Belle lay in bed, too excited and anxious to sleep, her mind replaying the evening. It had been such a thrill to meet a man who was so enthusiastic and knowledgeable about books, and to have such a thought-provoking, in-depth discussion about one of her favorites. She could happily have talked to Hervé all night.
But she also felt confused, and conflicted, and guilty. What about Gaston? Only last night she had danced with him, gazed into his deep blue eyes, quivering inside and feeling that something new was beginning.
And then, so unexpectedly…Hervé. The kind of man she had always dreamed of.
What was she to do?
She lay awake for hours that night, her thoughts in a whirl, unable to sleep. At breakfast, Maurice saw the dark circles under her eyes. "Are you all right, Belle?"
She sat down at the table and sipped her tea. "Oh, Papa. I'm so confused."
"What is it?" he asked in concern.
She told him her dilemma.
He looked sympathetic. "That's a tough one, Belle. How do you feel about it?"
"I just don't know," she sighed. "The night of the dance was so romantic. I was truly starting to feel something for Gaston. But now, there's Hervé, and he's so fascinating, and so intelligent, and loves to talk about books, just like I do, and understands everything I say about them…" She was silent a moment. "And I keep thinking about something Monsieur Liseur once told me."
"What was that?" Maurice asked.
"He said he thought the only reason I liked Gaston was that I was lonely and vulnerable, and Gaston was the only man who was friendly to me and showed an interest in me. So naturally I started to like him. But that if there were an intelligent, literate man around, I wouldn't have given Gaston a second thought."
"Is that true?" Maurice asked.
"I don't know," Belle said helplessly. "I never had a chance to find out! I mean, it's certainly not the only reason I like Gaston. He's fun to be with, and he can be very sweet, and I've grown to care about him very much. And…well…I'm attracted to him," she admitted shyly. "But still…it makes me wonder. I keep looking back at my relationship with Gaston, and how much he's changed since we've become friends. He used to hate books, and he believed that women shouldn't read or think, just devote themselves to serving men. Now I've gotten him to enjoy listening to books – as long as they have a lot of action – and he's come to appreciate the fact that I can think for myself. Of course, it took a lot of arguing to get there! He can be pretty stubborn sometimes," she added, smiling.
"But even though he's changed, he's still Gaston. There's only so far you can push him," she went on. "I once forced him to read out loud to me, even though he didn't want to, because I had this crazy fantasy that if he just read out loud once, he'd somehow 'take' to it, and become an avid reader and thinker, having long provocative discussions with me for hours about books." She smiled at the memory. "It was totally ridiculous. He burst my bubble pretty quickly, and complained that I was trying to turn him into a bookworm. Which was true. I realized that he was right, and that it wasn't fair of me to try to force him to be something he wasn't. So I backed off. And over time, I grew to appreciate him for who he was, and enjoy his company. And then at the dance, I started to feel that despite our differences, there was something between us, and maybe we could become more than friends.
"But now there's Hervé. And Papa, here's the thing: Hervé is the man I was trying to change Gaston into!" Belle exclaimed. "Hervé is a voracious reader, and he's very intelligent, and he loves to talk about books for hours. He respects my intelligence, and he actually admires the fact that I love to read. I didn't have to argue with him about it, or overcome any prejudice that a woman who reads is 'odd' or that women shouldn't think. And he's very polite. I didn't have to try to change him into what I wanted. He already is that man, the kind of man I always dreamed of.
"But then...there's Gaston. I think about him, and I'm just so torn," Belle said miserably. "I do have feelings for him, and it did feel like something special was just beginning to happen between us. I know that Gaston will be very hurt if I start seeing Hervé." She sighed. "But if I stay away from Hervé, just to spare Gaston's feelings, then I'll spend the rest of my life wondering what could have been…if Hervé was my dream man, my Prince Charming come to life, and I foolishly threw away my only chance to know him! I just can't do that, Papa!"
She looked at Maurice anxiously. "Oh, Papa…what should I do?"
