Hi everyone! Once again, sorry for the delay. At least this delay wasn't as egregious as some of the past ones have been. As always, I want to give ENORMOUS thanks to all you wonderful reviewers: WriterGirl1472, chloeluvsoreos7, waves on the sand, Bloody Phantom, AvilaAddy, and Arista Everett June. You guys are way too nice to me. Thank you so much.
I'm afraid editing on this chapter has been minimal, so I apologize for any errors or non sequiturs. Please point them out if you find them.
Disclaimer: I own nothing.
Chapter 11:
Some say that love springs from the little things. They say that small gestures, added together, foster deep affection. Belle found such statements to be patently false. In her experience, the little things amounted to nothing more than brief pleasant feelings. Love required more substantial sustenance.
The first "little thing" was sunlight. The Beast began letting more and more light into the palace. From the east wing to the west, the window shutters were thrown open. It felt as though the entire palace was desperately lapping up the sun, like an animal that had gone without water for far too long.
"Why did you decide that you wanted more sunlight?" Belle curiously asked the Beast as she watched him roughly fling open the windows of an uninhabited bedchamber.
"It was a whim," he grunted in response. In a much more tentative voice, he asked, "Do you like it?"
"Yes," Belle replied, surprised.
The Beast said nothing more, but Belle thought he seemed pleased.
The two of them began to spend more and more time in one another's company. The Beast had apparently decided that Belle, being more intellectually competent than he had initially believed, needed an education.
He appeared in the kitchen one evening as Belle, Francoise, and Vincent were finishing their dinner. "Belle," he rumbled from the doorway.
"What is it?" Belle asked, barely looking up from her vegetables.
"I'd like you to come with me, if you're willing." Such politeness still sounded a little strange coming from the Beast, but Belle was gradually growing accustomed to it.
Belle paused briefly before setting aside her dish and rising from her stool, the surface of which had become rather smooth after having her seated upon it thrice every day. "Where are we going?" she asked as she followed the Beast to the upper level of the palace.
"The library," he replied, glancing over his shoulder. "What, am I a king? You need not walk seven steps behind me. Or is my girth such that I require the entire width of the hall?"
Belle sheepishly scurried forwards to walk alongside him. "Why are we going to the library?"
"Tell me," he said without answering her question, "what books have you read?"
"Not many," she admitted as he thrust open the double doors that led to the library. She entered to find herself nearly blinded by the sunlight that streamed through the floor-to-ceiling windows on the west side of the massive room.
"I thought as much," the Beast remarked. He seemed unaffected by the stabbing beams of light. Noticing that Belle was no longer beside him, he turned to find her standing on the threshold of the library, eyes closed as tightly as possible. "Stricken, are we?"
"It's not funny," Belle protested. She dared not open her eyes for fear of being blinded entirely.
"Of course it's not," the Beast's voice gently growled, directly beside her ear. Startled, she jerked several steps backwards. "Come along," the Beast said, placing his shoulder against her back and ushering her into the library. He led her to a table behind a particularly tall bookshelf that effectively blocked the rays of the setting sun.
Belle opened her eyes to behold a three-foot-tall stack of books on the table. "What is this?" she flatly asked.
As usual, the Beast refused to answer such an obvious question. "I think you ought to read them," he declared. "You've not done enough thinking in your life."
"I grew up in a cottage. Why would I read?"
"A tragic accident of birth. Don't waste this opportunity to remedy it." He dropped to the ground next the table and fixed his glowing red eyes on Belle. His gaze held a challenge.
Irritated, Belle grabbed the largest book from the pile and began to read. Thus they spent many peaceful evenings, undisturbed in the quiet of the library.
Not only did they read, but they also walked. The palace grounds were extensive, containing a thick forest and even a pond within their walls. Here, when wandering through the woods, Belle finally could take charge.
"This is a holm oak," she announced, rubbing her palms against the bark.
