Chapter 9- A 'Knight' in White Satin

The Prince and future Princess went inside with Lumiere and Plumette. Lefou and I trailed after them after we bowed to the Prince. I felt like an actual staff member of the castle, though I wasn't sure if I was ready to become an official one if asked. My family came first; but it was a stifling feeling.

I loved my family dearly; please don't get me wrong. But because of them, and the society of the village, I had spent so many years feeling like a fake, a facade. Every day, same as the one before, and I felt...mechanical, like one of those wooden dolls in a cuckoo clock, going through the motions at a set time, rarely varying except on Sundays.

Wake up. Take care of my horse Rosie. Go to work at the shop. Sew. Be cordial to customers. Sew and cut some more. The clock chimes at five- time to have dinner with Maman. Seven o' clock- time to drink and play cards with Tom and Dick until we grew tired. Gaston bragged about the war, and hunting. Lefou tended to Gaston's whims and sang songs, sitting on the right arm of Gaston's chair. Tom, Dick, and me...the same jokes, the same games- poker and cribbage. My cousins simpered and batted their eyelashes over Gaston. All of us under the same choreography. Deja vu.

Here, in the castle, ever since that night- the atmosphere was so different. Like a sheep with the fence suddenly removed. I was free. Even being allowed to leave my sewing and have a fencing match with an old English chap, or meander outside in the rose garden wasn't something I was used to. And the staff members were so much more accepting and warm. Madame knew about me, saw through me- and she'd only met me days ago. I even had a feeling that Cogsworth knew as well.

Perhaps this acceptance was why I'd mustered the nerve to say what I said to Lefou. That, the apologies we owed, the fact we were in a rose garden alone. I felt happier this evening than I have ever felt, ever since I was a boy.

It was getting late; too dark to head to Villeneuve now. Belle and Adam went to dinner, and Madame appeared in the foyer. She swept both Lefou and me in her arms, on each side. She steered us over to dine at the table with herself and her Maestro.

I felt like such a shameless bum to join them yet again, but Belle gave us a kind greeting and waved us in at the Grand Hall's entrance. She was wearing her favored blue and white dress that she'd altered with the pockets for her books. Lefou and I overheard her talking to Adam about Pere Robert being so happy with his gift of new books for the church.

"She brought books to Villeneuve," I said, amused. "Hardly anyone there reads."

"I hope that changes," said Madame. "How many people live in Villeneuve?"

"Six hundred and eighty nine people," I replied. "But that's just what's written in the church records. The number changes. People are born, and die." I glanced at Lefou and felt guilty again. It was now about six hundred and eighty-eight.

"Out of all those people, my Maestro, there could be many who are musically talented and will never learn to read a single note," Madame said to Cadenza.

"We have musicians," Lefou told her. "We never use books. We know all the songs and melodies in our heads. You don't need books to make music." He sounded a little defensive at this.

"Ah! Do you play the musical instruments, ragazzo?" Cadenza asked him, smiling at Lefou with a mixture of relief and concern. "Felicissimo to see you alive and well. I had thought'a you were dead for a momento! How it pained'a my heart to fall down and crush a human being!"

"It's okay. It wasn't your fault, Maestro," Lefou replied cheerfully. "And for your question, I don't play an instrument. I just sing."

"Bene! That explains your strong chest and diaphragm!" said Cadenza, tapping his own ruffle-and-frill covered chest with his hand. I didn't know that singing could prevent death by being crushed in the chest. I just thought Lefou was extremely lucky.

"Can we hear you sing, sometime, Monsieur Lefou?" asked Madame.

His expression fell a little. "I don't know if I can sing the kind of stuff I used to." He glanced at me. Without hesitation, I grasped his hand and held it.

"Why is that, sugar plum?" asked Madame de Garderobe.

Lefou blushed at 'sugar plum.' "Because the only songs I ever sang were...for Gaston," he told her. "You do remember him that night?"

Cadenza scowled. "Codardo," he spat in a low tone.

"What does that mean?" Lefou asked him.

"He used you as a human shield!" the Maestro replied. "Many of us saw it. I wanted to..." Cadenza let that thought trail, but I could see him mumbling something through his sparsely toothed mouth; likely something in Italian.

