Thirteen

What had happened to Maurice was this: he had left his home, making his way through the forest, desperately trying to reach any town he could within fifty miles. Thus far, he'd only managed to reach four, completely losing any bearings he'd had of his direction in the meanwhile. For three months, he wandered across the country, begging for help of anyone he met. They simply brushed him off as a beggared lunatic and paid him no heed. More than once, he'd forded the river on foot, which soaked him to the skin and chilled him still further. At last, when his provisions were gone and he could go on no farther, he stumbled into a small hollow and lay there, awaiting death.

And there he was now as Beau galloped through the forest, calling, "Papa!" at intervals. The mirror's image had shown a large patch of oak trees, so Beau headed down the road, glancing this way and that. If he was fortunate, he'd find his father before the wolves did.

At last, Beau saw something sticking out from a thorn bush just off the road. It was Maurice's cloak. Springing down from the horse, Beau came nearer to investigate and almost fell headlong on top of Maurice's cold, stiff form.

"Papa!" Beau knelt beside him, feeling his face. Maurice gave a moan; he was alive, but only just. Without wasting another moment, Beau lifted the old man onto Philippe's back, jumped back into the saddle, and pounded off again down the road, this time headed back towards home.

Home. He could still hardly believe that he was finally free; but he pushed the thoughts aside for the sake of his father. He would worry more about that later.

It was nearly midnight when Philippe came thundering out of the woods, halting at the last cottage. Beau jumped down, pulling Maurice after him. "Mama!" he called, hammering on the door. "Mama, quick!"

In another minute, the door opened. Clara's white face appeared, lit by a single candle she held. "Who's there? Maurice, is that you?"

"Mama, it's me," Beau explained quickly. "It's Beau; I've come home. Papa's sick; please, let us in."

There was no need for further explanation; Clara stepped back, allowing them in, then shut the door fast after them. All was quiet once more.

Unbeknownst to the house, only one other person witnessed the arrival of Beau and Maurice. Huddled behind a tree, Loretta shivered as she watched them go inside. Her nightly vigils had not been pleasant; she'd developed a nasty cold over the course of waiting. But now, they'd returned at last, so she stumbled back to the town as fast as she could. Georgiana would be notified of this.

When Maurice finally came to, he was lying in his bed, surrounded by his family; all his family. At first, he couldn't make out what had happened. Dazed, he stared round. "What… how…?"

Clara squeezed his hand, dabbing at her eyes with her handkerchief. "Oh, Maurice, you've had us so worried!"

Maurice struggled to sit up, still confused. "But I don't understand… How did I get here?"

"I brought you," answered Beau, taking his father's other hand. "You got lost in the forest, remember?"

Maurice blinked, rubbed his eyes, and blinked again. "But I was looking…" Then, he threw his arms around his son. "I thought I'd never see you again!"

Henri and Pierre had both been awakened by the ruckus. They came over, rubbing their eyes. "What's going on?" yawned Pierre.

Henri saw Maurice in bed, then launched himself into his arms. "Papa's back! And Beau, too!"

Maurice hugged his boys to him, then turned back to Beau, frowning in confusion. "But what about the beast?"

Henri at Beau with goggle-eyes. "Yeah, Beau; Papa told us you were a prisoner. How did you escape?"

"I didn't escape," replied Beau gently. "She let me go."

Maurice was agog. "That horrible monster?"

"She's different now," Beau insisted. "She's changed."

"What are you talking about?" Pierre crossed his arms, not pleased at being roused in the middle of the night, glad as he was to have his father back. "Beau, where have you been? You had us all worried sick! What were you doing for the last three months?"

"It's a long story," said Beau, setting his satchel on the bed. "It sounds completely crazy, but I was staying in an enchanted castle with a princess who's been turned into a beast."

They all stared at him.

"I have proof," continued Beau, rifling through the bag. "There's a magic mirror—"

The mirror slid out onto Maurice's lap, and along with it, Chip came clattering out. Shaking himself, the little cup looked around. "Hi!"

Clara leaped back, knocking Pierre in the ribs as she did. "Gracious, what is that!?"

"A stowaway," said Beau, smiling in spite of himself.

