In the shady little clearing where Belle was reading, all was quiet. In fact, all was almost too quiet, which was probably the only reason she even noticed when the bushes just to her left rustled faintly. As she lowered her book to her lap, a pair of deer emerged from the foliage, so close that if she stretched out a hand, she could almost touch them. The animals hesitated when they saw Belle sitting there, and the three of them all seemed to hold their breath for one long moment as they sized each other up. Finally, the doe appeared to decide that Belle posed no threat, and it stepped gracefully out of the brush. The fawn, probably only weeks old judging by its dappled hide and gangly limbs, stuck close to its mother as it followed her into the clearing. Book temporarily forgotten, Belle smiled as she watched the two nibble on some grass. She reached into the basket resting next to her to see if she had some bread, or fruit, or something that she could share with them, but was surprised when her search came up empty-handed.
And as if on cue, a long, loud growl rumbled from deep within her stomach. The deer looked up in alarm.
"Oh no, please don't, it's only - " Belle began, but it was too late. In one quick leap, the animals soared over the bushes and were gone.
Belle sighed and placed a hand upon her midsection. Then she looked up through the canopy of leaves at the sun making its way slowly westward. What were the odds that Adam and her father had concluded their business by now? It had to be nearly time for supper.
Apparently hers weren't the only thoughts that were on supper, because Philippe wandered over from where he had been grazing on the other side of the clearing, lowered his head, and sniffed hopefully at the basket. "Sorry, Philippe," said Belle. "We're all out of snacks." His face fell, and she smiled sympathetically. "Don't worry. We'll go home soon." Philippe responded with a disgruntled sort of snort before marching away to investigate some berries that were growing on a nearby bush, while Belle returned to her book and tried to ignore her still-gurgling stomach. But it wasn't long before she was interrupted again by a whinny of distress.
"Philippe?" she said, looking up. "What's - oh. Oh, Philippe. Come here, you silly horse," she said, shaking her head and getting to her feet so that she could grab the basket, which had somehow become stuck on the end of Philippe's muzzle. "I told you it was empty," she chided him as she carefully separated the basket from his bridle. But the crestfallen look on Philippe's face was so pitiful that she felt herself relenting. "I know you're hungry. I'm sorry for keeping you out here for so long. Let's go home and get you fed."
Belle gathered up their things, lifted herself onto Philippe's back, and together the two of them made their way through the forest. The promise of food seemed to spur Philippe on, and in no time at all, they found themselves crossing the open fields that surrounded the cottage. And as the cottage came into view, so did the large, ornate carriage that was waiting in front of it. It was the very same carriage that had been waiting outside the tavern on Christmas morning, Belle realized, with a combination of dismay and relief that left her feeling slightly nauseous. Philippe looked back when he felt Belle pull the reins up short, grunted, and inclined his head to urge her onward.
"Maybe we should wait just a few more minutes," she said, sliding slowly from the saddle.
Philippe looked back toward the cottage, then back at Belle, then tugged at the reins again.
"It's only until he leaves. I'm sure it won't be much longer."
The strain in her voice must have been more evident than she realized, because Philippe stepped in and bumped her shoulder gently with his forehead.
"I'd...just rather not see him, that's all."
Philippe dipped his muzzle, and looked up at her through the wisps of his mane with such blatant skepticism that she couldn't help but laugh just a little.
"All right, fine," she groaned, dropping the reins and reaching up to scratch his ears. "Maybe I do want to see him. But that's exactly why I can't."
Philippe whickered softly, and cocked his head to the side.
"Don't you see, Philippe? There's no future for me with him. At least, none that I can consider in good conscience. I have to let him go." She looked off toward the house and sighed. "And if I see him, if I have to look him in the eyes and say goodbye to him...I'm afraid that I won't be able to do it. It's better this way - for both of us."
Philippe huffed and rolled his eyes. Then his ears suddenly flicked up, his tail swished, and, before Belle could stop him, he had grabbed the book out of her basket and taken off for the house.
"Hey - what! Philippe!" Belle exclaimed, chasing after him. "Come back here! That's Maman's copy of Candide!" But Philippe was already well out of earshot, or else he was ignoring her, so Belle had no choice but to follow - albeit it at a markedly slower pace. By the time she finally caught up to him at the base of the stairs, she was gasping for air and nursing a sharp stitch in her side.
"What's gotten into you?" she demanded breathlessly, as she took the book from Philippe's mouth and checked to make sure that his teeth hadn't left any permanent marks in the cover.