"He brought on his own demise, I fear," said Lefou after a few moments. "But he was my best friend. Ever since we were children," he blurted out to Madame.

"I understand, sugar plum." Madame said gently as she poured him some tea.

Speaking of tea, Mrs. Potts came to our table to join us. "Hello, love! It is good to see you here again," she said to Lefou. "And your dear friend as well. Hello, poppet. I forgot your name?"

"Stanley."

Mrs. Potts beamed. "Stanley! What a quaint and charming name, love. It sounds more like an English name than a French name. Are you of English blood?"

I shook my head. "Non. It is a nickname. My birth name is Stephan. My brother Richard and our friend Thomas, we used to play 'war' with the other boys. We would pretend to be the English soldiers. Somebody always had to be the bad guys. Not that I think all English are bad anymore! So we gave ourselves what we thought were mean, tough Englishman names. 'Tom,' 'Dick' and 'Stanley' stuck with us our whole lives!" I explained.

She gave me a kind smile. "Lovely story. I am happy you had a childhood where you only had to pretend about bloody battles, and not see them in reality," she said, a pensive look coming over her face. I wanted so badly to ask her about her pirate family, but refrained.

"Speaking of the war, Mrs. Potts, ahem," Lefou cleared his throat nervously, "I never fought the English myself. We only fought the Portuguese. And the Prussians. Uh, just so you know."

"I thank you for your brave service to France," she replied affectionately.

"Merci."

"Did you escape injury, dear?" she asked. I sat back and relaxed while Lefou had his turn to be asked about his life story.

"No, madame. I got hit by a musket ball once. Only a flesh wound." He gestured to the side of his waist. I kind of felt like I wanted to see it. I berated myself at the thought.

Madame de Garderobe spoke to me again. "Were you a soldier, Stanley darling?"

"No, Madame. I missed the cutoff age the year that all the guys between sixteen and forty could enlist," I replied. "I learned to sew while they were gone."

"Magnifique," she replied. "Will you continue the dress tomorrow, then?"

I glanced at Lefou. "We ought to go into town. I need to meet with my family, but I'll be back as soon as possible."

"Will you both spend the night here?" she asked.

"I don't know," I said, shrugging. "Lefou, isn't it too dark for you to ride Ami to Villeneuve?" He looked at me rather unsure. "Probably," he replied.

"You mustn't be fodder for wolves, dear," said Mrs. Potts. "Why not double up in the room Stanley's using? On the fourth floor, above ours. It's very quiet up there."

"Uh, okay," said Lefou with a mixture of relief and awkwardness.

I showed him to the small servant's' room I'd spent the previous night in. "There's...only one bed. But I'm not that huge. I'll make room for you," I said with a chuckle. "And I'm used to it, because I shared my room with my brother for years. So tonight, you're my official brother."

"Okay..." he replied, and I noticed a blush form across his face again. "I snore a lot. Or so I've been told," said Lefou. "Gaston used to be annoyed with it. He always slept downstairs in his house while I was upstairs."

"Have you ever gone back to his house...since?" I asked, trying to be as gentle as I could.

"I haven't been able to bring myself to do it yet, Stanley."

"Gaston hasn't had living relatives in Villeneuve for years. That makes you the closest thing he had to next-of-kin. I know it's hard, but you're going to have to deal with matters of his estate. I'll help you, if it's difficult. I mean...do you wish to keep living in his house, or..."

"He hasn't even been proven dead yet, Stanley! Until there's a body, there can't be a funeral. I even went to ask Pere Robert about it. He said if a month goes by, and he isn't found, then he'll conduct a memorial service for...whoever wants to come. He was very kind about it. I'm so glad I talked to him."

Lefou looked miserable upon telling me this. I felt so bad. For him, true, but also for Gaston. It was so ironic that the man who had been considered the 'Hero of Villeneuve' for so long- popular and charming- had barely anyone to mourn him for a memorial service. It was a terrible fate for someone who put so much importance to his image and esteem.

"I'll come with you."

"Thank you, Stanley."

"You tend to say my name a lot, I notice. Why is that?"

"Well," he said with a sigh, "Partly because I like your name, but mostly...so I can get used to saying it enough so I don't accidentally call you Gaston."

I laughed. "Really? There are barely any similarities between him and I." I casually took off my shirt, almost to prove a point. "Same color hair, perhaps, but that is about it."

