Author's note: Again, written in haste so please forgive the rough edges of this chapter! Apologises for any historical inaccuracies! A LOT OF EXPOSITION in this chapter, again I apologize in advance! Whether you like it or hate it, we have come to one of the most important stepping stones in this story! I hope you enjoy it! Thanks again for reading!

Chapter 36

Inevitably we have come to the point in our story where it becomes impractical to remain ignorant of certain events which had already transpired, long before Belle ever set foot in the Duke's castle.

D'Arque, as we have so far called him, was not a debt collector by choice. It was his occupation certainly, but he rarely took any pleasure from it. It was arduous work, taxing on one's senses, pun intended, and it was only meant for people made of studier stuff than most. The things one saw in a debtor's prison surely equated to what one saw in any other prison, but D'Arque sometimes suspected the misery he saw on occasion surpassed even the worst.

Which is why, one could suppose, he rather enjoyed the bland simplicity of a small village like Villeneuve, where nothing of great consequence ever happened. Here he could breathe, take a few moments before plunging back into the depravity of less fortunate regions. It always astonished him therefore, that the landowners of such a place could get away with so much and yet still leave its villages in relatively good condition. D'Arque supposed it was due to location, the vastness of the land and its resources, which other regions lacked.

What was a debt collector such as himself then doing in Villeneuve you may ask?

Perhaps it would do to cast ourselves back to the first week D'Arque arrived there and the curious old beggar woman he met while walking through the village square, a day like any other, and nobody would have noticed anything amiss, nobody that is except those with a keen eye. While the villagers swept past him, minding their own, no doubt, tedious business, D'Arque kept his eyes fixed on the girl who sat by the well as a donkey pulled a cart behind her in circles, doing what the debt collector later came to realize was the washing of clothes. He had to admit, although at first a rather slightly disturbing image, the longer one watched, the more one realized how economical it actually was.

"She is a beauty, ain't she?"

D'Arque turned abruptly, annoyed, as he had assumed no one had cared to notice him nor his current occupation.

"Indeed," he said gruffly, before attempting to walk off, but the old beggar woman who was lying by the tavern door gave a feeble cough before asking if he had any to give.

"I'm afraid I haven't any, I'm sorry," said D'Arque thoughtlessly as he turned to dip his hat apologetically to the old woman, only to find himself fixated on her posture.

When you work as a debt collector, you come into contact with all manner of people. High or low born, the debtor's prison was an odd place where all forms of normal social convention are thrown out the window. Nevertheless, some things cannot be unlearnt.

"Erm, madam," said D'Arque, changing his tone of voice to that of an unassuming nature, "are you sure I cannot assist you in a more productive way?"

"Madam!" scoffed the old woman, wrapping a deep purple scarf around her neck as she leaned back against the dusty wall. "What's come over you sir?"

"Nothing, nothing at all," said the debt collector as he wore a beguine smile and crouched down so he was at the same eye level as her. "Only I was wondering what a high-born lady such as yourself is doing in a place like this?"

The air shifted as the old woman's incredulous expression darkened, and as she looked at the man's unwavering expression, realized that lying to a person of such a perceptive nature was fruitless.

"What gave it away?" she asked in a straight tone as her posture changed, her head higher and back longer as she stared at D'Arque.

"Madam, I am a debt collector. I have roamed everywhere from Paris to Marseilles but have yet to meet any aristocratic lady who has managed to fold her legs so neatly and yet still slouch in such a convincing manner. You, dear lady, are no pauper."

"Fine, so you have caught me out, I hold no fear in admitting to that," replied the old woman as she sniffed disapprovingly. "But now you may go about your own business."

"As a gentleman, I'm afraid it would go against my nature to leave you-"

"You are a debt collector sir! I hardly believe you hold any sympathy for someone like me-"

"You are mistaken, my lady, to think I do not care," said D'Arque, his voice quiet but full of conviction. "I rarely witness miracles, I rarely can help, but sometimes, just sometimes, there is a shard of light, a chance that I can give people the help they need to pull them through. I would have quit this profession a long time ago if I had not, on some occasions, witnessed true happiness, happiness like when a man finally frees himself from the shackles society has placed on him, stepping out through that cold dark door and never having to look back again. Do not speak of that which you do not understand."

