume her path, only to discover that she was no longer alone.

Seemingly out of nowhere a woman had popped up on the road, heading in the same direction as she was. The woman was dressed in black cloak, her face obscured by the heavy hood that fell over her face.

Upon her small, startled noise, the woman turned around and empty, sightless eyes groped around.

Belle instantly recognized her as the woman she'd come across in Salem's Woods on her journey to Gold's mansion and she pushed down the shimmer of unease that flashed through her upon seeing her again.
Chiding herself for her ungenerous feelings, she stepped forward, making sure her voice sounded bright and cheerful.
"Good morning! How nice to see you again!"

The woman tilted her head, her brow furrowing in concentration.
"I recognize your voice…" she replied in a tuneful voice. "But I don't remember who you are…"

"Belle French," Belle provided promptly. "We met two months ago on the road to Hamelin. You were injured after a fall…"

"Ah…" the other woman smiled benignly. "You were kind enough to take me home… I remember now."

"Well, it was more Mr. Dove than me to be honest," Belle replied with a soft chuckle.

"Mr. Dove you say…" The woman stopped in her tracks, her hood falling backwards and Belle watched the milky-white eyes grow large with surprise. "Mr. Dove was with you?"

"Yes, he works for Mr. Gold," Belle explained, trying not to look at the soulless eyes. "I hope you've recovered from your injury?"

The dark-clad woman relaxed as suddenly as she had straightened up at the mention of Dove's name and laughed breezily. "Oh yes, my dear. I'm right as rain again."

"I'm glad to hear it," Belle responded kindly. They'd resumed walking again and stealing a glance sideways, Belle realized with a start that the woman was quite a bit younger than she'd originally thought. In her memory, the woman on the road had been an old, feeble lady, but the woman walking next to her appeared strong and confident, not the least bit hindered by her lack of eyesight.

"Can I ask you something?" Belle asked hesitantly. "You're by yourself and miles away from your home… How do you find your way back?"

The woman inhaled deeply and for a fleeting moment Belle was reminded of the way Gold tended to devour scents.

"I will always find my way home," she replied eventually. "The forest holds no secrets from me."

Not completely satisfied with the answer, Belle decided nevertheless that it would be rude to press on, so they continued to walk in silence for a while.

"So dear, do tell me…" the woman eventually asked. "What is it like, working for Mr. Gold?"

Perking up immediately, Belle replied with enthusiasm. "It's wonderful. Mr. Gold is incredibly talented and his factory is amazing. I've never seen anything like it…"

"It sounds wonderful, my dear," the woman replied, her voice chilling slightly when she added, "although it's a shame I shall never be able to see such wonders for myself…"

Cringing with embarrassment, Belle hastened to rectify her blunder. "I"m so sorry… that's not at all what I meant… I mean, the factory is very impressive, but…"

"Tell me all about it," the woman coaxed. "Let me see it through your words…"

"Well…" Belle started, "the factory is underneath the mansion. It's a large, circular room, filled with all kinds of appliances and equipment and I dare to wager a great deal that most of it has been designed by Mr. Dove. Every appliance has its own hourglass and every hourglass is connected to a large clock in the center of the room. That way every step of the procedure happens at exactly the right time. It's a miracle, really."

"How very interesting…" the other woman replied smoothly. "And how are all these machines operated?"

"Um… there's a steam engine," Belle answered, remembering the oak door she'd seen at the end of the hall on her very first day at the factory.

"And you enjoy working for Mr. Gold?" the woman asked, glancing sideways and for a moment Belle could have sworn she was actually looking at her.

Starting to feel slightly uncomfortable by the amount of questions that were fired at her, she tried to reply in a somewhat more subdued manner.

"He is a very interesting man and he's teaching me a lot of things. Yes, I enjoy working for him."

"I'm sure you do," the woman answered with a curious smile around her lips. "I think I've told you this before… there's a lot to gain from Mr. Gold.

But you should also know that it always comes with a price."

The same, prickling feeling of unease washed over her again and this time it was too strong and too poignant for Belle to ignore. There was something about the woman that made her insides twist.

"I think it's time for me tor return," she told her companion, grateful for the excuse. "Mr. Gold is expecting me back by eight o' clock."

"Well, then you better hurry, my dear," the woman replied, re-adjusting her hood. "Until the next time we meet."

"Good bye…" Belle replied haltingly, feeling no desire whatsoever to meet the woman ever again. Turning around, she started to walk back, her pace quickening in her haste to get as far as way as possible. Only after a few minutes she dared to glance over her shoulder again.

The road was completely empty again.


The preparations for the holiday season were now in full swing. Belle had spotted Dove inside the factory on numerous occasions and when she asked Gold about it, he just smiled like a sphinx and said he was working on a 'secret project.'

But a few days after her unsettling run-in with the blind woman, he appeared finally ready to let her in on the secret.

"Marzipan will feature greatly in this year's line of products," he told her. "So Dove is setting up an appliance in the factory that will enable us to make large quantities of it. Nevertheless, I want you to get some hands on experience in how to make it."