He was looking at me funny. "What's wrong?" I asked.

"Nothing!"

"There's nothing wrong with me, then?" I grinned at him. "That is good to know." I blew out the candle and flopped on the bed in pitch darkness. "Bonne nuit."

He settled next to me with a tension to his movements, and after a long lull in the conversation, he spoke up.

"There's nothing wrong with you, Stanley. You're perfect."

I snorted a laugh. "I don't know about that. Nevertheless, let's just go to sleep, Sugar Plum."

"Oh, gee." He laughed a little as he found my hand underneath the quilt and squeezed it. I squeezed his hand back.

He held onto my hand for several moments. It was almost as if we were communicating in a sort of secret code- no need for words. The message was clear- you're the one that I want.

His grip loosened as he fell asleep beside me. I could hear him snoring within minutes; it sounded rather soft, and cute as well.

The next morning, we found Michel at the horse stable. He was repairing a partly rotted and rusty wagon that he'd used years ago, prior to the curse. We ended up spending the morning helping him repair it, finding new temporary wheels. Lefou told him that he would certainly hire Tom, the blacksmith, to make some brand new wheels very soon.

We hitched Ami and Magnifique to the rickety wagon, and headed across the forest path into town. Clouds were rolling in; and so we pushed our horses to a fast clip as to beat the rainstorm soon to be rolling in. The wind made the leaves and pine boughs shudder and whisper. I could smell the rain in the air. This was one of my favorite kinds of weather- the scent of the wind before a storm.

"C'mon Ami!" Lefou was begging his horse, who was bucking his head in protest. He wasn't accustomed to pulling wagons. "I really don't want to get soaked, you know."

"I think the rain will hold off, don't worry," I told him. About five minutes later, once we got out of the forest and could see the village's clock tower in the distance, it started to pour.

"I'm worrying now," said Lefou, but he was laughing. "I like rain, no matter what. Except for that one time last week, when Gaston and I got caught in the rain coming back to town. But that was because…" He didn't finish his sentence, and I saw a bit of pain cross his face. I threw an arm around his shoulder.

"At least it's a warm rain, not a cold one," I said with optimism, shaking the reins to urge Magnifique and Ami even faster. Mud began to make the wagon wheels sluggish and sticky.

"If you go off to the right, Stanley, and don't follow the path, it would be easier. Let's go through the grassy hill. See that smaller path? Gaston and I made it from all our hunts."

"I see," I replied. Ami and Magnifique seemed to be familiar with the way as well. We were soon in town, among all the bustle and voices. We parted ways; Lefou going to see about buying the horses, and myself back to the reality of family.

"Stanley!" Eloise squealed as I entered the tailor shop. "Why were you gone so long? It's been three days!"

"I am terribly sorry, Eloise. You know about the announcement the Prince made, didn't you? The engagement and the ball?"

"Of course we know about it!" exclaimed Elise in a stressed tone. "The ball! It's coming up next Saturday and we need new dresses, too!"

"If Belle can marry a prince, then perhaps we might meet a Duke, or a Marquis, or even another Prince there!" said Eliana.

"But girls, you already have a lot of pretty dresses. What's wrong with the ones you have?" I asked.

Three pairs of eyes gave me the Look of Death.

I went into the sewing room and started to tackle one of the unfinished projects my cousins had started; a gathered, soft white satin petticoat which was the underlayer for a white and gold-striped muslin dress. It had the name 'Ouilette' on the tag; likely for Mlle. Marion Ouilette, one of the nice young ladies my mother had tried to set me up with in the past. 'The two of you would certainly have tall children together,' she'd said.

She was the silversmith's daughter, five years my junior. I thought the gold in the dress would compliment her blue eyes and blonde hair. I personally hoped Marion would meet a nice Marquis or Duke, because her father's trade had suffered during the years of the curse. She probably saved up all her money cooking and selling pies so she could afford this dress.

I sat at my usual table and stitched the petticoat in relative peace, with the triplets coming in every so often and piling more items on the table, with handwritten directions. I found some gold satin that matched the petticoat, to use for trim on the dress sleeves as the final touch. I then started to attach the petticoat to the rest of the dress using precise, half-centimeter-apart gathered stitches. I found I was a little bit off towards the end, but the widest gather would be in the back of the petticoat, which would be hidden by the muslin overlayer. So no problems there.

