Chapter Twenty-Eight
May 1st, 1759
Maurice pushed open the door, walked into the room, and immediately tripped over a large pile of clothes, pillows, and blankets. He groaned and picked himself up off the ground. Belle had an awful habit of throwing every single thing she owned onto the floor after she had finished using it. Maurice gathered up every item of clothing he could find and placed it neatly into a little basket sitting by the door, making a mental note to ask Belle to do the washing tomorrow. He sloppily remade her bed before he turned around to inspect the bookcase.
Belle hadn't touched any of her old books in months. She was committed to changing herself for Alain. The whole thing made Maurice sick to his stomach. It was obvious that Belle had no interest in science or any of the other things Alain wanted her to be interested in. Couples should be supportive of each other's interests, and neither partner should have to change in order to please the other one. He and Sofia had completely different interests, yet they were both incredibly supportive of each other's hobbies. Sofia had even chosen to become the main breadwinner of the family so that Maurice could spend more time with his inventions. In turn, he had tried to do as much housework as possible so that she could rest when she was at home. He wanted more than anything to tell Belle this, but he was confident that his daughter was intelligent enough to eventually come to this conclusion on her own.
His eyes fell on an aged red book sitting in the middle of the bottom shelf. It was the same one that he had bought his mother for Christmas when he was fifteen. It was the first book he had ever read to Belle. He grasped it in his hand, walked downstairs, and was about to settle down on the settee when he heard a knock at the door. Maurice placed the book down and stared over at the door in confusion. Who on could be visiting him at this hour? Had Belle forgotten her key? Nothing could prepare him for the shock he got when he saw who was standing on the doorstep.
"Michel!" Maurice exclaimed, unable to hide the look of surprise on his face. "What are you doing here?"
"The last time we saw each other, you told me I could come and visit you anytime I wanted. Well, here I am," said Michel, grinning. "I like your moustache by the way."
"This is such a surprise," murmured Maurice. "I haven't seen you in fifteen years. Come in, come in! We've got a lot of catching up to do."
"I've been busy," said Michel sheepishly as he stepped inside. "I kept meaning to come and see you, Maurice, I really did. I just never found the time."
"I have no right to complain," Maurice replied. "I'm at fault as well. I could have made more of an effort to come and see you. Can I offer you a drink? All we have is milk, I'm afraid."
"Milk is fine," Michel answered as he followed Maurice into the kitchen. "It's okay; I don't blame you for not coming to visit. You're a father. You've got responsibilities."
"That makes it even worse! I didn't give Belle the chance to get to know her uncle," said Maurice, sighing regretfully. "Have you had dinner? Would you like some bread and cheese?"
"No, thank you. I had dinner at the inn," replied Michel, sitting down at the kitchen table. "How is little Belle?"
"She's not so little anymore," Maurice chuckled as he poured the contents of a bottle of goat's milk into a glass. "She is out with her petit copain right now, but she will be back soon. She should have been home an hour ago, actually"
"Ah, she has a gentleman friend?" Michel asked, grinning.
"She certainly does," Maurice mumbled, a slight scowl crossing his face.
"You don't sound too happy about it," Michel observed.
"He's a nice, intelligent, well-mannered young man, but he's just not the right man for my Belle."
"I take it you're not in a hurry to become a grandfather."
"I would like Belle to get married and give me a few grandchildren someday, but not anytime soon. She's still a child herself," said Maurice. "And when and if she does get married, I want it to be to someone who loves and respects her for who she is. I want her to be as lucky as I was."
"I'm afraid to ask about your wife," said Michel quietly.
Maurice bit his lip and looked down at his feet, unsure of how to break the news to Michel.
"Sofia passed away eight years ago," he answered solemnly.
"I'm sorry to hear that," said Michel quietly.
"I miss her so much," said Maurice. "I am glad she's not suffering anymore, though. She was sick for so long."
"I wish I could have gotten to know your wife better," Michel told his brother. "She seemed like such a lovely woman."
"She really was amazing," said Maurice, sighing. "I don't go more than a few minutes without thinking about her. She wanted to move out to the countryside, actually. I really regret not doing it now."
"Actually that's what I wanted to talk to you abou-"
The sound of the front door slamming shut interrupted Michel mid-sentence.
"Ah, here she is. Excuse me."
Maurice shuffled out of the kitchen and into the living room where he found Belle climbing the stairs.
"Hi, Papa!" called Belle happily.
"Where have you been?" Maurice demanded. "You were supposed to be home at nine."
"I'm so sorry, Papa!" Belle said. "Alain took me out to dinner, and we came across this poor lost little girl as he was walking me home. We couldn't just leave her out there, so we helped her find her father."
"Well, as long you're safe," said Maurice, frowning.
"Alain would never let anything bad happen to me, Papa," insisted Belle. "You worry too much."
She turned around and continued to climb the stairs.
"Wait, Belle! Come in to the kitchen," ordered Maurice. "There's someone I want you to meet."