D'Arque had not meant to ramble on as he had, but he could not help himself. He had spent too many nights alone as he travelled here, leaving behind his wife and children, the only thing he could offer as explanation to them being that he had seen another chance, another shard of hope, where someone could be helped.

"Well, dear sir, you must allow me to first apologize," said the old lady as she looked on at him with kind eyes, just as his reflected astonishment. "You are clearly the better of our society, and thank you for that. Secondly however, I must inform you that you need not trouble yourself. I am in no debt, and I am perfectly comfortable in my situation at present."

D'Arque must have let his honest feelings show, for soon the old lady looked at him with a wry smile on her face, clearly amused by his reaction to her words.

"I am in earnest, truly!" she exclaimed as she got up, a lot more rigorous than D'Arque would have imagined for someone of her age. "If you would only allow me to explain young man-"

"Young man?" scoffed D'Arque as the wind ruffled his salt and pepper hair. "My dear lady, I am no-"

"Compared to me, you certainly are," replied the old woman as she spiritedly took hold of his arm and held her own in the crook of it, guiding them to walk opposite to where Belle sat by the well and up towards the outskirts of the village.

"Madam, I beg you please, I must stay-"

"Because you have come to watch the child, yes, I know," replied the lady, a twinkle in her eye as she glanced at D'Arque. "You may have been watching the dear girl, but who was watching you, Monsieur D'Arque? Hmm?"

D'Arque could not help but chuckle a little in bewilderment by the situation he found himself in. This woman, whoever she was, was unlike anyone he had met before, and nor was it likely he would ever meet another quite like her again in the future.

"Let us start then, as you were the one to put yourself within my grasp, with a question of my own. What exactly has brought a man such as yourself to Villeneuve? If indeed you are as formidable as you have suggested, I wonder why you have need to come here? The only man of any real significance is the Duke of Chartres."

"The Duke of Chartres who is currently on his death bed, whose own heir refuses to come see him in his final hours on this earth?"

The old lady turned sharply to look at D'Arque but her expression was no longer teasing but tense.

"You are well informed," was the only thing she stated before changing the subject back to that of his business in Villeneuve.

"It is true Madam, I came to this village for a specific purpose," replied D'Arque begrudgingly. "But I cannot speak much further about why that young lady is of interest to me-"

"Oh, most men here need no explanation as to why they hold an interest in Belle, that is clear as day-"

"It is nothing of that nature, I assure you!" retorted D'Arque sharply, nearly stopping their walk only to see the old lady smiling at him again. "My, my, dear lady, you do like to tease!"

"Oh, I do apologize dear man, I do not wish to be cruel, but you cannot deny, she is a beauty."

"Indeed," said D'Arque, as they neared the entrance to the village, a large stone archway passing above their heads as they walked out on to the open fields, the hills just up ahead glowing bright in the hue of the afternoon sunlight.

"If you would divulge a little more, perhaps I could help you," said the old lady as they began walking up the footpath towards an old oak tree. "And if it should suit, I could tell you of my own business in being here. You are right, I am not from these parts, but something tells me we both are in more similar a situation than one can tell at present."

D'Arque would not have relented on any other occasion, but he had not discussed what he had discovered with a single soul, partly because he had sworn not to, but upon looking into the cloudy hazel eyes of the old woman, he could not resist to tell at least someone.

Casting his eyes down, the debt collector took his hat off his head and unlinked himself from the old lady and leant against the old oak tree, looking back down on the small quiet village.

