Chapter 29- Release

Belle stood before him. It had been nearly five weeks since he had been locked in the dungeon, and Gaston was hoping upon hope that now it was time.

"Good...uh, good morning. Your Highness," he said, surprised to see her. She seemed intimidating to him now. The Princess of the region, dressed in a peach colored gown with lace on the cuffs. Her hair was held in an elegant updo, and she wore a silver necklace likely given to her by Prince Adam, her husband.

It was shameful for him to think that less than two years before, he was hounding and pestering her, violating her personal space at her doorstep with his unrefined attempts at marriage proposals. Tugging on her skirt, rudely stepping through her vegetable garden as if she were his property.

What was I thinking? Remorse come over him at the thought of knowing she recalled those times just as he did. And that was even before that night on the castle roof.

"Adam has sent me here to announce your official release. The guards are coming up soon to let you out," Belle said matter-of-factly.

"Thank you," he whispered, his head bowed.

He felt her eyes on him for what seemed like forever. He wondered what she could be thinking at that moment. If Belle were a less kind, vindictive person, he guessed it would be something along the lines of 'The tables have turned, haven't they, Gaston? You aren't so celebrated and powerful any longer, are you? Go- and I no longer want you in my sight again!'

But he knew that could not be what Belle was thinking.

She spoke again. "Gaston, when we took ownership of your old home last year to turn it into a school...we found many of your old belongings. Furniture, heirlooms, little things that likely belonged to your mother. Lefou took care of most of it. He sold or gave them away. But there were some things of your mother's that he keeps in storage here in the castle, and he wanted to know if you would like them back."

"Oh?" Gaston gave her a puzzled look. He hadn't thought much about his own mother for ages upon ages. Much less things that belonged to her. The woman had died when he was eight years old.

"Adam and I very much regret the loss of your family home. Of course you must understand that you were believed dead. Lefou was your last remaining person who was willed your estate. If he hadn't been named, it would have ended up as the property of the bank in Villeneuve. I'm thankful that Lefou was kind enough to let us use it for our school."

He raised his head and nodded. "I know. You never would have expected...uh, this. I wouldn't have either." He gave her a little awkward smirk. "And I thank Lefou for his efforts to help you with getting a school for girls established in the village. He told me about it when he saw me last."

Gaston winced, thinking again of Lefou and the fact he hadn't come up to see him since that one day. He was living down below in this immense building all this time, working outdoors in the stables, traveling to and from Villeneuve, most likely. With Stanley, of course- now inseparable from him. They were surely in touch with Tom, Dick, the others. But Lefou, and Tom, and Dick...they were another life, another world. Gaston was simply not part of it anymore.

"I know, this is awkward, Gaston. And I apologize." Her smile was just as kind as it was when she had visited the dungeon last, during his magical hearing.

"I'm fine, Belle. I mean- Your Highness. I don't need the house any longer, and perhaps...if Emilie could look at my mother's old items, she might like some of them."

"Thank you, Gaston. We'll show her the boxes in storage. In about fifteen minutes, the guards will arrive to let you out of this cell. They have the release form signed by my husband, and then, well...you and Emilie can be on your way. We paid for a coach's fare to Paris."

"Thank you," said Gaston, surprised that she and Prince Adam would arrange for a coach. But then, he supposed- the sooner they had him out of their castle, the better.

One hour later, Gaston and Emilie were traveling on a coach bound for Paris. He held her tightly in the seat, never wanting to let her go. She was wearing the old pearl necklace, the only item from the box of his late mother's old things that Emilie decided she liked. It looked elegant on her, he thought.

"Let's go immediately to a church, find a priest. Whatever steps it may be to marry as soon as possible," Gaston announced.

"But...where will you be living? I will need to return to the Marquis' estate first, but you...won't."

"I'll manage. I have a small amount of money, and I'll find a hotel or boarding house. I'm a good handy fixing and building man, so I'm sure I'll get hired by someone the moment my boots hit the streets of the city!" he said with a confident grin, perhaps forced.

"I like your optimism," said Emilie, smiling fondly.

"You call it 'optimism?' Not arrogance or even pride?"

"Yes. It's not a bad thing. It's a good thing. You're still confident."