Belle skipped back down the stairs and followed her father into the kitchen. Michel stood up and rushed over to greet Belle as soon as she walked into the room. Belle could only stare him.
"You're certainly a lot taller than you were the last time I saw you," Michel said, chuckling.
"This is your Uncle Michel," Maurice told his daughter.
"Uncle?" Belle repeated, confused. "Oh, you're Papa's twin brother!"
"My, you've grown into such a lovely young woman," Michel told her, smiling. "The last time I saw you, you barely came up to my knees."
"Thank you, sir- I mean, Uncle Michel!" Belle replied, her face turning bright pink.
"Your father tells me you've been courting a young man," said Michel.
"Oh yes, he is just wonderful," gushed Belle happily. "He's handsome and charming and intelligent and kind. I didn't realise it was possible for one man to be so perfect before I met him."
"He sounds wonderful. You're very lucky," Michel told her. "Anyway, it's late. I should probably get back to the inn and let you two get some sleep."
"I won't hear of it. You may stay here tonight," insisted Maurice. "You can have my bed. I'll sleep down here on the settee."
"No, Papa, I'm the youngest so I should sleep down here," said Belle. "Uncle Michel can sleep in my bed."
"I don't want to force either of you out of your beds," said Michel, chuckling. "I'm staying at the inn."
"How long will you be in town?" asked Maurice.
"I'll just be here tomorrow," answered Michel. "I'm leaving the next morning."
"I'd love to show you around the city, but I have to work tomorrow," said Maurice apologetically.
"I'm working tomorrow as well," said Belle, frowning.
"What about tomorrow evening?" asked Michel hopefully.
"That would be fine," answered Maurice. "We'll have dinner together. Unfortunately, Belle and I aren't exactly master chefs. We just have bread and cheese most nights."
"I'll cook for you!" offered Michel.
"You can't do that," exclaimed Maurice. "You're our guest!"
"I really don't mind," said Michel. "I quite like cooking actually. It's relaxing, in a way."
"If you're sure," said Maurice raising an eyebrow.
"Oh, Papa, I'm sorry," said Belle. "I just remembered! Monsieur Lafont has asked me to work late tomorrow night. I won't be finished until eight."
"We'll just have to have a late dinner then," said Maurice. "I don't like the idea of you walking home alone in the dark by yourself, though."
"Papa, I'll be fine," Belle laughed, patting her father on the head. "You worry too much."
Belle glanced over at the clock and frowned. It was only half past seven. She wouldn't be able to leave for another thirty minutes.
"Anxious to leave, Belle?" asked Monsieur Lafont, a sly grin crossing his wisened face. "You've been staring at the clock all evening. I suppose you're meeting up with your new gentleman friend tonight."
"Actually, Papa and I are having dinner with my uncle," Belle corrected him. "He's only in town for tonight."
"Well, I certainly don't want to keep you from any important family business," said Monsieur Lafont, smiling. "You run along. Oh wait, I haven't paid you yet!"
The old librarian disappeared into the backroom and emerged two minutes holding a handful of coins out to Belle. She immediately deposited them into a small linen bag, slung it over her shoulder, gratefully kissed the old man on the cheek, and exited the library. She was about to start walking down the street when a thought crossed her mind. There was a long, narrow alleyway next to the library. It led right to the bottom of her street. She would get home much faster if she took that route. Her father had repeatedly warned her not to go down the alleyway, even during daylight. He had told her that it was infested with thieves, pickpockets, and other low-lives, but surely going down it just this once wouldn't hurt. She wanted to get home in time for dinner. Besides, it was still quite early, and what Papa didn't know wouldn't hurt him.
After a few brief moments of hesitation, Belle started to plod down the long alleyway. Fortunately, it seemed to be empty for the most part, though it was hard to tell as the only light was coming from the windows of the buildings the lined the narrow alleyway. As she rounded a sharp corner, she heard the sound of heavy footsteps coming up behind her.
"Mademoiselle!" a voice called out.
Belle turned around to see a tall, muscular man stumbling towards her. He had long, untidy hair and was wearing a purple suit that looked as if it must have been expensive when he first bought it.
"Yes?"
"Will five livres be enough?" he slurred.
"What?" Belle stared at him, feeling utterly confused.
The man forced a pile of coins into Belle's hands. It suddenly hit her. This man had mistaken her for a homeless wastrel. She didn't blame him. Her dress was old, ragged, and ill-fitting, and she was rather thin.
"You are very kind, but-" Belle began.
"You're rather young and pretty for a harlot," the man whispered, stroking Belle's face. "I've never seen you around before. You must be new. Perfect, I like fresh girls."
It suddenly dawned on Belle. There was a brothel at the end of the alleyway. This man obviously believed that she worked there.
"I think you're mistaken. I-I'm not what you think I am," Belle stammered, pushing the coins back into his hands.