"Are you Belle?" a voice called out, causing her to nearly drop the book. "Belle Dupont?" Belle whirled to see an unfamiliar young man scrambling down from the driver's seat of the carriage. His uniform was slightly rumpled, and there were peculiar red marks, almost like a tufted pattern, running down one side of his face. "I'm sorry," he apologized, rubbing at his eyes. "I didn't mean to startle you."
"You didn't," Belle lied.
"I'm Mathieu, Prince Édouard's coachman." He held out a hand, which Belle shook politely.
"Is Prince Édouard here too?" she asked, turning back to the house in surprise. His letter hadn't mentioned anything about him coming along personally for the visit.
"What? Oh, no," said Mathieu. "He had matters to attend to back at the castle. But his son and advisers are inside with your father."
"I see. Well if they're still here, perhaps I should come back later. I'd hate to interrupt anything important."
"Not to worry," Mathieu assured her earnestly. "They asked me to wait out here for that very reason. I was told to escort you inside as soon as you returned."
"You were?" said Belle, pretending not to notice the scrawny elbow that Mathieu was gallantly offering to her.
"Yes, and it's a lucky thing your horse made so much noise when you came back." Mathieu's voice dropped to just above a whisper. "I fell asleep waiting for you, right there in my seat. It's the heat, you see. It always makes me a little sleepy. And I probably would have slept right through your return if you hadn't made such a racket." His face suddenly grew nervous. "You won't say anything to them, will you? I only started this job two weeks ago."
"Of course not," Belle said gently. "But there's really no need to escort me. I know the way. I'll go in right after I tend to my horse, I promise."
"I can do that for you! I brought some extra carrots along for our horses - we've got plenty to share."
"Oh...well...that's very kind of you," Belle faltered, painfully aware that she was running out of reasons to stall. "But I really don't want to trouble you."
"No trouble at all," said Mathieu, sticking his elbow out again.
Philippe shuffled his back hooves, and sent Belle stumbling toward the coachman with a not-so-gentle shove of his rump. "Oof! Traitor," she muttered under her breath, before reluctantly accepting Mathieu's arm. Philippe simply looked back at her with wide-eyed innocence.
Mathieu knocked once when they reached the door, but he didn't wait for a reply before pushing it open. "Mademoiselle Dupont is here," he announced to the company at large. Then he slipped back outside, leaving Belle standing alone in the foyer.
The four men who had been conversing around the kitchen table fell silent at once. Then they rose in perfect, almost practiced unison. Belle's father stood the closest to the door, and he smiled warmly as she stepped into the room. He was flanked by two well dressed, vaguely familiar looking gentlemen. To his left was a heavy-set man who was not much taller than him, with a thin mustache and perfectly groomed hair. To his right was a tall, thin man with heavy-lidded eyes and a long nose. But it was the man standing between these two strangers, on the other side of the table, who seemed to exert an almost magnetic pull on Belle's gaze.
The first thing she noticed was that he had shaved. The scruffy, uneven beard, which she had come to find cute in its own way, was gone. And the long, straight nose, high cheekbones, and strong jaw that had been hiding beneath it all that time could have been sculpted by Michelangelo himself. Adam's reddish-gold hair, which was tied back neatly at the nape of his neck, gleamed even in the muted light of the room. In place of the ill-fitting, mismatched, hand-me-down clothes she had once helped him to mend, he wore a pair of polished leather boots and a fine blue suit that seemed deliberately tailored to accentuate his broad shoulders. He may not have been wearing a crown, but there was no mistaking him for anything other than a prince.
"I'm sorry, Papa," Belle said, finally wrenching her eyes from Adam's and turning toward the stairs. "I didn't mean to interrupt your meeting. You can carry on with your business; I'll just be upstairs."
"Nonsense, my dear," said her father. "There's no need to hide on our account. Besides, we were just finishing up our business."
"He's right," Adam said loudly, stepping around the table. "You haven't interrupted anything."
"And even if you had," said the tall, skinny man, "I do not believe I would be alone in saying that it would have been a welcome interruption." He smiled kindly.
"Well...thank you. Monsieur...euh...," Belle trailed off, realizing she did not know the man's name.
"Ah! Where are my manners?" Maurice chuckled, giving his head a little shake. "Gentlemen, may I introduce you to my daughter, Belle?"