By early evening, I was almost finished with Marion's dress. I didn't know when she would be in for a fitting. I wanted to know if the waistline was even and the skirts fell level, so I was in a bit of a dilemma. I knew where her house was, so I considered the idea of going over there to let her know she should try it on.

Then I had an idea, a bit of a self-indulgent idea. One that was hatched partly out of laziness when it came to running over to Marion's house to track her down, but also out of longing.

I locked the door of the sewing room, and pulled the curtain shut on the one small window. In the dim light, I could still see everything, including the full length mirror. I took off my still-damp-from-the-rain clothes; my vest, shirt, and breeches, praying that neither my aunt or cousins would knock on the door for at least five minutes. I picked up the elegant, floaty white-and-gold dress and held it up before me.

Marion Ouilette happened to be one of the tallest women in town. She stood about five foot ten and was always a bit self-conscious of it. This meant that her dress would be one of the only ones that would fit me.

I fumbled with it for about a minute or two, with its double layered skirt- but I was able to get it on. The buttons weren't in yet, so it kind of swam around my chest too loosely. Marion was also more generous in the chest than I was. I tied the sash into a bow around my waist, while looking in the mirror, pleased with my reflection.

'Be free! Be free!' It was so fun. I loved the feeling of the swishy satin around my legs.

KNOCK! KNOCK! "Stanley! Why did you lock the door?" It was one of the triplets.

"Hold on a minute!"

"OPEN THE DOOR!" She kept banging and banging. Merde! Can't she just wait a second?

I studied the fall of the hem, turning from one side to the other, loving the twirl of the flowing, gathered skirts. It looked decently even; the hem going down to about my ankles and it looked the same length all around.

"What are you doing?" screamed one of my cousins. I quickly tried to take off the dress as fast as I could without ripping it.

"Just one minute, all right?"

"You're not doing anything scandalous in there, are you?"

"No!"

I pulled the dress off, lay it on a table and started putting on my own damp, uncomfortable breeches. Eliana, or Elise, or Eloise pounded on the wooden door hard enough to break it.

"What are you trying to hide from us?"

"Nothing!"

Finally, I was dressed in my own clothes again and unlocked the door. Elise, followed by Eliana, burst in.

"You have a girl in here or something?" Elise said accusingly. She opened a nearby closet door. "I bet she's hiding in here...Iguess she's not."

Eliana spotted the dress on the table. "Is it Marion? Stanley, that's it! Oh! You do like her!" she said excitedly. She looked around the room, at the curtains of fabrics. "Marion- come on out! It's all right, I know our cousin is a prime specimen of manhood, but I do wish you'd wait until the wedding-"

"Ooh, a wedding! I can't wait!" squealed Elise.

"What? No! Nobody else is here!" I yelled. "And I'm not seeing Marion, and she's not hiding here! I just wanted some privacy, okay?" I said, my voice coming out higher-pitched than I wanted it to be.

Eliana's eyes widened. "Eeewww!" she said. "I know what you're doing! That'll make you blind! Or so I heard!"

"What?" I was mortified. "No! You are terribly mistaken, Eliana. That's ridiculous! I just wanted to sew in relative quiet and-"

"You better not go blind!" spat Elise. "That's all we need. Then you'd be useless!"

"Look!" I tried to explain. "This dress for Mme. Ouilette. It's nearly finished. I work faster when the three of you aren't bothering me!"

The door opened again; it was my Maman. "Stanley! Where have you been? Eloise told me you finally came back this morning! I've had to take care of your horse for you!"

Mon Dieu. Rosie. I had neglected Rosie as well.

"Maman, I'm sorry. It's a new job I picked up at the castle! I'm really sorry about Rosie, okay?" I went over to give her a hug in greeting. Maman was nervous about horses, but she was willing to feed and water her. But still, Rosie must be getting restless.

"Girls, I'll be back later tonight, okay? I promise. No tavern, no having a beer with Dick and Tom, I'll sew all night if you want!" I went out the sewing room door, then out the shop's door into the street. I hoped to find Lefou. And within a few minutes, I found him, walking both Ami and a chestnut horse.

"Stanley!" he called out to me. My heart leaped with joy.

...