"It's tiring, my job," began D'Arque as he fiddled with his hat, the old woman sitting herself down by the bark of the tree, folding her legs neatly as he had already seen her done before. "I rarely help people even though I want to and I would change professions but it seems I do my job rather well. I see my share of ex-aristocrats, no Dukes or Marquis' but gentlemen nevertheless. But when they are in those prisons, they are no different from anyone else and you hear all sorts of stories. One day, an old man entered my establishment. He was ill. I knew he did not have long. It was luck I was even there, for I was transporting a man from a prison near to this region to one near Paris. Long story short, the old man, despite his poor health, still held a sharp mind, and found it imperative someone should help him. As I was taking him to his new lodgings, he told me it was of the upmost importance that I find his niece. He had fallen under debt, and his rich elder brother had just died. His family apparently was desperately trying to find their only child, a daughter who had deserted them years before. The living would have gone to the next living male descendent in most cases, but the family had long ago made arrangements so the property was in fee simple and not life estate interest. In other words, it was completely within the elder brother's rights to bequeath the property to whomever he chose. The elder had had many quarrels with the younger brother, the man who I was speaking to, but eventually they came to an agreement. As there was no direct descendent aside from the elder's daughter, it was imperative to find her, forgive what had transpired and to give her the living. That had been some years ago, he said, and since then he had fell on hard times, but as an old bachelor, he had grown cynical again that his brother refused to offer aid, only thinking of the distant memories of his daughter. He had searched high and low for her, but she had simply disappeared without a trace. Now his brother was dead and he himself was near dying, with no one left to take their place. He gave me his name, his brother's and of course most crucially the daughter's and that was that. He scribbled it down on a note, explaining that as soon as the daughter was found, she would inherit everything. His brother's will would expire in two years, so it was imperative to find her before then. He died a week later."

D'Arque knew he held the old woman's attention as she looked upon him with a stricken expression on her face, her long fingers holding onto a pendant of some kind round her neck, her grey hair blowing quietly in the wind.

"I get told stories like this time and time again," continued D'Arque, knowing now he could not stop, "but this time, it was different. It felt like to me, as if the family were under a great burden that had little to do with money. They had done this girl an injustice and therefore wished to repay her the only way they knew how. It wasn't about the old man or saving his life. That was immaterial. It was about helping someone else, someone who still had a chance of a future."

"What happened between the daughter and father? What made her quit the house?"

"An unsuitable match," replied D'Arque. "They strongly opposed the suitor, but she was adamant. At first, her father apparently was happy to give his living to a nephew, but once his brother made it clear he had no intention to marry, he began to realize his mistake. Later, he felt true remorse for the way he cast his daughter out, but who knows if the brother's account is true."

"So, you took it on board?"

D'Arque nodded, leaning off the tree as he walked back out from under its branches and stood out by the horizon.

"Yes, I did. It wasn't easy. The family name is not well known within social circles and try as I might, I could not find the daughter. As the old man had said, it was as if his niece had simply disappeared from view. The name of the suitor was easy enough to find, the uncle had told me so himself. A painter. Actually, he was part of court for a while, which made it easy to trace his steps, for he was, ironically, far more in the social light than she was. No doubt he had come to their house to make a portrait of one of the family and that is how they became acquainted. After a certain point however, indeed, just after the daughter is supposed to have announced their attachment, his steps were no longer traceable. I reached Paris and I managed to uncover only through, well, let us just say, less appropriate social circles, that he had decided to take on a different name, hence the confusion. In Paris, people reinvent themselves every day. After that it was not so difficult. She, too, had changed her name, which I only discovered once I found out where his residence was, under his false name. Along with it, I found a death certificate, which, I must admit Madam, I had already from the start suspected to be the case. So, I knew she had died during the plague."

"Oh…"

The old woman's voice was truly that of a heart-breaking nature, as D'Arque saw her shoulders sag. He had grown too used to chasing ends only to find unhappy endings, so the news had hardly moved him one way or another. Some might have thought this cruel, but he had to remain indifferent, otherwise he would surely go mad and what use would he be to anyone then?

"Indeed," he continued, wanting to press on. "I thought that was the end to another story, and that the family would have to find an alternative. But luckily, I found something else."