"A holm oak," the Beast dutifully repeated. He craned his hairy neck backwards to gaze upon the upper branches of the tree.
"Oh! Come here," Belle called to him. She had run off in search of wildflowers, and had been successful in her hunt. "Do you see this? These delicate white flowers are called cow-parsley."
The Beast snorted. "Not a particularly delicate name," he remarked.
Belle ignored him. "Here we have hemp-nettle. See? They have such lovely purple flowers."
"Where did you learn all this?" the Beast asked, watching her with considerable interest.
Belle smiled as she leaned against the holm-oak which she had previously pointed out. "My brother Laurent knows the outdoors very well. He taught me all about it."
"How excellent," the Beast said without conviction. After a brief pause, he added, "You must miss your family."
"Every day," Belle sadly agreed.
The Beast said nothing, but simply nodded, turned away, and strode quickly from the forest. Belle was unsure whether he crushed the cow-parsley intentionally or not.
As the summer wore on, the Beast appeared outside of his chambers more and more frequently. Sometimes he would be wandering his portrait gallery, reflecting on earlier days. At other times he would be in the library, selecting dozens of erudite tomes through which Belle was supposed to slog. Once or twice, he even appeared at Belle's door to request her company.
He never took such liberties with the kitchen. He might come to the doorway, but he would never linger inside. Belle soon realized that this was because of Vincent. The Beast disliked being in close quarters with the man he had long tormented and still loathed. As for Vincent, he too preferred to keep his distance from the master. Belle feared that the rift between the two half-brothers would never be healed.
Most often, the Beast sought out Belle. However, it was not uncommon for Belle to seek out the Beast, as well. She might ask him to explain a passage in one of her books. She might trouble him with questions about his past life. Occasionally, she might have no reason at all for going to him. Such occasions tended to please the Beast and confuse Belle. Why were her steps taking her to the Beast's dark chambers? Was it merely habit? Or did she actually desire to go?
The little things increased and multiplied. Conversations. Arguments. Apologies. Walks. Readings. Compliments paid. Favors requested and granted.
"It's rather like a courtship, isn't it?" Vincent remarked to Francoise, just loudly enough for Belle to hear it. The older woman quickly hushed her nephew as Belle's face flushed bright red with mortification.
Belle considered Vincent's words as she ambled through the corridors. A courtship? Certainly not. Courtships involved romantic gestures. Her relationship with the Beast involved friendship. It was a gradual process whereby they were coming to understand one another.
If Vincent were correct, Belle might expect the Beast to someday deliver flowers to her. The ludicrous nature of this thought struck her so strongly that she began giggling in the hallway.
"The lady finds amusement in an empty corridor," the Beast's voice suddenly rumbled. "How peculiar."
Belle nearly jumped out of her skin. "Where did you come from?" she demanded, whirling around to face her monstrous companion. "I don't see how you can be so large yet tread so lightly."
"You shouldn't draw attention to my condition. It's unkind."
"Kindness has never been one of my fortes. I've only ever excelled at cowering."
"Whimpering," he added.
"Trembling."
"Shuddering."
"Shrieking."
"To be fair, you rarely shrieked," the Beast said by way of correction. "Terror manifests itself rather quietly in you."
Belle laughed. "Thank you for that concession."
The Beast was now regarding her rather seriously. "What a difference a few months make," he said. "You bear yourself more confidently. You speak with a stronger voice. You look me in the eye."
His words made her want to avert her gaze from his eyes, but she resisted. "You've changed, as well," she stoutly replied. "You don't roar. You don't threaten. You don't rant."
"Believe me when I tell you that I remain capable of a good rant."
"As I remain capable of a good whimper. But there's a bit of a gulf between capability and actual performance, isn't there?"
The Beast looked down at her with a baffled yet happy expression. "Sometimes you sound like me," he told her. "Excellent. Keep reading."
"You're very pretentious," Belle mutinously replied. But she knew he was right. At times, she really did sound like her captor.