Henri peered closer, while his mother and Pierre edged back against the far wall. "Is it alive?"

"Of course I am!" said Chip indignantly. Henri jerked back.

"He's under an enchantment," explained Beau.

Maurice picked up the teacup, recognition dawning on him. "Why, hello there, little fella. Didn't think I'd ever see you again."

Chip looked up at Beau with a questioning look. "Beau, why'd you go away? Don't you like us anymore?"

"Of course I do, Chip," Beau assured him. "I only—"

At that moment, there came a knock at the door. By now, it was almost four in the morning, so this was definitely not a casual visit.

Clara went to the door and peered out. With a start, she recognized the lean, wolfish face of the man on the step. "Monsieur D'Arque!"

D'Arque nodded in greeting. "Good evening, Madame. I understand your husband has recently returned from his travels?"

Clara frowned suspiciously. "Yes, but he has been very ill. He cannot see anyone, particularly at this hour." As she spoke, she observed a few other, unknown shadows standing in front of the house. In fact, there was quite a crowd outside by now, many carrying torches, and none of the faces looked very friendly.

Beau came to stand beside his mother. "What's going on? Who is this?"

"I am Monsieur D'Arque," the gentleman informed stoically. "I've come to collect your father."

"Our father?" Beau grew alarmed. "What do you want with him?"

"Oh, don't worry; we'll take good care of him." D'Arque motioned to the crowd behind. Out in the lane stood a large wagon. On its side was painted in large letters, D'Arque Asylum for Loons.

Clara gasped. "My husband isn't crazy!"

"He was raving like a lunatic!" called someone from the crowd. "We all heard him, didn't we?" There were shouts of consent from the rest of the people.

Beau stepped in front of the door. "No! We won't let you do this!"

Hearing the commotion, Maurice stumbled out of bed and came to the door. "Clara, what's happening? What are all these people doing here?"

"Ah, Maurice!" jeered another voice. "Tell us again, old man, just how big was the beast?"

Maurice frowned in confusion. "Uh, well, it was—that is—enormous. I'd say at least eight—no, more like ten feet."

The crowd erupted into raucous laughter. D'Arque gave a nasty smirk. "I'm afraid you can't get much crazier than that."

"That's no reason to take him away!" cried Beau, placing himself in front of his father.

D'Arque raised a bony-fingered hand. Two large men pushed the boy aside, each seizing one of Maurice's arms and dragging him out towards the wagon. Maurice struggled and kicked. "Let go of me! I tell you, I'm telling the truth!"

"Stop!"Clara caught hold of his hand, but the men wrenched it out of his grasp. She rounded on D'Arque. "You can't do this to us! We've done nothing!"

D'Arque merely scowled, turning his back on her.

Beau watched in horror, his mind churning. As he wondered what to do, a soft, gentle voice from his left spoke up. "Poor Beau. It's a shame about your father; truly, it is."

Beau turned. Georgiana stood not far away, Loretta quivering just behind her elbow. The neck of Georgiana's nightdress was pulled slightly lower than normal. Still, as she was the only familiar friend of the lot, Beau ran to her. "You know he's not crazy. Your family has a high standing, right? Surely, you can do something!"

"Why, certainly, I can," said Georgiana, batting her eyes at him. "Of course, it may be a bit of a stretch; I don't really see any other way."

"What is it?" he asked, eager for any solution.

"Well," said Georgiana slowly, "if we were to be married, I suppose we could use my dowry to get your father out of there. I'm sure my father would understand, but he'd only consent if it were done properly." She allowed herself one brief, small smirk.

This was her fatal mistake. Beau took a step back, now seeing her as she truly was. "You did this, didn't you?" he said quietly. "You used my family to get to me!"

Caught red-handed, Georgiana balled her hands into fists, clenching her jaw; she refused to lose whatever she had. "Will you marry me or not? One little word, Beau; that's all it takes."

Beau's answer was firm. "Never."

Georgiana's face flushed, her eyes blazing. "Fine!" she spat, all charm gone. "We could have had something, you and I. I could have given you everything you ever dreamed of! But if this is how you want it, fine. Good luck getting your father out."