He felt slightly guilty in manipulating the old lady in such a way, but to see the relief on her face made him wish he still had some of that sense of optimism which clearly this woman still held miraculously in her old age.

"When I went to the residence, the place where she had died apparently, I found somebody who lived there. Luckily, they still kept things that had been abandoned years ago. I found paintings, very beautiful, I could not understand why they had been left. Etchings of a mother with a baby. And I also found a crib, which the landowner identified as belonging to a family who lived there shortly before the plague. It was all hidden in the attic you see, almost perfectly preserved. A stroke of ridiculous luck."

The old woman's hazel eyes widened and she sat further back, opening her mouth to gasp and no doubt speak but once again D'Arque cut to the chase.

"Yes. She had a child. They must have eloped in secret, probably because she didn't want her family to know."

"And is there a marriage certificate?" said the old woman finally, her voice hasty and uneven as she sat up, no longer caring that her purple shawl lay half discarded in the grass. "A birth certificate? Because if so…"

"That, dear Madam, is why I am here," said D'Arque, finally letting a sigh. "First, to see if there is any resemblance to the painting I saw and second, to see if there is any connection."

"And is there?"

"A strong one," said D'Arque as he turned around, blocking the sun's rays slightly, casting a shadow through the long grass. "As you saw so perceptively observed, Belle is very beautiful but more importantly is almost the spitting image of her mother. The girl's age matches roughly with when the mother died, which the landlord correctly identified as around the time they apparently left Paris. Maurice goes by his false name and I noticed a similar looking painting to the mother and baby portrait I found in Paris."

"So why not confront them?" whispered the old woman as she stood up, moving forwards quickly, her eyes alert.

"That… is the tricky part," said D'Arque slowly. "I still don't have enough proof. As you said, I need a marriage certificate to prove the child is legitimate and second, I need a birth certificate. Those are not easy to come by."

"But the father surely has them?"

There was, for the first time in a while, a brief pause. D'Arque noted his own hesitancy and realized it was unlikely to help his cause, but there was little way around it. He also felt the old woman was not someone to trifle with.

"Maurice is a very cautious man, as I have discovered in the short amount of time I have been here observing him," he began slowly as he saw the lady before him narrow her eyes, which did not help matters. "I had to be careful, and I knew it was likely he had already destroyed several documents. I have found opportunity to speak to him already and noted how he is used to fading into the background, avoiding attention. He has gone off to a nearby market, so I am hoping to take the opportunity…"

"You would not break into his house, surely!?" exclaimed the old woman.

"I cannot interfere until I am absolutely sure Madam, and the last thing I want is for Maurice to flee from this village the minute I question him about it. It would take weeks, perhaps forever to find them again! It is my only choice… Although I must confess, I expect to find nothing. And if that is the case…."

D'Arque let out a deep sigh of exhaustion before coming to stand right in front of the old woman, who was now leaning on her walking stick in a rather elegant manner, despite the rags she wore.

"Time and time again I have seen disappointment etched on people's faces when they are given hope or a chance of getting out of debt," said D'Arque, his voice sombre. "Maurice is in debt, he may have destroyed the evidence of his connection to his wife. I won't put him through turmoil all over again until I am completely sure I can actually help him. You may not understand, but for normal people like us, it is easier to go through hardship as a daily occurrence than swinging from opposite sides of spectrum as some in your class do so willingly."

The conversation was dying down, and coming to the point where some form of comfort or advice is usually given. However here we had two very perspective people and a lot more was passed between them through their demeanour rather than through the simple tool of language.

"I understand," replied the old woman, but upon seeing the doubt in D'Arque's eyes, she reiterated her statement. "Really, I do. This is exactly what I am trying to do also, although some have disagreed with my actions, viewing it to be even cruel or manipulative. I need to make sure my nephew will live the way I hope he will. I don't want him to make the same mistakes, like his father. I have been watching from far away, hiding my existence and identity from everyone."