The heavy set man immediately stepped forward, took her hand in both of his, and shook it solemnly. "A pleasure, Mademoiselle. I am Cogsworth, head of Prince Édouard's household. And this," he said with a long-suffering sigh, as his companion eagerly elbowed him out of the way, "is Lumière."
"Enchanté, cherie," Lumière murmured, snatching her hand from Cogsworth's grasp and sinking into a deep bow as he kissed it. Adam coughed loudly as Lumière's lips lingered on the back of her hand for a few seconds longer than was strictly polite, and she thought she saw Lumière smirk as he straightened.
"Likewise, Monsieur," Belle said evenly. "And what is it that you do in Prince Édouard's household?"
"As little as he can get away with," Cogsworth muttered.
"I am Prince Édouard's maître d'," Lumière said pleasantly, as though he had not heard this jibe. "I see to the comfort of his guests, advise him on various matters, and act as his emissary in certain business dealings, such as this one."
"And I can see why!" Maurice interjected. "Monsieur Lumière here is quite the canny negotiator," he confided to Belle.
"Do not sell yourself short, mon ami!" Lumiere laughed, wagging a playful finger at Maurice. "Your father drove a very hard bargain. But I dare say it will be worth every denier when those magnificent machines are delivered!"
"Ah, well," said Maurice, waving a hand modestly.
"And speaking of your machines," said Lumière, draping an arm around Maurice's shoulders. "I wonder if you would be willing to indulge my curiosity with a brief demonstration before we take our leave? If it is not too much of an imposition, of course."
A smile as bright as the sun lit up Maurice's face. "Well...I...of course! It would be no imposition at all!"
"You are certain?" Lumière asked solicitously.
"Of course, of course! In fact, I could show it to you right now if you like?"
"There is no time like the present! Isn't that right Cogsworth?"
Cogsworth, who was busy consulting a pocket watch, did not even bother to look up as his name was spoken. "Yes, yes," he muttered distractedly. "No time at all."
"My workshop is just outside," said Maurice, positively beaming at Lumière as he guided him toward the door. "If you'll just come this way..."
"Cogsworth," said Lumière, stopping to look over his shoulder at his companion, who had not moved so much as a muscle to follow. "Aren't you coming with us?"
"No, no, that's quite all right. You two go ahead and I'll just wait h - aaha!" There was a cry of indignation as Lumière took hold of Cogsworth's elbow and all but hauled him across the room.
"Come now, Cogsworth, do not be such a pisse-froid!" Lumière said cheerfully. "How often does one get the opportunity to witness technological progress up close? I would never forgive myself if I allowed you to miss this!" He pulled the door shut behind them with a flourish, but not before turning to wink rather brazenly at Adam.
Belle finally risked another glance at Adam, who swallowed back a laugh the moment he noticed her looking at him. "Er...wine?" he asked, instantly adopting a more serious expression. He lifted the half-empty bottle from the table and gestured in her direction with it. "It's quite good."
"No, thank you," Belle replied in a clipped voice. Then, immediately thinking better of it: "Actually, yes." Her nerves were frayed as it was, and she hadn't even been alone with him for a full minute.
Adam reached for an empty glass on the table, and Belle's eyes strayed to the fingers of his left hand as he poured the wine. She wasn't sure whether she should have been more exasperated with herself for looking, or for the little flutter of hope that stirred in her chest when she saw, to her surprise, that there was no ring there. It doesn't mean anything, she reminded herself. Adam's fingertips brushed hers as he passed the glass to her, and she pulled her hand back jerkily, feigning a cough to cover the clumsy movement.
"Are you all right?" he asked, taking a step toward her. His eyes, so achingly familiar even where nothing else was, brimmed with concern, and for a moment the deep sense of loneliness that she had been unable to shake since his departure seemed to ease just a little, like a thick fog finally starting to lift.
Don't, she thought, forcing herself to look away even though she wanted nothing more than to keep looking. There was no sense in making things harder than they had to be. "I'm fine," she muttered, turning abruptly before Adam could come any closer. "Thank you for the wine."
Adam tried not to let his disappointment show on his face as he watched Belle retreat to the sitting area near the fireplace - not that it would have mattered much if he had let it show, since Belle seemed to be taking pains to avoid looking at him anyway. For that second or two that their eyes had met, though, he thought he had seen a flash of...something. He wasn't exactly sure what it had been, but for that brief moment, it had made him feel hopeful.