Maurice was still grappling with the men trying to throw him into the wagon. Desperately, Beau rushed back inside the house for one last option. Coming back, he shouted, "My father's not crazy and I can prove it!" All eyes turned to him. Holding the enchanted mirror high, Beau cried, "Show me the beast!"

The mirror flashed in the torchlight, then revealed Princess Rosalynn, howling in agony and despair. The crowd gasped, some leaping back. There were screams and cries of disbelief. Georgiana's face went white.

"Is it dangerous?" someone asked at length.

"No, no," Beau reassured them. "She'd never hurt anyone; she's actually really nice. She's under an enchantment, but she's my friend."

"'She'?" Georgiana's eyes were lit with a dangerous light. "If I didn't know better, I'd think you had feelings for this monster." She spat the last word with disgust.

"She's not the monster," said Beau angrily. "You are!"

For a second, Georgiana stood, frozen with rage. Then, she sprang forward, quick as lightning, and snatched the mirror from his hand. "He's as crazy as the old man!" she shrieked, waving the mirror about in fury. "That thing is a menace and a danger to our home! It will make off with our children; it'll come after them in the night! I think the best thing we can do about it is to have it destroyed! I say we kill the beast!"

The crowd broke into wild cheering and hooting. Here was something they enjoyed; a strong, passionate speech, regardless of subject or speaker. All matters concerning "crazy old Maurice" were forgotten; now, there would be a hunt!

"Stop!" Beau begged Georgiana. "I won't let you do this!"

Georgiana threw him a sneer. "Sorry, love; you had your chance." Raising her voice, she added, "If they're not with us, they're against us! We can't let them warn the creature!"

Loud cries of agreement were heard. Inside the house, Henri quietly picked up the little talking teacup and whispered, "Time to go." With the nimbleness of a monkey, he slipped noiselessly through the back door and sought refuge in an unnoticed haystack.

Meanwhile, before they knew what was happening, several large men had surrounded the rest of the family, rounded them up, and herded them towards the cellar. Strong arms pushed at Maurice, Clara, and the boys, driving them down. The door was shut fast and a large beam slid across the entrance.

Once that was out of the way, Georgiana mounted the front steps as a podium. "Listen to me, good people! If we want to rid our village of this monster, we'll need the right tools! Meet at the main road in ten minutes' time with whatever weapons you can carry. Then, we're off to kill the beast!"

Still cheering, the crowd dispersed into the night, heading off to find whatever they could scrounge. Georgiana smiled fiercely at her accomplishment, but Loretta was terrified out of her mind.

"What are you going to do?" she asked, hiding her trembling hands behind her back.

"I'm going to get rid of that beast once and for all!" snapped Georgiana, now making for the road herself. "If you don't want to come, that's fine with me; in fact, it's better if you don't." Storming off, she continued to herself, "I'm going to kill that beast and I'm going to do it myself."

Loretta watched her go, heart thudding rapidly. This wasn't at all how she'd imagined things to go; it had all gotten horribly out of control. But what could she possibly do to try to fix it?

There was a rustling noise as Henri slid out of his hiding spot, his hair full of straw. This was followed by a curious clinking noise by Loretta's ankle. "What's going on?"

Loretta looked down. There was a tiny teacup beside to her foot. She could have sworn it had just spoken. But that was silly; teacups didn't talk.

She did a double-take when the cup actually looked up at her with wide eyes. "Where did Beau go?" it asked, plainly and clearly.

"He got locked in the cellar," Loretta told it, still surprised.

"We have to get them out," announced Henri emphatically. "Come on!" He hurried over to the cellar door. Loretta and the teacup looked at each other; then the cup gave something like a shrug and bounced after Henri. Still scratching her head, Loretta followed it.

The beam blocking the door was too heavy for Loretta and Henri to lift by themselves, and Chip wasn't much more help. "We need to find something to get this off," he said with a frown. He looked at the two humans. "Do you know where to find anything?"

Loretta looked around, as if something useful might be hanging from a proverbial tree. To their right, she happened to glance at the cart, on which Maurice's Great Invention still sat, untouched all through the winter. Curiously, she inspected this anomaly, pulling back the tarp that covered it. Right at the forefront of the Great Invention protruded a large axe.

Henri grinned. "That'll work."