A/N: This part technically goes with Part 5 (what I posted yesterday) but I don't want to just add it on in there. So it's getting a spot of its own right now. The story is moving along now, and if I'm really lucky, I'll get to some actual plot type stuff between Charlotte and the beast tomorrow. Meanwhile, enjoy this. Also, tell me if you think Charlotte's character is inconsistent. I'm trying to keep her consistent but I'm worried it's not working. What do you think?
Charlotte walked to the couch where she had slept and was relieved to see that her carpetbag was on the floor next to it. She opened the bag and carefully pulled out the shawl that held the glass rose. She unwrapped it and held the rose carefully in one hand. After putting the shawl back into the bag, she walked out of the room carrying the rose. If this was the beast's home, she reasoned, she should eventually find the place her father had taken the rose from. Perhaps if she put it back in that same spot, the beast would appear. That thought was at once terrifying and strangely comforting. She was nearly at the end of her journey, for when the beast appeared he would decide her fate.
Outside the room she found herself standing at the place where three corridors met. She looked as far down each of them as she could from where she stood. The ones on the right and on the left seemed to go on for quite a while without branching off or widening. The center passage seemed to do the same, but it was wider than the other two. If any of the passages was going to lead anywhere important where the beast might have kept the rose, this one seemed the most likely. So she took it.
She came at last to an entrance hall with a large staircase and two enormous wooden doors. On the wall opposite the staircase was a little table with an empty vase. This must be the place, Charlotte thought. Either that or the owner of this place likes displaying empty vases in his entrance hall. Smiling a bit, she walked toward the table and gently set the rose in the vase. Before she had removed her hand from it, she heard footsteps from the passage.
She turned and bit back a scream. There was the beast, exactly as her father had described him. What he hadn't said was that the beast was at least seven feet tall, stood on his hind legs, and wore the clothes of a gentleman: a black velvet suit with a white shirt under the jacket. Charlotte wondered where he had gotten clothes to fit his strange body and if he had a hole at the back of the pants for his tail.
What a thing to think about when you're about to die, she scolded herself. She expected the beast to lunge for her at any moment and found she could not force herself to move.
"What are you doing?" the beast asked. There was no menace in his rough voice, only curiosity. Charlotte felt the paralyzing fear begin to leave her. She cleared her throat.
"I…I was returning the rose," she said, stumbling only a little over the words. "The rose my father took. I brought it back. It's yours." She forced her hand to release it.
"You brought it back?" the beast asked. "Why would you do something like that? I never asked your father to return the rose. I only asked him to send you here."
"I know," said Charlotte, gathering her courage and looking the beast full in the face. His eyes were a strange golden brown color and they had more depth than she had ever seen in an animal's eyes.
"I know," she repeated, still staring into those golden eyes. "I was hoping that if I brought the rose back you might…might let me go home." Her last word trailed into a squeak as the beast's eyes flashed and she tore her gaze away from him.
"Just because you return the rose does not mean that your father's debt is paid," he said, his voice suddenly harsh.
"What do you plan to do with me then?" asked Charlotte, drawing her courage together again. "Eat me?"
"No," said the beast, sounding slightly taken aback. "I will not eat you. I never intended to eat you. But I will not send you home. The price of the rose is a life, and since you returned it, you will live here with it—with me—for the rest of your days."
"What?" Charlotte gasped.
"You will stay here in my castle," said the beast. "You are the mistress here now. Welcome home, Charlotte." He made an awkward bow.
Charlotte stared at him in utter bewilderment. The beast stepped forward.
"Follow me," he said. "I will take you to your new chambers. Pay attention. The hallways have a tendency to shift. With that he turned and started back down the corridor. Charlotte lingered in the entrance hall long enough to turn and see a heavy wooden bolt appear as if out of nowhere and fall into place on the front doors. There was no way she could lift it. She was trapped in the castle.
At least he's letting me live, she thought and hurried after the beast.