That hope evaporated quickly, though, as he stood at the table refilling his own wine glass. He took his time, as much to give Belle some space as to give himself a chance to collect his thoughts. Finally, he marshaled his courage and crossed the room to sink carefully into the chair next to her - the same creaky wooden rocker with the faded red cushion that he had sat in so many times as he had listened to her read aloud from Shakespeare, or Malory, or Molière. He could still remember what they had been reading the last time they had sat like this, though the unfinished copy of Robinson Crusoe was nowhere to be seen. Had Belle finished it without him, or had she given up on it? Both possibilities made him feel inexplicably sad.
He stole a look at her out of the corner of his eye. She sat with her body turned slightly away from his, her legs crossed at the knee. Her hands were folded loosely in her lap, but Adam could tell from the uncharacteristically rigid set of her shoulders that she was far from relaxed. His gaze slid to the floor, and he raised his free hand to the back of his neck, his fingers digging unconsciously into the flesh at the nape. The silence that hung between them stretched on, until it seemed to reach into every corner of the room. What do I do now? he wondered. And then, like magic, he practically heard Lumière's voice whispering in his ear: Say something to her.
"So, erm...you look well." Adam only just managed to stop his palm from rushing up to meet his face. Try not to lay the flattery on too thick, Romeo.
But to his surprise, this feeble attempt at breaking the ice actually managed to work - sort of. "I am. Well," Belle replied stiffly.
"Well...good. I'm glad. I worried. Wondered! I wondered." He tugged, a little desperately, at his cravat. Mon Dieu, I told Cogsworth he was tying this too tightly. "I didn't know.Since you, er, never answered any of my letters..."
"I never read any of your letters."
"Oh," Adam said dumbly, his hand falling to his lap, the too-tight neckband instantly forgotten. "Not...not any of them? Not even one?"
Belle closed her eyes and exhaled slowly through her nose, and for a moment Adam thought that that was all the answer he was going to get. And then, almost wearily, she said, "Why are you here, Adam?"
It was a simple question - a reasonable one, even, given the circumstances - but something about it left Adam feeling vaguely chagrined, and it wasn't until he repeated the question to himself in his head that it occurred to him why: She called me Adam. She had addressed him by name plenty of times before, of course, but never by his real name. And he'd never given the matter much thought before now, but if he had, he supposed he would have expected her to use his real name with the same affection and familiarity with which she'd used his assumed one.
But there was nothing affectionate or familiar about the way she spoke to him now. Instead, she addressed him in the same guarded and impersonal tones that one might use to greet a distant acquaintance. And of all the receptions Adam had prepared himself for - shouting, tears, even the silent treatment - he had not been prepared for that. In fact, it probably would have been easier to stomach if she had spoken his name in anger, he thought - at least it would have proven that she still felt something for him.
"It's - it's like my father's letter said," he replied. "I assume you read that one?" When Belle did not return his weak attempt at a smile, he cleared his throat and looked away. "I'm here to negotiate a contract for your father's wood-chopping machine."
"Which you've done, by the sound of it," said Belle.
"Well...yes..."
"So then why are you here?"
"I had to talk to you," Adam blurted, after a split-second's hesitation.
"I'm not sure that we have anything to talk about," said Belle, still looking at her lap.
He leaned over and reached for her shoulder before stopping himself and dropping his hand awkwardly onto the arm of her chair instead. "Come on, Belle. When has that ever been the case? We've always been able to talk."
"You really want to talk?" she said, finally turning to face him with a stony expression. "All right. Let's talk. Why don't we start with the fact that you sat here in my home, almost every day for more than three months, and lied to my face over and over again?"
"I - wait - when did I lie to your face?" Adam stammered, reaching once more for his cravat.
"Did you forget already, Étienne? Or does lying just come so easily to you that you're not even aware of when you're doing it?"
"Oh. Right. Well...well, all right. I lied about my name," said Adam. "But the rest wasn't so much a lie as just...I left certain things out."
Belle crossed her arms tightly over her chest. "A lie by omission is still a lie," she insisted. "You let me believe that you were someone you weren't. I actually thought...I thought...well, it doesn't matter what I thought anymore," she said, and the last words caught audibly in her throat in a way that made Adam's own throat tighten.
"It matters to me. In fact, what you think matters more to me than what anyone else thinks." He plowed a hand into his hair, forgetting that it had been tied back and pulling it free of its ribbon in the process. "Belle, I'm sorry that I didn't tell you who I was - who I am. And I'm sorry - so sorry - that you had to find out the way you did. I should have told you myself, long before it came to that. I wanted to. I really did. But I was...afraid. And I let my fear get the better of me."
