13. The Departure

Marianna awoke with a start. She was lying on the couch in the sitting room where she and her Friend so often sat after dinner. The ashy remains of a fire lay cold in the grate, and morning light streamed in through the windows. With difficulty she struggled out of the blankets tucked around her, and sat up. Her hand went to her hair. It was loose and disheveled. Brushing it back, she looked around her.

Off to her left a table had been set with a tea pot and some food. Beyond it, staring moodily out the window, stood the Beast. He was wearing, she noticed, the same suit of clothes he'd had on the night before.

At the sound of movement, he turned around, an enigmatic expression in his eyes. Marianna murmured a greeting and tried to smile, but it wobbled a little bit.

Without comment he went to the table, poured a cup of tea, and brought it to her. She accepted it with quiet thanks, and sipped at it. "Are you hungry?" he asked her in a quiet voice.

"No, no, I…" then she realized that she was actually starving. "Yes, thank you." Returning to the table, he fixed her a plate, placed it on a small table, and moved it where she could reach. Then he returned to his post by the window.

More touched than she could say by his small acts of kindness, Marianna ate in silence, trying to summon the courage for an apology of sorts. His words to her last night may have been inexcusable, but so were hers to him.

Swallowing the last crumbs and wiping her mouth with her napkin, she picked up her now cool tea again. "It seems you must have brought me in last night," she began quietly. "I appreciate your care—"

He swung around to face her, cutting her off. "I think it's time you left," he said.

Marianna stared. "What?"

"It's time," he repeated roughly, "for you to leave me and go home, back to your family."

"But, but—" she gasped, her thoughts whirling, "I thought I couldn't—"

"There is a way." The same words he had spoken to her father, softly.

"A way?" She sat her cup down, gazing at him in painful confusion. "Then why did—why am I here?"

"Because I can only use it one time, for one person, and at a price. Until now, I was never willing."

"A price?" she asked. "What price?"

"One I'm willing to pay," he replied evenly. He turned back to the window. "You have to go home, Marianna. You have to go today."

"But—but—" Quick tears sprang to her eyes, and an overwhelming sense of loss washed over her. "This is because of what I said last night, isn't it? I didn't mean it, you have to believe me! I was just—angry, and confused and—"

"No," he cut her off again. "It's not that. I've been thinking about this for awhile, actually."

Her tears ran over, and she went on heedlessly. "I'm sorry I found the picture, I'm sorry I made you look at it, I didn't know—"

"Marianna!" He strode to her side and placed one hand on her shoulder. "It's not your fault, Marianna, it's mine. It's all always been my fault." Then, in a gentler voice he said to her as he had once before, "Don't cry, darling. I don't want you to cry."

The endearment just made her want to cry harder, but she made an effort and dried her eyes. "Do you want me to go?" she asked.

The question dragged an unwilling half-laugh out of him. "Want?" he exclaimed. As if unable to look at her any more, he moved away again, turning his face. "Of course I don't want you to go. You should know that. " He stared sightlessly out at the gardens beyond, speaking in a low, rough voice. "Marianna, you brought light, and life, and laughter where I didn't believe they could come again. You have brought me more happiness in the last few months than I ever thought to have. But—it can't go on like this. Surely you must see that."

"Why?" The question was a whisper.

"Because this is no life for you here, shut away in this place. You should go back, to those who love you and can give you what I can't. You should find a man who will make you love him." He paused and swallowed hard. "As for me—well, even a beast can't bear to be so close to the woman he loves and not be able to have her."

That almost silenced her, but still she wouldn't, couldn't give up. "But—"

"Do you think I want to watch you die?" he cried fiercely, swinging around. "Do you think I want to watch you grow old and wither and die, like all the others who have gone before you here? And then bury your body where I buried theirs? No." He turned. "No one is strong enough for that."

There was nothing she could say to that. Winking back the tears she answered numbly, "Then I guess I'll get ready." Dazedly she stood up and began to smooth out her dress, then stopped and headed for the door. At the doorway she paused and asked, "So do I just get on my horse and ride out—just like that?"

"Just like that," he answered, without turning around.

Slowly Marianna walked through the hall, and up the stairs to her room. She felt numb all over as she undressed and hung up her gown in the wardrobe where it came from, then put on her one shabby, travel-stained dress. The other was still crumpled in a corner, covered in the dust and dirt of the downstairs store rooms. She was going to leave it, but finally decided that she didn't want the sight of it to add to her Friend's distress. So she stuffed it in, dirt and all, with her other belongings.

There wasn't much to pack. Even less than she came with, she thought. The velvet box of jewels sat on the dresser—not her dresser anymore, she thought—but she did not touch them. They belonged here, with the house.

A soft knock sounded on her door, and she went to answer it. The Beast stood there. "I've brought you something," he said, and held out his hand to her. In its palm lay a gold ring, very plain except for one small red jewel on its band.

She picked it up and looked at him questioningly. "Take it with you," he said. "If ever—if ever you decide that you want to come back, turn it on your finger twice, and it will bring you here. But don't—don't come back unless you're sure you—you really want to." His words were poignant with unspoken meaning, and she nodded speechlessly. Then the Beast did something he'd never done before: he took her face between his two furry paws, and kissed her tenderly on the forehead. "Good bye, my love," he whispered. By the time she opened her eyes he was gone.

The same sense of unreality that pervaded her when she first came returned in her leaving. She couldn't believe that she was leaving, but still her feet somehow took her down the stairs, and out the front door. It was a gloriously sunny, cool day outside, rich with autumn leaves just turning. Birds sang and water murmured, and it was just too heartbreakingly beautiful to leave behind, but still she knew she must.

Her horse stood ready, as she knew it would be. A glance in the saddlebags was enough to satisfy her that he had provisioned her well. Mounting, she rode down the long drive way, and out the gate she never thought to pass again. It was already open, but after she went through, it swung noiselessly shut behind her. He's all alone in there, she thought. He'll be alone forever now. And the tears ran unchecked down her cheeks.

After a while, though, as the peaceful woods soothed her, her thoughts began to turn towards home. I'm going home, she suddenly realized, with a lightening heart. I'm going to see father again, and mother, and little George and Alanna, and the others. It was strange how little she'd really thought of them since she came to live with the Beast, and when she had it was more with affection than longing, but now that the prospect of a reunion lay before her, she realized how badly she needed it. All the homesickness of the last several months seemed to come upon her at once, and she urged her horse faster.