So the little things piled up. But what did they amount to? Fleeting moments of companionship, for the most part. Belle still shuddered when she recalled the curse that the enchantress had laid upon the Beast. She shuddered even more strongly when she allowed herself to think about the sole way to break the curse.
Belle knew that her time in the Beast's abode had irreparably changed her. She was not so certain that she had changed the Beast. She remained ignorant of how he dealt with Vincent when he knew that she was out of earshot. She could not see into his soul. For all she knew, he remained as savage, as resentful, and as power-hungry as he had been at the time when he was cursed.
One late summer's evening, Belle was sitting comfortably in an armchair in the library, ignoring the volume of poems in her lap and watching the shadows of the palace lengthen. She heard the door slowly creak open. The Beast did nothing slowly, so it could not be him. Belle glanced up. Sure enough, it was Francoise.
"Hello," Belle said to the old woman as she approached. "Is it dinnertime?"
"I came to see how you were feeling," Francoise replied. She took a seat near Belle. As always, the setting sun was streaming through the west-facing windows. It struck Francoise's eyes rather uncomfortably, so she held up a small book to block the rays.
"I'm feeling excellent. Should I be feeling otherwise?"
Francoise stared. "You really should stop talking like the master," she said bluntly.
"I'm sorry," Belle said. "I've talked to him so much that it's become a habit."
"Never mind that," Francoise said with a sigh. "It seems you haven't heard the news."
"There can be news in a palace with four inhabitants?"
"Yes, oh protégée of my young master, there can be news." Francoise was smiling. Despite her protests to the contrary, it was evident that she liked the new, Beast-educated Belle.
"What is it?" Belle eagerly asked.
Francoise hesitated. "You should say goodbye to Vincent before tomorrow morning."
Belle's blood ran cold. Immediately her mind leapt to the worst possible conclusions. The Beast was going to kill Vincent. His hatred had gotten the better of him at last. As Belle calmed herself, however, she realized that Francoise did not seem particularly distraught. Admittedly, Francoise was one of the least emotional beings to ever walk the earth. Still, she would certainly have been upset if her nephew was going to be executed. Something else was afoot.
"What is it?" Belle asked for the second time.
Now Francoise was smiling again. What a confusing old woman. "The master has informed Vincent that he is free to leave, if he so desires. Vincent has decided to take up residence in the forest village. He departs tomorrow."
Belle felt as though she had been slapped. She could only gape, open-mouthed. "The Beast did this?" she finally croaked.
"Yes," Francoise affirmed.
"He forgave Vincent?"
"Is such a thing possible?"
"Perhaps not. But he released Vincent?"
"As I just said. Where are you going?" For Belle had bolted from the room, in her haste forgetting that she still carried her book of poetry.
She charged through the palace. Down a corridor, around a corner, down the central staircase, deep within the palace to the Beast's chambers. She had made the same run many times before, but never with such urgency.
She collided with the Beast just outside the heavy wooden door that led to his darkened room. Evidently he had just emerged.
"What on earth are you doing?" he demanded, staring down at the mousy young woman as she let her book fall to the ground with a noisy thud.
A thousand pleasant conversations had been ineffectual. Favors, compliments, and apologies had worked no magic. But the news of Vincent's liberation had had a startling effect. It came as concrete evidence that the Beast's heart had softened. And it made Belle rejoice.
Elated, with tears dripping from her ears, Belle threw her arms around the Beast's shaggy neck. "Praise be to God," she murmured into his shoulder.
"The lady's sudden affection is utterly mystifying," he said with a harsh, uncomfortable, yet not displeased laugh. Through his hairy coat, Belle could feel the beat of his cursed heart steadily increasing in speed.
So good things are happening now. I worry that I sped things along too much in this chapter, but it seemed that the time was right. Maybe you'll think differently. Regardless, I'd love to hear your opinions!