"What if I do end up a pauper, penniless and alone? Will you still love me, will you still swear your devotion and faithfulness to me? Your Gaston-Luc, an ex-convict who is lucky if he sweeps streets for a day?"

A slight smile of exasperation over Gaston's need for drama crossed her face, but she shook her head. "You won't. I have my own earnings, if you don't mind sometimes depending on a woman. Your wife."

Gaston's face twisted in a look of abject horror. "You? A woman, supporting me as her husband? Never! That will not happen. I will work any job I can to ensure that you don't foot the bills!"

"Don't be angry, mon cher. I don't mind serving in the estate. In fact, I don't even want to leave yet because I want to still be with Adelaide for awhile. We can move in together in Paris once you find a comfortable apartment or home."

He shrugged, not saying anything for a while. He thought again of the people he'd left behind from his old life, who had once held him in respect and regard. Lefou, who had been kind and positive that day, but in the end decided to let that old relationship die. Belle- surprisingly kind and encouraging and forgiving. He now held her in a bit of awe. And inspiration, for her cleverness at that hearing, and her tough-love pep talk that helped him keep Emilie.

Gaston felt awed and inspired by Princess Belle. If that wasn't the oddest paradox, he didn't know what was.

A few weeks earlier, right after Gaston had written the letter to Maurice, he had received a short visit from him with Belle at his side. The man had happily accepted his remorseful apology. The older fellow had worn a smocked shirt, apron covered with paint from his busy artisan's projects. He'd talked pleasantly about how he'd developed such a fast friendship and business rapport with Jean Potts, another local artist. So instead of the visit being uncomfortable and awkward, Gaston had listened to Maurice casually talk about his life now- as if it hadn't fazed him that the man who tied him to a tree and left him for wolves was still alive.

The only thing the man had said regarding past events was a wry 'Now you know the power of magic. Isn't it incredible?'

Gaston had simply smiled and nodded. "It is," he'd replied.

In only two days, they had reached the area of Paris. Before entering the city, Gaston dropped Emilie off at the Marquis' estate to let her reunite with her sister and colleagues and continue to earn her own modest living. After giving her dozens of hugs and kisses goodbye, he rode into the city alone.

He was let off at a busy corner not far from the main section of town, where the government buildings were- the same ones where he'd inquired about joining the army over a year before. Under his fake name, of course.

He thought for a moment what it would be like if he went back into those military offices and found Major Delacroix, his old commanding officer, again. Delacroix had never known he'd been supposed to be dead. He decided on a whim to go into the building.

He felt just as humbled as he'd been back when he pounded the pavement in the city as 'Luc Avenant.' Many gentlemen, well-dressed in their silk culottes, passed by him, none paying him any mind nor looking him in the eye. He was but a face in the crowd. Yet, the anonymity was a comfort. No one here knew that he was someone who'd shot and killed Prince Adam of Alsace-Lorraine while he was cursed as a Beast. And from what he had sensed, that fact was something that Prince Adam himself did not want to make widely known.

He meandered into the military recruiting office. Two men were there, neither recognizable as Delacroix or anyone else he once knew. The younger one eyed him with boredom.

"Do you have an appointment?"

"Uh...no. I don't. I was just...sticking my head in to see if Delacroix is around. I'm just an old friend."

The military officer frowned. "Major Delacroix is in America of course. Fighting. Just like nearly all of the King's career officers."

He glanced over to his colleague at the desk and shook his head, as if Gaston were some annoying dunderhead. Looking down at his modest civilian clothes, they were probably correct.

Maybe. But perhaps he should let them know who he once was.

He cleared his throat. "Ahem...despite my attire, I'm a former Captain from the Seven Years' War. I'm Captain de Soleil Legume. Is there any need for in-country service while the other officers are overseas? I'm offering my services and willing to re-recruit if needed," he found himself saying in a polite yet confident tone.

May as well give it a shot, though it was unlikely. His thirty-three years were well visible on this face.

The older officer gave him a polite nod of interest. "What was the last year you served?"

"1763." Both men frowned.