"So, I was right then," murmured D'Arque, for the first time, a smile appearing on his face. "You are a lady, aren't you?"

"That is neither here nor there," said the old woman curtly as she rolled her eyes and looked back on the village of Villeneuve. "Should our acquaintance continue, I may tell you more about why I have come here and who I am. However, as you refuse to give any names concerning Maurice and Belle, I suppose it only fair that, for now, I keep my identity a secret. I have little doubt though that you will figure it out soon enough, you are, after all, a very clever man. But the girl might be in danger?"

D'Arque looked up sharply to see the old woman staring back at him, her eyes as calm as water in a lake, yet unwavering.

"I have never mentioned anything about danger."

"You didn't need to," said the woman airily as she gave a wry smile. "The sense of urgency I feel from you tells me much more than you would like, Monsieur D'Arque. You do not like what you see in that village, do you?"

"Should someone else find out," said D'Arque sharply, not caring to play any more games, "find out, especially since her grandfather has just died, they would target Belle, perhaps even try and marry her and therefore get her fortune. That is why I have come, not only to create their identities but also to make sure until everything is settled, no harm comes to them. The father I am less concerned about, but Belle… She sticks out like a sore thumb and is clearly the object of everyone's attention, whether they like her or not. I did not realize how precarious their situation was, how close to debt they are…"

The old woman's smile had slipped away and she now stood before D'Arque, arms folded and yet somewhere expressing a sense of true strength and formidability.

"I see," she said, her voice low. And then, after a moment,

"I might be able to help there…"

It was the debt collector's turn to be cautious and it was he who now looked on the old lady with suspicion.

"Why would you help me?"

"I have been observing the girl," said the old woman and for the first time, D'Arque sensed her voice held true warmth. "I too have found she does not suit this place. I don't wish to disrupt however, so please, only do this if it is the only way, if things become as bad you say they might for them. I have heard that in the Prince's castle, they take maids from the villages when their families go into debt. The girls work the entire amount owed and that is how they repay instead."

"What on earth are you suggesting?" retorted D'Arque, anger rising within himself. "Are you mad? A girl like Belle, in a place like that? I cannot think of anything more abhorrent. The things one has heard about the cold-blooded Duke and his philandering son, even if it has been passed down from person to person, the fact that it passed down even through the servants of social quarters down to the likes of me! I wouldn't even dream of putting my own daughter in a place like that!"

The old woman looked shocked, her breath caught in her throat as she took in D'Arque's words. Clearly, they gave her great distress, although the debt collector found it strange for this to be news to the old lady, who up until this point had seemed so well informed.

"I did not realize the rumours were as bad as that," she muttered and it was almost as if she were talking to herself. "It must be remedied."

D'Arque did not take much notice of her words, for he was still trying to overcome his own shock at her cold suggestions.

"I may not know her well," he began again, taking a step away from the old woman, "but I know Belle to be a very sweet-tempered girl, very bright, open-minded and understanding. She has incredible patience to able to endure living in a place like this, yet she thrives in her own way teaching the children-"

"Sir, I know you do not approve of this," came the old lady's voice again, her polite, gentrified accent as clear as a bell. "I only suggest this as a final solution, for when things become very bad indeed. If Belle is in need of safety, without raising any suspicions, then if she works at the castle, which is practically a fortress as you well know, she would be safe. At least for the time being. I can vouch that she would be safe there."

"How on earth could you do that? You have no connection to this place, as you said, you know no one here, aside from that nephew you just-"

D'Arque stopped before turning around and blinking, took a very good long look at the woman who stood before him, her figure tall, her delicate features which before she had obscured beneath her rags now showing without any pretence.

"Who are you?" he asked slowly, his every word full of weight and apprehension.

"Trust in me sir, and I will tell you. The important thing is I care about what happens to the girl and what's more, she may help me in my own cause. Perhaps you view that as selfish but I am beginning to think this is the way things were always supposed to be. If Belle is in the castle, you would know if anyone was looking for her since they would come to the cottage first. Nobody would know nor care about a scullery maid. Until you get your affairs in order, she would be safe."