"Then why were you walking around here at this time of night without an escort?" he sneered. "A proper girl wouldn't do something like that. Come on, we both know you're just holding out so that I will give you more money. I'm familiar with the practices of you strumpets."
"I don't want your money!" cried Belle, pushing him away. "Please leave me alone. My father's waiting for me."
"Very well, I'll double the price," said the man, pulling out more coins from his pocket. "Here, ten livres. That's my final offer. It's far more than what you are really worth. There are plenty of other girls around here, you know."
"Go bother one of them, then."
Belle turned on her heel and started to stride towards the end of the alleyway. She had almost reached the end when she felt a hand grab her by the arm. The man slammed her back to the wall and covered her mouth with his hand so that she couldn't scream for help. Belle felt her heart beat faster than it ever had before. The man leaned in so that his face was mere inches away from Belle's. She could smell the alcohol on his breath.
"Filthy, conniving whore," he hissed. "Don't struggle and you won't get hurt."
Belle glanced down and noticed that his legs were spread wide open. An idea suddenly struck her like a lightning bolt. Alain had recently lent her one of his medical books. It had described, in great detail, the functions and purposes of male genitalia. She had learned, amongst other things, that the area between a man's legs was extremely sensitive to pain.
Just as the man reached down and tore off a piece of Belle's skirt, she raised her leg and struck him in the crotch with her knee. The man fell to the ground, clutching the injured area with his hands. For good measure, Belle quickly kicked him in middle of his stomach, taking an unhealthy amount of pleasure in the look of pain she saw on the man's face. She hastily took off down the alleyway, running as fast as her long, slender legs could carry her, leaving the man writhing in pain.
That afternoon, Maurice had come home to find Michel waiting by his door with a big basket of food in his hands. Together, they made dinner as Maurice entertained his brother with light anecdotes about Belle's childhood and, in turn, Michel regaled Maurice with stories about the lives of the people they grown up with in the village.
"So what did you want to talk to me about last night?" Maurice asked, as they were filling three large bowls with pea and potato soup.
"I've decided to spend the next year or so traveling around Europe," Michel told him
"That sounds exciting," said Maurice. "Belle will be so jealous."
"You are free to use the house as you please while I am away," offered Michel. "You said that your wife wanted to move away to the countryside, didn't you?"
"Thank you, but Belle and I like living in the city. It's not an ideal place to raise a child, but we're happy here," said Maurice. "Belle's almost grown now anyway."
"Very well. Just remember, the offer's there, just remember that," said Michel. "I have left my animals in the care of one of my neighbours, but you may take charge of them yourselves if you do choose to live there."
Maurice was about to turn him down again when the door flew open and Belle came barrelling in. Her face was red and streaked with tears. She fell into Maurice's arms and began to sob into his shoulder.
"What's wrong, little doe?" Maurice asked, alarmed. He reached up and soothingly stroked Belle's hair.
"I was attacked!" she cried.
"What? Are you hurt?" Maurice asked, his eyes widening.
"N-no, I am fine," stammered Belle. "It's just- The man tried to violate me, Papa!"
"You mean a man forced himself on you?" growled Maurice. He was, for the most part, a very good-natured, jovial man. He did not get angry or upset much. However, this news had caused a bundle of anger to start growing in his chest.
Belle nodded and wiped the tears from her eyes.
"I managed to get away just in time, though."
"Don't worry, you're safe now," whispered Maurice. "You go up to your room and get changed. Michel has just made us the most wonderful dinner."
Michel spent dinner trying to keep Belle's mind off her ordeal by cracking jokes and telling her stories about Maurice's childhood. Meanwhile, Maurice barely spoke. He was deep in thought. This incident had opened his eyes. Perhaps getting Belle away from the city would be good for her. He had promised Sofia that he would make sure nothing bad happened to her. In addition to keeping her safe, moving her to the village would keep her away from Alain and give her time to think about her relationship with him. He hated being an overprotective father, but he felt that it was necessary. He was terrified of losing his daughter. He would never forgive himself if he let something bad happen to her.
After dinner, the three of them sat down by the fireplace. Belle told Michel all about Alain as Maurice quietly watched the dying fire. At eleven o'clock, Belle hugged Michel, kissed her father on the forehead, and went up to bed. After Maurice was sure that Belle was safely in her room, he turned to address his brother.
"Michel, I might have to take you up on that offer."
I know I said that Lumiere and Babette's little spat would be resolved in this chapter, but I'm still fine-tuning that part so you'll have to wait(It will be worth it, I promise!).
A lot of you have asked me how on earth Lumiere and Babette could possibly have sex in their current bodies. I imagine it would involve Babette's feathers and one of Lumiere's candles.
I hate to bother everyone again, but since I'm coming to the end of this part of the story, I thought I'd ask my readers to take another survey. I really want to improve this story and to do that, I need feedback. Don't worry! This will not be a common thing. If I do ask you to take another survey, it won't be for couple of years or so. I'm not expecting you to fill this out, but it would help me if you did.
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