He indicated towards the workbench were various ingredients were already laid out, together with a rather peculiar looking appliance that consisted of a box bit a pair of sharp knives screwed inside the lid.

"All right," he started. "First, you put on some water to boil and than you measure an equal amount of almonds and powdered sugar. It doesn't really matter how much, as long as the amounts are exactly the same."

Putting a pot on the stove first, Belle proceeded to follow his instructions to the dot, eager to master this particular recipe. Marzipan had always been one of her favorite candies and now she would learn how to make it.

Once the water had boiled and cooled down again a little, Gold instructed her to drop the almonds in and let them meld for a few minutes.
After that came the delicate process of blanching the scorching hot almonds and Belle was surprised to discover how much easier it was for her to accomplish this task than it would have been a few weeks ago.

The blanched almonds then went into the appliance, together with a generous shot of bourbon. Once activated, two razor-sharp knives started spinning around inside, reducing the almonds to chips first before it became a paste.

"Add the sugar," Gold told he, "and continue until it looks like a crummy dough."

When the substance had finally acquired the desired texture, Gold stepped up beside her and turned off the machine.
"And now for the secret ingredient," he told her in a mischievous tone of voice.

He was standing so close that Belle could feel his warm breath caress her ear and her insides fluttered nervously at the sensation.

"And what would that be?" Excitement was bubbling up inside her and she couldn't keep the smile out of her voice even if she tried.

He produced a small flask and showed it to her.
"Rosewater," he said quietly. "Jefferson managed to get his hands on a fine batch from France…"

Carefully he unscrewed the lid. "Here… smell it…"

Leaning back slightly, Belle tilted her head as he offered up the flask under her nose and inhaled.

A fragile, sweet fragrance filled her nostrils, fresh and spicy at first, with a hint of musk long after she'd breathed out.
The scent made her head swim and all of a sudden she became very aware of just how close she was standing to Gold. She could feel the warmth of his body penetrating through the layers of the long-sleeved white blouse and waistcoat vest she was wearing and his unique scent of chocolate and sandalwood washing over her.

She was almost leaning against his chest, her head almost resting on his shoulder. Almost, but not quite and the mere inch between their bodies filled with a crackling tension.

"It smells delicious," she breathed eventually, her voice all but giving out.

He made a soft noise just above her head, something in between a hum and a purr and when she craned her neck slightly to look at him, she found that his eyes were closed. His nose was only inches away from her hair and he was breathing in deeply, his hand clutching the handle of his cane.

"Mr Gold…" she tried softly, mesmerized by the look of concentration on his face.

His eyes snapped open and for a few long seconds he was frozen on the spot, staring into her eyes, his gaze completely unguarded.

Up close his eyes were of darker brown than the darkest chocolate she had encountered in the factory so far. There were hints of lines around the corners of his eyes, Lines, Belle realized that would crinkle if he laughed and she suddenly wished that he would do just that.

He looked at her as if he wanted to drink her in, as if he was touching her, holding her, tasting her, smelling her with just his gaze and she felt her heart stutter inside her chest before it started to beat furiously, her lips and mouth suddenly feeling dry.

He moved his lips as if he was going to speak and Belle found herself holding her breath in anticipation and then all of a sudden he blinked and the spell was broken. Taking a step backwards, the hand holding the flask gestured nervously between them, almost spilling the rosewater.

"Well, now there's only this left to add…" There was an odd quality to his voice. He started off in a slightly louder voice than usual, trying to mask his discomfort with feigned nonchalance, but before he'd finished his sentence his voice had dropped several octaves into a low, hoarse whisper.

With shaking hands, Belle took the flask from him and opened appliance in front of her.

"H-how much?" she asked, finding that her own voice had become surprisingly breathless as well.

"Two tablespoons will be enough." He had stepped away from her a little and Belle acutely felt the loss. This was ridiculous. He was her mentor for crying out loud. She was here to learn the art of chocolate making. What went on in those warm, soulful eyes of his was absolutely none of her business.

Once the rosewater had been thoroughly mixed trough the substance, Belle opened the lid again and took out the now perfect textured marzipan.

"Well, that's really all there is to it," Gold sounded more like his usual self, but when she turned around he still refused to meet her eye.

"Make sure that you clean up the workspace."


He fled.

There really was no other word for it. Ascending the stairs as fast as his bad leg would let him, he rushed to his private quarters above the study and collapsed in his favorite chair.

What had he been thinking?

What the hell had he been thinking, smelling her hair like that? It had flown prettily down across her shoulders, contrasting nicely with the black waistcoat she'd been wearing and he'd given in to the impulse that had been plaguing him for weeks.

She'd been wearing a grey, figure hugging skirt that had been distracting him all morning and the way she'd closed her eyes in delight at the smell of the rosewater had send most of rational, reticent thoughts packing.
She might have been entranced by the smell of rosewater, but the scent of her hair, fresh like berries and sweet like flowers would stay with him for days.

How on earth had this happened?

When had he fallen in love with his apprentice?


Filed under: scenes I'd never cut.
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