D'Arque gritted his teeth, looking down at the ground. He did not fully trust this woman, but he could not argue against what she had said. It was well thought out, and truth be told, he could find very little to oppose on a practical level. In this village, there was little to protect Belle and her father, and should anyone find out their true heritage, it would be disastrous. One man in particular, by the name of Gaston, stank of everything D'Arque abhorred. It would try to take advantage, in fact he already was trying to, and that was even without the knowledge that Belle potentially now sat upon a rather substantial fortune.

"Madam, it gives me no pleasure to say I must agree with you. I fear I will not find what I have come searching for and I will have no choice but to return to Paris at some point in order to find it. I therefore take on your advice and in return, I ask that you promise not to breath a word of this to anyone."

"If there is one thing I am good at, it is keeping secrets Monsieur D'Arque."

And this was true. The 'old beggar woman' did indeed keep to her promises, keeping an eye on Belle even after D'Arque, just as he had feared, had to leave Villeneuve to find the necessary proof. Through her connections with Mrs Potts in the castle, she was informed of everything that had transpired after Belle's transition there, as well as keeping in contact with D'Arque himself, so he was always well informed about Maurice and Belle. As dawn started to break, the old lady said her goodbyes to Mrs Potts and walked back towards the village. As she passed the old oak tree, she began to hear the faint sound of galloping behind her, slowly growing louder and louder, and as she turned apprehensively, she saw a black horse approach, and who was sat atop it if not D'Arque himself, the very man she was thinking of in that moment.

"You have returned," she said without thinking.

"Indeed," said D'Arque as he hastily came off his horse. "Just as well, my dear Madam Archambeau, that I have come upon you first before anyone else. How does she do?"

"Not very well, but that is hardly of importance right now," replied the old woman as her own carriage approached. "Did you find what you were looking for?"

"Yes," gasped D'Arque as he took hold of his horse's reins. "Yes, I have found it. The rest will soon follow, but I must make haste to Maurice and Belle. There is not a second to lose. But she is safe?"

"Safe from Gaston you mean? Yes, not too much as transpired, she is much cleverer than you think. It is the Marquis she must be more worried about."

"Yes, well, I'm afraid after what is about to happen, there will be plenty like him she must become wary about. I do hope she has learnt at least something by living in that castle."

"Perhaps more than intended," said Isabella Archambeau, looking a little crestfallen. "I was so focused on my nephew, I did not realize, I could not have predicted… But I shall not keep you any longer, you must go!"

"Thank you, Madam," said D'Arque as he nodded, getting back up on his horse. "We will have more time later to discuss things in detail I am sure."

"I too, however, have certain matters I must attend to," said the old lady in return as her carriage pulled up and her companion, Adeline opened the door.

"My dear lady!" exclaimed Adeline as she took in her mistress' appearance. "I informed you that you must take more clothes with you. These visits do you no good at your age, I always said this was a terrible idea-"

"My dear girl, please take a hold of yourself. Our work here is done and now we must go to the castle. It is high time I meet my dear nephew in person."

"You are going to the castle?" uttered D'Arque, as his horse grew restless.

Archambeau looked up at the tired looking debt collector with melancholy in her eyes.

"I must help him, he needs it now more than ever. His mother would want that, and now with things escalating as they are… I want to see for myself, if he has indeed changed as much as we have been told."

"It would nice to think something good has come of all this. Truly, I wish you all the best Madam. Should we ever meet again-"

"Oh no," scoffed Madam Archambeau as she took her companion's hand and entered her own carriage. "I should hardly wish to meet you ever again, dear sir! At least, not if you intend to take me to a debtor's prison!"

D'Arque smiled as the old woman laughed, her carriage taking off in the direction of the woods. Once it disappeared however, the debt collector turned and looked down at the sleepy old village. His expression turned grim.

For better or worse, everything was about to change.