Maurice thought about it. "What happened with Gaston after the dance?" he asked. "Did you make any promises to him? Is there an understanding between you?"
"No," Belle said. "In fact, I've told him all along that we're just friends – I made that very clear. And at the dance, people asked him about us, and he told them the same thing. That's where we are 'officially' right now. But after the dance…there was kind of a 'feeling' between us, that maybe we were starting to become more than friends."
"But you didn't discuss it with him?" Maurice asked. "You didn't tell him that things had changed? Or kiss him?"
"No," Belle said. "It was just a feeling."
"Hmmm….What about Hervé?" Maurice asked. "What did you tell him when he asked to call on you?"
"I told him I'd meet him at the bookstore instead," Belle replied. "It seemed more public and casual. To have him formally calling on me at my home is so much more…serious, like a real courtship. I needed time to think before rushing into something like that."
Maurice considered the situation. "I think you're very wise not to rush into anything," he said finally. "You shouldn't make a commitment to a man unless you're sure that he's 'the one.' Right now you're confused, and you have a lot of mixed feelings. So I think what you need to do is take a step back and give yourself time to discover how you truly feel. You say that officially, you and Gaston are 'just friends.' So, I think you should keep it that way for now. Spend time with him, but keep it at casual friendship. Don't take it to the next level. And with Hervé, the same thing. Meet him in public at the bookstore, get to know him better, but don't have him start officially courting you until you're sure that's what you want. And if either of them asks, be upfront and honest: tell them you like them, you want to spend time with them, but you're not ready to make a serious commitment yet, to anyone. In time, your heart will tell you if you truly feel love, for either of them."
A wave of relief washed over Belle. Her father was right. She didn't have to make a decision now! She could take her time, get to know both of them better, wait to see how she felt. "Oh, Papa, thank you!" she said, hugging him. "That's perfect advice."
He patted her shoulder. "That's what I'm here for."
A whinny outside caught her attention. She went to the window and saw Gaston outside, astride his big black horse. Despite her decision, she felt a bit nervous seeing him, now that she was also interested in Hervé. It'll be fine, she told herself. We're just friends. He knows that.
Gaston waited for Belle to come out of the house. He had decided that he would show her a great time today: he would teach her how to jump a gorge on horseback if she wanted, show her secret trails to explore that only he knew, reveal hidden waterfalls and secluded glades tucked away in the forest.
He was very aware of the fact that she'd had dinner with that other guy last night, and was a little worried about it. But it was only one dinner, he reminded himself. It couldn't possibly stack up against all the time he had spent with Belle – the reading aloud, the forest, the dance – or destroy the feelings that she had for him. Surely he was still first in her heart.
Belle came out of the house. "Hello!" she said, a little too brightly. "I'll go get Phillippe." She went to saddle up her horse, mounted, and joined him. "Okay, let's go!"
As they rode, Gaston studied her. He frowned. Something was wrong. She was smiling, chattering away about inconsequential things…but something was different. He could sense it. After the dance, she had looked up at him with excitement and expectation, as if she hoped he might kiss her. Yesterday, she had shown up in a pretty dress and new hairstyle, clearly meant to impress him, and was delighted when he complimented her. She had been warm and open, even teasing him affectionately about his need for attention.
But today…she was different. Friendly, but a little nervous, and somehow…guarded, as if she were holding him at arms' length. She had put up some boundaries, sending clear "just friends, don't get the wrong idea" signals that reminded him of the early days of their relationship.
"It's a bit nippy out today, isn't it?" Belle was saying. "That chill in the air wasn't here yesterday."
That's for sure, Gaston thought, watching her.
"But I suppose it's to be expected," Belle went on. "It is October, after all. Winter is coming soon…"
"How was your dinner last night?" Gaston interrupted.
Belle started, then looked guilty, confirming Gaston's worst fears. "Dinner?" she said, much too casually. "Oh, it was fine."