"What were you afraid of? That I would tell someone? That I would...turn you in to your father somehow?"
"Not...not exactly, no."
Belle frowned, looking rather more impatient than he was accustomed to seeing her. "Then what?"
As Adam twisted the loose ribbon around his fingers, he was surprised to realize that his hands were shaking slightly. "I was afraid that if you knew the truth, you might feel differently about me."
"Because you're a prince?"
"Because I'm a terrible person."
Belle sighed. "I don't think you're a terrible person, Adam. Despite everything."
"Then you'd be the first." The ribbon slipped from his grip and fluttered to the floor, but he made only a half-hearted attempt to catch it. "The thing is, Belle, all my life, people have wanted to be my friend because of who I am. Because they believed that there was something to be gained by being close to me. But secretly, I don't think any of them ever really liked me. And I didn't give them much reason to. I was...shallow. And self-centered, and irresponsible, and every other thing that they called me behind my back. But no one ever dared to say any of it to my face. To my face, they were all phony smiles and empty flattery." Adam smiled bitterly. "And I knew it, but I played along anyway, because I stood to gain from it too. I thought that as long as everyone got what they wanted in the end, how they got it didn't really matter."
"That sounds like an incredibly lonely way to live," Belle observed quietly.
"It was. But as strange as it may sound, I never even realized how lonely I was. Not until I met you."
"Me?"
Adam nodded. "You didn't know anything about my...my background, but you liked me anyway. Well, maybe not at first," he conceded. "But even then, you were honest about it. You never tried to hide the fact that you despised me. And then, over time, something changed. You started being kind to me. You welcomed me into your home and shared your life with me. We became friends. And you were the first person who ever tried to be my friend without thinking about what was in it for you. You were the first person to see something good in me that had nothing to do with what you could get out of me."
Adam looked down and swallowed hard. "And I suppose I was afraid that if you knew who I really was, and what I had done, you wouldn't want anything to do with me anymore."
The utter silence that met his confession only seemed to confirm this very fear. He finally chanced a look at Belle, but she was looking down at her lap again, and so he was unable to read anything from her face. "Do you hate me now?"
It seemed like an eternity passed before Belle replied, and when she did, her voice was so soft that Adam nearly missed her answer: "No."
"There was a time when I wanted to hate you," she admitted. "In the days after you left, when I was trying to understand what had happened and it seemed like the entire village knew more than I did. But even then, I couldn't. To tell you the truth, I always knew that there was something you weren't telling me. Never in my wildest dreams did I imagine it was anything like this," she added, waving a hand at him with a sound that wasn't quite a laugh. "But I always hoped that if I was patient, you would tell me one day, when you were ready."
"I was ready," said Adam. "For whatever it's worth, I was ready to tell you. I was going to tell you."
"When?"
"Do you remember that night at Gaston's party, when I asked you to come outside with me to talk?" Belle nodded. "Right. Well, I was going to tell you then. I was going to tell you everything. But then your father got hurt, and...and it just didn't seem fair to burden you with all of that when he needed you. So then I decided I'd put it off until the next morning, after things had a chance to settle down. But...well..." He shrugged helplessly. "My father found me first."
"Well that's convenient," Belle muttered, but she sounded significantly less angry than she had earlier.
"It's true," said Adam. "And I promise to only tell you the truth - the whole truth - from here on out. No more secrets."
Belle smiled sadly. "'From here on out.' You say that as if this isn't goodbye."
Adam froze. Lumière had told him to wait for the right moment before bringing up the other reason for his visit. Was that moment now? Or was it too soon? He wasn't exactly sure. But he did know that he wasn't likely to get a better opening than that. His heart began to launch itself in an erratic rhythm against his ribs as he quickly came to a decision. "Well," he said, wiping his palms, which had suddenly become very sweaty, on the legs of his trousers, "what if it didn't have to be?"
Belle eyed him warily. "What do you mean?"
"Belle, I didn't come here only to negotiate the contract for your father's machine." He took a deep breath, and then dove in. "I also asked for his permission to court you."
She opened her mouth as though to say something, but all that came out was a short puff of breath, and it struck Adam that, for the first time since that morning their worlds had literally collided outside the tavern, she was at a loss for words. She closed her mouth and searched his face in disbelief before trying again. "You - you did what?" she asked weakly.