"Thank you for your interest, Captain, but that was long ago. Thank you for your service in the past. We're looking for fresh recruits at the moment. All former officers, though, are encouraged to ship to America to fight in their Revolution against the British. If you happen to be interested in going, you're welcome to fill out a form," the older officer said, gesturing to a quill inkwell and a pile of papers nearby.

Too old.

"Thank you. At the moment, I'd have to discuss this with...my wife. Perhaps I will come back to reconsider."

He turned and left the office, heading out the building. No, he couldn't bring himself to do it. Emilie was more important than joining up for a war of independence for others, half a world away.

One week later, after days of pounding pavement mercilessly, Gaston found a job as a carriage cab driver- the same job that 'Luc Avenant' had done in his false memories. He drove and handled the horses well, was cordial to the riders, learned more about all parts of the city. He soon made just enough to rent a little flat in Jean's old neighborhood. It was, as he expected, humbling. He befriended a few fellow drivers from the station, but never cared to socialize.

While driving, listening to the horses make their musical clip-clopping sounds through the streets, Gaston was left to his thoughts much too often. Was this all there is left in life? Being a carriage driver wasn't respected or honored at all, and it bothered him greatly. He wondered a few times if perhaps he should fill out those papers and ship to that faraway war front after all, to feel that old glory and heroism again. Adventure in a foreign place.

But whenever he returned home to his small three-room apartment, he changed his mind. He stoked the fire in his hearth, rearranged candles and placed a lace tablecloth on the little kitchen table. He'd found colorful ribbons to tie the lace curtains on the two windows of the front room. He acquired a vase, for the flowers he planned to always buy her. He bought some very decent furniture at a pawn shop, where the wealthy left their castoffs for the average folk to buy for cheap- a tea set, a large pendulum clock, and a wide spindle bed with a downy feather mattress. And a soft silky quilt, of course. The quilt was slightly torn, but he'd find someone to mend it soon.

He was creating a home for himself and his wife to be- and it was wonderful. A wife downstairs he'd met and spoke with brought him her extra set of plates after he told her he was planning to be married soon. She then offered to sew that secondhand bed quilt- so it looked like new.

It wasn't only feminine things Emilie would like that Gaston bought to decorate his new home. His eye was drawn to a pair of mounted elk antlers in the pawn shop; some trophy that a rich man probably showcased in his smoking room. He bought it, and mounted it over his fireplace with the thought that he'd take up hunting once in a while and bag and mount his own game whenever he found the time. If Emilie didn't mind, of course. And after he'd saved up to buy a bow and set of arrows.

One evening before bed, Gaston took time to truly look through that box of old things from his Villeneuve house again. He didn't want to face it, to be honest. He knew that Lefou had personally went through the things, and he had decided what Gaston would want as the only remains of his pre-cursed life. Sure enough, Gaston found his red and gold military uniform. One button was missing from the coat. He found his medals- all seven of them. His forms of release from active duty.

And after digging into the bottom of the box, Gaston found a bunch of childish wax medallions covered in chipped old paint. A long-ago memory surfaced- Lefou had made them for Gaston when they were children. They were prizes that Lefou gave him whenever Gaston would hit a bullseye on his slingshot or bow as they played together in the forest.

A bittersweet pain struck his heart as he handled those simple objects. One little boy, out of the kindness of his heart and pride for his best friend, taking time to make and give his own gifts of affection. Lefou put these in the box on purpose, Gaston thought sadly. Perhaps he'd only meant for him to never forget his old friend- to still recall the innocent days of long ago.

On his day off, after over three weeks on the new job, he packed up his work carriage and headed out to the Marquis Antoine's estate to pick up Emilie and coax her to come with him into the city. He was going to 'steal' her for a week- whether or not her boss wanted her to go or not.

She was going to be his wife by tonight. He'd already located the church and the priest.

The mansion was rather depressing to look at once he'd arrived at its gates. He could still be here, as the head of household working with Emilie, Jean, Clémence, Adelaide, Madame Chambon and the rest of the servants. The Marquis didn't want him anymore. It was simply a fact he had to face.

He walked up the familiar, short flight of brick stairs and knocked on the large oak-wood door, hoping that he would not have to face Marquis Antoine or his wife or daughter. It was strange and surreal, being in the setting of his old false life now that he was seeing it as his true self. He felt like a stranger, an intruder. He didn't belong.