"Did you talk to that guy again?" Gaston asked.
"Hervé? Well, yes, of course he was there. He's Monsieur Liseur's nephew," Belle said. "We talked about books." She looked uncomfortable, as if wishing she could change the subject.
"Do you have plans to see him again?" Gaston persisted. That was the big question.
Belle was silent a moment. "Yes," she said. "I'm going to see him tomorrow at the bookstore."
So it was true. That slimy little bookworm had gotten to her. Gaston felt a flash of panic. What should he do?
He tried to stay focused. All right. The important thing was that Belle was with him right now. He would show her a wonderful time today, remind her of all the things she liked about him, win her back. He wouldn't mention the bookworm, or let her know that he was jealous. He'd charm her, watch her, see how she reacted...
And then tomorrow, she'd spend the day with his rival. And Gaston would worry, wondering what was happening, if this interloper was stealing Belle's heart…
No. He couldn't take it anymore. All this waiting and wondering and holding back, giving her space, pretending that he was content with friendship, never allowed to reveal his true feelings, how much he longed for her with every fiber of his being…always being patient, playing it casual, trying to read her mind, guess how she felt …It was killing him. He'd always been the most direct, straightforward person alive, saying exactly what he thought, tackling problems head on. He couldn't live like this for one more second.
He had to know.
He stopped his horse and turned to her. "Belle," he said. "We have to talk."
She looked at him, her eyes hesitant and unsure. Then she sighed in resignation. "I know," she said quietly.
Those simple words chilled Gaston to the bone. Part of him had hoped that she would be confused, wondering what on earth they had to talk about. He had hoped she would reassure him that he was being silly, that of course everything was fine and he was the only man in her life.
But no. She knew exactly what he wanted to talk about. That meant it was serious. And there was no turning back now.
He looked her in the eye. "No more games, Belle. Just tell me the truth. Where do we stand? How do you feel about me?"
She sighed. "Gaston, you deserve an answer. It's just…complicated."
Complicated? Why? His feelings weren't complicated. He loved her. He wanted to marry her. He wanted to spend the rest of his life with her. Nothing complicated about it at all.
"Complicated," he repeated, a note of frustration creeping into his voice. "Fine. I'll make it simple: Do you love me?"
"I…" Belle looked down at her hands. "I don't know," she admitted helplessly.
The muscles in Gaston's jaw tightened. "Do you love him?"
Belle looked up sharply. "Hervé? No, of course not. I've only just met him." She hesitated. "But…I do like him, Gaston. And I want to spend time with him and get to know him better."
Gaston didn't answer. His hands gripped the reins so tightly his knuckles turned white.
Belle looked sympathetic. "Gaston. I did tell you from the beginning that we were just friends, and you said you could accept that," she reminded him gently. "You even told everyone at the dance that we were just friends, nothing more."
"I know," Gaston said. "Because that's what you wanted. But after the dance…things were different between us. You were different, Belle. You had feelings for me – don't deny it."
"It's true," she admitted. "I did start to feel that…that maybe there could be something more than friendship between us. I still do feel that way, Gaston."
Gaston felt his heart quicken with hope.
Belle went on, "But that's all it is: a 'maybe.' I just…I can't make any commitments or promises right now, Gaston. Not to you; not to anyone. I like you, but I like Herve too. That's why I think we should just stay good friends, at least for now."
"So I'm supposed to just sit and do nothing while you see this other guy?" Gaston said incredulously. "Just wait around for you to decide who you like better?"
"It's not like that…" Belle protested. Then she trailed off, realizing that at its core, it was exactly like that. She took a deep breath. "You're right, Gaston. It's not fair to expect you to wait for me when I don't know what I want, and I can't promise you anything. So…if you want to see other girls, you should. That's only fair."
"Great," Gaston muttered. It was the last thing he wanted.