"I asked him for permission to court you. Formally."
"...and what did he say?"
"He said that I was asking for permission from the wrong person," said Adam, with a small, somewhat nervous smile.
Belle's eyes crinkled slightly at the corners. "I see. And what about your father? What would he say if he knew you were here right now trying to woo some poor farm girl?"
Adam grimaced. "Probably something to the effect that it's only taken me twenty-one years to learn to do as I'm told."
"Do as you're - as you're told?"
"The courting thing," said Adam. "It was his idea, actually."
Belle gaped at him. "This was your father's idea? You mean the same man who's been trying to ruin your life all this time is now trying to...to play Cupid for you?"
"Well...yes? More or less. I'll tell you the whole story one day, if you want to hear it. But suffice to say, I, er, may have been a bit too quick to judge him. It seems I've been doing a lot of that recently." Adam smiled crookedly. "But yes, he's given me his full blessing to court you. And...and to marry you, if all goes well," he added in a rush.
"I see," Belle said slowly, her brow creased as though she were trying to work out the solution to an elaborate riddle. "And what about your fiancée?"
Now it was Adam's turn to gape. "My what?"
"Your fiancée," Belle repeated, lifting her chin. "The girl you were going to marry? Just before you ran away?"
"Oh." Adam resisted the impulse to laugh as relief coursed through him. "You mean Elisabeth?" Belle flinched at the mention of Elisabeth's name, but nodded for him to continue. "She's not my fiancée. Well, not anymore, anyway. She married my cousin months ago. And by all accounts," he added, with a hint of wonder, "they're actually both quite happy with how things turned out."
"And are you? Happy, I mean? You no longer have any feelings for her?"
"For Elisabeth? No. She's - " Adam caught himself before he could complete that thought, took a breath, and then started over. "She's a perfectly nice girl, but I could never fathom the idea spending the rest of my life with her."
"Then why did you agree to marry her?"
"I didn't," Adam said simply. "The engagement was arranged by our parents when we were young; neither of us ever had a say in the matter. I never actually wanted to marry her. And I certainly never loved her, not like I love you."
Belle's eyes widened. "You love me?"
A strangled sounding laugh escaped Adam's throat. "Do you honestly think I'd be here right now, begging for your forgiveness - and making a fool of myself in the process, I might add - if I didn't? Do you think I've been writing to you every week for the past five months just to give the messengers something to do?"
"Oh," Belle said softly.
They sat side by side as another long silence settled over them, but this time the silence wasn't an uncomfortable one. It was peaceful and companionable and Adam couldn't help feeling just a little bit guilty when he finally broke it. "I was planning to ask you to come to Prussia with me, you know," he said in a low voice. "Once I told you everything. And if you couldn't, I was ready to learn to make horseshoes, or...or herd goats...so that I could stay with you."
Belle cast a sidelong glance at him, and a dimple quivered in the cheek that was turned to him. "You were going to herd goats?"
Adam shrugged sheepishly in response. "I still will, if that's what you want."
Belle laughed softly and looked at the floor. But her expression quickly grew serious again. "I don't know if he told you, but Papa and I are planning to move to Paris. We leave in two weeks."
Adam reached out to gently take both of her hands in his. The fact that she didn't pull them away gave him the courage to say what he said next: "Please don't go to Paris."
"I can't stay here," Belle whispered, almost apologetically. "Not even for you."
"I'm not asking you to," Adam assured her.
"Then what are you asking?"
"I'm asking you to consider a third possibility."
"And what is the third possibility?"
"There's this village near the - near my home," said Adam. "At the base of the mountain. Villeneuve. It's not much bigger than Molyneaux, but I think you'd find it much more...welcoming."
"Another little town?" Belle's voice was heavy with doubt. "But what would we do there?"
"I've thought about that. And I think I have an answer. There's an old man who lives in the village, a family friend actually. He's an historian who used to work for my grandfather. His mind's still as sharp as yours or mine, but he told me recently that he's been thinking of laying down his quill because his arthritis makes it too painful for him to write. So I asked whether he'd consider taking on an assistant. Someone who can do the writing part for him. And I thought that...maybe..." He trailed off, looking meaningfully at Belle.
"You think that I could do it?"
"I know that you could. And I think you'd get on quite well with him. He was a grey musketeer in his younger days, and he must have hundreds of stories about his time in the company. Though everyone in the village has heard most of his stories several times over by now, so I'm sure he'd be glad for a fresh audience. And when I told him that you can read and write not only in French but in English as well, he seemed quite eager to meet you."