After his fourth knock, he heard the latch click and open. Emilie answered the door, to his absolute relief and joy.

"Gaston-Luc!" She was wearing her old grey dress, apron and maid's cap, but looked just as adorable to him as if she were dressed in her very best. She stepped forward and they shared a brief hug and sweet kiss.

"Emilie! This is the day of your dreams, chérie! I'm taking you away to elope with me in the city. Has he given you permission?"

"Yes...he has," Emilie said, beaming. "He hasn't fired me, but he's made it clear that I can leave whenever I wish, to move in with you. But it's hard to find the exact time. I want to earn a little more, unless I can find a situation in the city. Perhaps a nanny for children. Adelaide thought that would be a good idea-"

"Don't worry about money or a job or such complicated things! I've landed a job. And an apartment, a horse and a carriage! Pack up your bags and come with me!" He grinned at her, hoping to get her in an adventurous mood.

"His Honor and Evangeline are away. Her Ladyship Marie-Juliette is here. Can you come in for just a minute?" Emilie asked, suddenly shy.

His smile faded. "I'd rather wait out here."

"Well...all right. Let me tell Her Ladyship and Adelaide that I'm going. You do know that Addie plans to come with us, to be a witness to the...wedding." Gaston caught a blush in her cheeks at the word.

"Of course. She's welcome. But she'll have to find her own hotel room, of course. I want us to be alone." He caught her lip trembling a bit at his words.

"She knows that," Emilie said, assuming her prim and proper voice. "She's been waiting for you just as eagerly as I have. Once she gets a lift into the city, she plans to go off on her own and visit Jean's parents." Emilie looked down self-consciously at her work dress. "Shall I change into something nicer?"

"No need. It's up to you. It doesn't matter to me what you're wearing on the trip. If Adelaide's the only witness, there's no need for finery. Besides-" his eyebrows raised in playful flirtation- "what matters to me is what you won't be wearing at midnight," he added in a whisper.

"Gaston-Luc!" she said in mock horror, but her face was bright red and shining, contradicting her words. Her long braid of hair fell over one shoulder, and Gaston wanted so badly to undo that braid himself.

"That is my name," he replied.

She broke into a shy smile, lowering her gaze. "And I'll be taking part of your name...I'll be 'Madame Legume' very soon...I like it."

"Good." Gaston's confident smile returned as Emilie shut the door. He waited, wiping his brow in the late summer heat while he stood at the doorstep. If all goes well, Emilie would be in his arms tonight after sunset, as his new bride.

...

Five hours later, early in the evening, Gaston and Emilie stood before a priest named Pere Jean-Paul, in an empty, formal, incense-scented church sanctuary at the corner of Rue des Sauterelles and Seconde, before a fine cherub-festooned altar.

He and Emilie had filled out three forms to turn into the officiant, their fingers still stained with ink and both eager to get on with things. Thanks to Belle and Lefou, Gaston had brought the original copy of his own birth certificate from Villeneuve- one of the items Lefou had saved when he took care of Gaston's childhood home.

Emilie had broke away from Gaston long enough that afternoon to duck into a water closet at the hotel and change into the dress she had packed- the same yellow and white dress she'd worn to Prince Adam's ruined birthday party. Gaston wore his only decent grey suit with a black tie.

Adelaide, sister and witness, stood along with them in her blue flower-print dress, dabbing at her eyes with a handkerchief. Happy tears, she'd assured them both.

The priest spoke his prayers and sacraments and blessings over the couple. "Gaston-Luc and Emilie Madeleine, I pronounce you husband and wife."

Emilie's hair was still bound up in a braid; she'd taken the braid and twisted it up into a little bun. Adelaide had pinned yellow fabric flowers into the bun just before the nuptials. Her sister had insisted on the tiniest bit of blush and lip color, and her face shone with joy.

She raised her arms to grasp his tall shoulders and hold him close, standing on her tiptoes to receive her first kiss as Madame Gaston-Luc Legume. Wife of a humble carriage cab driver, and the happiest woman in the city.

...