Belle bit her lip, distressed to see him upset. She reached out and put her hand on his. "Gaston, I'm sorry," she said earnestly. "I know you want more than I can give you right now. Please believe me: I never intended for this to happen. I care about you a lot. I never wanted—"
"Don't, Belle," Gaston spat. "Do not tell me for the hundredth time that you never wanted to hurt me. If it were true, you wouldn't keep doing it."
Belle winced. "All right," she said quietly. "I won't say it. But it is true." She was silent a moment. "I don't think either of us are really in the mood for a ride right now. Maybe you should just take me home."
Gaston turned his horse back toward her house without replying. She followed on Phillippe. They rode in silence all the way.
At her house, Gaston dismounted, then helped her off her horse. She looked up at him. Her were eyes soft and troubled and vulnerable, a look that made him melt and want nothing more than to comfort her. "Gaston…please don't hate me for this," she said softly.
He sighed. "I could never hate you, Belle."
"I know this is hard for you," she said gently. "But you asked me to tell you the truth. I'm trying to be as honest as I can. The truth is…I'm confused right now. I can't rush into any decisions while I feel this way. I need to take some time to figure out how I feel and what I want."
"I understand," Gaston said. "It's all right. It's not your fault." It's HIS fault, he thought darkly. That little weasel.
"And…are we still friends?" Belle asked hesitantly.
"Always, Belle," Gaston replied.
She looked relieved. "I'm glad." She smiled at him – a warm, genuine smile this time. "I'll see you soon, then. Maybe we can go riding another day."
"Sure, Belle." Gaston got on his horse. Belle waved as he left.
Gaston rode toward home, feeing like his world was crashing down around him. He couldn't believe this was happening. He had tried so hard to do everything right, to make Belle happy. At the dance, everything had been perfect. When he'd held her in his arms as they danced, and she gazed up at him, the look in her eyes had made his heart soar. There had been something special between them; he was sure of it.
But now, out of the blue, this outsider had breezed into town to brazenly steal Belle away from him. And worse, he was succeeding! Gaston gritted his teeth in frustration. All his big words and fancy talk about books had turned Belle's head. With a feeling of panic, Gaston realized that he was about to lose the girl he loved if he didn't do something fast.
He tried to calm down. He reminded himself that he hadn't lost yet. Belle still liked him. But…how long would that last? he wondered. It had taken months for Belle to like him, to start thinking of him in a possibly romantic way. But this new guy – she'd only known him one day, and already she liked him just as much as Gaston! What would happen when she met with him at the bookstore tomorrow? At this rate, it was only a matter of time before the bookworm won her heart completely, and she tossed Gaston aside like so much garbage…first telling him, of course, that she'd "never meant to hurt him," he thought grimly.
No. Gaston set his jaw in determination. He couldn't lose her. He just couldn't. Belle was his girl. He loved her. And he'd worked too hard and come too close to simply stand aside and let someone take her from him without a fight.
But what could he do? He remembered how adoringly Belle had looked at the guy as he spouted all his fancy gibberish about books. Apparently that was the quickest way to win Belle's heart…but Gaston couldn't talk that way. He didn't know how.
Desperately, he tried to think of a plan. It just wasn't fair! Belle had been starting to fall in love with him – he knew it. If that little weasel hadn't come to town, everything would have been fine, and Belle would be his. Why did that guy have to show up now? If only he weren't here!
The wheels in Gaston's head were turning. If only he weren't here… Of course! With a surge of triumph, he had the answer. All he had to do was get the bookworm to leave town! Once he was gone, Belle's affections would return to Gaston, and they'd be back on their way toward romance, courtship, and eventually marriage.
Convincing him to leave would be easy enough, he thought, flexing his impressive muscles. Oh, he wouldn't beat the guy up or anything…not that the upstart didn't deserve it, he thought darkly. But it wasn't necessary. A loud "boo!" would probably be enough to send a little pipsqueak like that running. Gaston would simply tell him in no uncertain terms that he'd be better off out of Molyneaux, the sooner the better. It wasn't like the guy lived here, after all. His home was in Orlèans, far away from the village. He was only here for a temporary visit anyway. So, he'd simply cut his visit short and return home sooner than planned, back to his fancy university and hoity-toity life, leaving Belle and Gaston to get on with their romance. No harm done. It was the perfect solution.