"He wasn't put off by the idea of hiring a woman to assist him?" Belle asked in surprise.
"Not at all. Like I said, I think you'll find Villeneuve a bit more welcoming than Molyneaux. Since the village is so close to the castle, the residents are used to all sorts passing through. Scientists, scholars, dignitaries... The idea of a woman - or anyone, really - who reads and writes isn't likely to ruffle many feathers. You might even find a few kindred spirits among the townspeople themselves."
Belle's eyes narrowed in thought as she tucked a strand of hair behind her ear. "And what about Papa?"
"I've thought about that too," Adam said excitedly. "And I recently took a trip into the village to examine some of the vacant homes. There is one that is a little smaller than this place," he said, allowing his gaze to sweep the room around them. "And it does need some repairs. But it has two bedrooms, and a root cellar that's twice the size of your father's current workshop. I don't think it would take much to make the place livable and to set up a work space in the cellar. With some help, I think I could even have it ready for you to move in by the time his inventors' fair ends...or...or sooner..." he faltered, when Belle raised a brow at this. "Would that not be soon enough?"
"No, no," Belle said with a bemused shake of her head. "That all sounds wonderful, really. It's just...you seem to have put a lot of thought into this."
"Well, I just thought that if you made your home in Villeneuve - or somewhere else close by - then it might make a courtship much more feasible. But we could make it work no matter what you decide to do," he was quick to add. "If you wanted to, that is."
"And how would it even work? A courtship I mean. Hypothetically speaking."
"Hypothetically speaking," said Adam, mindful to match her cautious tone with his own, "we'd spend time together getting to know each other. Under strict supervision, of course." He made a face, and he thought he saw the corners of Belle's mouth twitch as he did so. "I could call on you at your home, or you could visit at the castle. We have a gallery that's almost as nice as the one at Versailles, and beautiful gardens - and did I mention there's a library?"
Belle's eyes brightened with excitement as she scooted to the edge of her chair. "You have a library?"
"With books!" Adam exclaimed.
The dimples he had glimpsed earlier flashed again. "How many books?"
"More books than you could ever read in a lifetime."
That earned a real grin from her, finally. "Oh, I don't know about that," she said, leaning back in her seat. "I can read awfully fast."
Adam smiled back. "We might attend events together," he went on. "Dinner parties, balls, that sort of thing. They're usually quite boring to be honest, but I imagine they would be much less so with you there. I've been thinking about volunteering more of my time in the village, if you were inclined to join me there. And if both of our fathers consented to it, I might even be able to bring you along with me when I travel."
Belle sat up again. "Travel to where?"
"Well, I thought we might see Paris, for starters. My father visits quite frequently on various business, but he's been talking about handing some of those responsibilities over to me. It wouldn't be all fun and frivolity, but we could certainly make time for some of that. In fact, with your newfound card skills, I think the two of us could clean up quite nicely at some of my old haunts," he teased.
"You wouldn't!" Belle exclaimed with a laugh.
"No," said Adam, sighing dramatically. "For one thing, it would be far too difficult to sneak both of us past the dozen chaperones that my father would be sure to send with us. But there are a few people in Paris who I would like to be able to introduce you to. And most of them are even respectable. And speaking of introducing you," he said, snapping his fingers, "there's a wedding in Corona in early September that we've both been invited to attend."
"Both of us?"
"Both of us. In fact, the groom specifically asked that I bring you."
"He did? Do I know him?"
"Not to my knowledge. But he knows of you," Adam said vaguely.
"I see. And who is the groom, exactly?"
"His name is Eugene Fitzherbert. He's marrying the king's daughter, Princess Rapunzel. It's the biggest event their kingdom's seen in years, apparently. The reception is going to have a performance by a world-famous concert pianist, and ice sculptures, and ten-thousand floating lanterns. And from what I understand, their witnesses are going to be a horse and a frog."
Belle blinked. "A...a horse and a frog?"
"It's possible I heard that part wrong...," Adam mused. "But either way, it sounds like quite a party, no?"
"It does. And Prince Eugene really wants me there?"
"It's just Eugene, for now. And yes, he was actually pretty insistent that I bring you. Just...do me a favor, and don't let your guard down around him. Especially if he starts making faces at you."
"Making faces at me...?" Belle asked, with a puzzled frown.
