Chapter 9

Disclaimer: I do not own Beauty and the Beast.

Belle woke slowly. The first thing she noticed was that she was warm. The next thing she realized was that she was no longer in pain. The horrible pricking sensation of thousands of pins was gone. She was somewhere comfortable, not on a hard surface.

The last thing she remembered was the pain, and the hard ground beneath her. And a horrible shadow on the wall.

He eyes snapped open. For a moment she thought she was back in the cave again, no matter how comfortable she was: firelight flickered here, too. However, as she looked around she saw that this fire was contained in a fireplace. She was in an old-fashioned bed with high posters and beautiful curtains all around. The curtains were drawn back, so she could see everything.

The room was the most spacious bedroom she'd ever seen. The floors were stone, but the walls were covered with silk wallpaper in a lovely pale cream. The rest of the furniture was gracious and grand and old-fashioned, to match the bed. The upholstery, throw carpets and bedding were all in shades of blue, violet and pink.

Stunned, Belle sat up slowly. She had never seen this place before, not even in her wildest dreams. How had she gotten here? Where was here? Her memories of everything that had happened after she had been dragged out into the woods were hazy at best.

That had all happened, however. It had not been a dream. As Belle looked down at herself, she realized she wore the same clothes she'd worn that night. They were dirty and stained from sitting against the tree in the snow, and from the ropes that had bound her. Whoever had put her in this bed had removed only her shoes.

A slight movement between her and the fire drew her attention. For a moment she panicked. In a chair nearby sat a large shadow. Then she took a closer look and scolded herself. This was no monster with horns. It was a person, a man, wearing…what was he wearing?

Belle frowned. From what she could see, and all she could see at the moment was from his waist down, he wore old-fashioned knee breeches and stockings. This particular men's fashion had gone out of style before she was born. Men today, even men of high society, wore long slacks.

She leaned forward slightly to get a closer look, and the movement attracted his attention. He closed the book he'd been reading—she hadn't even noticed the book in his hand, so puzzled had she been by his choice of dress—and stood. For a long moment Belle forgot about his odd choice in fashion.

This had to be the most handsome young man she'd ever seen, including Gaston. He was tall and, while of a leaner build than Gaston, still obviously quite strong. His reddish blond hair was unusually long for a man and gathered simply at the nape of his neck, but the outdated style suited his sharp-boned face. He had piercing, chilly blue eyes that drew the attention and somehow threatened at the same time. Belle heeded the warning and shrank back a little. This man might be close to her own age, but something about the way he held himself made him loom over her a little even from across the room. And those eyes…they were too old for his face. Somehow, in a way she couldn't put a finger on, they didn't fit.

He was studying her as closely as she studied him. What did he see? A dirty, disheveled, frightened young woman at the moment. She drew the covers up to her chest in a protective gesture even though she was fully clothed beneath them.

The gesture seemed to bring him around slightly. "You're awake," he said. His voice was soft and mild-toned, with a sophisticated accent.

"Yes," she said. "Where are we?"

He glanced around, as if startled by the question. "This is my castle. You're in one of the guest chambers."
"Castle?" she repeated dumbly. "How did I get here? And who are you?"

His answer was slow and careful. "I found you out in the woods, tied to a tree, not far from death. I brought you back here. And I am Lord Garoux."

"Lord Garoux? You?" The words were out before she could stop herself.

"You don't believe me?"

"Of course," she said hastily. "Who else has a castle in these woods? You're just…" Young. Handsome. Actually helping someone, when for years your family has turned everyone aside. "…the last person I expected to see after nearly freezing to death," was what she settled on.

"I admit to being a bit of a recluse. I'll forgive you for not recognizing me." He smiled a little when she just stared. The smile took away a bit of his forbidding look. "A small joke. I apologize. I ought not to bait you after you've just awoken. You must be very confused."

Belle nodded. She still couldn't quite take it all in. She had been saved from Gaston's intended fate for her…by the mysterious Lord Garoux, of all people. Lord Garoux, who never stirred out of his castle, the same as his father and grandfather and who knew how many generations before him, just happened to be wandering by in a blizzard and came upon her in the snow.

"How did you find me?" she asked.

He shrugged. "Lucky for you that I did. Can I ask how you came to be there?"

She explained Gaston's plan. Lord Garoux sank back into the chair he'd been sitting in when she awoke, face unreadable as she talked. "The fools," he said when she finished, his voice as mild as if he discussed the weather. "Would you like me to contrive some punishment for them?"

"No," said Belle. At his surprise, she said, "Knowing they failed to kill the Eistier with their medieval scheme will be punishment enough. Gaston will certainly lose some prestige when it becomes obvious his genius plan didn't work."

"Hmmm." He looked thoughtful. "How did they come to choose you in the first place? Apart from the obvious, of course."

"What do you mean?"

"Well, you are quite beautiful, you know. It's usually the requirement in the stories I've read that the sacrifice be the most beautiful maid that can be found. I assume you are the most beautiful in your village?"

"I have no idea," Belle said, blushing a little. "I never really thought about it. There are other girls who are just as pretty, if not more so. The Férmin triplets—"

He waved a hand. "Not important. I will have no idea whom you mean anyway if you begin listing all the girls considered remotely pretty. But, leaving that aside, if you are not obviously the most beautiful girl in the village—meaning, as you claim, there were other possible candidates—why did they choose you?"

"Gaston believes I'm a servant of the Devil," said Belle.