Relieved to have a course of action, Gaston went home and waited for twilight. Then he headed toward the bookstore and hid in the shadows, watching. Soon his quarry emerged. He turned to say something to his uncle through the doorway, then walked to the end of the row of shops, where he turned left. Gaston realized that he must be going to the bookseller's home, around the corner from the shop. Apparently the old man had stayed behind to finish inventory and close up. Which was good for Gaston, since it meant his rival was alone.
He caught up to Hervé around the corner and quickly stepped in front of him. The scholar looked up, startled. "May I help you?" he asked politely.
"Yes," Gaston said belligerently. "I want you to leave town. Right now."
"Leave town?"Hervé asked in surprise. "Good heavens! Why?"
"Because of Belle. I don't like how you've been talking to her," Gaston said accusingly.
"Well, she certainly is a very attractive and charming young lady. But I don't believe I acted impertinent to her, did I?" Hervé asked in confusion. "I had thought I was most congenial."
Gaston was beginning to get a headache from all the big words. "Look. You'd better stay away from her if you know what's good for you," he snarled. "Belle is mine!"
"Yours?" Hervé was taken aback. "Oh, dear. I had no idea. In that case, it seems I did behave precipitously. Belle never mentioned to me that she was married. Had I but known that she was your wife, I assure you that I most certainly would not have been so forward."
"My wife?" Gaston said, startled. "No, she's not my wife. I mean, not yet," he amended quickly.
"Oh, my mistake. Your fiancée, I should say," Hervé corrected himself.
Gaston shifted uncomfortably. "Well…no," he admitted. "Not my fiancée."
Hervé looked puzzled. "But...she has promised herself to you? There is an agreement between the two of you that a betrothal is forthcoming?"
"Not exactly," Gaston muttered, looking away.
"I see." Hervé was silent a moment, considering this. "I don't wish to seem a tad obtuse, but…in what way, precisely, is she 'yours'?"
"She just is!" Gaston exploded, feeling frustrated. He was starting to feel that he had lost control of the situation. He moved in closer to Hervé, making his voice as menacing as he could – which was very menacing indeed. "Look, I want you out of this village by morning. Make up some excuse for your uncle, I don't care what. Tell him you heard from your university and they said you have to cancel your sab…sabba…you have to come back right away!" he finished, shaking his head in frustration. "If I see you here tomorrow, there'll be trouble. Understand?"
Hervé looked up at his powerful and muscular adversary, who towered over him by a good six inches. He swallowed nervously. "Indubitably," he said hastily.
Gaston let out a breath of annoyance. "Does that mean 'yes' or 'no'?" he asked in exasperation.
"Yes," Hervé said quickly. "Yes, I understand you."
"Good," Gaston said, glad to finally have the problem solved.
He paused a moment and looked down at the thin, bespectacled young man, who was practically quaking. Now that he'd won and the scholar was no longer a threat, Gaston felt a little sorry for the guy. Maybe he'd been too hard on the pipsqueak. After all, Gaston was intimidating even to big, strong men. The poor little bookworm must have found him utterly terrifying.
"Look, it's all right," he said in a kinder tone. He could afford to be generous, now that he knew Belle would be his. "You just go back home to Orlèans and forget all about Belle. You'll be fine."
Hervé nodded, not daring to speak. Gaston stepped back. "Okay. That's settled, then. Have a safe trip home," he added for good measure.
He turned and left, filled with satisfaction at a problem solved, and especially pleased with that extra bit of politeness he'd thrown in at the end. Belle had told him to be more polite, after all. She would have been proud of him there, he thought.
Gaston smiled to himself. Now there were no more obstacles. He and Belle would be back together in no time. Whistling, he headed towards home.