"Never mind," said Adam.
"And your father really approves of all of this?"
"He really does," Adam assured her. "All of it. Although he'd rather not make anything official until he's had a chance to meet you himself."
"Well then I suppose the only question I have left is, when can I meet him?"
It took a few seconds for Belle's words to sink in. But when they did, Adam bolted suddenly to his feet, taking Belle with him. "Do you mean ...?"
Belle nodded, eyes shining happily. With a shout of joy, Adam reached out, grabbed Belle by the waist, and lifted her into the air. She laughed and clung to his shoulders as he spun her around the room, making them both dizzy. But when he set her on her feet and leaned in for a kiss, she stopped him, pressing a single finger to his lips.
"Just to be clear," she said, "I'm not agreeing to marry you. Not yet, anyway. I'd like to take some time to get used to all of this before we decide to make that kind of commitment."
"I expected as much," Adam admitted, straightening his back without releasing his hold on Belle's waist. "And I agree. This is new for both of us. We should give ourselves some time to get...reacquainted...before we take things further."
"Then we have an understanding?" said Belle.
"We have an understanding," said Adam. "Now can I kiss you?"
Belle laughed. "Is that even allowed?"
"What do you mean? Why wouldn't it be?"
"Well doesn't a courtship have to abide by certain rules about that sort of thing? I mean, if we have to have chaperones whenever we're together, I assume their job is to make sure that...certain things...don't happen," she said, blushing.
Adam laughed in surprise. "I...don't know," he admitted. "I've never actually courted anyone before. Not formally."
Belle smiled, her cheeks still pink. "Me neither."
"I'm willing to plead ignorance if you are," he suggested slyly.
And that plan would have to suffice, because the next thing he knew, Belle was up on her toes, and kissing him with unabashed enthusiasm that left him feeling slightly lightheaded. Actually - it was more than slightly lightheaded - in fact, he was on the verge of passing out, he realized with a trace of panic. Either Belle was an even better kisser than he remembered, or...
"Just give me a moment," he gasped, pulling away as Belle squeaked in protest. He clawed at his cravat, yanking it loose in a series of rough motions and tossing it carelessly over the arm of his chair. "That thing has been choking the life out of me all day," he complained, taking a grateful gulp of air.
Belle giggled. "I thought you looked dashing in it."
Adam merely rolled his eyes and pulled her back into his arms, far more interested in picking up where they had left off than in debating fashion. And Belle seemed only too happy to oblige. She wound her arms around his neck and pressed herself close to him. He slid a hand down the curve of her back, eliciting a shiver despite the balmy May air.
Neither one of them heard the click as the doorknob suddenly turned, but the subsequent smash of the door against the wall caused them to jump abruptly apart. They turned to see Maurice, Lumière, and Cogsworth lying in a heap in front of the threshold.
"As I was saying," Cogsworth said loudly, as the three of them scrambled to their feet, "I think that steam power is really about to catch on. In a few years, we'll be seeing it everywhere. Wouldn't you agree Maurice?"
"What? Oh, er, yes, yes." Maurice nodded his head in vigorous agreement as he brushed off his trousers. "Steam power. Yes, absolutely. Terribly useful, steam."
Adam cringed as the three men finally turned toward him and Belle. Lumière raised a brow as he took in Adam's somewhat disheveled appearance. "Speaking of steam," he said, clearing his throat in amusement. "I trust the two of you had a good talk?"
Gah. I'm really, really sorry this chapter took so long. The 9-to-5 has been kicking my ass for the past few months. Thanks for being patient with me.
Soooo this is technically the last chapter of this story (although I will be posting an epilogue, hopefully before the next millennium, and possibly an extra chapter with Eugene). I want to thank everyone who has taken the time to read, review, follow, and/or favorite this story. The amount of feedback it's received is so far beyond anything I expected when I started writing it. I'm so grateful to you for your support and encouragement, and so happy to know that you've enjoyed the ride as much as I have. You guys are the best, truly.
I also want to thank TrudiRose, who was kind enough to beta every chapter before I posted. This story was vastly improved by her advice, as was my writing in general. She is a boss (and also just a super nice person).
And last (but definitely not least), thank you to the folks at Bittersweet & Strange for letting me bounce my weird ideas off of them, and to enchantedxrose on Tumblr for making an absolutely beautiful photo collage for this story (her Beauty and the Beast blog is pretty awesome too).
Be excellent to each other. And party on, dudes. :)