He laughed. Belle stared at him. Of all the reactions she had expected, this was not one of them. Disbelief, maybe. Or even surprise, or anger. Or worry, if he was particularly devout. But laughter?

"Forgive me," he said after he controlled himself. "But he believed it possible you are a servant of the Devil? The man is even more of a fool than I thought. A blind fool, what's more. If he believed you capable of true evil, then he must see evil under every tree stump and in his tea at breakfast each day."

Belle laughed herself a little at this image. She couldn't help it, especially since after her encounter with Gaston about her book she had thought similar things.

"If I can ask, how did he come to such an extraordinary conclusion?" asked Lord Garoux. "Astonish me."

"Nothing very astonishing," said Belle. "I refused to burn my favorite book at his demand. He thought it a corrupting influence since it talks of fairies and magic spells. Until that day, he'd wanted to marry me."

"What book?"

"La Belle et La Bête," she replied.

He nodded. Those forbidding eyes were thoughtful again. "So you refused to burn the book. What happened next?"

"He said he would ruin my marriage prospects by telling the other men I was not a good Christian woman. I made threats of my own that I'm not proud of. I played on his fear of his own weakness. I hoped, with the attacks of the Eistier beginning so early in the season, that he would forget me and find another woman to his taste, one more obedient than me. You might think him a fool, but he is quite clever in his own way. Getting the other men of the village to agree to put me out in the woods as bait had the potential to solve both of his problems. If the Eistier had shown itself, he and the men planned to kill it, but not before he was 'too late' to save me. If the Eistier did not appear, well…you saw the result. Again, an accident, with no one to point a finger at him to say that my death was on his head. I am the fool, for not realizing how far he would go to do what he believed was his duty."

"You don't consider yourself a fool for not giving in and burning the book?" he asked, his face unreadable.

"It seemed so trivial. I couldn't imagine he would plan for so many weeks to kill me over a book, no matter how provoked he seemed. I was only relieved I stumbled on this aspect of him before I agreed to marry him. It probably would have gone worse for me if that had happened. And I love the book. To give it up so easily would have felt more wrong than giving it up to please my future husband."

"What do you mean, it would have gone worse?" Now Lord Garoux was frowning.

"If we were married, it would have been easy for him to treat me roughly or even kill me in the privacy of our own home. No one would interfere with a husband's treatment of his lawful wife, though of course there would have been a trial of some sort if I had died and it was suspected he had a hand in it. Possibly even he would have been convicted. The townsfolk might look the other way on some things and are too easily led by men like Gaston, but they aren't complete barbarians. If we had been engaged, it would have been very difficult to break the engagement without a more serious reason than a book. I thought—I wanted to believe—I was lucky to have escaped." She looked around. "I suppose I am still lucky in a way. You found me before the sentence was completely carried out." She glanced at her hands in her lap. "Thank you."

There was a few seconds of silence. Abruptly he stood. "Are you hungry?"

"Yes," said Belle, realizing it was the truth.

"I'll go find something in the kitchen to make up for you," he said, and left, leaving Belle staring at the door, stunned by the abrupt shift of subject and his even more abrupt exit.

Had he just said he was going to go to the kitchen to make something? Wasn't he the lord of the castle? Where were his servants? Surely a lord didn't prepare food on his own for guests. Belle didn't know much about the ways of the nobility, but she was fairly certain cooking was usually not one of them.

Looking back on the conversation, Belle couldn't get over how odd the whole situation was. And not just the outdated way Lord Garoux dressed, though that in itself was strange enough. She didn't doubt his identity—something in his bearing told he was indeed of noble blood. He spoke in a much more formal, refined style than anyone in the village did, and his accent was of the variety spoken in the vicinity of Paris. There was no hint of Germanic pronunciation in his tones. Belle realize she'd unconsciously begun to mimic this, falling easily back into the style of French she'd spoken as a child before coming to Lorraine.

His conversation, however formally pronounced, had been very unrefined and natural. He hadn't spoken to her as she'd been led to believe a lord would speak to a peasant; instead they had conversed as any two strangers of equal social standing might. She'd been more forthcoming than she'd dared to imagine she'd ever be with a lord. After she'd gotten used to his stunning good looks, which had taken a shockingly short amount of time, she'd felt strangely relaxed talking to him.

And then that abrupt exit after she'd thanked him. It was as if he didn't want to be thanked. And he'd forgotten any social niceties in his rush to get away.

He admitted freely he's a recluse, she reminded herself. Perhaps he just hasn't had much practice with all those vaunted social graces the nobility are supposed to grow up with.

Where are his parents? The rest of his family? she wondered. Does he have any brothers or sisters? A wife? Children? Even if he somehow doesn't have servants, which I don't believe, he can't live here in an enormous castle totally alone.

It looks as though I'm going to find out more about Lord Garoux than I ever bothered to imagine! Who would have thought? She smiled a little ruefully and sank down against the cushions. And why do I think there is far more to him than I want to know?

What am I doing here? And how do I get home and let Papa know I'm all right?

Author's Note: I enjoyed writing this description of Xavier from Belle's perspective. It's fun subverting expectations sometimes, especially since this is the equivalent of the scene in the movie where the Beast steps into the light and Belle sees him for the first time. And while he isn't gruff and rude to her, and he certainly isn't ugly at the moment, he still unsettles her on several levels. Fashion-wise, this is like a young woman from 2013 meeting a guy who is dressed like he's from the 1950s. Oh Belle, you have no idea exactly how weird this guy is!

Or how much your presence is about to disturb his current status quo.

See you soon with another update, dear readers!

SamoaPhoenix9